Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher (53 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: Swords of Haven: The Adventures of Hawk & Fisher
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Pike’s hand lashed out, slapping her viciously across the face. Her head rang from the force of the blow. She could feel blood running down her chin from her crushed mouth. She gritted her teeth against the pain and the dizziness. She’d been hurt worse in her time, but this kind of cold and casual violence was new to her, and all the more intimidating because of her utter helplessness.
“That’s for thinking we’re stupid,” said Pike. “If I untie your hands, I’m a dead man. You’re not going to get that chance, Captain.”
He drew a knife from his boot, and Fisher tensed, but he only used it to cut the ropes binding her ankles together. Da Silva moved quickly in to hold her ankles while Pike put away his knife. Fisher’s heart speeded up, and her breathing became ragged and uneven. Pike put a hand on her breast and pushed her so that she fell onto her back. He began to undo his trousers. Fisher struggled to sit upright again, as though that could somehow put off the inevitable. Pike laughed. He leaned forward and grabbed her hair, tilting her head back. He held her head steady as he put his face down to kiss her.
Fisher sank her teeth into his lower lip. Her teeth met, and she jerked her head back, taking most of Pike’s lip with her. Blood ran from his mouth, and for a moment the pain and shock held him rigid. Fisher spat out the lip and snapped her head forward in a savage butt to Pike’s face. There was the flat, definitive sound of his nose breaking, and he fell backward against Da Silva, sending him sprawling. Fisher scrambled to her feet while Da Silva pushed Pike aside and struggled up onto his knees. Fisher stepped forward and kicked Da Silva squarely in the groin, putting all her weight behind it. Da Silva’s breath caught in his throat before he could scream, and he fell forward onto the floor, clutching at the awful pain between his legs. Pike was rolling back and forth on the floor with both his hands at his face, unable to think straight for the pain. Fisher kicked him solidly in the head until he stopped moving.
She heard movement behind her, and turned quickly to find Da Silva was back on his feet again. He was crouched around his pain, but he had a knife in his hand, and his eyes were cold and angry. Fisher backed away, and Da Silva went after her. He feinted at her with his knife, but she saw it for what it was, stepped quickly inside his reach while he was off balance, and kicked him in the knee. Da Silva fell forward as his leg collapsed under him, and Fisher’s knee came up and caught him squarely on the chin. Da Silva’s head snapped back, and he fell limply to the floor and lay still.
Fisher leaned back against the cold stone wall, shaking violently. Her head ached so badly she could barely think, but she knew she couldn’t stop and rest. If the other mercenaries had heard anything of the fight, they might decide to see what was happening. And she was in no condition to take on anyone else. She took a deep breath and held it, and some of her shakes went away. She got down on her knees and groped around on the floor until she found the knife Da Silva had dropped. All she had to do now was cut the bonds at her wrists, which were knotted in the middle of her back where she couldn’t see them, then work out a plan that would get her out of here without having to take on however many other mercenaries were waiting in the next room. Fisher smiled sourly, and concentrated on cutting the ropes and not her arms. One thing at a time.
 
The narrow street was almost completely dark, with only a single street lamp shedding pale golden light across the decaying, stunted houses. The parties and parades had passed them by, and nothing disturbed the street’s sullen quiet. In the shadows, Hawk and Roxanne drew their weapons, while Medley kept a careful watch on the safe house. The shutters were all closed and there was no sign of any life. Hawk studied the house for some time, and scowled unhappily.
“Are you sure this is the right place? Where the hell are the lookouts?”
“There are spy-holes and concealed viewing slits all over the house,” said Roxanne quietly. “Hardcastle’s used this place before. There’s at least twenty armed men inside that house, just waiting for you to. try and rescue Captain Fisher.”
“Maybe we should send to Adamant for reinforcements,” said Medley.
“There isn’t time,” snapped Hawk. “Every minute Isobel’s in there, she’s in danger. I want her out
now
.”
“All right,” said Medley. “What’s the plan?”
