Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher) (69 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Guards of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk and Fisher (Hawk & Fisher)
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Fisher was suddenly at his side, and her sword sliced through the lich’s wrist, severing the gripping hand. Hawk staggered back, and between them, he and Fisher pried the hand from his ankle. It fell away into the street, its fingers still flexing angrily, like a huge fleshy spider. The headless body heaved itself up onto its knees. Fisher moved in behind it, and cut through its leg muscles. More dark shadows appeared in the rain, heading towards Hawk and Fisher with fixed eyes and reaching hands.
Hawk cursed quickly and darted back through the open front door. Fisher glared at the approaching liches, and then hurried into the house after him. The dead moved purposefully forward. Hawk pushed the door shut and slammed the bolts home. There were only two, and neither of them looked particularly sturdy. Hawk looked quickly about him.
“I wonder if there’s a back door to this place?”
Fisher raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we make a run for it?”
“The thought had occurred to me. I don’t like the situation, and I definitely don’t like the odds.”
“It’s going to make a bad impression on the SWAT team if we run away.”
“It’d make an even worse impression if we got killed.” Hawk scowled. “But you’re right. We can’t leave. We’ve got to hold Domain’s attention until Barber can get to him. Or there’s no telling how many more Domain might kill.”
“So what’s the plan?” said Fisher. “Make a stand here, and hope we can hold off the liches until Barber makes his move?”
“To hell with that,” said Hawk. “There’s too many of the damn things, and if they’re all as determined as that first one, they’re going to take a lot of stopping. All it needs is for one of them to get in a lucky blow, and we could be in real trouble. We can’t even keep them out of the house. That door won’t last five minutes against a determined assault. I’ve got a better idea. Let’s head up those stairs, find Domain, and cut him into little pieces. That should hold his attention.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Fisher. “Assuming Storm’s protection holds up under attack at such close quarters.”
“Would you rather face the liches?” asked Hawk.
“Good point,” said Fisher. “Let’s go.”
A headless body lurched out of the room to their left, reaching for them with blindly grasping hands. Hawk and Fisher separated, and hit it from different sides. Hawk slammed his axe into the lich’s ribs, throwing the dead thing back against the wall. Fisher’s sword licked out and sliced through the back of the lich’s left leg, and the creature sank to one knee. Hawk pulled his axe free, and swung it with both hands. The heavy blade all but severed the lich’s right leg below the knee, and the dead man sprawled helplessly on the floor. Hawk indicated the stairs with a jerk of his head, and Fisher nodded quickly. Hawk kicked the headless body aside, and ran for the stairs with Fisher right beside him. Behind them, the lich scrabbled furiously on the floor, trying to pull itself after them with its arms. The front door shuddered suddenly in its frame as dead fists hammered on it. A window shattered somewhere close at hand. Hawk and Fisher pounded up the stairs, and didn’t look back.
 
Barber made his way unhurriedly down the rain-swept street, and neither the living nor the dead saw him pass. He carried his sword at the ready, but he didn’t expect to have to use it yet. No one knew he was there, and no one would, until he’d thrust his sword into Domain’s back and put an end to all this nonsense. In the end, as in so many SWAT operations, it all came down to him and his sword. Storm could cast his spells, and MacReady could talk, and Winter could plot her strategies, but in the end they always turned to him and his sword. Which was why he stayed with them. He needed to kill just as much as they needed him to put an end to killers.
Not that he enjoyed the killing; he took no pleasure in death or suffering. It was simply that he was so very good at what he did, and he took a real satisfaction in doing a difficult job that no one else could do, and doing it superbly. He didn’t care who he killed; he barely remembered their faces, let alone their names. He didn’t even care what they’d done; their various crimes or outrages were of no interest to him. All that mattered was the opportunity to kill; to kill with a style and expertise that no one else could match.
And the Council actually paid him to do it.
