Free Ghostwalker (Book 1) by Ben Cassidy

afraid?”
    For a moment there was silence. Finally Kendril’s voice broke through the darkness between them. “Many things frighten me, Jade,” he said in a low voice. “But not death.”
     
    “Now,” said Montrose, snapping his pocket watch shut.
    The five men moved to the door and out onto the porch.
    Sir Reginald retreated into the corner, glancing anxiously out the window.
    Montrose got up from his rocking chair, hefting his crossbow easily in one hand. Ignoring the nobleman, he stepped out onto the porch behind his men.
    The street was deserted. There was little light at all, and the shape of The Laughing Dragon could be seen like a towering shadow before them. The rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. Somewhere amongst the rag-tag buildings of the Outpost a dog barked.
    The men moved into the dark street, fanning out as they crossed the muddy ground. Montrose walked slowly behind them, his crossbow in his hands and his eye watching the buildings around them carefully. His mace dangled by the leather strap that held it to his belt.
    The first two men moved quietly up the stone steps, and flattened themselves on either side of the front door to the inn. One of them drew a long, gleaming knife, smiling cruelly. The other already had a long sword in his hand. He looked around cautiously.
    A third man vaulted up the steps, and bent down by the door. A pair of lock-picking tools were in his hands.
    The last two thugs stayed near the bottom of the steps, their backs turned to the inn and their eyes carefully scanning the empty street.
    Montrose remained standing a few feet away, his crossbow now slung across his shoulder.
    “Be quick about it,” he hissed.
    With a nod, the man by the door began to fiddle with his tools.
     
    Jade was almost drifting to sleep herself when a sudden creak from behind the front door of the tavern jolted her back to reality. She froze, not even daring to breathe. Another creak followed, then what sounded like a shuffling of footsteps outside. She glanced over at Kendril, who hadn’t moved.
    “Kendril…” she whispered, her heart leaping up into her throat.
    He nodded slightly in the darkness, but said nothing.
    There was a sudden click and a rattling from the front door. Jade felt her heart stop.
    They were coming.
     
    “It’s a shame, really,” whispered the thug with the sword, looking down curiously at his comrade picking the lock. “Killing people in their beds and all, I mean. Not much of a challenge.”
    “Shut up, Queltin.” The man trying to pick the lock shifted, trying to see better what he was doing. “And keep your voice down. If Montrose hears it he’ll belt ya.”
    Queltin mumbled something incomprehensible.
    The man with the long knife sniffed loudly. “Ain’t ya got that lock open yet, Harold? C’mon, let’s move!”
    “Maybe if you’d shut up for a minute, Danforth, I could get this thing open—“ there were a couple more moments of silence, and then a loud click. The thug by the door stood with a smile. “There,” he said triumphantly. “We’re in.”
     
    With a loud creak, the front door swung open.
    Jade glanced over at Kendril, her heart racing. He continued to sit silently, his back against the bar.
    There was the heavy tromp of a boot, and then another.
    Jade’s whole body felt paralyzed with fear. She held her breath, watching Kendril desperately.
    “Cover your ears,” he whispered.
    In one horribly quick motion he stood and whipped out two pistols, both pointed in the direction of the front door.
    Before Jade could even move a muscle one of the pistols fired, belching out a combination of flame and smoke in the direction of the front door.
     
    Harold was two steps inside the door and Danforth was right behind him when the gun went off.
    Harold’s head jerked back, and Danforth felt something warm and wet strike his own face as the body of his companion slammed back into him, knocking them both out onto the porch.
    Queltin leapt away