“Whom do you serve?” she asked.
“I serve the lion,” he said. Blood stained his teeth, and his voice was strained.
“What of your people?” she asked, trusting Deathmask to warn her if reinforcements arrived.
“My people?” the Lionsguard asked. “Karak’s…followers. Those are my people.”
The girl's stomach tightened. Not the faintest hint of a lie in those eyes. Religious fanaticism had taken over. There was no man left in that armor. She sliced his throat and left him to die. Standing up, she noticed over a hundred people had gathered around, watching their brutal, efficient work. She tried to read them, but was unsure. Too many looks of fear, worry, and sorrow.
She ran to the other side of the street, away from Deathmask, and catapulted herself up to the rooftops. Soldiers were finally arriving, their weapons drawn and waving uselessly about the air. As she ran, the people shouted at them, and her lips curled into a smile at what she heard.
“The Ghost will get you,” they shouted. “Him and his Blade!”
So she was the Blade? That was a good nickname. She could settle for that.
Running her zigzag pattern, she went from roof to street to roof, to where ‘the Ghost’ waited.
T he discussion soured quickly, for each had reached the same conclusion.
“The Lionsguard are so fanatical they might as well be hypnotized,” Veliana said, yanking off her boots. She let out a little moan as she dipped her feet into a small kettle filled with water. With a brush of his fingers, Deathmask warmed the water and made it bubble.
“Such a meager use for my amazing talents,” he said, removing the cloth from his face and tucking it into a pocket of his robe.
“There could be no greater use for your talents than making me happy,” she said, her eyes closed. Glancing over her thin body with its tight, catlike muscles, Deathmask chuckled.
“Perhaps you're right,” he said.
“About what?” she asked, opening her good eye.
“The Lionsguard,” Deathmask said. “What else? But I watched that last guard attack you, even though all others were dead. Not the slightest hesitation. Hypnotization may not be far from the truth. Even trained soldiers will hesitate when they know their death is at hand.”
“What about a spell?” Veliana asked, closing her eye and settling deeper into her chair. They were inside what had become their home, a modest but well furnished abode that had most likely belonged to a general, or similarly high ranking soldier of Mordeina's army. To their knowledge, that army was still heading east, joined with troops of Neldar to try and retake Veldaren and close the portal through which hundreds of war demons had flooded into Dezrel.
“A spell?” Deathmask asked. “As in, a spell forcing them to worship Karak and serve as a perfect, obedient soldier? Seems a little much. Any time a city is conquered, there are always hundreds of rats willing to show up and grab a slice of power in the newly established order.”
“Rats run when faced with death,” Veliana said. “Something else is going on here. If we're to have any hope of freeing this city, Melorak needs to die. You know that.”
The man groaned and rubbed his eyes with his fingers.
“Yes,” he said. “I know. But you've seen him fight, as have I. He sent Dieredon running like a little girl, and he killed Haern the Watcher as if he were an ant. And don’t forget, he beat the two of us back with a single spell.”
“Then we don't fight him,” she said. “Not fair. That's not us. But he sleeps. He eats. He breathes.”
“Not according to his followers,” Deathmask muttered.
“He's human,” Veliana said, her voice growing hard. “And if he's human, he can be killed. We've always boasted we can kill any man alive. Are you ready to take that back now?”
Deathmask walked over to the window. It was dark now. The streets were empty but for the hundreds of patrols. Every day they killed members of the Lionsguard, as well as priests and the occasional dark paladin. Every night, it seemed twice that number joined the patrols. They were recruiting from the populace like mad, and not just soldiers. Priests as well. Paladins, too.
“Let's say you're right,” Deathmask said, turning to face her. “Now what?”
“We learn,” Veliana said, removing her belt and untucking her shirt. “We watch, we learn, and we wait. All men have weaknesses. We find his, and we use it.”
“So do you have an idea on how to do that?” Deathmask asked, enjoying the sight of her as she stretched.
“Now that you ask,” the girl said, smiling. “Yes, I do.”
“T his is insane,” Deathmask muttered, feeling naked without his gray cloth over his face. Nor did he have the hovering ash that inspired fear and dread in all who faced him. Instead he wore simple clothing of drab colors, the knees of his pants torn loose and the entire outfit intended for a much bigger man.
“Too late to turn back now,” Veliana said beside him.
The two were near the bottom of the large hill the castle was built upon. They walked with their arms linked, their shoulders hunched and their steps staggered as if each were relying on the other for balance.
“It is not too late,” Deathmask insisted. “No guards have spotted us, so don’t lie to keep me from thinking rationally.”
Veliana giggled, much louder than he anticipated or preferred. Her entire face and hair were covered with dirt. It was their best attempt to hide the long scar across her eye that might mark her as the vigilante Blade. She waved an arm wide, and sang a bad lyric about a peasant girl and a ruffian burglar who came upon her bathing. They had purposefully avoided patrols on their way to the many steps leading up to the castle, but no longer.
“Now it’s too late,” she giggled as guards approached. Deathmask counted twenty together in the pack and felt proud in knowing that he, ‘the Ghost’, was the main reason they travelled in such large numbers.
“Hey,” Deathmask said, slurring his words and tugging Veliana forward. “Hey you guys!”
The patrol surrounded them, the Lionsguard swarming with weapons drawn. Three priests were with them, watching the events from a few paces back.
“What is your business being out this late at night?” one of the priests asked.
“We want to join,” Veliana said, pointing a finger at one of the Lionsguard with a hand that just happened to contain a rather large and empty bottle. The guard yanked away the bottle, ignoring her whimper.
“Drunkards,” the priest said after a quick sniff of the bottle. “You should be well aware this is illegal.”
“Well, yeah,” Deathmask said. He let his eyes focus and unfocus on the priest, but kept his smile locked tight. “See, we thought if we were you, then it would be legal, you know?”
“We want to join!” Veliana said again, rubbing her fingers across a guard’s arm. “Be fun, right? Good money?”
She let her fingers slide from the guard’s armor to her own chest and then giggled naughtily at the look he gave her.
“Fun?” he asked.
“Arrest them,” the priest said. “No need to let such riffraff disturb our streets. A few days in a cell will teach them Karak’s opinion on such distasteful displays.”
Deathmask tensed while Veliana continued to flirt with the guard, completely oblivious to what the priest was saying. She sucked on one finger while hugging herself with her other arm. When the guards grabbed her, only then did she seem to react.
“Wait,” she said. “What did we do wrong?”
A mailed fist struck the back of her head, and down she went. Deathmask shouted curses freely as two men held his arms. Another fist struck him, but it took two more times before he slumped, a limp sack of bone and muscle, ready for delivery to the castle prison.
W hen Deathmask came to, he opened his eyes, looked left, looked right, and then very calmly said, “Fuck.”
Veliana was gone, which was already a deviation from their original plan. The two had expected to be placed together in a holding cell of some sort, where they could be kept under control while the imaginary alcohol in their system cleared out. The second problem, and the one that elicited the crude response, was that he was not in a cell at all. He was chained to a wall at the very entrance to the prison, in clear view of over eight guards. To his right were the barred double-doors leading up to the castle grounds. Across from him, tables of guards played cards
