Cassian walked out the door, then broke into a run. He needed to make sure the northman didn't followed them. He wasn't sure he could protect Amy and himself. He'd barely escaped when it was just him. Now, with her added to the equation, the odds looked even worse. And her bags. He just hoped she didn't have too many.
It was his fault. He should've told her the whole truth — that she was going to be running with a wanted man, and she couldn't have two bags with her. But if he'd said that, she probably wouldn't have agreed. This was the best course of action, even if it came with extra baggage.
He made his way through an alley. There were eyes. People staring at him as he ran. He didn't care. He was accomplice to the near destruction of a tavern yesterday. He was already far past the point of secrecy.
He made it to the gates and ducked behind a building. He looked. Luckily, there were still just two guards. The northman hadn't gotten to them.
Or maybe — hopefully — they hadn't listened.
"What are the chances he already told them and this is all a trap."
"Very possible, but I doubt it." Dea replied. "Those two don't look any more on guard than usual."
"What do I even tell the girl?" Cassian asked.
"Nothing. Get her to leave first, and then you can talk."
"Isn't that just kidnapping."
From his side, something came hurling at Cassian. It barely missed him, wind whooshing as the object flew past his head. He looked at the object on the ground — a piece of wood the size of his arm. He didn't need to turn around to know his assailant.
"By all the saints, what are you doing, young man." An old woman in a shop ahead of Cassian spoke. "You could've killed him, you barbarian."
"I missed? You are very lucky, boy," the Northman said, completely ignoring the woman.
The northman walked towards him slowly, like an animal towards its prey. Sure that he would make the kill.
"Why don't we finish what we started, boy."
"I'm talking to you. Are you touched?" The woman spoke again, this time walking out of her shop.
Cassian placed his hand on his pommel, his eyes fixed on the man before him.
There was barely any distance between the Northman and the woman.
The woman was mid-sentence, still hurling more insults, something about her youth, when he pulled his sword from its scabbard. The glint must've caught the woman's eyes, because she backed into the wall, running into her shop faster than she'd walked out.
"Just me and you now, boy."
Cassian tightened his grip on the hilt.
"You'd better pray to your devil that this blade cuts you clean."
"And you'd better pray to your god that I do the same."
The man slashed, diagonally from above, left.
Cassian rolled right, landed on his shoulder and got back up, his sword still in hand. He stood now, facing the man's back. He went in for a strike, but again the man slashed. Horizontally, his body turning around with the momentum from his swing.
Cassian ducked, striking at his legs, but at the last second, the northman jumped.
"Too slow, boy." He stabbed downwards. Cassian jerked his head back. The sword missed only by a hair's breadth.
He scrambled to his feet, breathing in gasps.
He really is trying to kill me.
As if to confirm his doubt, the man came charging again, this time faster. He struck down with his sword and Cassian parried, anticipating the next strike, instead there was a fist. It landed clean on his jaw, knocking him to the ground.
He scrambled onto his hands and knees, fighting off the white spots in his sight. A boot connected with his ribs, lifting him up slightly. The ground rose to meet him as his head slammed onto the stone floor. Somewhere between the waves of nausea pulsing from his gut and the splitting pain in his skull, he dropped his sword. Cassian forced himself to roll onto his back.
"Well," the man raised his sword, "I suppose we should finish this up," and brought it down.
Cassian grabbed it by the blade. It cut through his hands, but he pushed past the pain. The man pushed down harder. The sword inching closer to his chest. Blood dripping down his arm. Cassian managed to shove the sword aside and roll. There was a sting at his side as the blade grazed him. He shoved himself to his feet and charged at the man.
Don't give him any time to think.
The sword came hurtling down at him but he swayed and stepped right, throwing a punch at the man's groin.
He felt a soft, squashing connection, and the Northman's legs buckled, bringing him to his knees. Cassian kicked the sword out of his hand before driving his knee into the Northman's nose. He fell backwards, blood dripping from his nostrils. Cassian knelt over him and landed blow after blow after blow. When he was sure he'd broken something, he got up and picked up his sword.
It stung his hands as he raised it, just inches over the man's neck.
"Come on. Do it."
Cassian held the sword in place, looking down at the bloodied face before him. He wanted to put the sword in his throat and watch the life leave his eyes, but there was a voice in him. One that whispered otherwise.
So instead, he stabbed his arm. The man bellowed, the scream shifting higher in pitch as he pressed the sword harder.
"I need you alive. So you can pass my message to the Archon."
The hunter laughed.
"Sure," he winced, "or you just don't have the gall to kill me."
Cassian stood over him now.
"You can't even kill me. So how do you plan on killing the Archon? You think he'll show mercy? You don't know what you're up against. You'll never kill him. Not with this childish conviction."
"All hail Korvus. All hail Kor—"
Cassian stomped down on his face, cutting him off.
"Between you and me, Korvus is a pig."