The
Hunter peered out from behind the silent wagon. Good. No sign of Kellen or
Graden. He'd have to keep an ear out for the caravan guards, but he should have
plenty of time. The patrol had a lot of ground to cover.
Grunting,
he shifted the heavy load on his shoulder and darted out from the row of
shelters, hurrying toward the outcropping of boulders he'd chosen specifically
for his task. He ducked behind the boulders and hurled his burden to the
ground. A grunt and muffled cry came from the bundle, and something squirmed
within.
He's coming to. Good timing.
The
Hunter pulled back the canvas, and moonlight shone on Rill's pale, sweat-soaked
face and wide eyes. Blood oozed from a wound on the bald man's temple. The
Hunter hadn't bothered to be gentle.
"W-What?"
Rill's eyes darted around, and his gaze fell on the Hunter. "What is
this?"
The
Hunter struck the man hard. "Justice."
Rill
made to cry out, but the Hunter stuffed canvas into his mouth. "Ironic,
isn't it?" His fingers twitched a corner of the thick cloth. "You
spend every waking hour stitching up canvas. Fitting that it will serve as your
funeral shroud. There was more than enough of it around your area to wrap you
up."
The
bald man's eyes widened, and he mumbled something through the mouthful of
fabric.
The
Hunter shook his head. "Better you don't speak. Nothing you say can change
what's coming. Best you die with a bit of dignity. Watcher knows you had little
enough while you lived."
Soulhunger,
sensing blood, pounded louder in his mind, and the demon added its eager
demands.
"I
never understood men like you, knocking around your women." He squatted on
his haunches. "Just doesn't make sense."
Rill
tried in vain to shout through his gag.
The
Hunter narrowed his eyes. "Did you know there is a special hell reserved
for your kind? Those who take advantage of the helpless."
He
slipped Soulhunger from its sheath, and held the glinting blade before Rill's
eyes. "You may tell yourself she belongs to you, you can do whatever you
want." He leaned forward, and his voice dropped to a low growl. "Just
because you can, that doesn't mean you should."
Rill's
eyebrows shot up, and his expression turned pleading.
The
Hunter shook his head. "Save your excuses for the Long Keeper. You'll be
with him soon enough."
With
a vicious smile, he drove Soulhunger through the canvas and into the man's
chest. The gag muffled Rill's scream, but the dagger's shriek echoed in his
head with mind-numbing force. Soulhunger's gem flared, red light bright in the
darkness. The Hunter grunted as a finger of fire etched a line in his chest.
Power coursed through him, setting his muscles twitching, flooding him with
life, and pushing back the voices in his mind.
Slowly,
the brilliance leaking from the gemstone faded to nothing, and Rill's screams
of agony and terror fell silent. The Hunter basked in the stillness of the
night. A soothing breeze washed over him, the chill soothing the burning of his
new scar. Glorious silence echoed in his head. The voices had been sated. He
had peace, for a time.
He
straightened and stared down at the bundled corpse. Perhaps the Long Keeper will have mercy on you.
An
image flashed through his mind: a pitiful figure huddled at the entrance to
Rill's tent, covered in filthy rags and reeking of blood and coitus. Rill's
desire to punish Gwen had made it easier for the Hunter to slip in, knock the
fat bastard out, wrap him in his own canvas, and slip out unnoticed. The man's
absence wouldn't be discovered until morning. Few would care.
He
took a deep breath, relishing the cool scents of the desert at night. He would
wait a few minutes until he was certain Graden and Kellen had passed, then he
would dispose of the body, bury the canvas, and slip back into camp. Without the
voices shrieking and pleading in his mind, he might even be able to catch a few
hours of undisturbed sleep before the morning breakfast bell.
Tonight
would be a good night.
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