Sapphire put it? 'Spontaneity. Confound the opposition with unexpected actions.' Suddenly I laughed. What was I waiting for? Why was I letting them dictate the pace?
I fished out my knife from its hiding place. The stone set in my forehead wasn't much, enough for cantrips and little more. But Larner had fixed a weapon in my head and it might be enough.
Time to act. Chaotically, randomly, spontaneously, to be everything that Kukran could not be. Time to be alive. Time to be creative.
I was done with waiting..
84
“Where's my drink?!” I bellowed the question as I strode boldly across the corridor and came nose to nose with a surprised guard. His arms rose instinctively to push me away and I slipped my knife hand around under his elbow and jerked it hard toward my own chest. It sank deep and must have hit a kidney as he didn't make a sound, eyes widened, face shocked, breath stilled. Not a sound came out of him, his body gone rigid as every muscle contracted, back arched slightly. I let go the knife and dropped my hand to the hilt of his sword, stepping back and pulling it clear.
His partner had not been completely taken by surprise. “What the..” he had started to say, shutting up when he saw his soon-to-be-dead companion's reaction. He knew what a killing thrust looked like and was pulling his own sword free at the same time as my stolen blade cleared.
Cantrips are useless but if your beard suddenly ignites it can be a bit distracting. An all over body flinch was enough of a reaction to allow me to stab him in the throat, knocking the emerging shout of surprise right out of him.
And there I was. A man alone in hostile surroundings, somewhat tipsy, with a sword in his hand, looking up and down the corridor and knowing that he was absolutely doing the right thing. As long as I kept moving, kept sowing the seeds of chaos, kept the enemy reacting to my actions, everything would pan out. Or not, as Sapphire had said. For the second time I had an insight into his thinking and grinned happily as I strode boldly down the corridor looking for someone to make react to me. Just like pain, winning doesn't matter. Just as life is pain, so too is life action.
So act!
85
Larner couldn't have been more surprised when I took his hand off.
I had reacted instinctively and so had he. My instinct just had a better result than his.
At the end of the hall I had opened the door and stepped through without pause, my reactions on a hair trigger. Larner had his hands full, a plate of bacon and eggs in one hand and a jug of beer in the other. He'd dropped the plate as I swung at him and instinctively raised his arm to ward off the blow, crying out in surprise as he did so. By pure chance the edge of the sword had struck his wrist and neatly taken off his hand. A glint of azure flashed from the stone he no longer, strictly speaking, wore. I ran him through, feeling partly guilty and partly angry with myself for feeling that way. He was my enemy and had no right to my sympathy.
Engrossed in the ugly task of snatching the blade free of his gut, trying not to be too aware of his face as I did it, I was still aware of a shout of alarm. I didn't imagine I would go unnoticed and so was not in any way surprised. I had decided not to react to the enemy, but to make them react to me. I acted on pure instinct with no rigid plan, intent on fluidity to counter their inertia.
I snatched up Larner's severed hand and ran, picking a direction at random. There were stairs so I took them. Booted feet hammered on the marble floor as two barbarians gave chase. They had cried out an alarm, but were not where I was or where I was heading. Anyone with a weapon who heard the alarm would move in the direction it had come from. But I wasn't there any more. I was on the move. If I could shake them, lose them, then I would be free to act as I wished.
I glanced at the hand I held, briefly assessing the azure stone set in a gold ring that still graced the index finger. Maybe six carats. Enough candlepower to cast the spell Jocasta had taught me with some strength. All to the good. We would see. Make no plans. Be creative.
At the top of the stairs was a landing. There were men on the stairs behind me so I didn't pause for more than a glance left and right, then dropped my sword, pulled the ring from the finger, turned, attuned it, pointed the stone and let loose with whatever it was Jocasta had given me. A great gush of boiling oil spewed from the ring and drenched their upper bodies, as though I had thrown a bucket of the stuff from the head of the stair.
Shocked and disgusted, thrilled with fear and horror at their fate, I kept enough presence of mind despite their incoherent screaming, to slip the ring on my finger, grab my sword and end their pain. It was an ugly business and I tried to hold thought at bay as their bodies slid gracelessly down the stairs. I turned my back on them and moved.
86
In the heat of battle I had killed my first man, followed by many others. I had not counted. I had not thought. And the memories had never fully come back to me. I had not tried to remember, in all honesty. I don't like to think of myself as a man who kills people.
This was different. I was near as dammit sober. The memory of the two men covered in boiling oil and screaming, part in excruciating pain and part in unbelieving horror, tried to fill my mind and hold my attention. I couldn't let it but the memory was a distraction, flashing in to my mind's eye at every pause in thought.
Keep moving, I admonished myself. Don't stop to think. Be creative. I opened the next door I came to and stepped inside. The shutters were open, light streaming into the room. A naked man lay on the bed, asleep, the covers on the floor in a heap. I paced across the room and killed him. He didn't even wake. One less enemy is one less enemy, I thought. Glancing around I picked out a couple of items that might be useful. He had been a barbarian soldier and had weapons and armor to hand. The only thing that fit me was a belt. I accessed his sword and decided it was as good as mine and came with the advantage of a scabbard. It was the work of moments to buckle the belt, discarding the bloody blade. I would keep the new one. I checked his clothes and found a few coins. They were mine now, if I ever needed them.
Now what? The ring. I smiled ruefully. The illusion ring that Jocasta had made for me; I took it from my pocket and slipped it on. There. Now I was someone else to the world and could move freely.
Time to go. Back the way I came? Don't think, I admonished myself. Act!
87
There was a lot of noise ahead of me but I didn't pause, instead I hurried up. Grinning, I brought a few words of Gedurian to mind, using the Alendi dialect that Meran had taught me. By the time I was back at the head of the stairs, with several barbarians in sight, I was practically thinking in the language.
Two men were at the top of the stairs, looking down. One glanced my way for just a moment before looking back.
“What happens?” I demanded.
He looked my way again and gestured that I look. “The demon cooked himself dinner.”
Steaming gently, covered in oil, stinking of cooked flesh, skin red where it wasn't cracked and oozing or
