He should know. He created it.
D’Medani caught his look of recognition, and gave him a smug smile.
“It’s only fitting, don’t you think? That we use your own inventions to track you down? House Medani has made good use of the things you were forced to leave behind at the Tower-some even think it was a fair trade, Yaradala for the plans to your clever toys.” Her smile grew brittle. “I don’t.”
“Why are you doing this?” Andri asked, drawing the half-elf’s attention back to him. “Your bounty has already been paid.”
D’Medani laughed, a musical sound in the night, utterly at odds with the scene being played out. “And a most generous payment it was, sir paladin. But if I take it and deliver d’Kundarak to my employer anyway, then I’ll get paid twice. One hundred platinum dragons. How could I possibly pass that up?”
The bounty hunter had gumption, Greddark had to admit. Beautiful and smart. Too bad she was on the wrong side.
“So, how about it, d’Kundarak? You, for the paladin. Though, if you ask me, the shifter’s getting the best end of that bargain.”
Greddark’s thoughts raced. D’Medani would have no qualms about killing Andri, and he had no more healing potions left in his pockets. Irulan wouldn’t be able to nock her own arrow or close the gap between them to engage the bounty hunter with her sword before the other woman could get off another bolt, and at this range, the half-elf wouldn’t miss. No, it was better if he complied-he still had the chimes on his bracer, which d’Medani hadn’t seemed to realize earlier was anything more than a rather gaudy accessory. If she thought he was unarmed, he might get a chance to use one, though it would be a shame to see that pretty blonde head explode like the ghost tiger’s had. Not as great a shame as doing time in a Karrnathi cell would be, though-or worse, in Helanth d’Medani’s private dungeons. Yaradala had had good reasons for wanting to escape her father’s overbearing presence, not the least of which was his reputation for cruelty, and even torture. No, the half-elf’s sweet face would be a small price to pay to avoid that.
“Very well,” Greddark said, over protests from both Andri and Irulan. He raised his arms and began walking slowly toward the bounty hunter.
“Turn around,” she ordered. “Walk backwards.”
As he did so, taking each step with care, she continued speaking, this time to Andri and Irulan.
“I see you’ve picked up another straggler. I hope you have better luck with this one than you did with the dwarf, though from the looks of him, he’s as bad as d’Kundarak.”
If she only knew.
Then Greddark was beside her, and she shoved Andri past him. As the paladin stumbled and fell to his knees, she grabbed a handful of Greddark’s hair and pulled him back until her war spikard was pressing into the small of his back, a sensation that was becoming all too familiar. The feeling was only magnified when she released his shock of hair and slapped her manacles on his wrists. An easy task, considering she was at least a foot taller than him. She let his bound hands fall in front of him, and looped the chain that ran from them once about his neck. When she pulled on the makeshift leash, the links scraped his neck raw and drew his hands up to his chest, giving him very little room to maneuver.
“Now we’re going to back out of here slowly, and you’re going to act as my dwarven shield.” She seemed to find that funny, chuckling at her own joke.
Irulan had her bow in hand, an arrow nocked and ready, and was keeping pace with them, trying to outflank them and get a shot, but d’Medani was compensating for the other woman’s movements, keeping him firmly interposed between the two of them. Andri had picked up Irulan’s sword-d’Medani must have tossed his when she captured him-and was following, ready to take advantage of any misstep on the half-elf’s part.
But there would be no misstep this time, Greddark knew, and no timely rescue. If he wanted an opportunity to escape, he was going to have to make it himself. And, unfortunately, he had a feeling it was going to hurt.
As they backed out of the clearing, Greddark knew he was running out of options. Though d’Medani hadn’t had a teleportation device at Shadukar, he realized it was probably because she had been on foot-the horse Irulan had described her riding away on sounded like a Valenar warhorse, and there was no way the bounty hunter would risk leaving such a valuable mount behind. Once they got to wherever the half-elf had tethered her stallion, all bets were off. He had to make his move now.
He decided to wait until they were past the first few trees and into the forest proper. The extra cover should make d’Medani relax a little. The trunks would impede both Irulan’s line of sight and any charge Andri might see fit to make. It would also serve as protection for his companions if his aim was off.
There. The pressure on his back lessened almost imperceptibly. Before he could change his mind, Greddark pretended to stumble over his own feet, falling backward into the half-elf.
Agony exploded through his back as she released the trigger on the war spikard and the crossbow bolt buried itself to the fletching, the quarrel tearing through muscles and organs and popping out through the front of his abdomen with a squelching sound. At the same time, the chain about his neck was pulled taut, effectively choking him even as his hands were jerked up to slam into his nose so hard he felt blood gush. Then they went down in a jumble of limbs and Greddark rolled onto his side, trying desperately to pry the blasting chime off his bracelet before d’Medani could regain her feet, or he blacked out from the pain.
He was too slow. The half-elf was up, and instead of loading another bolt into the crossbow mechanism, she used the spikard as a hammer, bringing the heavy head down on his shoulder. Distantly, he heard the crack of bones and realized they were his.
But he had the chime off now, and the charm grew to fit in his hand, an inscribed bell with an ornate grip, a small Siberys dragonshard embedded in its clapper. As d’Medani raised her arms for another blow, this one aimed for his head, Greddark used the last of his strength to ring the bell, its sweet tone echoing through the surrounding forest. As Greddark watched the warhammer descend, he thought fuzzily that the timber of the bell’s ring had changed since the last time he used it, followed by the horrified realization that he’d grabbed the wrong chime.
Then the head of d’Medani’s hammer was blocking his vision and he closed his eyes, awaiting the inevitable.
The blow never landed. Greddark opened one eye, half-expecting the hammer to smash into his face as he did so.
D’Medani was gone. Andri and Irulan were rushing to him, the paladin sheathing Irulan’s sword in his father’s ornate scabbard while the shifter cast about wildly for some sign of the bounty hunter.
“Where did she go? She just disappeared-an invisibility spell, do you think?”
Disappeared …?
Then Greddark was laughing as understanding dawned, though the movement made fire blaze in his belly and pulled the chain even tighter about his abused neck.
He thought he’d grabbed the blasting chime, but he’d inadvertently pulled a different charm off his bracer, the one he’d never been able to figure out how to use. Whenever he’d tried it before, nothing would happen. But it had worked now, because d’Medani was a dragonmarked member of her House.