He drifted down the street, unseen and unheard, and made his way round to the rear of Domain’s house, searching for the back door. The door stuck when he tried it, but it swung open easily enough when he put his shoulder to it. He stepped into the gloom, wary but unconcerned, and pushed the door shut behind him. He wasn’t expecting any trouble. When he was working, no one could see or hear him, unless he wanted them to. A useful talent for an assassin.
Domain would never even know what hit him.
 
Hawk and Fisher were only halfway up the stairs when the front door burst open, and dead things spilled into the hall. Hawk pressed on, heading for the narrow landing with Fisher only a step or so behind him. The stairs suddenly lurched and heaved beneath them like a ship at sea, and they had to fight to keep their balance. Jagged mouths and staring eyes formed in the wall beside them. The wooden panelling steamed and bubbled. Hawk moved to the middle of the stairs, away from the manifestations, and glanced back over his shoulder. The first of the dead had reached the stairs. The hall was full of liches, soaked and dripping with rainwater that couldn’t entirely wash away the blood from their wounds, their empty eyes fixed unwaveringly on the two Guards.
The stairs lurched again, and Hawk grabbed at the banister to steady himself. It writhed under his hand like a huge worm; all cold and slimy and raised segments. Hawk snarled and snatched his hand away, and plunged forward, heading for the landing. Fisher called out behind him, and he looked back to see her struggling to pull her foot free from a step that had turned to bottomless mud. She cut at the step with her sword, but the blade swept through the thick mud and out again without even slowing. Hawk grabbed her arm and pulled hard, and her foot came free with a slow, sucking sound. They threw themselves forward and out onto the landing, and ran towards the door MacReady had described in his briefing.
Blood ran down the wall in thick streams, and a dirty yellow mist curled and twisted on the air, hot and acrid. Jagged holes appeared in the floor beneath their feet, falling away forever. Hawk and Fisher jumped over them without slowing. Behind them, something large and awful began to form out of the shadows. The air was suddenly full of the stench of decaying meat and freshly spilled blood, and something giggled softly in anticipation. Hawk and Fisher reached Domain’s door and Fisher kicked it open. They ran into the room, and Hawk slammed the door shut behind them.
Everything seemed still and calm and quiet in the comfortable, cozy little room. For a moment it seemed almost a sanctuary from the madness running loose in the house, until Hawk took in the blood splashed across the wall and floor, and the dead woman standing beside the seated sorcerer, one hand resting on his shoulder. Hawk met Domain’s gaze, and knew the real madness was right there in the room with him, held at bay only by Storm’s protection. Outside in the hallway, heavy footsteps moved slowly closer, the floor trembling slightly with each impact. Fisher glanced back at the door.
“Call it off, Domain,” she said harshly.
“Or what? Do you really think you can do anything to threaten me?” Domain smiled, the same smile Hawk had seen on the faces of the dead men. “This is my house, and I don’t want you here. You’ve come to take Susan away from me.”
“That’s why you have to stop whatever’s out there,” said Hawk quickly. “If it comes in here after us, Susan could get hurt. Couldn’t she?”
Domain nodded reluctantly, and there was a sudden silence as the heavy footsteps stopped, followed by a small clap of thunder as air rushed in to fill a gap where something large had been only a moment before. The sorcerer leaned back in his chair as though it were a throne, and looked crossly at Hawk and Fisher.
“I thought I’d made it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed. How many people do I have to kill to make you leave us alone?”
“We don’t want you to kill anyone,” said Hawk. “That’s why we’re here.”
Domain made a dismissive gesture, as though he’d caught them in an obvious lie. “I know why you’re here. Perhaps if I changed you into something amusing, and sent you back that way, then they’d understand not to play games with me.”
“You can’t hurt us,” said Fisher. “We’re protected.”
Domain looked at her narrowly, and then at Hawk. “So you are. A very sophisticated defense, too. I could break it, but that would take too much out of me. I have to keep something back to protect Susan. So unless you’re stupid enough to attack me, I’ll just wait, and let the things I’ve called up come and take you.” He scowled suddenly. “I should have known I couldn’t depend on the city to bargain in good faith. I’ll punish them for this. I’ll turn their precious city into a nightmare they’ll never forget.”
