'Hmmm,' Tyzack said and rubbed his chin. 'I wouldn't want you to get hurt, but…'
Eccles snarled and yelled, 'If he dies, then he was living in the first place! The Black Lord will protect him if he really is a loyal Zhentilar spy!'
The other Zhentilar nodded in agreement. 'It's settled, then,' Tyzack muttered. The black-haired man leaned close to Cyric and whispered, 'It seems that this is the only game available to you, friend. I would urge you to play it out.' He paused for a moment, then added, 'I won't let you get hurt. Remember that in your report.'
Cyric looked at the company's leader and nodded. 'Clear these horses away and give us some room.'
Tyzack looked to Croxton. 'Disarm the dalesmen.'
As the last of the horses was led away, the Company of the Scorpions formed a circle around the combatants. Mikkel began to back away from Yarbro and Cyric. 'We can't do this!' the bald fisherman said, his voice quavering with fear. 'Please, Yarbro! Even if we manage to kill the spy, they'll expect us to turn on each other. Then they'll kill the survivor. We've got to fight them, not each other!'
Slater, still holding her crossbow, began to laugh. 'Yes, come and fight us.'
Yarbro's face was set. 'Though you'll likely kill me for it, I'll not raise a hand against my comrade,' the guard said as he turned to Cyric. 'But I'll gladly see this one die before I rush to Myrkul's realm.'
Moving toward Cyric, Yarbro reached out and tried to grab the thief. The dark, lean shadow of a man darted out of the way and moved past the young guard with ease. Yarbro cursed and followed. He reached for Cyric again, but again the thief avoided him.
'Look at them dance!' Croxton cried. The red-bearded fighter reached down and picked up Mikkel's bow. He smiled a vicious grin, then tossed the bow into the center of the circle. 'This should liven things up!'
Mikkel, who was closest to the weapon, quickly grabbed the bow. As Cyric dodged Yarbro yet again, the fisherman swung the bow at the thief's head. Cyric ducked the fisherman's attack, then lashed out at Mikkel with his empty, open hand.
There was a sharp crack as the bow snapped in half where Cyric had struck it. Mikkel looked at the weapon in confusion for a second, until the thief snatched the shattered bow from his hand and thrust the jagged wood into the underside of Mikkel's jaw. The fisherman's eyes flashed open wide and his knees began to buckle. Cyric reached down as Mikkel fell, grabbed the bow, rolled to his left, then sprang up into a crouch, facing Yarbro. The guard screamed something incoherent in his rage.
'Come on, dalesman!' Cyric urged, brandishing the bloody, broken bow. 'I could shove this stake into your throat before you ever saw me move. Give up and I'll make it easy on you.'
'You killed him!' Yarbro wailed.
'That's the point, isn't it?' Cyric said. 'And I don't expect you'll put up any more of a fight.'
Yarbro moved toward the thief again. 'If you hold still and fight like a man, I'll show you a fight!'
Laughter erupted from the Zhentilar. 'Aye, Cyric,' Slater called. 'Hold still so the dalesman can relieve you of your head!'
To Cyric's right, the leader of the Company of the Scorpions stood with his arms crossed. 'Aye, thief, give us a taste of blood!' Tyzack yelled. 'Wound him before you kill him.'
The thief forced a smile. 'That would be too easy!' Cyric growled, thinking that he'd best end this contest quickly, before the Zhentilar got bored and tossed Yarbro a sword or something.
Yarbro swung out a fist wildly at the thief, adrenaline pumping through his veins. 'I'll kill you!' he screamed, sweat pouring down his face.
The thief easily ducked the clumsy swing and kicked Yarbro in the stomach. 'This is getting boring, isn't it?' Cyric said, circling around the guardsman and slapping him with the bow in the back of the head. The thief smiled at Yarbro, who was buckled over in pain, and tossed the bow aside. 'I'll give you a running start,' Cyric growled. 'You can have fifty yards before I come after you.'
Yarbro looked up at the hawk-nosed man, disbelief in his eyes.
'Make it a hundred, Cyric!' Ren cried.
Cyric bowed quickly to the golden-haired soldier. 'A hundred yards it is,' the thief said with a flourish. 'Go on, run back toward the river. Maybe I won't catch you before you get to the water. Then you can escape and warn all the Realms about me.'
