”We shouldn’t be here.”
”Why not?”
”We should be on our way to Ost Forod! Somebody might be snooping around here.”
”Here?” Harmon Rushes laughed. ”Don’t be stupid. Who would follow us here? The Créoth?” He laughed.
”Sharkey won’t like it when he finds out what we did. He’ll be sending people after us. He will not leave a stone unturned to hunt us down.”
”Relax, Victor! Sharkey will never find us in Ost Forod. We’ll be on our way tomorrow. But today I only want to drink, rest and look at the diamonds.”
A woman wearing a black mask hadn’t participated in the conversation between the three men. She had not uttered a single word the whole day. She was sitting at the same table with the others, but kept her distance, just staring at the pouch on the table. Dark eyes twinkled from beneath the holes in the mask.
Somebody knocked on the doorpost.
She looked up quickly.
The comer was the tavern keeper. He stared at them, eyes wide open.
”By the Valar – are you insane!”
”Sit down, Anlaf. Have a drink”, Dickerson grinned.
The tavern keep trembled. ”Get out of here. You have to leave!”
Landen laughed. ”Have you been drinking your own swill, Anlaf? You look so nauseous!”
Rushes squinted his eyes. ”What’s the matter with you, Anlaf?”
”This stranger… this woman, who cut off Kyle the Snake’s hand…”
’The Faceless One’ stood up. ”What about her?”
”She’s here… at the Forsaken Inn!”
Rushes set his mug on the table. ”Hellrien?” he said, astonished. ”What is she doing here?”
”I saw her outside. For Varda’s sake… why won’t you leave?” the tavern keep begged, twisting his hands.
”It’s too late”, said a voice from the doorway behind Anlaf.
Rushes could see Hellrien clearly. So did Victor Landen and Herbert Dickerson. But ’The Faceless One’ was sitting so that the tavern keep blocked her from view.
”Hey, Hellrien”, said Rushes. ”Did you come for that game of dice we talked about earlier?” His voice was sharp with excitement, like a blade of a knife.
”What’s at stake?” Hellrien asked quietly. ”That pouch?”
Victor Landen couldn’t restrain his nerves anymore. ”What do you want, you…!” He spat a nasty word from his mouth.
Hellrien squinted her blue eyes. She was bareheaded, and her hair had slumped over her left eye.
”I followed your tracks from Haragmar”, she said quietly.
Rushes licked his lips. There was something sinister, almost paralyzing about that woman. He couldn’t shake the irrational feeling that Hellrien was above death somehow. When he had heared of the incident in Naerost he had understood that Hellrien was no ordinary adventurer. Who was she? Who had sent her? Sharkey? Had Sharkey sent her in that camp to keep an eye on them and make sure they held up to their part of the bargain and didn’t steel? Was that why she had killed Brute and his henchmen at Naerost? Had Brute betrayed Sharkey too?
The thought made him flare up. If only he could get up from the table…!
Hellrien felt how the tension in the room intensified. It wouldn’t take much longer now. She followed a droplet of sweat dripping down the bridge of Harmon Rushes’ nose.
”Sauron’s balls!” Victor Landen roared. He leaped up from his seat and drew his sword. Hellrien was already on the move. She blocked Landen’s swing with her left-hand sword and impaled his chest with a thrust from her right. Hellrien’s left-hand sword swung at Harmon Rushes, making him stagger against Herbert Dickerson who lost his balance. Dickerson’s axe struck through Hellrien’s mail coat, severing chains and scraping her ribs – but the armor had absorbed most of the impact and the blade didn’t cut through flesh and bone. ’The Faceless One’ stood up and rushed towards the nearest window. She broke the glass and frames like a battering ram and disappeared.
Herbert Dickerson swung the shining axe blade towards Hellrien again, swear words and curses streaming from his cracked lips. Hellrien’s blade severed his sternum. The air blew out of his lungs. He slumped on the floor. Anlaf lied face down on the floor, holding his hands behind his neck. He was moaning something incomprehensible. Harmon Rushes tried to raise his warhammer as he lied down next to the tipped over table. The pouch had opened, and the sparkling green gems on the floor were stained with blood.
Hellrien’s blade fell down. Rushes rolled over, stretched up and died. His face distorted into a frightful grimace.
