The Warlock Senator (Book 2) (12 page)

“Marlin failed to mention that,” Al noted with a wide eyed nod and a frown. “Anything else you want to tell me before we get to the senate’s tribunal?”

Erik shrugged. “Not really,” he replied.

“Well, just don’t try to turn into a dragon.”

“Why would I do that?” Erik asked.

“Just saying in case you get any crazy ideas since you can apparently use his sword just fine, and you are in Lepkin’s body after all.” Al shot him a playful wink and then held a finger to his lips as if they were hiding a big secret.

Erik laughed it off and kept his eyes on the road.

They passed by the Rosewood, the Midnight Traveler, and the Spotted Owl Inn. Erik smiled when he saw the old, plain sign with the word “Inn” etched into its side. “This is it,” Erik said.

“I know the way to my own shop,” Al quipped.

“I…” Erik started to apologize, but something in Al’s demeanor stopped him. “What is it?”

Al did a double take over his shoulder before jumping down from his horse. He looked up to Erik and held a finger to his mouth, signaling the boy to remain silent.
This time Al was not playing. Erik nodded his understanding and dismounted. He followed Al through the narrow alleyway, turning his body sideways to fit between the buildings. Al slowed his pace as he neared the opening. He held his left hand out, motioning for Erik to halt. All at once there was a heavy scent of burnt wood and something almost metallic in the air.

Al’s head dropped down and he let out a long sigh. “Oh laddie, what have you done?”

Erik turned his head to look at the street they had just left. Something gray flashed across his field of vision. He reached out with his right hand to tap Al on the shoulder, but his hand found nothing. He turned back to see that Al was gone. A knot formed in his stomach. A bottle skittered into the alleyway from behind. He turned back, pulling Lepkin’s sword from its sheath, but no one was there.

Erik decided if there was danger, he would be better served in a larger area. The alley was too tight for him to maneuver, and Al was no longer near. He bolted out from the alley to see a smoldering heap of charred lumber around a large stone kiln. Some of the embers still burned.

Someone had burned Al’s shop to the ground.

“Al?!” Erik yelled.

“Keep yer voice down, beanpole!” Al growled. Erik wheeled around to see Al kneeling over his old apprentice.

Erik rushed to Al’s side. “Is he?”

Al nodded. “He is alive, but not faring well,” the dwarf said soberly.

“We should get him out of here,” Erik said in a whisper.

Al shook his head. “It’s too late for that.”

Erik looked at Al curiously and only upon closer inspection did he notice Al’s hammer nestled neatly in his lap with his left hand near for quick access. The apprentice moaned, drawing Erik’s attention and showing him that he held one of Al’s daggers. Erik realized that something was about to crash down around them.

He slowly rose to his feet, adjusted his grip on Lepkin’s sword, and let his anger flow into the weapon. “Well then,” Erik said with a nod. “What shall I do?”

“Two on the roof, one behind the burnt shop,” Al said softly.

“There were four,” the apprentice said.

“I saw him at the other side of the alley,” Erik said.

“The Blacktongues will come at us in a matter of moments,” Al said. He looked down to his apprentice. “You need to keep yourself out of the way, boy.”

“I’m no boy,” the apprentice said with a forced grin. He struggled to sit up and locked eyes with Al for a moment. “Give ‘em hell,” he said.

Erik heard a creak behind him. Instinctively he somersaulted to the left while Al grabbed his apprentice and dashed for an outhouse just a couple yards away. A pair of throwing knives whistled as they flew harmlessly by. Al’s apprentice screamed in agony as his twisted, broken leg dragged raggedly through the dirt and grass until Al plopped him behind the outhouse. The dwarf took only enough time to prop his apprentice’s back against the wooden structure before looking back to Erik. He pointed to Erik and signaled that he would go for the roof and Erik should head for the assassin behind the burnt shop.

Erik nodded and jumped to his feet. His eyes scanned the smoldering heap for any sign of movement. A man emerged from behind the kiln. He was already in a dead sprint, coming at Erik hard. Erik saw Al bounding for th
e alleyway as fast as his stubby legs would carry him. Erik would have to deal with this Blacktongue alone.

