CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Price?” Alaric asked, staring at the stranger, and clearly distracted by this strange new information. Dietz kept his own attention focused on the man’s weapons. They looked far too well used for his liking.

“Akendorf,” he reminded his friend quietly, “the ruler there.”

“Oh? Oh!” Alaric sat up straighter as he remembered what that self-styled Border Prince Levrellian had told them, and then winced as the motion caused his wound to shift.

“That’s right, Akendorf,” the stranger agreed, showing that his hearing was as sharp as the sword tip he kept pointed in Dietz’s direction. “Prince Rillian put a handsome sum on both your heads. I aim to collect.”

“Look, my friend is injured—” Dietz began, but the newcomer cut him off.

“Obviously.” He eyed Alaric as if he was a slab of meat. “The only question is: will it be easier to bring him back injured, or dead?” From the look in his dark eyes Dietz didn’t think the man was joking.

“Look, let’s discuss this like reasonable men,” Alaric said, keeping one hand pressed tight to his side. Dietz could see blood welling up around his friend’s fingers despite the obvious pressure on the wound, but Alaric managed to keep his voice steady, even pleasant. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

Sometimes Alaric’s friendly manner swayed people unexpectedly, but not this time.

“Why don’t you work out that blade of yours?” the stranger suggested, although his tone made it clear this was not a request. “Just kick it away from you, nice and easy.”

“He’s hurt!” Dietz shouted, resisting the urge to leap at the man. He knew doing so would mean both their deaths. “He can’t kick anything!”

“Then you do it,” the man said, “and toss that fancy club of yours over there, too, while you’re at it.”

Growling under his breath, Dietz did as he was told, collecting Alaric’s rapier and tossing both that and his own plundered mace several feet away.

“Toss those little blades, too, while you’re at it,” the man added, and Dietz cursed softly. He’d hoped the stranger wouldn’t notice his knives but of course the man was too sharp for that.

“Fine, they’re gone,” Dietz said, flinging the knives over by the other weapons and turning back, hands raised. “Now can we talk?”

“Now you can lie down, face in the sand,” the man replied. When Dietz didn’t move, the crossbow swivelled from Alaric to him, the bolt centred on his heart. “Now.”

Gritting his teeth to bite back a retort Dietz complied. He felt the stranger walking closer, and standing over him. Then suddenly a knee landed in the small of Dietz’s back, forcing all the air from his lungs in a swift gasp, and something cold and metallic clinked tight around his right wrist. The left followed, something rattling between them, and then both ankles.

“Better.” The man stood and hauled Dietz to his feet. His hands were bound behind him, but Dietz could see the heavy iron manacles around his ankles, the thick chain between them long enough to allow him to take short steps but nothing more. He realised that he’d been shackled like a common criminal.

A groan distracted him from his own plight and he glanced at Alaric. The younger man was turning pale and swaying slightly where he sat.

“Look,” Dietz began again, turning back towards his captor, “we—Oh hells, I don’t even know your name!”

“Is that all?” The man grinned, although his eyes stayed cool as he executed a rough bow. “Merkel Lankdorf, bounty hunter, at your service.”

“Dietz,” Dietz replied, lifting his chin, “and that’s Alaric.” He glared at Lankdorf, “and he’s badly wounded!”

“I can see that,” the bounty hunter agreed. “Stomach wound. Blade of some sort, I’m guessing a dagger.”

“Well, help him!” Dietz pleaded. “Or let me do it!”

Lankdorf stepped back a pace and studied Alaric for a moment. Then finally he shrugged. “Don’t matter to me if he’s alive or dead,” he admitted, “but I don’t much like lugging a corpse around. The smell tends to bother the mule.” He had sheathed his sword at some point, probably when Dietz had been facedown on the ground, and now he gestured Dietz to back up several paces, away from both him and the weapons. Dietz did so, careful to avoid the corpses that littered the ground. He also stayed well clear of the temple ruins and well away from the massive doors that led down into the tomb. Going in there once had been more than enough.

Once he was comfortable with the distance the bounty hunter gestured for Dietz to stop and sit. Then he set the crossbow on the ground behind him, within easy reach, and knelt beside Alaric, prying the nobleman’s fingers away so that he could get a better look at the wound.

“Nasty, all right,” he said after a minute, “not mortal, though, not with proper treatment.” Reaching to his belt Lankdorf removed a water skin and a small pouch. He poured some water directly on the wound, cleaning away the blood and eliciting a small gasp from Alaric. He took a large pinch of something from the pouch and placed it in his palm. Then he added water, mixed them together, and spread it over the wound.

“That’ll help stop the bleeding,” Lankdorf said, although Dietz wasn’t sure whether the bounty hunter was talking to him, Alaric, or himself. The man tore the rest of Alaric’s shirt away and ripped the still-clean portions into strips, which he bound around Alaric’s waist.

“Will he live?” Dietz asked when the bounty hunter stood.

