Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [87]
Bars smiled grimly.
The scout slapped him across the face, wiping that smile away. "Back to Quaervarr," he said. "And the knight carries his wounded friend."
"I won't carry him back to be tortured," said the paladin. "Kill me if you want. I did everything I could."
Meris clutched at his chest in mock horror. "Oh no, I'm crushed," he said. "Stubborn knightly honor, eh? Well, if you're both going to die, the girl might as well die too." He nodded to Darthan, who drew his blade and started toward where Arya lay senseless. "A pity, really. She was quite lovely-"
"Stop!" shouted Bars, panic in his voice. Darthan stopped and Meris looked at the paladin with a raised eyebrow. Bars cast his eyes down. "I'll go. Just don't harm her."
Meris smiled. "I am a man of my word, after all." He waved Darthan off and the rangers came forward to bind Bars's wrists.
The paladin crossed over to Derst and put his hands on Derst's temples. "Sorry, old friend," he said. "We have no choice."
The healing power of Torm, his patron deity, flooded through his hands and pulled Derst back from death's door. The wiry knight's face was still sallow and wan, but it was something. As soon as Bars had lifted Derst, the rangers prodded him with their blades and they began to move toward Quaervarr.
* * * * *
Meris went to stand over Walker, whose breath still came in ragged gasps. Meris contemplated him curiously, amazed that he still lived. Never had he met a man who clung to life so tenaciously-especially considering he was a man who seemed to have so embraced death.
He held up the mithral shatterspike and admired its almost translucent gleam in the moonlight. The blade seemed to have cleaned itself. Blood ran like water from its keen edge and he saw no dents or nicks. The blade looked as though it had never been used.
"This is a beautiful sword, Walker," said Meris. He bent low and repeated himself, so the ghostwalker could hear.
Walker, twitching, looked up at him without understanding.
Darthan appeared at Meris's shoulder. He pointed a thumb at Arya. "You still want to have a little fun, my lord?" he asked.
Meris regarded Darthan's lewd sneer. Apparently, he was not the only one who had taken an interest in Arya. It reminded him how far he had sunk, to share base desires with common rabble. The thought caused bile to rise in his gorge.
"No," he said. "Take her with us." Darthan's eyes lit up and Meris added, "But I carry her. You carry her armor. It'll fetch a fine price."
"As you wish, my lord." Darthan bowed, looking more than a little disappointed.
"Three of our men are dead-take their weapons and equipment," said Meris. "Leave the bodies for the crows. Inform the injured that they will walk back to Quaervarr or they will be left behind."
Darthan nodded, though he balked a bit at the harsh commands. He walked away.
"Oh, and Darthan."
The ranger turned back and looked at Meris. Meris was running a finger along Walker's cheek, contemplating where he had seen those sapphire eyes before.
No matter.
The dusky scout spun, brought the shatterspike high, and plunged it into Walker's chest. The ghostwalker shook once then lay still.
"Start digging," said Meris. "Burning is too good for this one. Let the worms eat his corpse. And make it deep." He wiped the blade off then indicated Walker with it. "Just in case he decides to come back, there won't be much he can do under the ground."
He looked back at Walker's body. "So ends the reign of the Ghost Murderer," he said.
As Meris scooped up Arya's limp form, Darthan shuddered and pulled his field shovel out of his pack.
CHAPTER 16
30 Tarsakh
Meris and the Greyt family rangers stalked back into town. The sun was rising but no one could see it through the clouds. It would be a wretched, overcast day, but Meris's smile was not diminished. In fact, nothing could dampen his spirits.
Meris waved off the guardsmen at the gate-different guardsmen, since the ones of the previous day had not reported to their