Grand Game 279: Hunter Killer (Patreon)

Two hours later, I opened my eyes.

The Marauders’ raucous laughter and loud singing had died down, leaving only the sound of clinking glasses and soft murmurs, but nearly half the camp was still awake. It was not the lack of noise that had shaken me from my trance, though.

It was the sound of the gate opening that did.

Rolling into a crouch, I peered intently at the palisade. The two Marauder teams accompanying Myka and the Hound had returned.

Damnation, I cursed and rechecked my protections. Everything was as it should be. Glancing up through the branches at the wards beyond, I wondered if I should retreat.

But no, once past the wards, I would be blind to what was happening inside the camp, and the Hound was already here. There was no point in leaving just yet.

Better to remain still and trust in my protections.

Staying where I was, I watched the incoming Marauders. The two teams broke off, each heading to a different unlit fireplace. But not Myka and the Hound.

Both made their way straight to the command tent—and me.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you! You are hidden.

Clenching my blades, I spun psi in readiness. If the Hound showed the least sign of suspicion, I would flee the camp with windborne. Then the night would devolve into a running battle through the forest—perhaps not be a bad thing. It was how I’d originally anticipated taking on the Marauders.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you!

The Hound and Myka drew closer, Tevin not with them. Neither looked up. Not daring to breathe, I waited. The pair paused at the closed tent flap.

A hostile entity has failed to detect you!

“Come,” a harsh voice called.

Myka ducked within, then the Hound.

I exhaled slowly. I’d gone unfound. Either the tracker was not as good as Myka thought she was, or my protections were better.

“What do you have to report?” Yzark growled from inside the tent.

Banishing my musings, I listened in. Despite the orc’s voice being muffled by the tent, his words carried clearly to me.

“Nothing,” Myka replied airily.

“Nothing?” Yzark asked, the ire in his voice undisguised.

Before the elf could reply with another flippant comment, the Hound interjected. “I picked up our quarry’s trail in the clearing Tevin showed us, then lost it at the southern mountain slopes.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“You lost it,” the Marauder boss repeated. “I expected better from you, Misha.”

So, that’s the Hound’s name.

“I was lucky to track him even that far,” she said.

“Why?” Yzark asked sharply. “Is he that good?”

“Hardly,” Misha snorted, then laughed humorlessly. “But it’s hard to spot tracks left on tree bark.”

More silence.

“Back up,” Yzark commanded. “Are you saying the assassin is traveling by treetop?”

“Yes,” was the clipped response.

“What is he? A bloody elf?” Yzark muttered.

“Hey, I resent that,” Myka interjected. “Not all elves are tree-huggers, you know. Why, my own—”

“Shut up, Myka,” the orc roared.

The elf complied immediately.

“Better,” Yzark said in a milder tone. “Go on, Misha. You were saying?”

“There is not much to add,” she said. “If I hadn’t picked up our quarry’s scent in the glade… I wouldn’t have been able to follow him at all.”

Well, well, I thought. That tells me all I need to know about the Hound’s abilities.

“Where did the assassin go after ambushing Hurin’s team?” Yzark asked.

“He came here,” the short woman replied.

“Here?” Yzark sounded startled. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

I could almost sense Misha’s shrug. “He didn’t do anything except perhaps study the camp and mark its location before heading south.”

“Where you lost him?” the orc prompted.

“Correct,” she replied, not sounding happy about the fact.

Yzark began pacing, his footfalls echoing loudly. “This is an interesting foe we face,” he mused. “He appears out of nowhere, kills an entire team, issues meaningless threats, finds our camp, then disappears again. Does this make sense to either of you?”

Neither Myka nor Misha replied that I could hear, but I imagined they were shaking their heads.

“Did you learn anything else about him?” Yzark asked.

“Nothing that Tevin didn’t tell us already,” Misha said. “He’s short. Fast. Wields two blades, one of them an ebonblade, the other a—”

“Stop!” Yzark snapped. “Did you say an ebonblade?”

“That’s right,” Myka said, answering before Misha could. “When Tevin described the weapon, I immediately recognized it as an ebony shortsword.” He paused. “But it can’t be a real ebonblade, can it? If Captain Talon wanted us gone, he wouldn’t have sent a lone assassin.”

“You’re sure it was an ebonblade?” Yzark pressed, ignoring his subordinate’s question.

“That, or a very good fake,” the elf replied.

A chair creaked as the orc sat down. “Get Tevin in here. And Pitor, too,” he hissed. “At once!”

✵ ✵ ✵

Silence descended in the tent again as Misha and Myka ran out to do Yzark’s bidding. While they were gone, I tried to puzzle out why the orc had fixated on the detail regarding the ebonblade.

What did he know or suspect?

I was no closer to uncovering the answer, though, before Myka and Misha returned with Tevin and Pitor in tow.

“Pitor, describe the player you observed arriving in the sector this morning,” Yzark ordered without preamble.

A pause. “Which one?” the human fighter inquired.

“The bodyguard of Kesh’s agent whom you foolishly allowed to enter the tavern!” Yzark roared back.

“Oh. Him.” Pitor shifted. “I take it you don’t mean the bard?”