Sweat was pouring into Yarbro's eyes. A lump was forming where the thief had smacked him with the bow, and pain exploded behind his eyes with every movement. 'Damn you!' Yarbro hissed. 'I'd kill you and everyone else from Zhentil Keep if I could!'
A rumble ran through the Zhentilar, and Cyric gritted his teeth. Yarbro was wearing the company's patience, such as it was, very thin. If Cyric didn't prove to the soldiers he was one of them — a brutish, bloodthirsty Zhentish agent — they might not let him live until Scardale. That just wouldn't do. 'Two hundred yards,' Cyric said flatly. 'That's my final offer.' When the guardsman still didn't move, the thief narrowed his eyes and snarled, 'Run, damn you! This is your only chance. I won't take a step toward you for two hundred yards.'
Yarbro's breath caught in his lungs. 'But they will,' the guard whispered, nodding toward the Zhentilar.
'Scorpions!' Cyric called. 'Will you honor my pledge? Two hundred yards before I move after him on foot. And you stay where you are.'
'Done!' Tyzack agreed. The rest of the company nodded or grunted their consent.
Cyric smiled a wicked grin. 'Go. It's your only chance. Go now!'
A final grimace of pure hatred crossed the blond guard's features as he turned and began to run. The Zhentilar parted for the dalesman as Cyric strolled to the edge of the ring. Yarbro had run for less than twenty paces when the thief grabbed a dagger from Praxis's boot and hurled it. Blinding pain coursed through Yarbro as the blade entered his back at the base of his spine. Then the guardsman collapsed.
Cyric turned to the stunned Zhentilar. 'Come on. He's not dead yet.' As the thief approached the place where Yarbro lay, he knew that the next few moments were all-important. By turning his back on the Company of the Scorpions, he had allowed himself to become vulnerable to their attack. For every step he heard them take behind him, some walking, others riding, Cyric's confidence grew. Every moment that Slater's shaft did not strike his back was a victory.
The thief bent down over the twitching body of the hunter.
'You promised…,' Yarbro gasped, his teeth gritted in pain. 'You promised!'
A chill ran down Cyric's spine. 'But I didn't come after you, Yarbro. I didn't take a step. It was my blade that did the job.' The dalesman started to moan, and Cyric felt a swirling anger growing in his soul.
The Zhentilar gathered around the thief and his victim, and Cyric stood up and started to walk away. 'Wait a minute!' Eccles snarled. 'You haven't taken care of him yet.'
Cyric stood motionless for a moment and closed his eyes. 'It's over,' he hissed. 'Leave him here to die.'
'He might get away,' Croxton roared, balling his hands into fists. 'You're no Zhentish agent if you leave him like this! You're not — '
They're not going to make this easy, the thief cursed. But I'll do what I must. Cyric whirled around, his face emotionless. 'Give me another dagger,' he murmured flatly and started back toward Yarbro.
As the Zhentilar watched, Cyric walked slowly to the suffering dalesman and kneeled beside him. As the thief looked into Yarbro's fear-filled eyes, he felt something die inside of him, some tiny spark go out in his soul. 'You'd do the same to me,' Cyric hissed. He pushed Yarbro over onto his face and quickly slashed the tendons at the backs of his ankles.
As the dalesman wailed in pain, Cyric stood up, tossed the dagger onto the ground next to Yarbro, and walked away. 'Now he won't go anywhere,' the thief growled as he approached the now-silent Zhentilar.
As the Company of the Scorpions prepared to ride to Scardale, Slater went to the body of the dead fisherman and bent over it for a moment. She gave a throaty laugh and snatched the prism earring from the dead fisherman. Yarbro continued to scream as the woman robbed Mikkel's corpse and the rest of the company packed, but no one seemed to notice.
Cyric mounted one of the dalesman's horses and rode up to Tyzack. The thief's expression was unreadable. Finally the leader of the Zhentilar patrol allowed a grin to spread across his face. 'I'm sure Lord Bane will be pleased to see you when we reach Scardale,' the black-haired man said and held his hand out to Cyric. The thief paused for a moment, then grabbed Tyzack's hand.
'Welcome to the Company of the Scorpions,' Eccles chuckled as he rode past Cyric and Tyzack. And as the
