‘Wait!’ ordered Chara. ‘You’ll just waste the shot from here.’ Drawing the ramrod from the barrel of her weapon she tamped down the ball and charge. Lastly she filled the flash pan, snapping the cover back into place.
By now the killers had reached the tree line below. Draig could no longer see them. Another shot boomed. This time Draig saw the smoke rise up. Yet still he could not see the shooter.
‘We need to split up,’ said Chara coolly. ‘They’ll be seeking to outflank us. You move right. Don’t use that pistol until you are close.’ As she spoke she rolled away from the log then ran into the trees to the left.
Draig lay where he was, panic sweeping over him. He struggled for control. ‘You promised her!’ he told himself. ‘You said you’d die before you let them get her. Be a man!’
He swore, then rolled away to his right, coming to his knees and lurching upright. He almost slipped and fell, but made it into the trees. Keeping low he started down the slope, angling always to the right.
The moon vanished behind a cloud, and for a moment he was in near total darkness. A wave of panic rolled over him once more.
They could be anywhere. Within mere feet of him. Draig drew his second pistol and cocked it.
Another shot sounded from his left. A man’s scream filled the air.
At that moment someone loomed alongside him. Draig raised his pistol and fired at point blank range, the barrel no more than a few inches from the bearded face. The man was hurled backwards. His body tumbled to the snow and rolled for several yards down the slope.
A second man appeared, a musket in his hands. Draig aimed his second pistol. It misfired. The musket thundered, the ball ricocheting from the tree by which Draig stood. Splinters stung his face. Dropping his pistols Draig charged at the man, slamming into him and knocking him from his feet. They went down together. Draig grabbed hold of the man’s coat, and was vainly trying to punch him as they rolled down the slope. Both men slammed into a tree trunk. Draig gave a grunt of pain as the man head-butted him. Grabbing the assassin by the throat Draig reared up, then hammered a ferocious punch to the side of the man’s head. Moonlight glinted on a knife blade. Draig grabbed the man’s wrist. A wicked punch took Draig behind the right ear, but still he clung on to the knife arm. His own right hand scrabbled at his belt, pulling clear the long-bladed hunting knife Senlic had given him. The assassin tried to grab Draig’s wrist, He was not quick enough. Draig’s knife sliced into the assassin’s neck. Blood sprayed out. Draig twisted the blade. The man’s body spasmed, then went limp.
Dragging his knife clear, Draig rose unsteadily. Dazzling light blinded him and he felt a powerful blow to his head. He tried to turn, then realized he was lying on the snow, his leg twitching. With a great effort he rolled to his belly and tried to get his arms under him, struggling to rise. His head hurt; the pain worse than anything he had experienced before. He vomited to the snow, then tried to rise once more. His blurred vision began to clear. The dead man was to his right and he swung his head ponderously, wondering what had hit him.
There was a figure standing close by. Draig blinked, then squinted at the man. It was Tostig. ‘I can’t believe it’s you, you oaf,’ said Tostig. ‘Did you think to rob me of my ten pounds?’ He was holding a pistol. Smoke was still seeping from the barrel. He pushed it back into his belt and drew a second gun.
Draig peered around for his knife, but he could not see it. Tostig’s left hand moved to his belt and Draig saw the crescent-shaped skinning knife slide from its sheath. ‘I don’t have time now to deal with you as you deserve, Cochland,’ said Tostig. ‘But I’ll cut your eyes out and come back for you later.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ said a woman’s voice. Draig looked up and saw Chara Ring standing in the moonlight, a pistol in her hand.