The Legend Of Black Eyes 165 The Shadows

"Someone's following us," I told Osgar as we walked through the Red Road.

"Where?" he asked, jerking his head left and right.

"Would you quit squirming every time I warn you about a tail?" I asked, exasperated.

"I can't control my reflexes," he answered then shrugged.

"Just keep walking," I said, gritting my teeth. "We'll lose the tail once we get to the port."

"What if we don't?" Osgar asked.

"Then they'll find an abandoned corpse," I said. "Just keep going, don't jerk your head around anymore, and act normal."

"Can you not ask me to act normal anymore?" Osgar asked, exasperated. "How the h.e.l.l does one act normal anyway? I can't be normal if you make me aware of how I –"

I scoffed. "Whatever, bounty hunter! Just keep going. I'll tell you if we need to split up."

We were walking by the trade road in Merinsk Port District. This part of town was the busiest and the messiest in the entire city. Merchants yelled, offering good deals to the many customers that pa.s.sed by. From foreign jewelry to fine tapestry and exquisite cloth, merchants displayed all kinds of goods, imported either from the east or from the south.

Men and women walked in separate lines, browsing the goods on display, bartering and yelling at each other. People spoke in heated manners in Biarkh, especially in big cities like Merinsk or Rolar, the capital.

We were heading to an abandoned warehouse in the most desolate part of the district, the old port. We agreed to meet with our mysterious friend, the merchant robber. According to Osgar, the merchant robber is an excellent thief who's been a thorne in Bodrick's side. She was notorious for stealing from the crooked rich and giving back to the poor.

Osgar and the thief worked together a while ago in order to steal a treasure from Bodrick's own safe house. Not everything worked as planned though, and the merchant robber cut ties with Osgar. The bounty hunter didn't take it well. So he decided to hunt her down, trap her and convince her to retry their failed heist. It was the only way in his mind to show his worth to her.

"How far until our destination?" I asked Osgar.

"Two more blocks," he said. "Do we still have the tail problem?"

"What do you think?" I shot him an exasperated sideglance. "We'll head through the streets from here," I said. "We'll draw him or her out, then I'll take care of it."

Osgar nodded.

We took a narrow street, away from the busy merchant road by the port. It was late afternoon then. Most workers had either left to waste their day's wage in alcohol and women, or headed to the port, waiting for the evening s.h.i.+pments to arrive.

We chose this time to avoid being seen by too many people. The port at night was heavily guarded. Most n.o.bles had their own merchandize stored in warehouses, scattered all around the port district. They employed their own men to patrol and guard each warehouse. Added to the city custodians, going through the port at night was nigh on impossible without a pa.s.s.

"We split up at the next turn," I told Osgar. "Take the right first, I'll wait and lure our tail toward me. Keep heading toward the old port, I'll catch up with you."

He nodded and we both took different directions. I waited a while after Osgar left. I had to make sure the tail had its eyes on me before I took that street, then broke into a run. I went around the first warehouse then took another turn. Whoever tailed us was good. They'd been after us ever since we got to the port district.

Fortunately, I sensed that someone was trying to read through my energy. Ever since Osgar and I arrived to Merinsk, we had a constant follower problem. We usually shook them off, but they were growing in number. They also started using their senses to keep track of us. I couldn't ignore this problem any longer.

I took another turn then saw a tall figure barring my way. From the looks of it, it was a tall muscular man. Although he wore a black leather mask that concealed his face, save for his eyes, I could see his manly frame. I slowly walked toward him, taking in every detail about his attire.

He had a shortsword strapped to his waist. He wore a sleeveless studded leather chest piece. His leather gautlets were tightly strapped around his forearms, probably concealing some throwing knives. The upper part of his arm was left unprotected, revealing his toned muscles. He wore simple cloth trousers, to allow for better mobility I a.s.sumed. His boots were made of a black substance. It wasn't leather. It was something I had never seen.

When I got two feet from to the masked man, he moved quickly and decisively. He swung his right leg toward my face. The move was so fast, umpredictable, that I took the hit head on. I didn't expect someone could throw such a kick without prior preparation, without getting into position first.

I swayed dangerously to the side. I was falling, but I hadn't realized it yet. My brain activated after I realized my head was getting closer to the ground. I struggled to get back in position, and when I did, the masked man had disappeared.

I felt him, rather than seen or heard him. I was lucky I had kept my senses activated, otherwise I wouldn't have heard him. He managed to jump, or move, behind me as I swayed. He had enough time to draw his sword and drive it toward my back. I had another say in the matter though.

