"Before I ended up here," said Markus, finishing his sentence for him. "Don't worry. It's all right to talk about it. I'm done with all that..."

He stopped short and leaned in close, his voice suddenly a whisper. "Don't turn around. Three Imperial soldiers just came through the door." He pulled his hood up over his head. "Don't do anything unless I do."

Ethan could hear the stomping of their boots and the rattle of armor drawing closer. He fingered the dagger in his belt nervously.

"You!" shouted a gruff voice. "Turn around! And you, remove your hood."

Ethan felt a gloved hand grip his right shoulder. Markus pushed back his hood and smiled.

"Spirits take me, you're ugly," said the soldier with a jeering laugh.

Ethan turned in his seat and looked up at the guard. The foul stench of the man's breath combined with his body odor caused him to grimace.

"Where are you two coming from?" he demanded.

"Santfaliso," Markus replied.

"What was your business there?"

"Guarding a fat merchant's cargo."

The soldier regarded Ethan and snorted. "This one doesn't look like he'd make much of a guard."

"He's my son," Markus explained. "And he's tougher than he looks."

"Your son is he? We'll see about that. Show me your papers."

Ethan fought to keep his hand from shaking as he reached inside his pocket and held up the papers his friend had provided. Markus handed over his also.

The soldier ran his eyes over them. "Says here you're from Ralmaria."

Markus nodded.

"A long way to go just to guard a merchant's wares."

Before Markus could respond, the door burst open and a third soldier hurried inside. He handed over a folded parchment, then whispered into his comrade's ear.

"I think you two should come with me," the first soldier told them sharply. His hand slipped to the hilt of his sword.

Markus gave Ethan an almost imperceptible nod. "Of course. Whatever you say."

As both he and Markus rose from their seats, Ethan's eyes located a gap beneath the first soldier's armpit where the breastplate of his armor was connected to the back. Here, a thin shirt was all that protected him.

Markus rounded the table and the two other soldiers moved toward him. "Now!" he shouted.

Reacting instantly, Ethan drew his blade and plunged it deep into the first soldier's ribs. He could feel the steel sc.r.a.ping across bone as it sunk in. By now, in a blaze of movement, Markus had already whipped out his own dagger and slashed it across the exposed throat of his nearest opponent. The remaining soldier's eyes shot wide as he fumbled frantically to draw his sword. But panic was making him far too clumsy and slow. Pausing only to flash the man a sinister grin, Markus jammed the dagger up through the bottom of his chin and into his brain. He was dead even before he crumbled to the floor.

Ethan jerked his dagger free from the first soldier, then shoved him onto the table with all his strength. Blood was pouring from the gaping wound in his side. His face was contorted with pain and fear. But there was also a pleading expression in his eyes that made Ethan pause for a split second.

The glint of steel was a blur as Markus came in and finished the man off.

"You can't hesitate," he scolded, pointing to the soldier's outstretched arm. In his hand was a knife ready to plunge into Ethan's back.

Ethan stared, unable to speak. It was a lesson he'd had drummed into him during Airborne training, and one he should never have forgotten. But though he had killed before, he had never done it this way. Up until now his battles had always been at a distance. This was so...personal.

The screaming and shouting from the other customers around them snapped him back into the moment. People were racing from the tavern and into the streets. In seconds they were alone.

Markus unbuckled a scabbard from one of the dead soldiers and tossed it to Ethan. "Put this on," he ordered. It was small only twice the length of a dagger yet solid and heavy.

While Ethan did as instructed, Markus picked up the paper the first soldier had been given and read it carefully. A deep frown formed on his face. "It would seem word has spread faster than I imagined. We need to find Jonas and Kat and get the h.e.l.l out of here."

Having completed the attachment, Ethan drew the sword from its scabbard. It felt awkward and ill-balanced in his hand.

"Just swing it hard," instructed Markus. "If we get out of this, I'll teach you how to use it properly."

At that moment Ethan was dearly missing his M-1 carbine. h.e.l.l, a .45 would do.

Markus approached the door and pushed it open just wide enough to peer out. He spat a curse.

"Three more are headed this way," he said grimly. "And this time they'll be ready for us."

"So what do we do?"

Markus gave a pessimistic chuckle. "We fight. What else can we do?" He crouched down against the wall next to the door and gestured for Ethan to do the same on the other side. "We'll take them as they come in. Go for the legs."

Focus, Ethan told himself, doing his best to keep his adrenaline from running away with him. He felt much like he had on D-Day. With heart pounding, he gripped the hilt of the sword so hard his knuckles popped.

"Take it easy," Markus said. "Don't lose your head. You can do this."

Ethan had heard these words from Markus before. His rea.s.suring tone and steady nerves had bolstered his courage the very first time they had seen battle together. Now, they were having a similar effect. He drew in a deep cleansing breath. As if to order, his hands ceased trembling and his heart rate slowed to an even rhythm.

