Blood of the Underworld(126)

In answer, Haern grabbed one of the throwing knives and jammed it into Percy’s leg. Percy winced, but held down his scream.

“You think you can break me?” he asked after gathering his strength. “I don’t think it’s in you. Too soft.”

A second knife, an inch higher up the leg. This time Percy did scream, but not for long.

“You,” he said, laughing despite being out of breath. “You think this will work? I’ll bleed out too quick. Don’t have much...” he winced as Haern jammed in a third, “...practice at this, do you?”

“Tell me his name,” Haern said, grabbing Percy by the shirt and pulling him close. He’d frightened others before, often with just the intensity in his eyes, but this man seemed to be close bedfellows with pain and fear.

“You try to act the monster,” Percy said, spitting in Haern’s face. “But I grew up with monsters. I know who they are, how to smell ‘em. You’re not a monster. Thren is. Carson was. But you?” Another laugh. “You’ve killed so many, Watcher, yet you’ve somehow prevented it from changing you. Why? You think it makes you a better pers...”

Haern jammed his saber into Percy’s stomach, then twisted it. The moment he removed the blade, blood would gush out, along with intestines.

“Now...” Percy said, slumping against the wall. “Now that’s the monster. Were you hiding it, Watcher? How...quaint...”

“Tell me where,” Haern said.

“His name’s Laerek,” Percy said. “A priest. He’ll be...”

He launched into a coughing fit, each cough weaker than the last. His skin was turning pale. Haern felt sick in his stomach realizing how far he’d gone. The man might die before giving him more than a name, all because he’d lost control. All because he’d wanted, for whatever reason, to prove that he could be the monster Percy doubted he could be.

“Down on Songbird,” Percy said. “He’s...at...shop...”

More coughing. His eyes had turned glassy. Too much blood lost, Haern knew.

“Damn it,” he whispered. “Tell me where, quickly!”

Percy shook his head.

“Pull out the sword,” he said. “And go look for yourself.”

Haern yanked it free. Blood gushed out, and as it did, Percy’s body began convulsing in his last death throes. Haern watched, feeling strangely guilty for the act. At last, when all life was gone, he sheathed his sabers and then ran. Songbird ran for about a mile. There were only so many shops on it, but it’d take a lot of time to search them all. Still, time he had, at least to try.

Starting at the southern edge of the road, he followed it north, his mind racing. Why would a priest hire the Bloodcrafts to kill the Eschaton? That a priest of Karak would want them dead wasn’t much of a stretch, and Tarlak tended to be meddlesome when it came to their darker affairs, but there had to have been some specific reason.

As Haern ran, he checked each shop, those of bakers, jewelers, smiths, makers of cloth and wool. Most were dark, and their doors locked. Feeling his desperation grow, he continued on, until he heard a man scream from an alley behind him. Spinning about, Haern rushed into it, only to come to a halt.

Thren Felhorn was there, swords drawn. Laying at his feet was a priest wearing the black robes of Karak. So far, he was alive, but his face was covered with blood. Haern realized why when Thren tossed the man’s severed ear onto his chest.

“I said talk,” Thren told him.

“Laerek,” Hearn said, grabbing his father’s attention. “This man is Laerek, isn’t it?”

Thren looked up, and his expression was one Haern could not read. Was it anger, or amusement?

“It is,” Thren said. “Do ghosts have business with him as well?”

So far he’d made no overtly threatening actions, but he still held his swords, which was enough to make him incredibly dangerous. Haern slowly stepped into the alley with his weapons drawn.

“I’m no ghost, and no dead man, despite what rumors you might have heard,” Haern said, making sure his hood was pulled low to hide his face in its magical shadows. “This man hired mercenaries to kill me and my friends. I want to know why.”

Laerek refused to look his way. He was a thin man with a long nose, and now missing an ear. Thren kicked him once, blasting the air from his lungs.

“It seems you’ve been messing with very dangerous people,” Thren told the priest before turning back to Haern. “This man sent the Suns after my guild. I’d appreciate knowing why as well.”

Laerek rolled onto his back and pressed against the nearby wall.