{"id":224,"date":"2018-10-04T03:19:23","date_gmt":"2018-10-04T03:19:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/?p=224"},"modified":"2018-10-04T04:37:13","modified_gmt":"2018-10-04T04:37:13","slug":"excerpt-from-the-last-archers-return","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/?p=224","title":{"rendered":"Excerpt from “The Last Archer’s Return”"},"content":{"rendered":"

Joanna\u00a0was no longer the only one suffering fatigue\u00a0from\u00a0the trek to the mysterious crossroads\u2014and she\u00a0was uninjured, unlike her captor and traveling companion.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>She continued to watch the Black Count surreptitiously in the hopes that his untended wounds would\u00a0soon\u00a0require another stop to rest and regroup.\u00a0 Though after his most recent backlash\u00a0towards her, she dared not request or\u00a0even\u00a0suggest\u00a0such\u00a0a\u00a0respite–lest he strike her again.\u00a0 And even though her empty stomach groaned insistently, she also dared not ask him for some of the morsels of food he occasionally withdrew from his pockets\u00a0and then absently crammed into his mouth\u2014a strip of jerky or a small hunk of bread\u00a0stolen from the blind man\u2019s cave.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

If it were not for the last remaining slivers of hope she drew from the oddly tenacious black bird that\u00a0continued to follow\u00a0them from overhead and the strange silver coin she carried in her pocket, Joanna would have given up already and resigned herself to her fate\u2014which was most likely an abrupt and violent death once they reached the crossroads, if not before then.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It was also the final words of the blind man that compelled her to\u00a0keep clinging to\u00a0hope and continue on toward the crossroads.\u00a0 Something about his reference to an \u201cunkindness\u201d combined with his remarkably confident manner confronting the Black Count\u2019s blade made Joanna wonder if he knew more than he had revealed to her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She also wondered if\u00a0what had seemed like a betrayal\u00a0when the blind man sent her away with the Black Count to the crossroads\u00a0was actually an act of self-sacrifice on his part that\u00a0had\u00a0indirectly\u00a0spared her life\u00a0at the expense of\u00a0his own.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And all for some greater purpose about which she had\u00a0almost no\u00a0knowledge.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna ran her thumb absently over the ridged edge of the silver coin tucked safely away in one of her pockets.\u00a0 It reminded her of the innkeeper back at the Last Chance Inn, and the last time she had eaten a full meal and gotten a full night\u2019s rest.\u00a0 Joanna had first seen the same type of coin in the possession of the kindly innkeeper; it had been payment for goods she had delivered to\u00a0the blind man formerly known as the Necromancer.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna was\u00a0suddenly\u00a0ashamed to\u00a0realize\u00a0that it had not really dawned on her until now that the generous woman who had shared food, drink, shelter\u2014and valuable information with her had probably suffered a brutal and bloody death at the hands of her captor.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDid you kill her?\u201d\u00a0 Joanna suddenly blurted out before her sense of self-preservation could hold her tongue.\u00a0 She struggled to keep her voice low and even.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She thought she saw the slightest hesitation in the Black Count\u2019s step.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d He barked, not even bothering to glance behind him at her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI asked if you killed her,\u201d Joanna clarified, choking back\u00a0the bitter bile of rage.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKilled who?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe innkeeper.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Black Count chuckled derisively.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve killed a lot of innkeepers…\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna\u2019s eyes narrowed.\u00a0 \u201cYou know of whom I speak.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Black Count snorted.\u00a0 \u201cSo\u00a0what if I did?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He had a point, Joanna could not deny.\u00a0\u00a0So\u00a0what if he had killed the innkeeper?\u00a0 She really did not need him to admit it.\u00a0 And what was Joanna going to do about it, anyway?\u00a0 She was in no position to exact revenge of any kind.\u00a0 If she were, she would have found a way to escape her current predicament:\u00a0physically and emotionally\u00a0exhausted, and no doubt marching\u00a0to\u00a0a certain and unceremonious death alone and defenseless, far from her home and her cat Rhiannon, and not a friendly face in sight.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And her Serena still lost to her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Seething tears of rage trickled down\u00a0Joanna\u2019s\u00a0weather-reddened cheeks.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When she offered no response to his question, the Black Count stopped in his tracks and turned to face her\u2014and she could almost hear the groaning of the tendons in his neck.\u00a0 She braced herself for another backhanded blow, but she realized\u00a0she\u00a0no longer\u00a0cared.\u00a0 All she could think about at the moment was the poor innkeeper dying alone, probably\u00a0gasping her last breaths as she\u00a0drowned\u00a0in her own blood in the inn that used to be her father\u2019s\u2014and\u00a0the poor mute orphan boy who relied on her,\u00a0orphaned yet again.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Black Count\u2019s\u00a0bleary, feverish stare\u00a0still smoldered with menace\u00a0as his beady black eyes found hers.\u00a0\u00a0But Joanna saw something else\u00a0in his\u00a0eyes,\u00a0as well\u2014something\u00a0very much like\u00a0the uncertainty she thought she had spotted earlier,\u00a0which she interpreted as\u00a0his resignation to a potentially unknown fate\u00a0beyond the crossroads.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

