spells, blinding and disorientating their opponent, the rail thin and final member of the Bloodcrafts.
“Come on,” Brug was saying. “You can do better than this!”
The Bloodcraft seemed to agree. He flung several more, but Brug kept in his way. Most bounced off his thick platemail, except for the one that sailed wide, missing because of a blinding white light that flared from his sister’s hand. Tarlak shook his head, relieved the two could fight in such a odd but effective pair.
The man pulled out several more daggers, and through rapidly blinking eyelids tried to find a way around, to get close without enduring the priestess’s barrage or Brug’s daggers. He apparently saw none, and then his chance was gone. Haern emerged from the shadows behind him, striking him hard on the back of the head with the hilt of a saber. The man dropped, his body going limp.
Tarlak cast a spell to slow his fall, then stepped off the roof and gently floated down. When his feet touched ground, he crossed his arms and glared at Haern.
“Some ambush,” he said.
Haern shrugged.
“At least we won, right?”
Despite Delysia’s insistence, Brug marched over to Haern and smacked him in the chest with a mailed glove.
“I had him,” he said, clearly unhappy.
Haern lifted an eyebrow.
“Sorry?”
“Get over here,” Delysia said, grabbing Brug’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding all over the place.”
Tarlak gestured toward the unconscious man as his sister pulled Brug away so she could remove the knives and work her healing magic.
“What do we do with him?”
Haern sheathed a saber, then tapped the man with the other.
“We get some answers,” he said. “I want to know who hired them.”
Tarlak frowned.
“Think he’ll talk?”
A dark edge entered Haern’s eyes, and Tarlak didn’t like it one bit.
“Get Delysia out of here-Brug, too,” his friend said. “I don’t want them to see this. And yes. He’ll talk.”
Tarlak put a hand on Haern’s shoulder.
“Be careful,” he said.
“He’s no threat to me.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Haern looked away, sighed.
“I know. But someone wants us dead, and I intend to find out who. If it comes between this man’s life, and all of yours…”
“Just be careful,” Tarlak said, turning to the others.
“Let’s go home,” he said. “And Ashhur help us, you really are bleeding everywhere, Brug…”
29
Thren lurked at the edge of the newly acquired Sun territory, watching the people come and go. Night had just fallen, but deep in the southern district it seemed a new life blossomed, ignorant of the light. Men and women were flocking to the new guild, Thren knew. He’d even spotted several adopting the four-pointed star and casting aside their cloak. Very little ceremony or fanfare. He’d done his best to cull their numbers, but it was beyond controlling now. With the promise of coin, trade, power, and overthrowing of the Trifect…what did the rest of the guilds have to offer against that?
“Tread lightly,” Thren whispered to himself as he watched yet another man throw off his cloak. How many of his own Spiders might now be with the Suns? And when he put out his call, would they come to him, or dare hope they might go unpunished?
Thren chuckled. Of course they’d ignore him. Loyalty was bought with power. There was a changing of the guard in the underworld, and until something happened to shake everyone’s confidence in the Suns, none would dare return to his side. Which is why Thren lurked, hidden beside a building where there was no light, so he could watch and wait. Only one thing could slow down the Suns, at least in his mind. Just one.
Killing Grayson.
To do that, he needed to know where the man was hiding, where he’d chosen to set up his base. So far he’d been patient, not wanting Grayson to even know he was being hunted, at least by him. The other guilds would no doubt be doing the same, but they’d be hesitant about out and out warfare. Thren knew their leaders, knew how cowardly they were deep down in their black hearts. They’d want to know if they could make alliances, if they could grab hold of the Suns’ rise and use it to reestablish their own dominance in the city. They didn’t realize the fire they played with. Didn’t realize Grayson had no intention of letting a single guild other than his own operate within the walls of Veldaren.
Thren tensed, the sight before him jarring him from his thoughts. One of the original members of the Suns that had come over from Mordeina was meeting with two others at the street corner. He passed them a bag, no doubt of some cheaper leaf, and then whispered a few words. Thren watched to see if he’d return the direction he’d come from, or move elsewhere, and then prepared to follow. When the man continued on, Thren slipped in behind him, just a shadow in the street.
The Sun walked as if in no hurry, then suddenly burst into a run, hooking a sharp left into an alley. Thren chuckled, and he calmly drew his swords. He’d been spotted, which meant the man was skilled. That he’d given away this knowledge by bursting out in a run meant he was overconfident, and hasty, for one so skilled would not panic easily, nor be spooked by a simple tail. The man had no intention of running, only giving the appearance of it.
Which meant an ambush, one Thren willingly entered.
Six steps into the alley, Thren spun, sword slashing. As he’d thought, the Sun member had crouched behind a barrel at the entrance, and leapt out with dagger ready. Thren batted it aside, stepped closer, and then thrust. To his surprise, the man managed to pull back in time to parry. Skilled indeed, but not enough. Thren flung at him with the ferocity of a wild animal. He had the man trapped against the wall, and with the greater reach of his blades, had every advantage.
Ten seconds later, the daggers fell from bleeding hands. Thren pressed the tip of his sword against the man’s neck.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Pierce,” said the thin man.
“Well, Pierce,” said Thren, “How much pain do you wish to feel?”
The man licked his lips, as if he were facing a trick question.
“Little as necessary,” he said.
“A wise answer. Tell me where Grayson is, and that is what you’ll receive.”
“Only a dead man turns on Grayson,” Pierce said.
Thren pressed his blade tighter against Pierce’s neck.
“You are a dead man,” he said. “But that’s not what matters. That’s not the question. The question was, and still is…how much pain do you wish to feel?”
Finally he saw a hint of true fear in Pierce’s eyes.
“You can’t do shit to me,” he said. “You do, and you’ll get it back ten times worse. Veldaren’s our city now. Go back to whatever guild you serve and tell them that.”
Thren laughed.
“I
It took a few minutes, but he got his answers.
