Hal - The Duellist #1

Chapter Forty-Six: Two Birds

Nérac slowly opened his eyes. Why had she failed to knock him out cold? At first he simply groaned, rubbing at his temple where she had struck him. Hal put her foot on his chest and pricked the skin of his throat with the tip of the sword. He spluttered and coughed, twisting his head up to look at her, confusion giving way to outrage.

"Get up." She stood back, allowing him to draw in a few deep gulps of air. As he pulled himself upright into a sitting position, she levelled the blade at his throat.

"Where's my wife?" His voice was a low, heavy drawl.

Hal maintained the pressure on the blade. "I said get up."

Clutching the side of the bed, he dragged himself to his feet, still wheezing and evidently half-stunned by the blow to his head. Whatever wits he had recovered deserted him once more when Meracad emerged from her hiding place.

"Get his belt and tie his hands!" Hal urged.

"My wife!" His voice betrayed his confusion, horror, incredulity.

Meracad reached around his waist, whispering in his ear as she unfastened the buckle. "Your hands, Sir."

Nérac struggled but Hal increased the pressure on the blade in response. "Not, I believe, your wife for much longer." She could not resist the cheap jibe.

"You asked me once if I'd ever had any suitors in Colvé." Meracad gave the belt an extra twist as she tightened the bonds, and he grunted in pain. "I told you what you wanted to hear. I have never known the love of any man."

"You look overwrought, Lord Nérac. Meracad, why don't you be a good wife and help your husband to sit down? He seems a little shocked."

Meracad pulled out the chair from beneath the dressing table.

"If you please, Sir?" Hal gave him a push. He stumbled, plunging backwards, almost losing his balance. As he fell, Meracad grabbed a cord from the gown she had discarded earlier, wrapping it around his chest and then securing it behind the back of the chair. He had ceased struggling, which disturbed Hal for some reason. Anxiety mounted in the pit of her stomach as he stared up, his dark eyes blazing, his face paling with anger.

"I'll find you." His voice was low, menacing now. "Whoever you are, I'll find you. And then I'll kill you. Slowly."

"I think he's serious." Meracad gave the cord a final twist, a nervous smile twitching at the edges of her lips.

"I suppose he is," Hal murmured. Summoning all her strength, she struck Nérac on the temple again. This time, the blow rendered him unconscious. "Let's go."

Meracad turned to seize a couple of items from the dressing table.

"Come on!" The full horror of what she had just done was beginning to dawn on Hal. Encountering Nérac had never been part of the plan. She plucked at Meracad's sleeve, pulling her to the door.

"We may as well lock it. It'll buy us a little time." Meracad smiled, brandishing the key. Hal reached for the handle, yanking open the door and then pulled up sharp at the sight of a dirty, food-stained apron. The faint, acrid reek of stale sweat issued into the room. Garth stood on the threshold. Her guard now down, she could do nothing but stare at the abhorrent kitchen master, who was armed with a carving knife and a meat cleaver.

"Well, two birds caught in flight!" He smiled, revealing a few black teeth piercing the red, raw meat of his gums. "We're going to have some fun, aren't we? I should have finished you off as soon as you walked in through the kitchen door, you insolent bitch!"

Hal knew that the minute she reached for her own weapon Garth would make quick use of the cleaver. The two women stood, rooted to the ground in terror. Was it all to be over so quickly, then? Hal stepped backwards.