“TELL ME!” he roared.
The Watchman stumbled and dropped the Prince, who landed painfully on his back, still staring into the fiery green eyes. The hand holding the axe faltered as if it were suddenly unsure of itself. The Prince fought for control of the creature, trying to force his will on the Watchman. How did Rikard do this so easily? Sweat broke from his forehead. The Watchman shook its head, and the moment passed. A thought seemed to occur to it.
“Do you not know?”
The Prince remained silent. The Watchman laughed and eyed him like a dog that had cornered a rat.
“My orders come from your Mother, little Prince.”
Fire shot through the Prince’s body, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He felt lightheaded.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled. “Don’t lie to me!”
The green, demonic eyes flamed brighter, and the creature cackled, a sound like a thousand nails scraped across stone. The onyx axe swept upward in an arc, and then plunged toward the Prince’s chest. The Prince lay in shock, unable to defend himself, even if he’d had the strength to do so.
An enormous swath of rippling steel interposed itself between the Prince and the ax. The gleeful triumph on the Death Watchman’s skeletal face became a mask of fury. It leapt back with a snarl that cut off abruptly as anger turned toshocked disbelief.
“You!”
Tomaz stepped into the Prince’s view. He held his huge greatsword loosely in his right hand, as if it weighed nothing. His clothing was ripped, but his armor and his helm gleamed, even in the gray light of the cloudy day.
The Prince looked up into the face of the Watchman through a red haze that had settled over his vision. Vaguely, he registered that the Watchman was afraid. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said it was terrified.
What scares one of the Watchmen?
“You’re dead!” it screamed, the ghoulish voice twisting the words into a scream of such ripping, throat tearing fury that no living thing could have uttered it.
“No, Zaroth,” the giant said. “Not yet.”
Tomaz flowed forward, steel blade flashing as it hit pockets of sunlight streaming through the clouds above. As big as the Death Watchman was, Tomaz was bigger. He seemed to be everywhere at once, in front, behind, to either side. Scratches began to appear in the Watchman’s black armor as the huge steel blade came closer and closer to sinking into the corrupted flesh; rips and tears formed in the creature’s black clothing, and streaming rivulets of yellow-green ichor began to flow from where the steel blade cut and slashed. The axe seemed a child’s toy next to the greatsword that whistled through the air with supernatural speed.
With a final overhand strike, the sword cut the haft of the axe cleanly in two, leaving the Watchman with the axe head in one hand and a long piece of useless black wood in the other. The Watchman turned to run, fear, rage, and inhuman strength driving it—too quickly for Tomaz to follow. It reached the tree line and threw one last look over its shoulder, its face a mask of rage.
A slim form stepped out from the shadows of the closest tree, and with a flash of steel, a dagger was driven into the chink in the Watchman’s armor underneath the left shoulder. The dagger, long as it was, pierced the thing’s heart, freezing it in place. Another dagger flashed, digging into the back of itsneck, severing the spine, and killing instantly. The Watchman dropped like a marionette with its strings cut, and the Prince felt the small wavering drop of its life disappear.
The body slumped to the ground and began to decompose. Within minutes, all that was left was the large black ax, an empty case of armor, and a horrid stench. The girl stepped into the clearing, eyes scanning all around.
“You were telling the truth,” the Prince said blankly. “They were trying to kill me.”
He felt numb and empty. He should feelsomething,shouldn’t he? Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two Exiles exchange a glance. After a moment of tension, the girl knelt and wiped her dagger on a piece of a dead Watch soldier’s clothing.
“Come on,” she said, the barest hint of softness creeping into her voice. She roughly cleared her throat. “They won’t be alone. We need to get through the mountains and disappear, see what we can find out about how many people are hunting you. The Death Watch is bound to have left word of its location, and there are always patrols in this area—two, sometimes three, roaming around looking for bandits. We should… go…”
She trailed off and pink spots bloomed on her cheeks.
“Come on princeling,” she commanded with the customary steel in her voice, moving off toward the deeper cover of the trees farther down the ravine.
Like an automaton, the Prince rose and walked in her direction. The girl addressed herself to Tomaz over his shoulder.
“Do you want to do a quick scouting run? We want to know if we’re in the clear or not. We might not survive another ambush like this one.”
“Wait,” the Prince said. “There are no more living nearby. Only us.”
A brief silence followed his statement.
“What does that mean?” the girl asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“I’m the Prince of Ravens,” he responded numbly, voice still monotone and lifeless. “I can sense life. There are no more living in this forest aside from the three of us. Not for at least a mile in any direction.”