Erik raised Lepkin’s sword into a high guard. The Blacktongue readied
a war axe in his left hand and continued his charge. Erik’s heart pounded in his chest. He tried to count how many steps the Blacktongue would need, but the man moved too quickly. Erik was forced to parry and dive to the side as the Blacktongue slashed at his side with the axe. Luck, more than skill, gave Erik just enough clearance to dodge the strike. As good as his training had been with Master Lepkin, Erik was unaccustomed to fighting in an adult body.

He was about to experience the steepest learning curve of his life.

Before he could turn around he heard the apprentice shout a warning. Erik instinctively thrust his sword backward, over his left shoulder. The sword shook violently as the blade scraped against something hard. Erik spun under his thrust, maintaining contact with his foe and stepping out far enough to avoid the dagger strike that followed the Blacktongue’s axe.

The Blacktongue struck out with a savage kick to Erik’s ribs, knocking him a few inches to the side. Erik was surprised by the small man’s strength, but he recovered quickly. He lunged forward with
an offensive of his own. He slashed his sword down in a quick chop to drive the Blacktongue back. Then he double-stepped forward for momentum before launching a forward snap kick to the Blacktongue’s chest. He connected solidly, sending the wiry man back a couple of feet, but the assassin retained his footing.

When Erik’s foot came back to the ground he felt a burning sting in his leg a few inches below his knee. He looked down quickly to see a small rip in his pants over the side of his calf. He looked up and saw a tint of red lining the Blacktongue’s dagger.

The Blacktongue drew his thin lips into a crooked, toothy smile and whirled his axe around his left hand. “The legend of Lepkin ends today,” he promised. “Tomorrow we will put down his rabid orphan dog too.”

Erik felt rage boil up within him. A flash of Timon’s purple, broken hand came to his mind, warning him to control his anger. He shook his head. This was not the time
to bridle his emotions. The Blacktongue embodied evil and was bent on destroying everything Erik held dear. While he knew he would have to control his anger just enough to maintain control over his thoughts, he welcomed the rage. Anything to give him an edge over this foe.

The Blacktongue charged forward again. Erik resumed his high guard, allowing his anger to flow and course into Lepkin’s blade. Flames leapt out from the hilt and ignited the black Telarian steel. Erik let out a yell, summoning his wrath to the surface.

The two clashed as Erik deftly parried the first strike of the axe with Lepkin’s flaming sword and kicked away a low stab attempt with a dagger. Erik held the sword in his left hand and caught the Blacktongue in the jaw with a savage right hook. Erik heard something pop and snap. The Blacktongue’s chin seemed to dislodge and come forward under the skin while the back of the jaw drooped down.

The assassin reeled back, but he was undaunted. He threw the dagger, but his aim was wild and it onl
y glanced off of Erik’s shoulder with the side of the handle. The move might have made Erik stumble back, but in his enraged state it seemed to him barely more than a fly buzzing onto his skin. He pressed forward, not giving the assassin a chance to regroup.

Down came the flaming sword. The assassin blocked it with his axe and the two found themselves struggling against each other. The Blacktongue reached up with his free hand to keep Erik from bringing the flaming sword down upon him. Erik lashed out with a pair of quick kicks at the assassin’s shins. The Blacktongue grimaced a
nd grunted, but he did not stumble.

“Behind you!” the apprentice shouted out.

Erik disentangled himself from his foe and spun out to the right. The fourth Blacktongue had come out of the alley and his sword missed Erik by a hair’s breadth as he thrust the blade into the now empty air that Erik had just occupied.

Erik lunged forward, bashing his shoulder into the newcomer and slicing the man’s forearm with the flaming sword. The new Blacktongue screamed horribly as his arm fell to the groun
d, still holding his sword.

The axe-wielding Blacktongue came to his comrade’s rescue, but Erik had expected as much. Erik quickly pivoted on his back foot, and with a flick of his wrist positioned his sword tip directly in front of the charging axe-man. The Blacktongue’s eyes shot open wide as he ran directly into the flaming point.