Hellrien picked up the pouch and blood-stained jewelry. The scant clientele of the inn cowered trembling by the walls. Hellrien sheathed her swords as she walked out. Floorboards creaked beneath her. The road outside of the inn was desolate. She untied her horse. A weak cloud of dust could be seen further east. She found the tracks by the road a little ways east. They continued towards the collapsed stone bridge. Hellrien let her horse run. The sun was setting fast. Hellrien pondered whether the masked woman’s horse was as tired as her own. She followed the tracks as they turned off the road near the dried-up riverbed. She saw a black spot on the horizon. She spurred her horse on. Little by little she was catching up her prey. The fugitive seemed to be heading towards the tall mound rising proudly against the sky, surrounded by old ruins and pine trees.
Now Hellrien was close enough to see how the masked woman’s whip-wielding hand moved back and forth. Hellrien hunched forward to reduce the wind resistance. Half-pint’s trembling muscles coalesced with her own. She was trembling.
Suddenly the horse in front of her tripped. She saw how the woman hobbled away and disappeared behind old stone walls. Hellrien nestled even lower against Half-pint’s neck. She steered her horse diagonally towards the remains of crumbled columns near the root of the mound. She released her feet from the stirrups, getting ready to leap off. Hellrien rolled in the air like a cat and landed on all fours. Quickly she ran for cover. Panting, she threw herself behind a crumbled wall. The masked woman was hiding somewhere behind the tall mound. She climbed the wall and started crawling on it to get closer. When she reached the spot where the crumbling remains of the wall rose up too steeply for her to continue she peeked cautiously over it.
A throwing knife hit sparks and dust from the wall below her eyes. She huddled against the wall. Yellow grass and speedwell grew between the mound and the wall. She was no more than twenty paces away from the mound.
Should the masked woman get up higher she would see Hellrien nestled against the remains of the wall. Should Hellrien take the risk and get up?
A throwing knife slashed her cloak and bounced off the chains of her armor. Hellrien leaped down the wall. In a flash she saw the masked woman standing next to the mound – all straight – holding throwing knives in both hands. Hellrien shot her crossbow as she dropped on the ground. Letting out a terrifying scream ’The Faceless One’ fell backwards and disappeared from view. Hellrien leaped up and ran hunched behind a column. She took a peek behind it.
The woman was lying on her back. She didn’t make a sound. Her eyes were twinkling from behind the holes in the mask. She had dropped both of her knives.
Hellrien walked towards her. She could see that the crossbow bolt had shattered her collar bone. The wound was painful, but not lethal. The masked woman would survive.
”Lie still”, Hellrien said. ”You’re not wounded badly. I will help you.”
”Kill me”, the woman whispered. ”For the love of the Valar, cut this life off me… please…”
”Who are you?” Hellrien could hear her own hoarse voice asking.
”Kill… me… kill… me…”
Hellrien gritted her teeth. She drew a sword. Then she grimaced, shut her eyes and drove the blade through the masked woman’s heart. There was no hatred or fear in her eyes as she died, only gratitude and relief. The dry, thirsty land sucked her blood. That blood would feed any plant that was strong enough and stubborn enough to survive on this desolate, hostile land.
She remained sitting next to the dead. But she had come so far! She had to know! She had to see! Hellrien stretched out her hand to remove the mask.
She flinched backwards, aghast. It seemed like somebody had once peeled off the skin from the masked woman’s cheeks and nose and then poured acid on the festering wounds.
That young Créoth warrior had not used a figure of speech. Joan Darkhand had no face.
Darkness was falling fast. Suddenly Hellrien could hear rustling from behind the trees and bushes around her. She could see leaves moving. The Night Walkers! The Night Walkers were coming for her!
Hellrien had kept the word she had given to the old Créoth warlord. She had killed everyone… and now the curse of the Red Maiden had caught up with her. And so the circle would be closed.
All fight drained out of Hellrien. This is how it was supposed to happen. This was where she was supposed to end. The curse of the Red Maiden would find her anywhere, there was no escape from the clutches of the Night Walkers.
A hand landed on Hellrien’s shoulder from behind. She opened her mouth to scream…
”Easy, miss Hellrien. It’s over.”
It was Eriac, Elsa’s brother from Barad Dhorn. Hellrien stared at him with wild, feverish eyes. Eglain scouts stepped forth from behind trees and ruins.
”Who was she?” Hellrien heard herself ask in a strange voice. Her eyes gleamed with frenetic fever. Madness was not far away. ”Who was she? Who was she!”
”She was a bandit, miss Hellrien”, Eriac said. ”And now she is food for worms and insects.”
