Gallus stands before him like a statue. He doesn’t move – but his Orb-Sword hisses and crackles in anticipation. It’s blood hungry, as if the weapon has a life – a sentience – of its own.
No, that’s impossible – surely.
But suddenly, the tables turn. A cloaked man with a long dagger appears from behind the stall next to Gallus. He lifts his blade, and I see it dripping with an eerily glowing green poison – what I know to be Scorp venom, used only by the worst and most sadistic assassins on Deemak.
I try to scream a warning to Gallus, knowing one scratch with that lethal poison can leave even an Aurelian writhing and twisting on the ground as their blood boils in agony…
…but before a word can exit my throat, Gallus swiftly raises his Orb-Blade.
Without moving an inch – like he’s merely swatting a fly – he swings the shimmering blue-black blade behind him and takes the head clean off the would-be assassin.
I feel the vomit rise in my gullet.
Blood splatters the cobblestones. The assassin’s head rolls across the ground. All around, the customers and stall holders scream and run in terror. Seemingly from nowhere, the Royal Guards appear, circling us all – and somehow, I’m still alive.
Darr pressed the knife harder against my throat…
…but I’m still alive.
“I did not move an inch,” states Gallus, his feet planted in the same spot they’d been previously.
If I hadn’t been so terrified, I’d have laughed. If nothing else, I know none of Darr’s other cowardly back stabbers are going to try and sneak up on Gallus now – not after witnessing him kill that man with such effortless skill.
Darr’s assassin had the element of surprise, and a weapon that could have taken down an Aurelian warrior with merely with a scratch…
…and yet now his decapitated head lies on the cobblestones.
I stare at it in horror, and suddenly those two eyes turn and look at me.
Oh, Gods! He’s not dead!
The eyes blink twice, and then roll upward, as all life finally leaves the man’s skull.
Imagine the horror of that – still being cognizant as your own head lies six feet from your body. If even for a few seconds, that must be the grimmest thing to ever see.
Darr is panicking now.
“I need a ship,” he flusters. “I need a ship – and I’m taking her with me! When I get to an undisclosed location, then I’ll leave her. You can pick up the treacherous little cunt then.”
There’s a silence, which hangs like a sentence of death in the taut air.
“That’s not going to work,” Gallus eventually murmurs.
Darr’s hand is trembling. He sounds like he’s in control, but it’s an act. He’s terrified, and I’ve never seen him like that before. You’d think it would be reassuring – but it’s the opposite. I know how foolish and dangerous a terrified man can be when he thinks he’s run out of options.
If Darr thinks he has no chance to live, he has nothing to lose.
As if to demonstrate that, he snarls: “You think I won’t slit her fucking throat? I’ll do it, you Aurelian bastard!” The knife presses harder against my neck to demonstrate, and I feel a single hot dribble of blood trickle down onto my collarbone.
Gallus hasn’t blinked yet. He just stares forward.
“We both want something. You want your life. We want her life. We can make a trade.”
Darr is panting from the fear. He’s not used to being in this situation.
“You know what they’ll do to me,” he shudders. “You know I’ll lose my fucking head if I go down for this. The Royal Guard will execute me.”
Gallus pauses. He stays shock still. “What’s your name?” His voice is completely calm.
For a moment, Darr is silent. He’s gauging the Aurelians words, wondering if the towering, deadly warrior is truly going to offer him a chance of life.
Hope wells within him. The slim, almost non-existent hope for survival. Gallus is feeding him the poison of hope, and Darr is drinking deeply of it.
“Darr,” he finally blurts out. “It’s Darr. Now… Back up!”
Gallus stands like a statue. If it was Cyrus there, he’d be flashing a mocking smirk; but the leader of the triad is impassive.
“You told me not to move an inch. Now you’re telling me to back up. Do you want me to move, or not, Darr?”
Darr snarls in frustration.
“Fucking back up!”
“Okay.”
Gallus takes a single step back. My heart is pounding as the knife bites deeper into my throat. I feel the cut, but it’s only a scratch, from Darr’s hand shaking.
“Darr,” I murmur. “Please, be careful.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he responds.
Then, Darr turns to the leader of the Aurelians.
“I know your name, Aurelian. You’re Gallus. I know you’re rich – stupidly rich. So, buy this fucking cunt’s life. Get me a fucking spaceship, fill it with credits, and let me leave. It’s the only way this cunt is getting out of this alive.”
Gallus takes one more step backward.
“I am a powerful man, Darr,” he warns, “but even I’m not that powerful. The Deemak authorities will stop you before you punch out of the atmosphere, even in one of our ships.”
“Fuck!”
I can feel Darr’s panic growing again, as he realizes the truth behind Gallus’s words. More of the Royal Guard are surrounding us now. There’s a wall of red-cloaked men circling us.
“Stand back!” Gallus demands – never taking his eyes from Darr, yet gesturing with the hand that doesn’t wield that shimmering, blue-black Orb-Sword.
The red-cloaked men start retreating slowly. I can feel Darr relax – but only slightly.
“Darr,” Gallus warns, “you’re either getting your head chopped off by the Deemak authorities, or you’re going to jail – but the choice is yours. Answer me this: Does anyone have anything on you?”
“No. Fuck no. Those cunts in the Royal Guards don’t have shit on me.”
“Then the only thing you’re currently guilty of is stealing an Aurelian’s property – because that woman is mine. She is part of my harem, and she belongs