Erik withdrew the blade and finished both foes with a strong, sideways chop at neck level. The two bodies fell lifelessly to the ground. Erik looked up just in time to see another body falling from the roof of the inn.

“Three down,” Erik muttered to himself. He couldn’t see Al, but he could hear his heavy feet pounding and punishing the wooden roof as he battled the last Blacktongue. Erik studied the back of the building for a moment. There was a four
-pane window next to the rear door. Above that was a small window with iron bars crossing the glass. It would be difficult, but it was just close enough to the gutter that it might provide Erik a quick ascent.

He quickly moved the sword toward the scabbard. As he did so, the flames extinguished themselves and the metal was miraculously cool. He bolted across the grass, ran up the side of the wall, launching himself upward from the window sill. He reached up with both arms and latched onto the iron bars on the window higher up the wall and pulled himself up to the gutter. He found himself mentally thanking Lepkin for all the pull
-ups he was assigned in the past. He had done so many that pulling himself up and over the gutter was almost second nature to him, despite the fact he was in Lepkin’s body.

He scrambled to his feet and saw Al somersault between the Blacktongue’s legs, punching up into the assassin’s groin with his hammer as he went. The assassin stiffened onto his toes and jumped into the air slightly. Erik rushed forward, pulling a knife from his belt and tackling the assassin from behind. The two of them flew over the roof’s apex, slamming hard into the old, cracking cedar shingles, knocking many of them loose as they tumbled over each other.

Erik slashed the assassin across the chest and then brought the dagger down into the assassin’s left shoulder. The Blacktongue growled and struggled to move his weapon into play, but Erik was stronger. He pinned the man down, holding one wrist to the roof, and disabling the Blacktongue’s other arm with a few more quick stabs.

“Who sent you?” Erik asked.

“Don’t waste time talking, just finish him!” Al yelled out.

Erik didn’t take his eyes off the assassin,
but he didn’t move to slay him either. He wanted answers. “Who sent you?” he repeated.

A pain ripped through his left thigh. He recoiled reflexively and the Blacktongue wormed out from under him just enough to bring his knife to bear. He slashed out at Erik, but Erik managed to deflect the attack with his thick leather bracer and roll out of the way. The roof shook violently with every move he made. Shingles tore loose from their place and cascaded out over the edge, threatening to trip Erik and send him crashing down to the street below.

The assassin was back on his feet and pulled a long, slender instrument from a peculiar sheath on the side of his leg. He flicked his wrist and sent the steel dart arcing straight at Erik. Erik ducked and shifted his weight to the left. The roof creaked and groaned under his weight and started to crack. Erik could feel his footing giving way so he jumped farther back to increase the distance between him and the Blacktongue, who was already advancing quickly.

He landed on shingles that held only for a moment before slipping out from under his foot. Erik lost his balance and crashed down to the roof, sliding down and over the gutter. He reached up with his left hand and grabbed hold just in time to avoid falling to the street below. A series of gasps and shouts erupted below him as people in the street spotted the action.

The Blacktongue leapt through the air, knife glinting in the sunlight as the assassin deftly turned it over in his palm, preparing to bring the blade down into Erik’s skull. Erik knew he had two choices. He could drop to the street below, likely breaking one of his legs, or he could allow the Blacktongue to end everything.

A hammer spun into view and crashed into the Blacktongue’s skull with such force that the assassin’s traj
ectory was altered. The Blacktongue’s eyes glazed over and he spun head over heels to the ground below, crashing in a sickening lump on the cobblestone. Erik froze, staring at the dead Blacktongue below.

“I had him all locked up,” Al grumbled from above.

Erik looked up to see the dwarf scooting on his rump to the side of the roof. Al planted his sturdy boots in the gutter and reached a hand out for Erik. “Sorry, I thought I could get some information out of him.” He jerked up and reached out to grab Al’s hand. The dwarf heaved him up and dropped Erik on the roof beside him. Then he patted him on the back.