Read Online Hammers in the Wind by Christian Warren Freed - Free Book Online Page B

carefully unsheathed his sword.
     
     
    The four assassins eased noiselessly through the partially open window at the end of the hall. Trained professionals, they’d come for the Gaimosian’s head.  Their employer was very specific in his request. The Gaimosian must die. He owed too much money to just suffer a broken bone or two. Only his head in a burlap sack was enough to facilitate payment in full.
    The leader waited for two to slip across to the opposite side of the hall. A small candle lamp gave off a faint, haunting light. He held up three fingers. The assassins tensed. They’d gone through the drill a hundred times. The leader dropped one finger. Loud snoring filtered from under the room door. He smiled inwardly. This was going to be easier than he had hoped.
    His second finger dropped. Three assassins drew their daggers. The fourth knocked a smallish, handheld crossbow. The third finger fell. A heartbeat passed. The leader drew back and kicked the door open. The snoring stopped a breath before a blackened arrow thumped into the pillow on the bed. Three charged, leaving the crossbowman alone in the hall.
    The leader followed his subordinates. He only managed a few steps when he suddenly pitched forward. His startled cry was drowned out by the slamming door. The other two turned in time to see a massive figure charging from the corner of the room, blackened sword waving menacingly.
    “Thought you were going to sneak up on me did you?” Boen roared.
    He attacked with speed and grace a man his size shouldn’t possess. A cross-body slash ripped open the first man from neck to groin. He died even before his bowels spilled onto the floor. The second managed to blow two blows before Boen beat through his guard. The Gaimosian swung his mighty broadsword clean through his would-be killer’s elbow, hacking the lower arm off. Limb and sword crashed down in a spray of hot blood.
    Boen finished him in the next move. He punched his sword through the assassin’s heart. The blade broke through his spine. Cries of agony and the sounds of battle woke most of the occupants. Boen ignored the rising panic outside and squared on the final killer. The leader struggled to rise. Broken ribs burned in both sides. Dark blood lined the corners of his mouth. He managed a weak laugh before falling back down.
    Boen dropped into a low guard. “Did I say something funny?”
    Eyes narrowed, the assassin said, “Kill me all you wish. That won’t change anything. More will come. You cannot win this, Gaimosian.”
    Boen smiled. It was the vision of death. “What makes you think you are the first to try?”
    Realization set in. Boen was unlike any other he’d been paid to hunt. His gaze shifted to both of his dead men. Comrades, brothers. Pools of cooling blood grew around the bodies. The air had a metallic taint. It was a smell he knew by heart. The assassin summoned what strength he had left and surged up to meet death with courage. Boen let him come. There was no hurry. He’d already won. The assassin lunged and was rewarded by being decapitated. Boen sidestepped to avoid the rope of blood stinging the air. Head and body hit the floor. The battle was over.
    He was about to wipe the blood off his sword when he remembered the arrow that narrowly missed killing him. There was one more. He dropped into a natural stance and made ready to meet his last opponent. A muffled cry came from the hallway, followed by a heavy thump. Panting, the knight waited. Time had not been kind to him. He was old and felt it. The three dead men hadn’t been much of a challenge, but the fight had left him winded.
    “Are you going to open the door or just stand in the damned hallway all night?” he growled. He was tired of the games.
    “How about you put the sword down and open the door for me. I don’t want my head taken off,” replied a voice he thought he recognized.
    Boen smiled. He remembered the voice and slowly pulled the door open. He caught a partial