Ghostwalker (Book 1) by Ben Cassidy Page A

sword as quickly as he had drawn it.
    Maklavir staggered back to his feet, rubbing his neck.
    “What in Eru’s name is going on here?” he demanded. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
    Kendril shot a look at the stairs, then the front door again. The bartender and the tavern maid had disappeared into the kitchen. “Is anyone after you?”
    Maklavir blinked. “Pardon?”
    “Any jealous husbands, cheated card players? Anyone who would want you dead?”
    The diplomat felt his mouth go dry. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”
    Kendril turned back to the stairs. “Because someone is watching this place.”
    Before Maklavir could respond, the kitchen door burst open. The innkeeper reappeared, an ancient-looking blunderbuss held in his hands. The tavern maid cowered behind him.
    “Leave,” he said roughly, pointing the firearm at Kendril. He lifted his eyes in Maklavir’s direction. “And you. Both of you get out.”
    Maklavir lifted his hands. “What a splendid idea. We were just thinking of taking a walk outside, weren’t we Kendril?”
    “No one is leaving,” said Kendril in a steely voice. “Not until I say so.”
    The innkeeper took a step forward, the barrel of the blunderbuss a few feet from Kendril’s face. “I’ll blow your head off if’n you don’t. I warned you, I did, about brawlin’ in here. I warned you. I won’t have no fights in my inn.”
    A sudden creak at the top of the stairs caused all eyes to shift upwards.
    Jade was standing uncertainly at the top of the staircase, her eyes wide at the scene below.
    “Kendril--?” she said hesitantly.
    In a movement quicker than the eye could follow, the Ghostwalker grabbed the barrel of the blunderbuss and jerked it up towards the ceiling. In the next fraction of a second he tore the weapon out of the surprised innkeeper’s hands, then flipped it around so that it was pointing right back at the man’s face.
    The innkeeper went deathly pale. “D—Don’t k—kill me,” he stammered, lifting his hands slowly. “Please. I—”
    “Shut up,” Kendril said irritably. “No one’s going to kill you. Just sit down against the wall.” He gestured at the tavern maid with the gun. “You too.” They quickly complied.
    “Shall I search them for valuables?” Maklavir queried dryly.
    Jade hurried down the staircase. “Kendril, what on earth are you doing?”
    The Ghostwalker turned, laying the blunderbuss down on the bar. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “There are nine men outside, and they mean trouble.”
    The young woman stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. “What?”
    Kendril pulled out one of his pistols, and quickly began to check the firing mechanism. “Nine men. Two of them were already here. The other seven came into town about two hours ago.”
    Jade sank into a chair by the dying fire, one hand on her bandaged wound.
    Maklavir gazed at the girl with some concern. “Then perhaps we should leave.”
    Kendril looked up from the gun, and gave both Maklavir and Jade a look that sent chills down their spines. “We can’t,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve killed the sentries at both gates, and they’re watching this place right now. I only managed to get in here by crawling on my belly from the stables to the back door, and I’m still not sure they didn’t see me.” He slapped back the lock on the pistol with a sharp click. “We’re trapped.”
    The tavern maid gave a whimpering cry and folded her arms over her head. The innkeeper simply stared at Kendril in dumbfounded disbelief.
    Maklavir tried to swallow, but found he could not. “What do they want?” he asked, his voice still measured.
    “I don’t know,” said Kendril. He finished checking his first pistol, then pulled out another. He looked over at Jade, who was staring at the floorboards. “I was hoping Jade might help us out with that.”
    The woman looked up, her face a mask of confusion and fear. “What, me? I don’t know,