The Bounty Hunter

Chapter Forty

WARNING: The beginning of this one is somewhat gory.. sorry! Please don't vomit.

Chapter Forty

He was stuck through with arrows which he had made no move to pull out - both he and his guards knew that the heads were barbed and would rip out his flesh if any of them tried it. As Safita approached him she wondered how someone who looked so weak now had caused so much trouble; it had only been a number of days since he had seized power and yet so much had changed in that time that it seemed as if it had been years. “You deserve to suffer,” she spat as she looked at him. With the knife still outstretched in one hand she reached out deliberately and grasped the shaft of the arrow which was poking out of his front; as she did so his eyes widened and he tried to shuffle backwards but he wasn’t fast enough; she grabbed it and he went perfectly still, trying to stop even the slightest movement.

She wiggled the shaft slightly and he took a sharp intake of breath which hissed over his teeth. “It hurts doesn’t it?” she stated. She moved it more and more and smiled in grim satisfaction when she saw the tears pooling in his eyes even though he remained stubbornly silent. He gritted his teeth as she twisted the arrow more blood flowed out of the wound where he had been pierced, trickling down his shirt; with a swift, fluid motion she tore it out of his stomach and Lassirus’ face contorted in an agonised scream. She left a gaping hole behind which bled profusely, even as he clamped his hand over it, and as she prowled around his cowering form his blood poured onto the floor, mingling with Arthan’s blood in a deep crimson lake; Lassirus began to shiver and moan, growing paler and paler by the second and Safita was torn between definitively being the hand by which he died and leaving him to the excruciating death which he deserved. As she vacillated Lassirus, hand still clutched to his abdomen, leant over and began retching, coughing up a mixture of vomit and blood which made her recoil. By this time he lacked the strength to push himself back up again and instead he lay down on the cold floor, coughing and gurgling with every laboured breath that he took. Safita pushed his hand aside with her toe and pressed her boot over the wound causing him to scream again.

“Safita,” said a voice from behind her, “don’t. Don’t torment him.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she asked coldly. “He tormented me. He killed Arthan; he deserves it.”

“Nobody deserves it Safita,” Ravina replied. “He’s going to die; you’ve got what you wanted. Leave him alone.”

“He deserves to pay!” she shouted. “He deserves to be punished for what he did to Arthan!” Her voice cracked and she sobbed again, even as she felt Ravina’s hands on her shoulders.

“He will be punished but it isn’t your place to do so,” she whispered as Safita put more pressure on his stomach. “Here, come on,” she said as she tugged her away from his prone body. As she lifted her foot from his body a small laugh, mostly strangled by the blood which he was coughing up, escaped his throat and he shut his eyes for a second, mustering all of his strength. “You see,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “we’re more similar than you want to admit.”

Safita tore away from Ravina’s grasp and, with one final spurt of anger, jerked her hand, embedding her knife in his chest as his body relaxed. Finally she allowed Ravina and Maeven to drag her away, shaking with sobs as tears cascaded down her face.

The aftermath of the slaughter passed Safita by without her really registering what was happening. Some small part of her mind realised that Ravina had tucked her into an alcove and told her that they were going to sort out any of Lassirus’ guards who refused to surrender but, after the two women had been gone for nearly half an hour, it occurred to her that she didn’t really know where they were.