“Where is Veda Malmagol?” the ranger growled.
The Arakesh responded with violence. His attacks were fluid and well-practised, every strike angled to deliver a killing blow. Asher deflected what he could with the leather of his bracers while inserting counterattacks to put his foe off balance. One such attack staggered the young assassin, giving his next attack a wide sweeping angle. The ranger easily snatched his arm from the air and shoved the tips of his finger up into the soft skin of the Arakesh’s wrist, forcing his hand to snap open and release the dagger.
Without needing to look, Asher dipped and caught the falling weapon. One perfectly placed thrust drove the blade into the assassin’s thigh, where it severed an artery. The ranger rammed his own head into the Arakesh’s nose and forced him onto his back, careful to keep the dagger in place.
With one knee pressing down on his enemy’s chest, Asher reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the precarious blade. “If I take this out, you’ll be dead in minutes,” he threatened. “There are Keepers in the city, mages who could save your life. Tell me what I want to know and I will bring them to you.”
The Arakesh remained very still, sweating in the gloom. His eyes, however, were wild. They scanned every inch of Asher’s face before taking in the room.
“Don’t listen to it,” Asher warned. “Your training. Right now you’re looking for solutions, opportunities, anything you can use to escape. Do you feel that cold steel in your leg?” The ranger applied a small amount of pressure, increasing the panic in the assassin’s eyes. “Accept the reality of your situation. There’s naught but magic that can save you now.”
The assassin sneered. “You are a traitor!”
“Focus.” Asher pressed the dagger just a little further. “Did Veda Malmagol send you? Or did he have you waiting here, watching?”
“They’re going to kill you,” the Arakesh spat. “My brothers and sisters… they’re going to—”
Asher flicked the fool’s eyeball, silencing him with a shot of pain. “Where is Veda Malmagol?” he demanded. “Where’s the Father?”
“You won’t see him coming!” the assassin boasted. “We might be few now, but we are still Arakesh. The order will live on.” Without warning, he yanked at Asher’s hand, tearing the dagger free from his leg.
“No!” the ranger protested, but it was too late.
Arterial blood gushed from the wound in his thigh. Asher moved to apply pressure and staunch the flow, but the logical conclusion was inescapable. Instead, he roughly grabbed the young assassin by the collar and lifted his head from the floor.
“Where are they?” he fumed. “Where are the others? Are they in Namdhor?”
The Arakesh boldly maintained his defiant expression, determined to meet his maker with some dignity.
“Fool!” Asher berated, letting him drop down.
“They’re… coming for you,” the assassin stuttered. “They’re all… coming for you. Before this is over… you will know… real vengeance.”
Asher imagined the full weight of the Arakesh coming down on him, now, when his focus was most needed elsewhere. And how would he defend Avandriell from some of the most efficient killers in the realm? It made his blood boil.
“When you get wherever you’re going,” the ranger uttered, “tell them I sent you. And tell them more are coming.”
The Arakesh’s look of defiance faltered. Perhaps he was beholding the doom of all his kind, there to see in Asher’s eyes. Or perhaps he was seeing the great many that had fallen to the ranger’s blade, there to take him to the beyond.
Asher stood up as blood pooled around his boots. On the one hand, he was glad to be looking down at another dead Arakesh but, on the other hand, he couldn’t help but see the wasted life at his feet.
Turning away from the body, he reassured the family that the man who had broken into their home was dead. He also told them not to enter the other room until the body was dealt with. In the meantime, he needed some fresh air.
Outside, the winter chill was a refreshing balm. He felt the wind sting a handful of new cuts he had received in the fight and on the pursuit.
A shadow ran over the street and, before he could look up, Inara was landing on the stone in front of him. There was a touch of magic to her impact and it cast mud and snow in every direction. Rising from her crouch, the Guardian strode towards him with concern marring her expression.
“What happened? Are you hurt?” Inara clearly had a lot more questions than that, but she was content to hear those two answers first.
“I’m fine,” Asher reassured, his chest still heaving. “There was an Arakesh inside the keep. Took a guard’s uniform. He saw me, but Avandriell seemed to give him pause. Instead of attempting to kill me, he fled.”
Inara peered through the broken door but there was nothing to see in the gloom. “Why would an Arakesh run instead of attack?”
The assassin’s last words echoed in Asher’s mind, answering Inara’s question. “Because they’re all coming for me,” he relayed. “I think he was supposed to report back to Veda Malmagol. Then they could coordinate an attack.”
By the look on Inara’s face, the seriousness of that statement wasn’t lost on her. “The last thing we need right now is the Arakesh threatening you.”
“They’re still in Alijah’s pocket,” Asher pointed out. “They were always going to be in the middle of all this.”
“Did he speak to anyone?” the Guardian asked.
Asher shook his head. “He was too busy trying to evade me.”
A sharp squawk bounced off the alley walls around the corner. The ranger would have known that voice anywhere. A moment later, Avandriell came bounding out of the alley with such speed that she ran part-way up the adjacent building and leapt
