When Goblins Rage (Book 3) (30 page)

He reached into his coat to press a hand against the bloodied bandage across his ribs, but kept the pain from his voice. “You left quickly, Nysta. You know, I wanted to speak with you before you disappeared into the north. It was very rude of you to just walk away without even a farewell to your good friends.”

“I ain't one for goodbyes,” she said calmly, noting his knife was still tight in its sheath. “And I ain't got any friends.”

He followed her gaze, his smile coming slowly. Not so foolish this time. He patted the knife, and the elf's heart began to race.

“You want this, don't you?” He took a step forward, angling toward her left. His coat flapped in the wind, snapping at his heels. “I see the way you look at it. You know your knives, Nysta. This, like its twin, was made for me by a man who was a wizard with steel. They are beautiful weapons, and I deeply regret the loss of the other. That it broke in the armour of a Caspiellan is a comfort to me, though. If by some incredible chance you manage to kill me, you can have it.”

Shrugging, the elf slowly moved toward a flatter piece of ground. “You can keep it, Eli,” she said. “Ain't interested in it at all. Got all the knives I want.”

He looked surprised, but followed her toward the small patch of ground. His hand hovered closer to the handle. Fingertips touching the small clip which stopped the blade from sitting loose in its sheath.

She swallowed drily, waiting for him to go for it. To pull the blade clear and dart toward her.

Her hand snaked down, reaching around her side. Grabbed hold of the unnamed knife sheathed across her lower back.

Angled her body sideways to him. Trying for every advantage she could get and knowing she'd need them all.

“Ah, Nysta,” he said, joy and sorrow competing for space in his expression. “I see we finally come to the same understanding. This is a good thing. I think it is time, my friend, to see who of us is the best.”

“Feller back there already told me,” she said, jerking her thumb toward the town hidden beneath a fine layer of mist. “Said I was the best there was.”

Eli showed his teeth in a mirthless grin. “He was a goblin. What would he know?”

“Seemed to know what he was talking about.”

“Goblins are always full of shit. Trust me on this.” He looked around, keeping her in his gaze at all times. Sucked deeply at the crisp mountain air. “It is very nice here, don't you think? Quiet. A good place for a grave, I am thinking.”

“I'll dig it deep for you.”

He grinned his foolish grin. “Ah, my friend. This is why I like you so much. You believe always in miracles. But it is a shame that life is not a world in which such daydreams are real. I tell you this, because I do not want to fool you. You see, it is certain that Eli will be the one doing the digging today. And I am sorry to say, it will be a shallow grave, as I am not fond of digging. But I assure you for no one else would I even bother to make even the smallest of holes. You see, I am not a man who would never honour his friends. I will honour you. I will mark it with a stone. That one over there is almost as big as your fist. It would be enough, I am thinking. And all the world will know this stone as the place where a great fighter died. Maybe even the best I have ever known. But not better than me, of course. They will learn this, because I will tell them so.”

“You've always had a big mouth, Eli.”

He fastened his grip on the handle, ready to draw it free in an instant. “Tell me when you are ready, my friend. Let no one say I took advantage of you.”

A thousand insults poured into her mind. And a few expletives.

Instead, she gave a slight nod of her head. Said; “Goodbye, Eli.”

He paused, expression suddenly serious as he returned her nod. “Goodbye, my friend.”

Then he moved.

Blindingly fast. He speared toward her, body bending fluidly as he wrenched his knife clean from its sheath. The tails of his coat split and flapped in the wind like the wings of an overlarge bat. Feet hardly touched the ground.

Eyes glittered in triumph as he realised he'd drawn first and had sent her shuffling backward in defence. And in this game, playing defensive wasn't the wisest course. Most times, it revealed a hesitant state of mind.

Facing the kind of killer he was, she should have gone on the counter-attack. Should have met him as an equal. Stepped close. Tried to force him to hesitate.

There should have been a clash of blades. The trading of deadly strikes was better than trying to retreat from the inevitable.

But she'd stepped back. Hadn't even drawn her knife from its sheath along her back.

A cautious move.

One which couldn't withstand the brutality of his incoming strike.

So he figured she was dead already.

He'd done this a thousand times before.

His arm could almost feel the sharp point of his knife sliding into her chest. He twisted his wrist to confuse her defence as he lunged in close, body wrenching suddenly as he changed the angle of his attack and sent her skipping sideways.