“Of course not, you imbecile!” Yzark scoffed.

“Right. Got it,” Pitor replied weakly. Even from outside the tent, I could tell he was nervous, but there was nothing wrong with the Marauder’s memory. Taking a deep breath, he described me in exacting detail.

Yzark swung to Tevin. “Is that the assassin who attacked your team?”

“It sounds like him,” the knight replied cautiously. “But his face was… different.”

“Faces can be more easily disguised than gear,” Yzark retorted. “It’s him. I’m certain.”

No one said anything for a moment.

“But why is that important?” Myka finally dared to ask.

“Because he was with Kesh’s agent. That makes him one of her lackeys.” Yzark began pacing again. “Civilian though she may be, Kesh is a player of means. She is not to be trifled with, nor are the Powers she has aligned herself with. Either the Triumvirate have an interest in this sector.” He stopped short. “Or Kesh does.”

Yzark snapped his fingers. “Pitor, that merchant we bribed, the one who was relaying the tavernkeeper’s messages, did he tell us to whom they were addressed?

“No, boss.”

“Could it have been Kesh?” Yzark muttered. “Has the gnome been trying to elicit the emporium’s help all along?”

Silence.

“That must be it,” Yzark said, answering himself before anyone else could. “And now, Kesh has decided to take a direct hand in events. Hence the agent and the assassin.” He sat down. “This is bad. Kalin must be informed.”

Pitor made a move towards the tent flap. “On it. I’ll dispatch a messenger imm—”

Yzark cut him off. “No. I will not go empty-handed before our lord. We will send word to Kalin after we capture and question the assassin.”

“How will we do that?” Tevin asked brightly.

Yzark ignored him. “Misha, Myka, take your teams back out and scour the spot where you lost his trail.”

“But we’ve already been—” the Hound began.

“Go!” Yzark barked. “You will depart immediately.” The orc lowered his voice threateningly. “And don’t return without something to report.”

Wordlessly, the two fled the tent to do the Marauder boss’ bidding.

“Why are you still here, Tevin?” Yzark inquired mildly.

Mutely, the knight dashed out after the others.

“Sheesh, Yzark,” Pitor chuckled nervously when the pair were alone. “You’re in a mood tonight. What’s—”

“You will accompany Misha and Myka.”

“What!” Pitor exclaimed. “Why should I go?” he whined.

“That’s an interesting question,” Yzark said softly. “Maybe to redeem yourself? If you hadn’t waited all day to report on the arrival of Kesh’s agent, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“How was I to know—”

“Or maybe,” Yzark said, his voice rising, “you should go because you’re my second-in-command? Kalin will want someone to blame in case this all goes wrong, and that won’t be me.”

“Powers, Yzark. Are you really going to—”

“Or maybe,” Yzark roared, “you should go simply because I ordered you to?”

Prudently, Pitor swallowed further protest. “As you wish,” he said stiffly and stomped out of the tent.

✵ ✵ ✵

The conversation in the tent left me grinning stupidly.

Myka and Misha were leaving—again. Unwittingly, Yzark had removed the biggest threats to my plan—the Hound, the psionics, and the most alert Marauders. Having caroused most of the night, the rest of the players were too far gone in their cups to pose much danger.

This just might work, after all.

Sitting back down against the trunk of the redwood, I watched the two teams leave. The gates slammed shut behind them, and calm descended on the camp.

The minutes ticked by, and little by little, more Marauders retired to their tents. Beneath me, I heard a heavy sigh and the creak of a bed. Yzark, too, was going to sleep.

I resumed my vigil, and time slipped by. With every passing hour, the silence deepened, until, an hour past midnight, I judged the entirety of the camp—except the two gate guards—asleep.

I rose to my feet. The camp was a mess, with discarded dishes and cups strewn everywhere. The shadows were thicker, too, the magelights having dimmed as their charges waned.

Casting my buffs, I dropped to the ground, gaze fixed on the gate. I’d hours to prepare and knew in exactly what sequence I would execute my plan.

The two sentries would be the first to die.

Bent in a half-crouch, I padded closer. Neither guard spotted me, too focused on stealing sips from the bottle they passed between themselves.

Two hostile entities have failed to detect you.

I closed the distance to five yards. Three. One. And still, neither Marauder spotted me. I shook my head. Some guards these are.

Rearing up to my full height, I yanked back the head of the closer one and plunged ebonheart through his back. A soft moan escaped my victim as the bottle he clenched fell from suddenly-lifeless fingers.

You have killed Justin with a fatal blow.

The second guard’s gaze jerked down, following the broken bottle. “Ju-sh-tin, yoush alrigsh? Thatsh good shit you’re spilling. Givsh it here!”

Sighing in disgust, I stepped over the corpse and towards his near-senseless partner. No need to waste psi blinking behind this one.

The guard peered owlishly at me. “Hey, whosh are—”

With more force than strictly necessary, I rammed my stygian sword through his throat.

You have killed Hakien with a fatal blow.

Letting the body drop, I swung back to face the camp.

Not a single mindglow flared—all retaining the subdued hue of dormant minds.

I shook my head again. I had the sneaking suspicion that tonight’s work was going to be both bloodier and easier than I had anticipated.