Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #15 June 2015 | Page 60

duty last night. He wouldn’t be missed ‘till tomorrow, so I stashed ‘im, took his gear, and came in to
watch the fun when you tried to give the lord his
due.” He glanced around the room, amused. “Sure
didn’t figure I’d wind up helpin’ stop you. Gotta
say, I’m a little disappointed. You gettin’ caught so
easily.”
Khellus thrust his sword at the bodies of Abrodail
and Favriel. “You could’ve stopped him. Stopped
him from killing them.”
“What? And spoil the surprise? Why would I go and
do that? Was a good bit of fun seein’ them begging
for their lives. Like little kitties, mewlin’ and wrigglin’ until they got gutted good. Plus seein’ you
getting all broken up over them. Didn’t think you
was such a feather-hearted bitch.”
Khellus scowled. Blood thumped in his ears as his
fury rose at the other man’s heartless cruelty. But
had he been any better when he’d singled out Abrodail and made her an unwilling accomplice? The
couple lay dead just as much thanks to him as Groxley’s indifference. “Then why bother saving me?”
“Cause you didn’t deserve to die that way.” Groxley
wiped a dribble of blood off his armour and sucked
it from his fingers. “I can respect another professional, y’know? So here’s what I’s gonna do. Since
you’s so sad to see your friends lose their heads,
I’ll snap yours off as well an let you find ‘em in
the misty paths, where you can spend all eternity
apologizin’ for being such a bad, bad man. That’s
the death you deserve. Then... ” He licked his lips.
“Then I’m gonna go down, finish the job you bungled, and take the lil’ girl and have a bit of fun with
‘er before making her squeal like her folks did.”
Khellus roared as he attacked. Groxley’s grin didn’t
waver as he flung the crossbow, forcing Khellus to
weave aside. When he righted, Groxley had retrieved a sword of his own. Their blades clanged as

they tested each other’s guard.
Khellus cut low and then blocked a vicious cut at
his side. He caught an overhead blow, but Groxley
snapped a leg up and into his chest. He stumbled
back against the wall and whirled aside as Groxley’s sword struck sparks off the stones.
They circle each other, shuffling over the bodies and
avoiding the pools of blood along the floor. Groxley
lacked Khellus’s fluidity and speed, but made up
for it with a ferocity that seemed inhumanly strong.
He battered the assassin’s defences, forcing him to
divert all his strength and focus into keeping the
strikes from connecting.
Khellus dashed in and out of range, stabbing and
slashing when he could spare the effort. He left the
thug bleeding from several shallow wounds, but
Groxley acted no more affected than if he’d been
tickled. All the while, Groxley kept his grin fixed
like death’s own visage.
As the fight moved around the room, Groxley started wielding the sword with one hand while snatching up random objects and flinging them with the
other. Khellus dodged a marble bust, which shattered against the wall. Asmoran’s inkwell and pitcher of wine splashed past, casting droplets across his
face. Groxley even tore the helm off his own head
and whipped it out to clang against the stones.
Khellus ground his teeth, determined to not let the
man distract him. Then Groxley threw his sword
like a spear. Khellus spun to let it pass by. As he
reoriented, a body filled his vision. Groxley had
stooped and scooped up Abrodail’s corpse, which
he’d flung straight at Khellus.
K hellus lurched aside, but the body still slammed
into his shoulder. Thrown off-balance, he stumbled
and braced a hand on the floor. He tried to raise the
sword, but Groxley knocked it aside, taking another