Dark Lord

with unshed tears, only to toss her head, look directly into his eyes, and whisper, 'Thank you, lord. I… thank you.'

'So, Is he? Or not?'

The voice outside the window was gravel-rough-arid impatient, but the innkeeper's shrug held no trace of fear.

'I cannot tell. He is suspicious, and so you should know of him. What you do cannot be my affair.'

'Urrhh.' The grunt held neither agreement nor dispute. 'The Vengeful shall be told.'

A boot shifted on loose stones, and then the night outside the window was empty. In the pitch darkness, the innkeeper shrugged and slid the window panel closed.

Rod Everlar came awake suddenly and painfully, out of a dream that seemed to involve his blood-drenched bed at home, when a hard and heavy boot took him in the ribs.

'Rod Everlar!' Taeauna shouted. 'Up, and defend yourself!'

Blinking in the darkness, Rod was dimly aware of Taeauna leaping over him to his left, so he flung himself to his right, trying to grab at the hilt of his sword as his body rolled over it.

Swords clanged together on one side of the bed as Rod fell off it on the other. Someone or something hissed like a snake, steel rang on steel again, and a horrible wet-throated squalling burst on Rod's ears out of the darkness. He fumbled for his sword and tried to get to his feet, as swords skirled musically and blades glanced off each other from where Taeauna must be fighting. The squalling died down into wet coughing near the floor, and two or three short, angry hisses sounded at once, one of them from right in front of Rod.

He stopped trying to get up, and used both hands to sweep his blade across in front of him, angled upwards, as if he were trying to bury an axe into a tree looming above him, or better yet, slice that axe right through a tree.

Halfway through its swing, Rod's blade hit something solid and meaty, jarring his hands to numbness, and… cut through, spattering him with unseen but swamp-reeking wetness and causing a bubbling-wet shrieking overhead that was startlingly loud and near.

As swords clanged again across the room, and he heard a sob that might have been Taeauna- Taeauna! — something bumped against Rod's left boot, so he rolled hastily to his right again, coming up against the wall.

'Taeauna?' he shouted desperately.

Behind him the unseen creature he'd wounded fell heavily onto the edge of the bed and thumped to the floor, its shrieks dying into squalling. Rod turned and lashed out with his sword again, hacking wildly at what must be lying beside him.

He couldn't see a thing, couldn't-

'Taeauna!'

She hadn't answered! Hadn't…

Wetness fountained audibly under the edge of his sword, and the squalling stopped, trailing away into a lowering hiss. Across the room, blades clashed again, and there was a sudden wet growl of anger. Taeauna cried out a short 'huunh!' of effort, as if she'd done something strenuous that caused her pain, and then a loud hissing arose, and a body I humped rapidly backwards, off balance, and fell to the floor with a crash.

'Rod?' Taeauna panted. 'Lord Rod?'

'Here,' Rod replied uncertainly, raising his sword straight up. 'I can't see a thing.'

'Get to the window,' she gasped. 'Crawl across the bed.'

Rod pointed his blade down to the floor and prodded gingerly ahead with it, finding feet almost immediately. He went around them and found the bed. 'The laedlen?' he asked, remembering that Taeauna had tossed the inn's cushions to the floor and used their sacks as pillows.

'Bring…' Taeauna panted, 'them.'

She was hurt, all right.

'Tay, do you need my-'

'Not here,' she snapped. 'Help me… The window bar…'

Rod clambered across the bed, encountering something smooth and scaly that shouldn't have been there-it was wet and sticky, but thankfully didn't move-and found the floor on the far side.

'Tay,' he muttered, to let her know it was him as he reached out. His fingers met with something solid. Leather. 'Your leg?'

'My leg,' she sighed, and he felt a trembling under his fingertips.

Rod rose, hastily. 'I'm here.'

'Hurry,' she whispered. 'Please.'

Rod felt for the wall, found the wooden bar, and lifted it. It was heavy; the far end wavered as he wrestled with its weight.

'Just drop it,' the Aumrarr murmured. 'I'm clear.'

Thankfully, Rod let go, remembering to jerk his own boots back just in time.

The bar landed with a crash, and bounced onto his toes anyway.

Its landing brought a few weak hisses out of the darkness behind them, but Taeauna was already pushing at the shutters. 'Get the laedlen. We must leave.'

'Out the window?'

'Yes, wise old man, out the window.' Her snap was as half-hearted as it was quiet.

Rod thrust the window shutters open, smacking someone in the face who was standing outside in the night, who responded by swinging a sword right past Rod's nose.

Rod snatched up his own sword from where he'd left it leaned against his crotch, and thrust it out into the dark bulk. Hard.

It went into something, a little.

That brought a loud and furious hiss, and the blade swung back to clang against Taeauna's. She sobbed in pain, and Rod angrily thrust with his sword again, aiming for where the hissing was coming from.

Again, his steel met something solid, slicing past it into air. The hiss burst into wet squalling.

Rod pulled his sword back hastily, feeling Taeauna straining beside him to hold the foe's sword with hers, and started to hack and chop wildly, putting his strength into it.

The dark bulk abruptly fell away, thumping solidly onto the ground, its squalling ending in a wet spewing sound that quickly faded.

'Dare we…?' Rod whispered.

'Get… the… laedlen,' Taeauna snarled, and half fell out the window.

Rod hurried to obey, joining her with an awkward somersault that brought him down hard on the body of whatever he'd just felled, and sent his sword bouncing one way and the two laedlen the other.

Taeauna staggered up to him. 'Bring them,' she gasped. 'I can't carry…'

Rod brought them.

Through the half-open door, the knight's face was grim. 'Dursra the peddler, lord. We got her drunk, as you ordered, and she's talking. I came straight. As you ordered.'

Lord Eldalar of Hollowtree gently set aside the reluctant-to-let-go arms of his wife, and rolled out of the welcome warmth of their bed with a grunt of irritation. 'Aye, she would be. Nothing good, I take it?'

'Something you should hear, before I lock her away in the old turret so her words reach no one else.'

The Lord of Hollowtree threw on his breeches, stamped his boots onto his feet, shrugged on his grand tunic, scratched at his gray beard, and reached for his sword. Never let your folk see you half-dressed. Or less.

Fastening the tunic as he went, he followed Lhauntur along the dimness of the secret passage into the room of the ledgers, and thence to the long passage that led to the back chamber. Grim-faced guards nodded at their approach and stood aside.

Fat old Dursra lay on her back on the cot where prisoners were usually shackled, unbound but in no state to stand, let alone go anywhere and work any menace on anyone. The sour reek of Durraran's wine was strong in the room, and Durraran himself sat on a stool nigh Dursra's head with a bucket, awaiting the inevitable time when she'd spew.