COBALT: The Red Phantom (Book One)

Chapter 28: Fairez Stella (Part 1/3)

          The man in Talli's hold winced as another blade whistled through the air and plunged itself into the yelling hunter's arm, the sword immediately falling from his grasp while his companions charged around him.

          Káel frowned, the sudden higher ground inflating his confidence at Locke's protection. 

          Everyone was a dumb punching bag to a bigger fish.

          As the Valerans ordered the dogs to attack Nel, a sharp whistle rang in Káel's ears. The mopheaded man called the creatures by what he assumed to be their individual names, forcing the dogs away from Nel as the hunters shrieked profanities at him. One less voice every few seconds as Locke went through them like a room full of foam blocks. 

          Káel couldn't take his eyes off the fight. Swift, perfect, precise. He had no idea this would be the outcome. That he had a strange, dragon riding hitman at his beck and call. 

          The whistle was the right choice after all. He'd pulled a plan that trumped whatever Vera had in store. It couldn't have gone more perfect than this.

          He smiled at Vera as the final hunter dropped at Locke's feet. But as he saw her, the image of the hunter's crude arrow inches from her forehead invaded his thoughts. Tugged at his smile.

          What if Locke had shown up five minutes later?

          Five seconds later?

          Káel swallowed hard, grabbing the dirt smeared whistle in guilty silence. Luck wasn't the perfect plan. It wasn't even a plan to begin with. It was purebred stupidity fueling his existence, and he'd only gotten this far with the painstakingly extensive efforts of those around him. 

          With a heavy sigh, Káel lifted his gaze to thank Locke, the words slipping back down when he saw what the man was doing. The feather thin blades he hadn't put in the hunters had slipped back into whatever hidden pocket they came from, a curved blade now clutched in his hand as he drew it's tip across the back of each Valeran's right wrist. Through some sort of twisted enchantment, the blade scorched as it cut, the two hunters that were still awake shrieking in pain as he held them down. 

          He finished up the last Valeran, approaching the one in Talli's hold as he kicked at the dirt in nervous fear. 

          Locke crouched before him, sweat dripping from the hunter's moppy black curls as he gave up tugging Talli's arm away. "Leader?"

          The man quickly shook his head, breathless in the struggle as he spoke. "I train the dogs and care for transported drakes." He flinched as Locke grabbed his right arm, lips curling with a weakened sob. "Please."

          Káel watched with a cringe as Locke ripped the man's sleeve up, three thick and flaking scars already lining his arm like tick marks. 

          "You've spent your chances. Four marks death," Locke said, the man paling as he slid the blade back into his belt. 

          "Please... I needed the money..." He didn't even move as Talli's hold weakened, eyes washed with unshed tears as Locke patted at his pockets, finally pulling a small patchworked doll from his bag. It was clumsy, almost falling apart from the poor craft of a child.

          While Locke's face didn't flinch, he lingered on the object, voice softened as if it was a casual conversation. "How many?"

          "Two..." the man breathed, the shake in his joints lessening as Locke placed the doll back in his bag. "Third one is due in a couple weeks..."