What she saw now was\u00a0something more, similar to\u00a0his expression back at the blind man\u2019s cave when the blind man was goading\u00a0him\u00a0with his description of\u00a0the Black Count\u2019s\u00a0tormentor and master.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Vulnerability.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna suppressed a smile of satisfaction as she dared to\u00a0hold\u00a0the Black Count\u2019s murderous gaze.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Until she saw his bristly-bearded face\u00a0smile in return.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It was a ghastly sight, like gazing into an open grave, the fresh dirt crawling with\u00a0earthworms and maggots.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I killed her,\u201d he hissed in a raspy voice, gesturing to his sword.\u00a0 \u201cDidn\u2019t even waste time raping her, the barren old twat.\u00a0 Cleaved her yammering head from her body with one swing.\u201d\u00a0 He coughed.\u00a0 \u201cLike I\u2019m going to do to you before too long.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna continued to stare defiantly back at him, biting back her\u00a0fury.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cExcept\u2026\u201d he added, \u201cI\u2019ll probably rape you first.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna blinked, but her gaze never wavered.\u00a0 Behind her stoic fa\u00e7ade, her suppressed smile widened.\u00a0 He was\u00a0clearly\u00a0in no shape to rape anyone, nor was he in any condition to wield his heavy sword\u2014it was all bluster, and he\u00a0must\u00a0know it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But she would let him think he was fooling her.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The Black Count took a step toward her.\u00a0 \u201cNow, if you don\u2019t shut your god-pounding\u2014\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re close,\u201d she interrupted.\u00a0 \u201cTo the crossroads,\u201d she quickly added.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This gave him pause.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better not be lying\u2026\u201d\u00a0he growled.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do I have to gain by lying to you and prolonging my inevitable death\u00a0as soon as we\u00a0reach the crossroads and you no longer have any use for me?\u201d She reasoned.\u00a0 \u201cI\u00a0might as well get it over with.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He continued to stare at her blankly, clearly not accustomed to his victims having such a pragmatic acceptance of their impending demise.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Joanna sighed audibly.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m no fool, I know how this is going to end,\u201d\u00a0she\u00a0lied.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood,\u201d he\u00a0grumbled.\u00a0 \u201cThen let us be done with it.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Yes<\/i>, she thought.\u00a0\u00a0Let us be done with it.<\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Copyright 2018<\/p>\n

From\u00a0The Last Archer’s Return<\/em>, by Scott Cimarusti: the third and final book in the “Last Archer” series, coming soon.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Joanna\u00a0was no longer the only one suffering fatigue\u00a0from\u00a0the trek to the mysterious crossroads\u2014and she\u00a0was uninjured, unlike her captor and traveling companion.\u00a0 \u00a0She continued to watch the Black Count surreptitiously in the hopes that his untended wounds would\u00a0soon\u00a0require another stop to rest and regroup.\u00a0 Though after his most recent backlash\u00a0towards her, she dared not request or\u00a0even\u00a0suggest\u00a0such\u00a0a\u00a0respite–lest […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-224","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/224","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=224"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/224\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":231,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/224\/revisions\/231"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=224"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=224"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lastarcher.com\/author\/blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=224"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}