Eleven – 06

[This post is from Seamus’s point of view.]

“Fool,” his opponent snarled. “You can’t kill death.”

                “Really,” Seamus said, the point of his spear unwavering. “Do you want to test that theory, then? Because I am more than ready to show you how wrong you are.”

                “Really.” They circled each other, his opponent’s eyes narrowing even as one corner of Seamus’s mouth quirked upward toward a not quite feral smile. “Yet another thing you’ll be wrong about, thief.”

                “You call me thief when that which you claim I stole was never yours to claim.”

                “Her father promised her to me when she was naught but a stripling thing.”

                “Well, we both know how good his word is.”

                “She was promised.”

                “She is not a bargaining chip or a piece on a grand game board. She chose.”

                “She chose poorly. You don’t think once you’re dead that she’ll come to me?”

                “Not for a heartbeat,” Seamus said, his voice measured but low. “She knows what she wants and it is not you.”

                “Because you’ve ruined her.”

                “First you want her, now you accuse me of ruining her. Neither’s right and both are among the lies your poisoned tongue has spewed over these years. You’ll pay for each drop.”

                There was a twitch.

                Seamus kept his expression and his weapon steady. The tune had been called long ago. End game had come. He had planned for this—carefully, with great difficulty and no small measure of revulsion, but if it would keep those he still cared about safe, then it would be worth it.

                “Today, you die, Huntsman. Your brothers will mourn you, I’m sure, for no one else will.” His opponent moved, feinting to one side, leading with the scythe he carried. It was as Seamus expected.

                The spear slid home, biting deep into the other man’s chest. Seamus shoved it deeper, carrying his opponent to the ground. The man’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he lay on his back, limbs twitching.

                “Even death falls,” Seamus whispered, watching consciousness flee from his opponent’s eyes. “And there are fates worth than dying.”

                It was only a moment before the other one appeared, lips curving into a wry grin as he inspected Huntsman and quarry.

                “Well, well,” Pluton drawled, circling them. “It seems perhaps he underestimated you.”

                “Take him,” Seamus said, finally letting go of the spear and stepping back. “As we agreed. You have your prize, now you pay my price.”

                “Yes, yes,” Pluton said, waving a hand.

                “I mean it,” Seamus said, his voice a growl. “You leave her alone. Neither you nor any of yours sets foot on my isle. Do we have an accord?”

                “We do,” Pluton said, meeting his icy gaze with one of his own. “As was promised, so shall it be.”

                “Good,” Seamus said, then jerked his spear free of this opponent’s chest. He cleaned its blade on the other man’s tunic, then turned to walk away.

                “That’s it, then?” Pluton called after him. “You know, you could be useful. Your help in this has been greatly appreciated.”

                “I won’t want your appreciation, nor do I need it,” Seamus said, never breaking stride. “Justice has been served. Do not show me your face again, southron, lest you find yourself the one on the tip of my spear. Keep your bargain or such a thing will come to pass.”

                “Fare the well, then, Huntsman.”

                Seamus snorted and kept on walking.

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One Response to Eleven – 06

  1. Earl of Purple says:

    ‘fare thee well’ and ‘fates worse than death’, not ‘fare the well’ and ‘fates worth than death’.
    Otherwise, good chapter.

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