Roxanne smiled, a familiar darkness in her eyes. “Who needs a plan? We just storm the front door, cut down the guards, and kill anyone who gets between us and freeing Captain Fisher.”
Hawk and Medley exchanged a glance. Roxanne had many qualities as a warrior, but subtlety wasn’t one of them.
“We can’t risk a straightforward assault,” said Hawk carefully. “They might just kill Isobel at the first sign of a rescue attempt. We need some kind of diversion, something to distract their attention.”
“I could set fire to something,” said Roxanne.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Medley quickly. “This whole street’s a fire trap. Start a blaze here and we lose half the Steppes.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Hawk. “Since they’re going to see us approaching anyway, let’s show them something they won’t find threatening. We just walk up to the door with me unarmed, and Roxanne’s sword at my back. Medley can carry my axe. They’ll think you’ve captured me. Once inside, we study the situation and choose our moment. With any luck they’ll want to lock me up with Fisher. So, we wait until they unlock the right door, then Medley passes me my axe and we kill everything that moves. Any questions?”
Roxanne looked at Hawk. “You’re ready to trust me with a sword at your back?”
“Sure,” said Hawk. “Because if you try anything, I’ll take the sword away from you and make you eat it.”
Roxanne looked at Medley. “He just might.”
“Let’s make a start,” said Medley. “Before I get a rush of brains to the head and realise just how dangerous this is.”
* * *
Fisher shook the last of the rope bindings from her wrists and flapped her hands hard to try and get the blood moving again. There were angry red cuts on her arms and wrists from where the knife had cut her as well as the ropes, but she ignored them. Feeling began to come back into her hands, and she winced as pins and needles moved in her fingers. She padded silently over to the closed door and listened carefully. So far, no one seemed to have missed Pike and Da Silva, but she didn’t know how long that would last. She went back to Pike and drew his sword from its scabbard. It was a good blade.
She looked at the two men lying bloody and unconscious on the floor. They would have raped her, abused her, and then handed her over to Hardcastle for a slow, painful death. Assuming she got out of this mess alive, she could have them both sent to the mines for the rest of their lives. No one messes with a Guard and gets away with it. But there was always the chance Hardcastle would buy the judge and Pike and Da Silva would go free. She couldn’t allow that to happen. As long as they were free, she would never feel safe again.
She knelt beside Pike and put the edge of his sword against his throat. She could do it. No one would ever know. She knelt there for a long time, and then she took the sword away from his throat and stood up. She couldn’t kill a helpless man in cold blood. Not even him. She was a Guard, and a Guard enforces the law; she doesn’t take revenge.
She turned her back on Pike and Da Silva, moved over to the door and eased it open an inch. She didn’t know how many mercenaries were out there, but from the muttered talk it sounded like quite a few. Her best bet would be to throw open the door and then make a mad dash for the main door. She might make it. If she was lucky. She eased the door open a little further, and then froze as there was a sudden pounding on the front door.
 
Hawk looked calmly about him, as though he couldn’t feel the point of Roxanne’s sword digging into his back. It occurred to him that if he’d misjudged the situation, he was in a whole lot of trouble. There were twelve mercenaries in the room, some carrying weapons, some not. According to Roxanne, there were more mercenaries on the next floor up. So, assume twenty men, all told. Ten to one odds. Hawk smiled. He’d faced worse in his time. One of the mercenaries walked over to him. Tall, muscular, chain mail. Wore a sword in a battered scabbard and looked like he knew how to use it. Regular issue mercenary. He nodded briefly to Roxanne, and looked Hawk up and down.
“So this is the famous Captain Hawk. Do come in, Captain. Don’t stand on ceremony.” He laughed softly. “You know, Captain, Hardcastle’s just dying to see you. As for you, you’re just dying.”
“Where’s my wife?” said Hawk.
The mercenary backhanded Hawk across the face. He saw it coming, but still couldn’t ride much of the blow. His head rang, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet for a moment.
“You speak when you’re spoken to, Captain. I can see we’re going to have to teach you some manners before we let you meet Councillor Hardcastle. But don’t worry about your wife. We haven’t forgotten her. Even as we speak, she’s being entertained by two of our men. I’m sure they’re giving her a real good time.”
