Page 28 of Eldritch (The Eating Woods #2)

The stranger leaned in and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t offer the very risky proposition of smuggling you into Calyxar, if I possessed that kind of coin.”

“How much?” Kazhimyr asked.

“A thousand liro.”

“That’s a lot of coin for little guarantee that you’ll successfully get us into Calyxar.”

The stranger raised a brow. “Paid on successful entry.”

Ravezio sat back, crossing his arms. “How can we be certain you’re telling the truth? That you have residency there?”

His lips pulled into a smile, and he tugged out a scroll bearing a red wax seal. “Because, unlike you two, I have a bloodmark to prove it. If anyone is taking a risk, it’s me. How do I know you’ll pay once you’re there?”

Kazhimyr couldn’t deny that, under the circumstances, with the kings men certain to hunt them down, it seemed there was much less risk on their part. Unless the ship and crew happened to be slavers. “How do you propose transportation?”

“I know a merchant in Wyntertide. My papers say I’m second mate. You would be my subordinates.”

Ravezio sneered at that. “I scrub no decks.”

“It’s not the decks you’d be scrubbing, friend.” The stranger grinned. “All on paper, of course.”

“Let’s see your papers.”

He stared at the two Letalisz for a moment before handing over the bloodmark, and Kazhimyr opened it up, confirming what the man had told them. “Dravien Nokvayne. Elvyniran from Monteszel Province. Your nexumis includes a keen sense of hearing, navigational skills, and the ability to read storms.”

He gave a bow of his head. “You now know more about me than I know about you.”

Kazhimyr handed it back to him. “What if we say no? I suspect you could turn us over for quite a bit of coin.”

The stranger shrugged. “I do not mingle with watchmen. I’ve my own reasons to avoid the law. Should you decide to walk away? Nothing gained, nothing lost.” He lifted his tankard, kicking back a long swill. “I bid you good evening, and as far as I’m concerned, I spoke to no one.”

Kazhimyr chewed on the possibility for a moment.

Instincts told him to walk away, but that’d leave them with even fewer choices.

“We’re weary from travel. This is not a decision we want to make tonight.

We’ll seek you out in the morning.” He didn’t give the stranger a chance to argue, as on those parting words, Kazhimyr and Ravezio stood up from the booth.

“A word of caution, my friend,” the stranger said. “Some seem to think you’re affiliated with King Sagaerin. Overheard them talking about it.” He nodded toward a group of villagers in the corner, who sat glaring back at the two assassins.

“Why ever would they think that?”

“The uprising in Costelwick has stirred a bit of unrest and suspicion in the surrounding villages. Folks don’t appreciate a king who starves his people.

While you don’t look like king’s men, you’re strangers here.

You may want to find shelter somewhere outside of Susurria.

If you’re looking for a place, there’s the old coaching inn just outside of town. ”

“I’m aware of it.”

“Of course. I’ll wait to hear from you in the morning.”

Kazhimyr kept his eyes on the burly men as he strode past them and out of the tavern.

While taking on multiple opponents at once would be nothing new for the trained assassins, they weren’t interested in drawing attention to themselves.

Instead, they quietly slipped out of the tavern—where they found their horses lying in two bloody heaps, still tied to their posts.

Their necks had been slit.

A slow, blinding rage stirred in Kazhimyr’s gut, his blood magic tingling with the need to be turned loose. No doubt, that gesture he’d noticed had played a role in them losing their mounts.

“We’re doing this, aren’t we?” Ravezio asked, and let out a sigh, sliding one of his daggers out of its sheath. “No one slaughters my stead without punishment.”

Kazhimyr yanked his sword from its scabbard and pushed through the door of the tavern.

His senses flared, the sharp whistle of a blade cutting through the air.

He ducked, yanking Ravezio with him just as a sword sliced toward him, only a hairsbreadth from his head.

The attacker, momentarily weaponless, reached for the next blade, but not before Kazhimyr swung out.

One quick slash of his enemy’s thigh severed the femoral vein, spilling copious blood onto the tavern floor.

The man howled and stumbled away, running into nearby tables.

Behind Kazhimyr, a clang of steel alerted him to Ravezio’s fight with a scraggly-bearded miner whose face was covered in soot. The basilisk on the arm of his fellow Letalisz damn near glowed, begging to turn something to stone.

Another attacker drove forward, right for Kazhimyr, his blade longer. Kazhimyr blocked and parried with a grunt, driving him back into the table behind him. A swift jab into his heart ended the fight quicker than it’d begun.

Heat streaked across his arm, and he turned to see yet another villager slicing into his bicep. Kazhimyr hiked up his boot, kicking the man backward, and carved a diagonal line through his chest, then finished with a horizontal strike across his belly that spilled his entrails onto the floor.

To the right of him, Ravezio fought with what appeared to be his third attacker, given the two bodies that lay bleeding out on the floor.

Again, his senses flared, only seconds before he felt the sharp prod of a blade at his back. One breath and it could’ve pierced his heart. Instead, the deadly tip of it fell away, and Kazhimyr turned to see Dravien yanking his blade from the attacker’s skull.

The body plopped to the floor with a hard thud, and lips thinned, Dravien sighed, wiping the broad side of the blade across the man’s tunic.

“Thanks,” Kazhimyr said, shoving the sword back into its scabbard as he turned back toward the bar, where a half-dozen men lay bleeding out.

“Looks like you’re going to need horses.” Dravien nodded toward the man he’d killed. “So happens, I know where this clotpole’s farm is.”

“You’ll only tell us if we agree to hire you, though, right?”

“That’d make me an unreasonable cunt.” He stood tapping his finger against the pommel of his sword. “But, yeah. You agree, and I’ll take you there.”

A sound of disapproval rumbled in Kazhimyr’s throat, and he twisted around to see Ravezio shrug. “Fine. You get us to Calyxar for a thousand liro.”

“Well, the horses are going to up the ante to a thousand and a quarter, I’m afraid.”

“Fine.” Kazhimyr slammed his fist in the Elvinyran’s face, the force knocking him onto his ass. “That’s for the horses whose throats you had slit. Cunt.”