Right into the path of his snatching arm, which grabbed her chest and pulled her close.

He swung her around, only distantly aware of the fact she wasn't resisting or fighting back.

Aimed his knife squarely at her heart. Licked his lips with glee as he shot his arm toward her, knife plunging toward her chest.

Then almost dropped it in surprise.

Staggered to a halt, pushing her away as the shock flared up the back of his neck and across his skull like a swarm of spiders. His voice croaked through dry lips. “What the fuck?”

The elf's answering chuckle left him cold as his eyes, still caught by the knife in his hand, whose blade ended a mere inch and a half from the grip, widened.

Broken knife in hand, he fumbled forward one more step, fear consuming him as the confusion dropped like a curtain around his shoulders.

He didn't know what to do.

Then sucked a deep breath as the elf launched through the air like a vengeful ghost to press her newest blade hard against his cheek. A thin line of red bubbled out of his skin and drooled down his jaw.

His gaze shifted, looking down at his unbroken knife in her hand.

Then back up to her slitted eyes and the cruel grin on her face.

“When?” he asked.

“While you were stuffing your face this morning. Worried you'd check your knife before the fight, but I reckon I got lucky in that you ain't got any good habits, Eli.”

“You cheated,” he accused, stunned by the realisation she'd switched his knives.

“There are two kinds of people in this world, my friend,” she said sardonically. “Those with knives. And those without.”

“You are a sneaky bitch, Nysta. A very sneaky bitch.” He tossed the broken knife at her feet. Sweat sheathed his cheeks as he realised she'd stepped back only to give him time to see the broken knife. To realise his mistake, and to take advantage of the hesitation his surprise would trigger. Bitterness made his words sharp. “And you will kill me now, I am thinking. Well, make it quick then. Do not make it slow, that is all I will beg of you. And listen to me for this, because I would not kill you slow. We are friends. And it is what friends do. Even those who stab you in the back and steal your knife.”

He closed his eyes.

And waited.

Then snapped his eyes open, feeling a rustle of cold air as the blade's edge left his cheek.

Saw the elf walking away, newest weapon in hand. A knife he still couldn't believe was in her fist instead of his own.

“Wait!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why haven't you killed me? I really think for you, it is better you kill me.”

“Kill you?” She threw him a smirk. “But I just saved your life, Eli. You should be grateful. Means you owe me.”

“Owe you?” He sputtered as the thought pierced his brain. Had to raise his voice as she moved further away, but made no move to follow. His fists were white at his side, fingernails digging deep into his palms. “I tell you, Nysta, the only thing I owe you is a quick death. You stole my knife, my friend. My best knife! I will find you one day. You can count on this. All the world knows Eli keeps his promises. And I promise I will find you. And then we shall see. It will be different next time. I swear this. I swear this thing on the body of my dead brother! I'll show you, my friend! I will! You dirty cheating cowardly bitch! Hey! Where are you going? Come back here. I'll kill you with my bare hands!”

“Such ingratitude,” the elf sighed, pausing to roll her shoulders. “Even after I just saved your life.”

His gaze drilled into her back, a fierce fire burning deep inside black coals of his eyes as visions of vengeance swam inside his skull.

Then, as she disappeared behind the rocky wall, his expression softened. The weasel-faced mercenary clutched the wound across his chest and looked down at the broken knife glinting in the snow.

Shook his head in wonder at what had just happened.

Then smiled broadly.

And began to laugh.

Further up the path, the elf allowed her lip to form a smile of her own as Eli's barking laughter followed her up the mountain.

But the elf called Nysta said nothing as she returned
The Ugly
to its sheath across her back.
 

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Nysta will return in
Nysta #4: Blade of the Vampire King
 

The elf has crossed the Bloods only to be caught in the path of a Caspiellan cleric and his obsessed Grey Jacket survivors. And if that wasn't enough to deal with, Chukshene returns to drag her into a quest of his own. A quest which will lead them to one of the most dangerous places in the world.

A Black Keep.

Once home to an unspeakable evil vanquished by Grim and Rule, it is now haunted by Gul'Se, the insane immortal wife of the King of the Vampire Lords.

But all the evils Nysta has faced will pale in comparison to the greatest threat which might kill not just her body.

It might kill her soul.

For the mysterious darkness which was released in the Deadlands has begun to move.

And it demands death.

Death.

And more death.

Also Coming Soon:
Hemlock and Melganaderna #1:
Trail of the Necromancer
 

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