“If he’s strong enough,” Lankdorf replied. Then he grinned that humourless grin again, “Leastways, ’til we get to Akendorf.”

The bounty hunter gathered the discarded weapons, not just Dietz’s and Alaric’s but those of the others in the clearing. He also searched the bodies carefully, removing anything of value. “Waste not, want not,” he said when he noticed Dietz watching him. Finally he searched Dietz and Alaric as well, which led to an unpleasant surprise as the bounty hunter reached towards Dietz’s chest.

“Myrmidia’s spear!” The man jumped back, shaking one hand even as he drew his sword with the other. Dietz did his best to back-pedal without tripping over those thrice-damned chains. Glouste, chattering like mad, bounded from her place in his jacket and scurried away, hiding behind Alaric when Lankdorf approached.

“It’s my pet!” Dietz shouted. She had hidden within his jacket throughout the trip into the tomb but must have somehow wriggled around to the side when he was being shackled. He whistled and Glouste ran towards him, ducking a half-hearted swipe from the bounty hunter’s blade and wriggling between Dietz’s bound arms and his back. “She won’t hurt you!”

“Hurt me? Damn thing already bit me!” Lankdorf snapped, examining his fingers carefully. Dietz could see a drop or two of blood, although it looked as if the bounty hunter had gotten off lightly. Glouste was capable of doing considerably more damage when riled. “No one said anything about a pet,” the bounty hunter muttered, apparently deciding the wounds weren’t serious. He approached cautiously, he and Glouste eyeing each other warily. “What’s that, then?”

“Her name is Glouste,” Dietz explained as the tree-fox climbed up to her usual perch around his neck and butted her head against his cheek affectionately. “She’s a tree-fox.”

“Is it valuable?” He didn’t like the way the bounty hunter was looking at her now.

“To me, yes,” Dietz replied, “but no, I doubt she’s worth much to anyone else.”

Lankdorf sheathed his sword, slowly. “Well,” he said, “it stays over there and that’s fine, but it makes a try for me with those sharp little teeth and it’ll be turning on a spit. Got it?”

“She won’t bother you,” Dietz said, rubbing his cheek against his pet’s head, although she was bristling angrily. “She’ll be good.”

“Uh huh.” The bounty hunter resumed his search, but carefully, one eye on the tree-fox at all times.

“What’s this?” he said after a minute, pulling something small from Dietz’s pocket. It was the amulet that Glouste had found in the tomb. She must have deposited it in his pocket during their trek back out.

“I don’t know,” Dietz admitted. “We found it inside.” This was the first time he’d really looked at the jewellery and he could see immediately why Glouste had been drawn to it. The amulet seemed to be a pair of flattened silver discs, set one atop the other, although one had slipped slightly so that a crescent of the lower disc showed along the upper left. A large gemstone, pale green, took up most of the upper disc’s surface, with strange markings carved all around it. A small silver ring was attached to the lower disc right above the exposed section and that linked the amulet to a fine silver chain.

It was definitely a handsome piece, but something about it made Dietz uncomfortable. Lankdorf obviously didn’t feel the same way and he looped the chain over his head, letting the amulet settle around his neck and beneath his shirt collar.

“Time we were moving,” the bounty hunter said after he’d searched Alaric as well and been disappointed to find nothing of value. Dietz noticed that he shoved Alaric’s notebook back into the young noble’s pouch, and wondered if the man simply hated to leave anything behind. “Wait here.” He walked away without another word, towards the valley wall, taking the weapons with him, and for a second Dietz thought this might be their chance to escape, but how? He was shackled, Alaric was wounded and unconscious, they had no weapons, and they were trapped in a valley that any minute could fill with the undead. He glanced uneasily at the tomb’s front entrance, but for whatever reason the Death Scarab’s skeleton guards had not pursued them. Perhaps the liche assumed they were all dead, or perhaps he was holding his warriors back to give them the thrill of the chase.

Dietz was almost relieved when Lankdorf reappeared a few minutes later, leading a pack mule. He’d take a live bounty hunter over undead soldiers any day.

Lankdorf unceremoniously dumped Alaric over the mule’s saddlebags, although at least he was careful not to put any direct weight on the wound. Then he tied a length of rope around Alaric’s middle, holding him to the mule, and another length from the mule’s halter to the chain connecting Dietz’s wrists. A longer rope ran from the halter, and Lankdorf picked up the end and wrapped it around his hand, giving a short tug. With a grunt the mule started walking and the little procession moved out, climbing a narrow trail up along the walls and out into the mountains beyond.

Dietz wasn’t sorry to see the valley disappear behind them, although he wished they could have buried Woldred and the others. Gunther had been a backstabbing ass and deserved to rot in the sun but the grave robbers had been good men—and woman—despite their occupation. Dietz whispered a short prayer to Ulric under his breath, asking the White Wolf to guide their souls to a better place, but that was all he could do.