It was still beating steadily a few moments later when the door burst open and slammed into the wall just in front of him. As a soldier rushed inside, Ethan swung his blade hard. His steel split the cuisse wide, cutting deep into the enemy's thigh. The man let out a cry and fell forward, his sword falling to the floor.

Markus leapt into the doorway to thrust his blade hard into the second soldier's chest, forcing him outside. After pulling it free, he spun left to attack the third who was just a few feet behind.

Ethan looked back to the man he had wounded. He was scrambling for his lost weapon, a look of pain and terror in his eyes. This time Ethan knew what he had to do but not exactly how to do it. With a heavy grunt, he struck at the soldier's outstretched sword arm. The blade cut deep and there was the crack of bone breaking. He stepped back and saw that his blow had very nearly severed the limb completely at the elbow. The soldier thrashed and writhed, desperately clutching at his wounded arm. Blood was spewing everywhere, soaking the floor and showering the walls. The stricken man tried to mouth the word please, but Ethan struck again, this time at his exposed neck. The blade lodged in his spine and Ethan was forced to plant his foot on the man's chest and pull hard to remove it. The sc.r.a.ping of his blade on bone made his skin crawl. He looked down at his handiwork. The soldier was still twitching and shuddering, blood spurting from his neck in time with the remaining beats of his heart.

The loud ring of clashing steel from outside tore his attention away from the macabre scene. As he exited the tavern he could see that Markus was engaged in fierce battle with the remaining standing soldier. The other was on his knees a few feet away, clutching at the wound in his chest. Ethan moved in to finish him off. He raised his sword high, but the soldier saw him coming and rolled to one side just in time. The blade thudded into the ground and his momentum sent him stumbling forward. Even though the soldier's face was contorted with pain, he still managed to struggle to his feet and lift his weapon. Blood covered the front of his armor, obscuring his crest.

Ethan struck again, but the soldier skillfully deflected his attack and stepped back. After a few more unsuccessful attempts it quickly became clear that, even wounded, the soldier far outmatched him. Had he not been injured, the fight would have already been over.

The soldier countered and though his blow was accurate, the loss of blood was slowing him down, allowing Ethan to jump clear. However, his opponent's longer blade was preventing him from doing anything more than moving left and right, feigning attacks and then withdrawing.

Frustrated, he reached for his dagger and threw it as hard as he could. The hilt smashed into the soldier's brow. For a moment he simply stood there, stunned. Then his legs wobbled and he dropped to one knee. Ethan charged in, swinging his sword wildly. The blade struck the soldier's collarbone, forcing him down onto both knees. Another swift blow settled the matter.

Meanwhile, Markus was still fighting hard, though by now he had managed to inflict several small wounds on his opponent. Ethan was just about to move around to the soldier's back when he spotted another one appear from the corner of a building a few blocks away. His heart sank. He had only been able to defeat the two men he'd faced so far through sheer luck and surprise. He would not get either of those advantages against this one. But unless he could prevent him joining the fray, Markus would surely be overwhelmed.

The soldier was closing on them rapidly when Ethan spotted a horse galloping along behind him. At first he could see only that the rider was holding a sword aloft. But as the animal drew closer he realized that it was Jonas on its back.

Hearing the rapidly closing hoof beats, the soldier spun around. But Jonas was already upon him. Swinging his blade, he struck the man mightily in the chest, the impact sounding much like a hammer striking an anvil. The sheer force of the blow ripped the weapon clean out of Jonas' hand, at the same time yanking him from the saddle. He landed hard on the street and rolled on for several yards. Some distance behind, the soldier lay motionless on his back his breastplate split in two and a tremendous wound dividing his chest.

Ethan wanted to run to Jonas, but knew he needed to help Markus first. He moved to the soldier's right and raised his sword high. This alone proved to be sufficient, distracting the man just long enough for Markus to slip beneath his guard and ram his sword into his gullet. The soldier gasped and clutched at the blade. It was his last action. In a single fluid motion, Markus pulled the weapon free and took his head from his shoulders.

Without pause, they both ran to where Jonas was still lying face down in the street. Markus rolled him over.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.

Jonas groaned and rubbed his sword arm. "I don't think so."

"Where's Kat?" asked Ethan.

"Waiting at the livery with the horses and supplies," he replied. "We overheard the soldiers asking questions about newcomers. Luckily, they didn't spot us."

Markus glanced up and down the road. "How many did you see?"

Jonas struggled to his feet, "Only two. But I a.s.sumed there must be more."

Ethan noticed that Markus was continuing to scan the area nervously. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"If there are this many regulars around here, then officers won't be far behind. And maybe even Rakasa."

Jonas froze, his face suddenly fear stricken.

"What are Rakasa?" Ethan asked.