He laughed, and Hawk kneed him in the groin. The mercenary bent forward around his pain, almost as though bowing to Hawk, and Hawk rabbit-punched him on the way to the floor. The other mercenaries jumped to their feet and grabbed for their weapons.
Hawk snatched his axe from Medley, yelled for Roxanne to guard his back, and started toward the first mercenary without looking to see if Roxanne was there. Hawk swung his axe up and then buried it almost to the hilt in the shoulder of the first mercenary, shearing through the chain mail. The force of the blow drove the mercenary to his knees. Hawk put his boot against the man’s chest and pulled the blade free. Blood flew on the air as Hawk turned to face his next opponent. There was a clash of steel on steel as Roxanne struck down a second mercenary, and Hawk allowed himself a small smile of relief.
And then the door on the other side of the room burst open, and Fisher charged out, sword in hand. Hawk’s smile widened. All this time he’d been worried about her, and here she was safe and sound. He should have known. She seemed a little startled to see Roxanne guarding his back, but she quickly set about carving a path through the mercenaries to reach him.
Hawk swung his axe double-handed, and blood splashed across the filthy floor. The heavy steel blade easily deflected the lighter swords, and punched through chain mail as though it wasn’t there. Fisher fought at his side, her sword a steel blur as she cut and parried and thrust. Roxanne laughed and danced and cut her way through her fellow mercenaries with a deadly glee. Medley stayed out of the way. He knew his limitations.
A bearded mercenary duelled Hawk to a halt, his heavy long-sword almost a match for Hawk’s axe. They locked blades, and stood face to face for a moment. Muscles bunched across the mercenary’s shoulders, and Hawk quickly realised he couldn’t hold the man back for long. So he spat in his eyes. The mecenary jerked back his head instinctively and lost his balance. Hawk swept the sword aside and slammed the axe into the man’s chest.
Fisher stood toe to toe with a tall, slender mercenary, trading blow for blow. She knew she daren’t keep that up for long. He was bigger than her, and she was still weakened, from what she’d been through. She locked eyes with him, stepped forward and brought her heel down hard on the instep of his right foot. She could feel bones crush and break in his foot. The sudden pain sucked the colour from his face and the strength from his arms. Fisher beat aside his blade and cut his throat on the backswing. The mercenary dropped his sword and clutched at his throat with both hands, as though he could somehow hold the ghastly wound together. He was already sinking to his knees as Fisher turned to face her next opponent.
Roxanne swung her sword in wide, vicious arcs, and the mercenaries fell back before her. Her eyes were wide with uncomplicated delight, and she laughed breathlessly as her blade cut through their flesh. She was doing what she did best, what she was born to do. She moved among her former companions with neither mercy nor compassion, and none of them could stand against her. She killed them with professionalism and style, and the blood sang in her head.
Suddenly the mercenaries broke and ran, even though they still outnumbered their attackers. Pike and Da Silva might have been able to rally them, but without their leaders the mercenaries hadn’t the nerve to face three living legends.
Hawk looked round the suddenly empty room, and lowered his axe. He was almost disappointed the fight was over so soon. He had a lot of pent-up anger to work off. He turned, smiling, to Fisher, and his anger turned suddenly cold and merciless as he saw what they’d done to her. Her mouth was bruised and swollen, and blood from a nasty cut on her scalp had spilled down one side of her face. He took her in his arms and held her tightly, and she hugged him back as if she would never let him go. Finally Medley coughed politely, and Hawk and Fisher broke apart. Fisher looked at Medley, and then at Roxanne.
“They’re on our side,” said Hawk. “Don’t ask; it gets complicated.”
Fisher shrugged. “That’s politicians and mercenaries for you. Let’s hope Adamant’s the forgiving kind. There are two more mercenaries in the other room, out cold. We’re taking them with us; I’ll be pressing charges.”
Hawk caught some of the undertones in her voice. “Are you all right, lass?”

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