Defeat. It was bitter and cruel, stinging far worse than any of the new mended wounds he’d suffered. His muscles were stiff and the ache in his chest still made breathing difficult, but the worst part was knowing how badly he’d failed. He should have died. And why? Because he was a fool who did not retreat when he should have. The terrain had been against him – mobility was his primary weapon and that rutting swamp had robbed him of that – and had he but a lick of sense, he would have faded back into the weeds to strike at a time of his choosing. Gah. Gabriel spat, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain that lanced through his torso as he did. He’d been warned – Mendel told him that the stiffness would be with him for a few hours, adding that it was a small price to pay for one’s life while eyeing the older scars that decorated Gabriel’s torso with curiosity; thankfully, the monk held his tongue and asked no questions.

Rainald’s booming voice echoed across the boat – he was in a fine mood after successfully negotiating them out of an untenable situation – but Gabriel paid no attention to the words as he stared at the water stretching out before them. He should have died. His stomach coiled and twisted at the impotent rage swimming there – dying did not frighten him, but being helpless? Being unable to do anything to hurry death along or prevent it? That chilled him.

And it was not the first time.

Three Years Ago

He hated snow.

Bitter cold air froze his breath as he led Cometes up through the narrow mountain pass – this was the quickest route to his destination, the tiny village that one of Zabka’s associates lorded over, but Gabriel was already reconsidering this particular plan. He had already killed a half dozen of the renegade bishop’s men – they claimed to be members of something called the Order of Talos, though he’d yet to learn exactly what that was yet – and all of the information he’d obtained pointed here … but now, with his rage no longer hot, he had to admit that it was too convenient, too easy. This far north, this high in the mountains, at this time of year? Only a fool would take this path. A fool or a madman. He wondered which one he was.

Snow crunched underfoot as he continued up the pass – it had widened into an actual road earlier, then narrowed down to little more than a footpath before once more becoming a trail large enough for carts – and Gabriel shivered. Tugging his cloak tight, he gave the road ahead a quick look before clambering up into the saddle. Cometes gave him a foul look but he ignored it as he continued to shiver. He’d already removed his armor – it wasn’t properly insulated for this kind of weather – but with the metal corselet safely stored in the saddlebags, he felt naked, vulnerable, exposed.

The ambush came without warning.

With barely a sound, the two shooters fired their crossbows and, barely a heartbeat later, the twin bolts slammed home into Gabriel’s torso. The impact tore a surprised gasp from him even as his muscles spasmed and he fell from Cometes’ back, smashing into the dirt with another bruising impact that ripped the breath right out of him. Cometes startled and then sprang forward, reacting with animal instincts to a sudden attack, and within seconds, the horse was out of sight, hooves thundering. Gabriel thought he heard a man’s voice cry out in surprise, but the sharp agony stabbing through him ripped coherence away.

Get up! he screamed at himself, but his body refused to obey. He knew the shooters would be here in moments – if they were wise, they were reloading their weapons before advancing – but the pain … dear God, the pain … Long moments passed before he was able to blink away the shock and by then, he could hear the sound of men moving through the trees. There was no way he could get to his feet and defend against them, not now, not in his condition. But there were alternatives to fighting …

By the time the two woodsmen came into sight, Gabriel had burrowed slightly into a snow drift, ignoring the cold and wet that accompanied the snow. He’d flipped the elven cloak over his body and concentrated on its magics. Instantly, a wave of fatigue coursed through him as the enchantments drain vitality from him, and on top of the agony in his chest, it was almost enough to make him groan. He bit it back though, even as he slid Angrist out of its sheathe and gripped the knife tightly.

“Do you see him?” one of the shooters asked. He was an ugly man, with wide features and squinty eyes. From his accent, he was Megalan, but the crossbow and the cut of his clothes were pure Caithness.

“I saw him fall,” his cohort muttered in response. He was younger than the other man and without the unattractive features, but the black scowl on his face made him nearly as ugly. They drew closer – Gabriel tightened his hold on his knife even as the cold seeped through his clothes and his body trembled – but neither appeared to be looking in his direction at the moment. The uglier of the two leaned over the sharp drop and grimaced.

