Cursing Jayk's impatience, the Amnesian Hero pivoted on his heel and slammed a spinning thrust kick into the first warrior's flank. The fellow's breastplate spared him any shattered ribs, but the blow sent him crashing into the next githyanki, who was knocked deep into a vicious snarl of razorvine. The third one charged past, his saw-toothed sword already arcing down at the tiefling. The Thrasson thrust a hand out and caught him by the collar, then yanked him off his feet.
The githyanki's helmet hit the ground first, striking with a deep, metallic toll. Two paces beyond the fellow's feet, Jayk was tossing a gob of rough wool into the air and uttering the dark-sounding syllables of a spell. Before the Amnesian Hero could turn to face his remaining foes, four huge swords slammed into his back. The blades shattered against his god-forged armor, but that did not prevent the impact from driving him off his feet. He landed face first and tasted mordant Sigil dirt.
The battle clamor grew abruptly distant and muffled. The Amnesian Hero feared, for only the briefest instant, that a foe's blade had actually rent Hephaestus's magic and struck his head. When he did not fall unconscious or feel his skull erupting into pain, however, he quickly realized that could not be so and sprang to his feet. He found himself facing four astonished githyanki holding four broken swords. They appeared to be shouting at each other, but the only sound in the alley was a faint, uneven drone no louder than a fly's buzzing-apparently a result of the spell Jayk had cast.
Resisting the temptation to glance at his sword, which still lay upon the ground behind his four enemies, the Amnesian Hero hurled himself forward. The leader shoved his fellows into the fray and retreated. The three githyanki flailed at the Thrasson, but their broken swords always shattered against a pauldron or glanced off a vambrace. The Thrasson slammed his elbow up under a chin, and one foe fell; he grabbed a throat and pinched off the carotid arteries, and another dropped; he trapped a wild swing, then popped a shoulder out of its socket. The last attacker fell to the ground, the scream that came from his gaping mouth silenced by Jayk's magic.
As fast as the Amnesian Hero disposed of his enemies, he was not quick enough to reach his sword; the githyanki leader had already snatched it off the ground. This time, the Thrasson did not rush to the attack, as even his god-made armor was no defense against that star-forged blade. Instead, he glanced in Jayk's direction and found her atop the warrior he had kicked earlier, clawing at his eyes and doing something bloody with a dagger. Not three paces from her, one githyanki was thrashing about in the razorvine, growing more tangled by the instant and bleeding from all the places not covered by his dark armor. Another fellow, the one whose helmet had made such a toll when the Thrasson jerked him to the ground, was shaking his head and slowly rising to his knees.
The Amnesian Hero took a flying leap at this githyanki, kicking him in the helmet with enough force to smash his face back to the ground. When the warrior's body fell instantly limp, the Thrasson snatched up his sword and whirled around, automatically bringing the weapon up to slap aside a slashing blade that was not there.
The githyanki leader, more cautious with his own safety than that of his underlings, had not leapt to the attack. He stood three paces away, frantically trying to rouse his fallen warriors by kicking them in the helmets. The Amnesian Hero raised his borrowed sword to column guard and advanced. The githyanki retreated a few paces, then stopped and sank into a battle stance. Though the star-forged sword in his hands was as light as a feather, the brute held it with both hands, a sure sign that he was more accustomed to fighting with force than finesse.
The Amnesian Hero stopped two paces from his foe, pretending not to notice that he was standing among the fallen githyanki. He smiled, then dipped his heavy sword in salute. The leader leapt forward, trying to catch his prey at a disadvantage. The Thrasson wrenched his heavy sword up into a high block, deliberately allowing his attacker time to dose. The gold-draped warrior sneered and threw his weight into a vicious downstroke.
The Amnesian Hero held his position until the blades clashed, then deftly danced aside as his star-forged sword sliced through the clumsy weapon he now held. The surprised leader lurched forward, stumbling over a fallen underling and landing on his knees. The Thrasson sprang on him instantly, bringing the pommel of his broken sword down on the unarmored base of the fellow's neck. The githyanki collapsed in a heap.
The Amnesian Hero retrieved his sword, then glimpsed Jayk out of the corner of his eye. He turned to find her stooping over a fallen githyanki, one foot atop his dislocated shoulder to keep him pinned to the ground while she pulled his head up by a topknot of coarse hair. Before the Thrasson could fully grasp the situation, she slipped her free hand around the warrior's neck and calmly drew a dagger across her victim's throat.
'Jayk!' the Amnesian Hero screamed. 'What are you doing?'
The Thrasson's words were barely audible, of course. Jayk's spell had not yet lapsed, so all sounds in the alley remained muted. The tiefling stepped over to another of the unconscious githyanki and pulled his head up.
The Amnesian Hero rushed over and caught her dagger arm. Jayk whirled on him so quickly he thought she might be attacking, but she only tipped her head and gave him an innocent smile. A cold shudder ran down his spine. He pointed at the bloody blade and shook his head to indicate there was no need to slay their foes. The tiefling thrust her bottom lip out, then stuck her knife into her belt without cleaning off the blood.
The Thrasson released her, then saw that she had already slashed the throats of four warriors. A fifth hung motionless in the razorvine, the hilt of a baroque throwing knife lodged between his eyes. Sickened by the needless killing, the Amnesian Hero cleaned his blade and thrust it into his scabbard, then retrieved his amphora and turned to leave.
The Thrasson found the tiefling in front of him, using the stump of a broken githyanki sword to hack through the leader's neck. This one was the last to die; she had already decapitated the other survivor.
The sight stunned the Amnesian Hero so badly that he could not quite believe what he was seeing. The other attacks could be excused by the heat of battle; it was not unreasonable to slay disabled foes to prevent them from rejoining the fray later-but this was murder. The Thrasson lay the amphora aside, then caught Jayk's arm and wrenched the bloody sword from her grasp.
'You're a maniac!'
The only sound to pass between the Thrasson and the tiefling was a muted drone. Jayk ran her red-stained fingers through the flickering motions of a counterspell, at the same time raising her gaze to meet that of the Amnesian Hero. Her black eyes were large and round, and her mouth was shaped into a small, astonished O. On her shadowy face, the expression seemed more a parody of innocence than one of innocence itself, but neither did she show any sign of guilt or remorse.
The tiefling gestured at the fallen githyanki. 'You think I kill them, yes?'
'You did kill them.' The Amnesian Hero's stomach began to chum, and he had the sick feeling that taking Jayk as his guide had been a terrible mistake. 'Tessali was right. You belong in a locked cell.'
The tiefling's face grew even darker. 'Me? I do not think the Lady of Pain lives in a barmyhouse, huh?' She spun on her heel and started toward the back of the alley, limping because of a slashed thigh she had suffered when the githyanki first ambushed them. 'You know nothing!'
