Ghost lunged left to right, taking out those who pushed through the spells ahead of the pack. They fell, disadvantaged by the lower ground and disoriented beyond measure. If not for the sheer numbers, Ghost feared he might have gotten bored.
“We go inside and they’ll burn us out,” he insisted. “Stand and fight, old man. Stand and fight.”
He kicked another body down the steps. They were gathering before the door, nearly out of space to retreat. Calan nodded, accepting the man’s decision.
“So be it,” he said, standing beside Ghost and lifting his arms. “Forgive me, Ashhur, but I need your retribution this night.”
He lowered his hands. A sound of thunder rolled, and then the steps to the temple trembled and broke. Dust rippled outward in concentric circles, giving visibility to the shockwave. There were about twenty men pressing upward at the time, and they collapsed, crying out in pain. The amount of broken limbs Ghost witnessed was staggering. It was like Ashhur had stepped down and crushed them with his heel. Calan trembled, then stepped back and accepted the support of two more priests. The rest of the mercenaries, not willing to even think of climbing those corpse-strewn steps, turned and fled. Ghost leapt among them, killing a few more for good measure. Coated with gore, he returned to the temple, where he heard songs and lamentations coming from within.
A couple of the priests thanked him, but most eyed him warily and scooted further away when he neared.
“Why?” asked Calan, his arm still around one of the younger priests. “Why did you help us?”
Ghost shrugged. “Can’t stand disrespect, and that’s all that was. They should respect me, and respect you. They didn’t, and now they’re dead.”
“Not all of them,” Calan said, gesturing to the many wounded. He turned to his priests. “Go and tend to them.”
“I doubt they’ll bother you now,” Ghost said. “But I’d consider getting rid of those with colors in your temple while it’s still calm.”
“If I did that,” said the head priest with a smile, “I wouldn’t be worthy of much respect, would I?”
Ghost laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Then I hope your god watches over you. Before this night ends, you might still need him.”
*
D eathmask watched the carnage from the window of a room currently absent of its original occupants. No doubt they’d fled to safer territory, assuming there was anywhere safe within the city walls. He’d gone out with the initial patrols, under orders from Garrick to help ambush some of the smaller mercenary groups. When the first fight began, he’d slipped away, joining Veliana in the large apartments overlooking their headquarters. After a few initial confrontations that left many on both sides dead, the area had remained quiet for the past hour. Most recently, a squad of fifty men had checked the headquarters for thieves, found none, and then moved on.
“I doubt there’ll be much guild left for you to rule after tonight,” Veliana said, relaxing on a moth-eaten chair. “Hope Garrick survives, though. Would be heartbroken if some lousy sellsword gets the honor of cutting off his head.”
“He’s too cowardly to die tonight,” Deathmask said as he tied gray cloth over his face and straightened it so the eyeholes lined up properly. Behind him, Veliana did the same, using the knot of the cloth to also keep her hair in a tight ponytail. They both wore loose gray clothing, and cloaks of a darker shade. Veliana had killed a pair of Spiders in the initial chaos before joining Deathmask in the building, bringing with her their clothes and weapons.
“While unexpected, tonight certainly works in our favor,” he said, once more looking to the window. “The fewer we have to thin out, the better. Have you given thought as to who we should spare?”
“The only ones who come to mind are the twins,” she said. “They have a head on their shoulders, though it seems like they share it. They think so alike it’s creepy.”
“Can they wield a blade?”
“They’re better at throwing them than wielding them, but no average cutthroat could handle them, either.”
“Good. Names?”
She tugged at her mask, trying to get it to fit comfortably. “Mier and Nien.”
Deathmask rolled his eyes. “What wonderful parents. Gods forbid their names be at least a little different.”
He leaned away from the window as a man rushed down the road, a jittery fellow who kept glancing in every direction. Two more followed after. Veliana saw Deathmask’s reaction and straightened in her chair.
“Someone there?” she asked.
“Looks like some scouts, no doubt making sure it’s safe to come home. Get ready. We’ll have little time between their leaving and Garrick’s arrival.”
The Ash scouts vanished into the building. Deathmask peered out the window, watching, waiting. When the scout emerged, Deathmask beckoned Veliana closer.
“Go!” he said when the scout turned a corner. They tossed a rope that was tied to the bed in their room, sliding down even as it uncoiled. They hit the street in seconds and sprinted for the headquarters. Deathmask led the way, Veliana at his heels. Once inside they slowed, walking through the hallway into the lavish rooms.
“Pick your spot,” he said, his eyes darting about. “Keep close to the doors for when we make our escape.”
“I’m no stranger to this sort of thing,” Veliana said, glaring at him through her mask.
“Keep your hood raised. If they see your hair, they might figure out who you are, instead of just assuming you another Spider.”
She lifted the hood of her cloak and let it fall across her face as Deathmask did the same. He entered one of the side sections curtained off to give privacy with the dancer women, leaving a gap through which he could watch the entrance. Veliana adjusted a giant pile of pillows, hiding behind it. She drew her daggers and waited. Deathmask did the same. There would be no magic for him, no spells of blood and shadows. The moment he did, he’d reveal himself to Garrick. Veliana had trained him for a few hours, but at knife work he was far from proficient. He’d spent an hour casting spells of speed and strength on himself to try and make up for the lack, but he wouldn’t know for sure until the ambush. Not being much of a praying man, he crossed his fingers and swore to succeed whatever the cost.
The door slammed open. In rushed a collection of the Ash Guild; all men closest to Garrick, Deathmask noticed. Their clothes were lacking in blood and gore. No ambushes for Garrick, which put a smile on his face. That fact would work wonders for them later, should he and Veliana survive for the second part of their plan. The thieves went straight for the obvious: the bar filled with bottles of wine and ale. Deathmask was glad he couldn’t see Veliana, who was no doubt smirking. She’d insisted that would be their reaction, whereas he thought many would rest atop the pillows to relax after a brutal night of fighting.
“They’ll drink it off before they sleep it off,” she’d said while they waited through the night.
Need to listen to her more often, he thought. She thinks more like a man than I. What I get for growing up among wizards, I guess.
They both waited, Deathmask watching until he was sure…and there he was, standing amid his men, holding his glass the highest as they toasted a night of survival.
“To standing atop the dead!” he heard Garrick say.
Toasting your own cowardice? And to think I thought I was a bastard.
He pushed aside the curtain and charged, his dagger drawn and ready. As he pushed himself to the limit, he felt his feet move faster, the world almost imperceptibly slower. He buried his dagger into the back of the nearest thief, whose glass fell from his hand. Before it hit the ground, two daggers flew across the room, thudding into the back of another. Veliana scattered pillows as she lunged, much of her face thankfully hidden by her hood. She kicked the closest thief, the one she’d hit with her daggers, yanking out the blades as her foot slammed him into the others. Wine splashed to the floor as the rest dropped their drinks and drew their blades, crying out warnings of trap and ambush.
Garrick was in their center, and he fell back instead of drawing his dagger. Deathmask knew he was Veliana’s target, not his, but he had to clear a path for her. Side-stepping a thrust, he jammed his dagger into the chest of another, using the body to protect himself from several more. The Ash members were starting to spread out, better