“Think he went over?” he asked. “That’s a long fall.”

“Well I did not see him on that damned horse,” the other man grumbled. He stepped closer to the first who was still peering over the ledge. “Mayhap you should look for him down there.”

And then, he pushed the ugly man over the edge.

There was no warning – the older man was as surprised as Gabriel – and the victim of this unexpected shove had just enough time to yelp with shock before he vanished. Gabriel could hear a bone-cracking thud, and then another, and then … silence. The younger man leaned forward slightly, his expression creased in satisfaction as he watched his victim vanish.

“Your wife says hello,” the man said with a sneer. He glanced around quickly, clearly trying to locate Gabriel, but glowered when found nothing. A moment later, he glanced back in the direction that Cometes had gone before quickly kicking one of the snow drifts over the side – it was the closest to where his former ambusher had stood. Thunder raced up the trail and, heartbeats later, three horsemen appeared. Two were clearly just muscle, but the third had the innate arrogance of a nobleman. This man gave the clearing a look before frowning.

“Where is Gaius?” he demanded.

“He went over the side, my lord,” the ambusher quickly said as he ducked his head. “I was over there,” he added, pointing in Gabriel’s general direction. “And I heard him call out but by the time I got here, he was gone.”

“And the assassin?” The noble edged his horse closer to the lip and stood up in the saddle so he could peer over the side. “What of him?” He nodded toward where the ugly man went over. “Did he do this?”

“I … I don’t know, my lord.” The murderer glanced around, his eyes darting, and through the fog of pain, Gabriel realized that the man was looking for him. “It happened so fast, my lord…”

“He might have been on that horse, my lord,” one of the noble’s guards said. “We should continue pursuit of it.”

“I saw no one in the saddle,” the noble declared angrily. “And no horse is that fast when carrying a rider.”

“This assassin is said to possess elf gifts that make him invisible, my lord,” the other guard said.

“Find him,” the noble snapped. He pinned the first man, the one who had pushed his companion over the side, with a fierce look. “Find Gaius’ body,” he ordered. “If the assassin killed him, then mayhap Gaius took the bastard with him.” To the other two he looked. “Find the horse. Kill it or capture, I care not. But if the assassin is there, kill him.” With an angry flick of his reins, he kicked his horse into a trot.

“Arrogant bastard,” one of the guards muttered. “I hope the assassin finds him first.” He reined his own horse around. “I’ll give you a ride to the bottom,” he said to the ambusher who nodded before giving the woods another brief, worried glance. The three were gone moments later, leaving Gabriel alone.

He remained where he was hidden for a long time, both unable and unwilling to move from concealment. The cold snow seeped into his very bones, and his vision blurred out. Darkness beckoned and he was unable to keep it at bay.

How long he was unconscious, he didn’t know but when he woke, his entire body was trembling from the cold. With a groan that he could not stop, Gabriel forced uncooperative limbs to function and climbed slowly to his feet. He tried to sheathe Angrist but his shaking hands made it difficult. The sun had already dropped at least partially behind far distant peaks, casting ominous shadows across the trail. Gabriel limped toward the treeline. Within minutes, he found the sniper’s nest from where the two men had shot him – it was little more than some raised bushes behind which a depression had been dug, but it would do.

Removing the crossbow bolts was a new agony and he passed out at least twice before finally succeeding. Binding the wounds with scraps torn from his shirt was just as difficult and when he slumped back against the dirt, so thoroughly exhausted that he could not move, Gabriel wondered how he could get out of this. If Cometes had not fled, he could have used that remaining healing potion he’d bought some time back. It wouldn’t be quite enough to restore him to full health, but it would at least be adequate so he could think straight. No matter. Thinking straight was not important at the moment. Only action. With another grimace, he forced himself upright once more. Cometes had gone that way so he needed to follow. Follow and find a way to avoid getting killed. He grimaced at the difficulty in placing one foot in front of the other – sharp stabs of agony coursed through his torso with each step – but he did not stop. He could not stop. Not until he had justice.

Gabriel clung to that thought as he limped his way through the woods.