room, along with a heavy chest. Zusa was a blur among them, slashing and cutting before they could even ready their weapons. As the corpses fell with no alarm sounded, she leaned against one of the walls and pointed to the chest.
“In there,” she said.
He knelt before it, flicked it open, and found his things. As the cloak wrapped about him, the hood pulled low over his face, he felt his confidence rise. Buckling his sabers to his waist, the feeling was complete. Blood still soaked his shirt, and he knew that once his battle lust calmed he’d be in a world of pain, but for now he could fight. He turned to Zusa, and was surprised to see her still leaning against the wall. When he stepped closer, he saw beads of sweat upon the exposed skin about her eyes.
“Were you stabbed?” he asked, though he saw no wounds.
“Fine,” she said, pushing off the wall. “I’m fine.”
She walked to the iron gate, the last obstacle to freedom. Instead of a lock or key on the inside, a bar blocked the outside. Zusa swore.
“Can we break through?” Haern asked as he inspected the situation. Outside he saw two guards, both positioned adjacent to the door as if they were asleep. All it’d take was a single patrol to notice, and they’d be swarmed.
“Can’t,” Zusa said. “It’s metal. I need to get out there.”
“How?”
She pressed her face to the bars of the door, looking.
“Remember?” she said. “Shadows are my doorways.”
Zusa retreated into the dungeon, vanishing from view. Trusting her to know what she was doing, Haern waited at the entrance, feeling strangely helpless. Here he was, the deadly Watcher, and he was stopped by a simple barred door?
“How the mighty have fallen,” he murmured, pacing to keep his blood flowing.
On the other side, Zusa fell from above the entrance, landing hard on one side.
“Zusa?” he asked as she lay there, very still. “Zusa!”
“Was spotted,” she said, her back still to him. “Careless…”
He heard shouts from far away, and his pulse doubled.
“Hurry,” he said. “We need to get out of here, now!”
Zusa looked too weak to stand, though, let alone lift the heavy bar blocking the door. She closed her eyes, and then he saw the first guard come running up the hill toward the inlet of the dungeon’s entrance.
“Zusa! Get up, Zusa. Focus on the pain, use it, and stand!”
She forced herself onto her knees, and for the first time Haern saw the thick crossbow bolt embedded in her side. The first edges of panic bloomed in the back of his mind. Turning away from the door, he grabbed one of the crossbows and a handful of bolts. Before the first guard could reach, Haern shot him down through the gaps in the bars. Another guard appeared, and though his first shot missed, the second plunged into his throat.
Zusa grabbed the bar across the door and dragged herself to her feet. Haern reloaded the crossbow, then reached through the bars to cup her face in his hand.
“You can do it,” he said. “Don’t worry about them. Don’t worry about anything. Lift it. Set me free, and I swear I’ll protect you.”
She tore the wraps free from across her mouth, then leaned her forehead against the bars.
“Too hot,” she said, breathing heavily, her eyes still closed.
Haern saw the group of guards approaching, coming up a side path from the mansion.
“Now, damn you,” he said to her. “Now, or we’re both corpses.”
He shot a bolt over her head, then dropped it to draw his sabers. Shrieking at the top of her lungs, Zusa grabbed one end of the bar and forced it upward. As it cleared the latch, she dropped it, and Haern burst through. The pain in his shoulder a distant memory, he launched himself at the six guards, all the while howling like a madman. His sabers danced, and the guards could not hope to match his fury. The first two dropped, their initial attacks clumsy compared to his. Twirling between them, he slashed the back leg of one guard, then lunged at another. Their bodies collided, and the guard went down, Haern’s knees slamming his chest. The collision with the dirt jarred them both, but Haern’s sabers were there, punching through flesh to keep him still. The final two turned to flee, but he would have none of it. He stabbed one in the back. The other he tripped, cutting out his throat on the way down.
Walking back, blood dripping from his sabers, he passed the guard he’d hamstrung, who pleaded for his life.
“Don’t, please!” the man cried as Haern pressed a saber to his throat. Haern felt the cloud of his rage passing, and with it the ache in his shoulder returned with full force. Lowering his weapon, Haern slapped the guard across the face with the flat of his blade.
“Do something useful with your life,” he said, sheathing his sabers. He ran back to Zusa, who leaned against the door, clutching the bolt in her side with both hands. As Haern neared, she rammed it through her flesh, punching the barb out her back. In near disbelief, Haern caught her as she fell into his arms.
“Pull it out,” she said to him as he held her. Haern grabbed the bloodied shaft, gritted his teeth, and pulled. Only a slight gasp of pain marked its exit. He staunched the blood flow using her cloak, tying it tight about her.
“Leave me,” she said. “You won’t escape otherwise. Tell Alyssa I’m sorry…”
“Not happening.”
Bracing her weight on his shoulder, he took a pained step forward, then another. She leaned her head against him, and he was shocked by its warmth. As they gained momentum, Zusa began to recover her balance, and she supported herself more and more. Limping and bleeding, they walked down the path of the hill. The entire complex was walled in, their path leading to a gated side entrance. A squad of soldiers stood before it, manning their post. When they saw Haern and Zusa coming, they readied their weapons.
“Too many,” Zusa said, seeing them. “Just drop me and go.”
“Then we die together.”
Hardly ten paces before them they stopped, and Haern released her from his grasp. They stood, weapons drawn. Haern laughed, knowing they must look the most pathetic of killers. Meanwhile, nearly twenty men moved to surround them.
“Let us through,” Haern said, pointing a bloody saber toward the man who appeared to be their leader. “Otherwise, you die first.”
“Drop your weapons, now,” the man said, ignoring his demand.
“Only when we’re dead, soldier.”
The soldiers tensed, and Haern knew they prepared to attack. Zusa slid into a low stance, her arms poised almost as if she were a spider, but he saw the delirium in her eyes. Even in the best of conditions the two would have trouble with so many armored men, but in their current state… Haern pulled his hood lower and grinned. He’d die fighting, regardless of the lack of hope. The Wraith was right. Amid such madness, what else could do?
Before the soldiers’ leader could give the order, a voice cried out from above the gate. Haern looked up to see the Wraith poised upon the wall, his sword drawn.
“Let them go,” he said.
“These are prisoners of Lord Ingram,” said the squad leader. “Go on your way, unless you want to join them in the dungeon.”
“Let them go, I command you.”
Whispers grew as several of the soldiers realized who it was that stood above them, garbed in black clothes and a long cloak.
“Who are you to give us commands?”
The Wraith grinned.
“This is my city now. Let them go, or all of you will die.”
Haern could see the fear spreading through the squad. The Wraith spoke with authority, and even before their greater numbers, he showed no fear. It didn’t matter whether or not they could defeat him, for they knew the massive losses they would suffer. Again Haern witnessed a mirror of himself, of the fear he’d painstakingly created in Veldaren. Seeing it on the outside, it felt so deceptively false.
“Step aside,” Haern said, keeping his voice calm. “No one else needs to suffer.”