In the corners of the room, the shadows grew darker. A presence was gathering in the room, something huge and awful pressing against the walls of reality. And beyond that, Hawk could hear dead feet ascending the stairs and making their way onto the landing. The dead woman standing beside Domain’s chair smiled emptily at nothing, like a hostess waiting to greet expected guests. Hawk and Fisher looked desperately at each other, but saw no answer in each other’s faces. The presence growing in the shadows was almost overpowering, and the dead were almost outside the door.
“Don’t worry, Susan,” said Domain comfortingly to the dead woman. “It’ll all be over soon, and then we’ll be together, forever. No one’s ever going to take you away from me.”
The door swung silently open, and Barber eased into the room, his sword at the ready. Hawk and Fisher looked quickly away, to avoid drawing Domain’s attention to him: They’d been briefed on Barber’s special talent, but it was still hard to believe Domain couldn’t see him. Barber moved slowly forward across the room, making no more noise than a breath of air. Hawk found he was holding his breath. The sorcerer smiled at his dead love, unconcerned. Barber moved in behind Domain and raised his sword. And then Domain raised his left hand. Light flared briefly around the upraised fingers, and Barber froze where he was, unable to move. Domain turned unhurriedly in his chair to look at him.
“Did you really think you could break into my house, and I wouldn’t know? There’s a power in me, assassin, a power beyond your worst nightmares, and it’s more than enough to see through your simple glamour. I knew the city would send someone like you. They want to take my love away from me. I won’t let them. I’ll destroy this whole stinking city first!”
He gestured sharply, and Barber flew across the room to crash into the opposite wall. He slid to the floor, only half conscious but still somehow hanging onto his sword. Footsteps clumped heavily in the hallway outside, and Domain smiled broadly as the dead spilled into the room. Fisher raised her sword and went to meet them. Hawk lifted his axe and threw it in one swift motion, with all his strength behind it. The axe flew through the air and buried itself to the haft in Susan’s skull. The impact slammed the dead woman backwards, and she staggered clumsily in a circle. Domain screamed, and jumped out of his chair to grab her by the arms. He howled wordlessly in horror and despair, and the dead woman crumpled limply to the floor, no longer sustained by the sorcerer’s will. Domain sank to his knees beside her, and started to cry. The dead men in the doorway fell to the floor and lay still, and the invading presence was suddenly gone. The room seemed somehow lighter, and the shadows were only shadows. The only sound in the small, unexceptional room were the anguished sobs of a heartbroken young man crying for his lost love.
Fisher lowered her sword, and nodded to Hawk. “Nice thinking. Even he couldn’t believe she was still alive with an axe buried between her eyes.”
“Right. He’s no danger anymore. Poor bastard. Though I think we’d better get Storm in here as soon as possible, just in case.” He shook his head slowly. “What a mess. So many dead, and all for love.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” said Barber, getting slowly and painfully to his feet.
Hawk turned and grinned at him. “Next time, try not to make so much noise.”
Barber just looked at him.
 
The beggars sat clustered together outside the main gate of Champion House, lined up ten or twelve deep in places. They were of all ages, from babes to ancients, and wore only the barest rags and scraps of clothing, the better to show off their various diseases and deformities. Some were clearly on the edge of starvation, little more than skin stretched over bone, while others lacked legs or hands or eyes. The rain poured down upon their bare heads, but they paid it no attention. It was the least of their troubles. Some wore the vestiges of army uniforms, complete with faded campaign ribbons. They stood out from the others, in that they seemed to have a little pride left. If they were lucky, they’d soon lose it. It just made being a beggar that much harder.
The beggars huddled together, as much for company as comfort, their eyes fixed on the main gate, waiting patiently for someone to go in or out. The honour guards supplied by the Brotherhood of Steel for the two Kings’ protection stared out over the beggars, ignoring them completely. They posed no threat to the House’s security, as long as they continued to keep a respectable distance, and were therefore of no interest. The beggars sat together in the rain, heads bowed, and among them sat Wulf Saxon.

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