The Chronicles of Riddick - Alan Dean Foster [38]
Seeing Irgun draw near, recognizing the look in the assassin’s eye, Vaako stepped back out of the way. “A piece you’ll have,” he informed Riddick coolly.
Apparently unarmed, the intruder held his ground. Seeing that Irgun’s quarry was not about to break and run, Necromonger soldiers and Helion politicians alike strained for a better look. Taking the measure of his opponent, Irgun saw nothing to give him pause. The prey even had something wrong with his eyes that forced him to wear some kind of special goggles; a maggot with shades. Irgun was not in the least ashamed to slaughter someone with a visible handicap. He was very much the egalitarian executioner.
Slowing slightly, he crossed the two axes he was holding in front of him. A few preliminary cuts— here, here, and here, he decided. Then a leap, perhaps with a twist, and he would bring both blades down and across simultaneously, neatly severing the foe’s head from his neck. If the double stroke was delivered cleanly, blood should fountain from the severed neck for several seconds before the decapitated body collapsed. He intended to do right by the killing. Though more than slightly mental, Irgun took pride in his work.
Without preamble, he rushed forward. His target was big and muscular, therefore slow. Both axes came down and around to slice through . . .
Empty air. Faster than a scream, his target had moved to one side, twisting and spinning. As Riddick wisped past the charging assassin, one hand reached out, grabbed the hilt of the dagger that protruded from Irgun’s back, and pulled it free. As he wrenched the shaft out of his attacker’s flesh, the blade brought with it blood and bits of nerve.
Twin axes still gripped firmly in both hands, Irgun straightened. His expression of grinning expectation was replaced by one of surprise. He looked astonished. Then he looked dead. Falling forward like a tree cut straight through at the base, he formed an impressive heap on the floor—weapons, armor, communications gear, and all.
Those Helions in a position to see everything that had transpired let out a collective gasp. Among the Necromonger soldiers there was a disbelieving shifting of bodies and raising of weapons. Murmured conversation among dissimilar groups traveled along similar lines.
Indifferent to the reaction he had provoked and satisfied with the statement he had made, Riddick turned and headed for the gaping portal. A single word boomed behind him.
“STAY.”
Riddick paused. Abandoning the central dais, the Lord Marshal was moving toward him. As before, citizens of Helion and Necromonger warriors alike stepped back to give him more than ample room to pass. The radius of fear he projected seemed lost on the man he was approaching. Riddick held his ground before the Lord Marshal as stolidly as he had when faced with the onrushing Irgun. This fact was not lost on the Lord Marshal, nor on the Purifier who accompanied him.
Halting before Riddick, the Lord Marshal wordlessly looked him up and down. Riddick responded by doing exactly the same to the Lord Marshal. Like the man’s indifference, this bit of calculated insolence did not go unnoticed by the Lord Marshal. He filed it for further reference. Every reaction of the defeated, even the disrespectful, was useful.
With one armored hand he indicated the nearby corpse. “Superbly trained. Utterly converted. A true believer and a dedicated servant of the cause. One of my best, Irgun.”
Riddick didn’t bother to look in the dead man’s direction. His tone as well as his attitude indicated that he was singularly unimpressed. “If you say so.”
The Lord Marshal was intrigued, as he was by anything out of the ordinary. At the moment, whether the man before him was supernally brave or supremely stupid did not really matter. What was important was his novelty. That, and his fighting ability. The former was a diversion. The latter might prove useful.
“Rare, isn’t it? The knack for turning your enemy’s strength into his fatal weakness? Quite rare. Usually a talent found in machines, in predictors. Not in individuals. You