Soul rode hard through the night, the jarring
aggravating what was sure to be several broken ribs. Fatigue
and the pain threatened to pull him from the saddle.
In the distance he saw a large dark house, only a
few rooms lit. Suddenly a scream pierced the night, a
scream Soul knew all too well. Fatigue and pain faded as
adrenaline flooded Soul's system. He spurred his mount to
greater speed, not knowing or even caring if sentries
were posted. Luck was with him, there was no one to
challenge him. He stood as he approached and climbed onto
the balcony of a darkened room, insuring he brought
his crossbow. He moved to the door and tried the
handle. Locked! The screams coming from the next room had
faded to whimpers; Soul had no time for finesse. From a
pouch on his harness, he pulled several linen strips
soaked in pitch which he placed on the window near the
handle. Padding it with his cloak, he used the butt of
his dirk to break the pane. The sticky cloth and
padding served to reduce the sounds. He quickly reached
in and opened the door, entering the dark room
slowly. "HMMM, no one home," he thought.
He
crossed the room and listened for any noise on the other
side of the door. Hearing nothing, he slowly opened
the door, keeping his crossbow ready. He saw no one
in the hall, so he slipped out and moved to the
other door.
Trying the door, he found that the
patron had evidently paid for security because he didn't
bother to lock it. Soul slowly edged the door open. What
he saw almost made him rush in. Sabre was tied on
the bed naked, the harsh ropes had cut savagely into
her wrists and ankles. He inched the door a little
further and saw a woman covered with scars standing over
a tray of utensils. Many of them looked like the
tools the battlefield surgeons used. The woman picked
up one and Soul could wait no longer. He flung the
door open firing the crossbow at the woman, pinning
her to the wall. As he moved further into the room,
pain blossomed on his right shoulder. He turned and
saw a small hideously scarred man standing out of
Soul's initial line of sight. The man moved with amazing
speed and flung several small knives at Soul. Soul's
dodge allowed the man to flee through the side door.
Soul let him go. "We have business later," he thought.
He turned toward the bed. Sabre's body was a mass of
bruises and scrapes. A small, but deep, cut caught his
attention. A surgically precise cut in the shape of an
inverted "V" was just below Sabre's navel. He quickly
bound the wound and fashioned a shift out of the
bedding. "Sabre," he whispered, "It's me. Soulhunter.
Where's Colin?" Soul heard a comotion in the hall and
knew he had no time for an answer.
The
adrenaline rush was fading and the pain was returning with a
vengeance. He felt rather than saw the man in the doorway
and quickly drew a throwing knife from his belt. A
quick throw and the knife buried itself in his throat.
He drew his sabre and turned as two more guards
entered the room. "This could be a problem," mumbled
Soul. He regretted not taking the time to get some help
for this mission. He hoped his rashness wouldn't cost
him.
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