"Something you never want to encounter," Markus told him grimly. "Now let's get the h.e.l.l out of here."

After retrieving his sword and horse, Jonas led them to the livery. Along the way, Ethan noticed that the streets were now completely empty. People were peering at them through their windows with dread in their eyes. But to his relief there were no more soldiers about.

Kat was waiting for them just inside the stable doors. A short fat man with weathered features and narrow eyes was standing a few feet behind her with a knife in his hand.

He took a step back as they entered. "You need to leave here at once." His voice cracked and his hands were shaking. "I don't need your kind 'round here."

Jonas took a silver coin from his purse. "For your trouble," he said, tossing it on the ground.

The man hesitated only for an instant before s.n.a.t.c.hing up the coin and hurrying out the back.

They quickly mounted their horses.

"Follow my lead," said Markus. He spurred his steed to a run.

Ethan had only ridden a few times when he was younger, but managed to keep his mount steady and under control. The clatter of hooves, together with the rattling of their gear and weapons, echoed eerily through the deserted streets. He glanced behind him. For a second he thought he saw the cloaked figure of a man standing in the avenue, but when he looked again there was no one there.

They rode hard north for more than an hour before Markus called for a halt and took a long look back. The forest on either side was dense and overgrown with thick brambles and brush.

"We should leave the road," he told them. "There are hunting trails we can follow a few miles to the west."

For more than two hours they were unable to ride and were forced to lead their horses through a labyrinth of pines, oaks, and birch trees. Some were growing so close together that their trunks had fused and twisted around each other. The air was heavy, and even the sounds of the birds high above seemed m.u.f.fled.

They traveled in silence, with Markus stopping briefly every now and then to listen for signs of pursuit - then with a snort, continuing on his way.

It was well past midday by the time they reached the narrow trail. Jonas took some bread and a water skin from his pack and distributed it to the others. They stopped for a few minutes to eat but did not sit, instead standing beside their mounts ready to flee should the need arise.

With his feet aching quite badly from navigating the b.u.mpy ground, Ethan was grateful when they were all finally able to get back in the saddle. He wondered how Jonas had coped with the difficult walk. Kat had checked the sc.r.a.pes and bruises from his fall while they ate. On the surface at least, he seemed to be none the worse for wear.

By nightfall the woods were thinning and the trail widening.

"There's a stream up ahead," Markus said, breaking the long silence. "We can at least clean up a bit and wash the blood away."

Ethan looked down at his clothes and hands, only then noticing how badly they were spattered with blood. The thought sickened him. Fear had kept the memory of the fight at bay, but now a vision of what he had done came flooding back.

Markus instructed them to tie their horses to a fallen tree away from the trail and led them to the stream. Ethan did his best to clean his shirt and trousers, but eventually gave up and put on fresh clothing. The water was icy cold and clear as crystal. Once washed and changed, he took a long soothing drink before heading back to the horses.

"We should forgo a fire," Jonas said, after they had all returned.

Markus nodded. "And you should try to sleep. We're still a long way from the mountains. If we're lucky we'll stay ahead of the Imperials. But we'll need to move quickly."

They unpacked some blankets and a small meal of dried figs and jerky.

"How did they find us so quickly?" asked Ethan through a mouthful of jerky.

"That's what bothers me," Markus replied. "The only way is if they have a sending rod." He could see the confusion on Ethan's face. "It's like a telephone in a way. It's a rod about a foot long. People can use them to talk over great distances. They're very rare, and only high ranking officers...or a Rakasa would be in possession of one."

"Those Rakasa demons still exist?" said Jonas. "I thought they were all destroyed."

Markus tightened the blanket around his shoulders. "I wish."

"So what do you know about them?" asked Ethan.

"No one knows very much for certain," Markus replied. "Shinzan uses them as his personal guard and a.s.sa.s.sins. Some say they're cursed elves, others say that they're devils summoned from the fiery depths. The only sure thing is that, if you do ever meet one that's after you, death is guaranteed."

"The council tried to eradicate them just after Shinzan came to power," added Jonas. "He had somehow gained control over their minds and was using them to kill the lesser mages. I thought the council succeeded in wiping them out. But I guess I was wrong."

"I've seen one," Kat interjected. "When I was a little girl we had one come to see my father."

Markus chuckled. "And what business would the father of a thief have with the Rakasa?"

"I don't know," she replied, ignoring the insult. "But I definitely saw one."

"What did it look like?" asked Ethan.

"I couldn't see its face. It was all cloaked in black. But its hands were white as snow, and it had a voice as hollow as the wind. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I knew to be very afraid of it."

"Anyone would have that description," scoffed Markus. "But whether or not you really saw one doesn't matter. If we see one, it's all over. Now enough talk. We need to get some sleep."

Kat huffed at Markus and turned her back. "I'm not lying," she whispered.

Ethan rested his hand on her shoulder. "I believe you."