Crypt of the shadowking - Mark Anthony [67]
Mari knew the thief's sharp eyes were seldom wrong. "Just one person?"
The thief nodded. "It could be either a man or a woman. It's hard to tell, with the black robes."
"Black robes?" Caledan spoke up, casting a glance at Mari.
She looked worried.
"What is it, Caledan?" Estah asked in concern. "Is it someone you know?"
"Maybe," he said grimly, gripping the hilt of the sword resting at his hip. "It sounds like that would-be assassin we ran into on the road to the Sunset Mountain monastery."
Ferret led them farther northwest, following a narrow valley that circled out of sight some distance from the rise where he had glimpsed the black-robed assassin. They rode hard for over two hours, pushing their mounts to their limits as the land, green and damp with the new spring, rolled by. But as the sun sank toward the western horizon, Ferret once again saw a black silhouette on a low ridge in the distance.
"It's no use," Caledan said. "This fellow can move fast. Man, Tyveris, and I know that from experience. I'd rather face him now than later, in the dark." He eyed the westering sun nervously.
"Then we should find a defensible place and wait for him," Morhion said coolly. "Let the choice of where we meet be ours, not his." Caledan nodded grudgingly.
They found a low rise that dropped off into a rock-strewn ravine. A clear stream flowed swiftly in the ravine's bottom, toward the Chionthar, now three leagues to the south. Mari, Caledan, Ferret, and Tyveris formed a semicircle on the top of the knoll, backs to where Morhion and Estah stood with the horses. Caledan reached for his sword and Mari her crossbow. Ferret gripped a dagger in each hand; Tyveris was ready to fight with fists alone. Even Estah clutched a small knife, though all knew she was loath to use weapons. Morhion seemed calmest of all, waiting and watching.
"There he is!" Ferret exclaimed, pointing with his knife. They watched as a figure clad in jet-black robes appeared atop a ridge, striding toward them. The assassin moved with uncanny swiftness, and Mari had to force her hand to remain steady on the crossbow. In moments the black-robed man was ascending the low knoll where the companions stood. Mari waited until she was certain the figure was within range. Then she fired.
The crossbow bolt whistled through the air, landing with a sickening thunk directly in the chest of the assassin. The figure stumbled backward, clutching at the arrow with a black-gloved hand, then toppled to the ground.
"He's dead-" Ferret started to say, but then he choked on the words as the assassin rose and started back up the hill. A gust of chill wind whipped over the knoll. It caught the heavy cowl of the assassin's robe and then tore it aside, revealing the attacker's horrible visage.
"By all the gods!" Tyveris swore. "What is it?"
The figure that approached them was not human. The beast's face was misshapen, covered with thick, iron-gray scales. Two obsidian-dark tusks curved like scimitars from its maw, and a single, serrated onyx horn sprang from its brow. But most revolting of all, where the creature's eyes should have been, there were only two shallow depressions. It could not see. Rather, it swung its head from side to side, taking in air through its two slit-shaped nostrils.
It followed them by scent, Mari realized, not by sight. "I have read of creatures such as these," Morhion said in a low voice. "It is called a shadevar."
Ferret let loose a dagger, but the shadevar lifted a hand. Razor-sharp talons sprang from its fingertips, shredding its black leather gloves. The creature batted the knife away. Uncannily, it did not need eyes to fight.
Then the shadevar was upon them. The horses neighed in terror as it lunged. Mari barely ducked those deadly talons as the creature