As soon as I felt his presence behind me, my instinct told me what his next move would be. I slid to the right and let the sword pa.s.s by my back. Then I thrust my elbow at the man's head. He stumbled forward, carried away by the missed thrust and the heavy elbow blow.

I followed up immediately with a kick to the man's stomach. I made sure I aimed the blunt part of my boots at his ribs. The man fell to the side, but didn't utter a sound. I could've killed him just then, but I needed him alive.

I got closer to him then bent down to inspect him. The man spun around, swinging his sword while momentum took care of the swing's curve. It was an easy attack to dodge though. I was about to take a casual step back when I saw the man's other arm move toward his belt.

I jumped to the side and away from him just in time. He threw a knife after swinging his sword. If I hadn't noticed his hidden move, I would've been badly hurt. The masked man got to his feet and ran toward me. It was his turn to go on the offensive.

I drew my swort and parried his first swing, then the second, and the third. He was fast. His blows were well aimed, practiced. He never made unnecessary moves either. His arm moved swiftly, carrying the sword as though it was its extention. He was good, but I was better.

I saw through his moves and countered each one with my own swings and thrusts. I knew he could parry my attacks too, as they were quite predictable, but that was what I wanted. I parried the first swing to my right. Then I drove my sword toward my left knee.

Swords clashed and the masked man lifted his sword in an upward motion. It was an ingenious move to tell you the truth. Not everybody could pull that kind of counter with the precision he did. Unfortunately, that was the exact attack I was waiting for. I took a step back and drew one my own throwing knives.

He didn't see me draw the knife since his left shoulder blocked his field of vision. As his upward slash reached the top of its momentum, I threw the knife. He squealed, finally, as the knife lodged itself deep within his armpit.

I hauled myself at him and placated him against a wall. One strong shove against the wall and his nose broke in a grotesque breaking sound. He screamed once more. I rotated the knife I had thrown at him, worsening the wound I caused. I drove my elbow against his throat, while my sword was pressed against his genitals.

"Who are you?" I asked after I removed his mask.

He was but a young boy, twenty moons at best. He was bald. He had a quite large nose for someone from Biarkh. It looked even larger now that I broke it. He looked foreign, not as pale as the natives, not as pointy chinned as them either.

"Look man," the young boy said. "I was just doing my job. I'll tell you everything you need to know, just don't kill me, alright?"  

"Why were you following me?" I asked.

"You've been coming to the port for three days now," he said. "You never bought anything. It was suspicious, only thieves do that. So I had to follow you, find out what you were planning."

"On whose orders?" I asked.

"The government," he said. "We're the shadows, the private guild that takes care of security here."

"Are you the only one tasked of following me?"

He nodded.

"I'd like to believe you," I said.

"Believe what?" the young man asked.

"That you won't talk after I release you. That you won't come back after me, and bring your friends along."

 "I won't," he said, shaking his head furiously. "I promise."

"I'll have to trust you to do that," I said, pressing my sword stronger against his groin.

He winced and started whimpering. "I don't know what you're planning, but if you don't want to attract attention, I suggest you do some shopping. No one knows who you are. I just tailed you since you acted suspicious."

"So no one else knows about me?" I asked.

The young man shook his head, sweating, breathing unsteadily.

"You fight well," I said. "How long have you been practicing?"

He looked at me with great confusion. He didn't expect this sudden change of topic. "Ten years," he said.

"Do you know why you lost?" I asked.

"I swung too wide," he answered.

"You moved as though you were practicing sword play, not trying to kill somebody. When you fight, you fight to survive. You should only care about killing your opponent, not looking good while doing it.

"You could have used your feet to your advantage, but you didn't. You could've surprised me by changing your pattern, but you didn't."

"I-I-I wasn't really aware of all my moves while we fought," he said, relaxing a little.

"That was your biggest mistake," I said. "You thought we were sparring. You were enjoying our exchange of blows. You only wanted to elongate it, I wanted to make you drop your guard, make a mistake.

"And you did. You tried an over the top parry. You exposed yourself, and you paid the price."

"I guess you're right," the young man said.

"You guess?" I looked at the young man in the eyes.

He saw it then. He saw the malice in my eye, the intent to kill, slaughter. He saw how bloodthirsty I was. And it scared him. He tried to step back but there was nowhere to step back to.

"I don't take pleasure in killing," I said. "I don't take pleasure in fighting either. You should have become a fighter for show, not a guard tasked with taking lives."

I drove my sword forward, through the young man's groin. He screamed his lungs out, but I pushed the sword against his throat before his painful cries went on any longer. He fell to the floor, pale, gurgling on his own blood.