David Dalglish - A Dance of Ghosts

The other two tried to cut her down while she had her back to them, but before they could even complete their swings, she had already turned, dropping to her knees and arching her back so their weapons passed harmlessly above her. And then she was snapping forward, legs kicking, daggers thrusting. At such close range, they could not hope to withstand such skilled brutality. One tried to flee, but he died with a dagger to the neck. The other tried to wrestle her to the ground, but she stayed just beyond his grip, her blades finding the gaps in his armor at the neck and beneath the arm. Within moments, he was bleeding, and as Nathaniel ran through the bodies, he saw the man fall, screaming out in pain from yet another deep cut.

“Hurry!” Zusa shouted, pulling the rope from his hand and racing to the wall. Looping one end into a knot quickly enough that it seemed like magic, she flung it so that it looped over one of the spikes at the top, pulled it tight, then offered it to him. Nathaniel felt his neck flush, and he lifted his only arm.

“I can’t climb,” he said.

Zusa hesitated the slightest moment, and he realized she’d not even thought of such a problem when planning his escape.

“Damn it,” she said, pushing the rope against his chest. “Hold on!”

More soldiers were coming, and Nathaniel stood there, feeling helpless and a burden as Zusa leaped screaming into the first two to near. He saw the fear on their faces at her attack, knew from countless lessons with Lord John that the fight was already won before it even began. Steel flashed, blood flew, and then Zusa came rushing back to him, having earned them another brief moment of reprieve before more arrived.

“You may not climb, but you can run,” Zusa said. “When I pull, you run, understand?”

He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. With only two steps to build speed, Zusa vaulted into the air, soaring as if she weighed nothing. As she passed over the gate, her dagger lashed out, cutting the rope and grabbing it with her other hand. As she disappeared over the other side, Nathaniel realized her weight would pull him, and attempting to help, he put a foot on the wall and tried to lift into the air. With shocking strength the rope yanked him upward, and he moved his feet one after the other in an attempt to keep up. Faster and faster he climbed until he was reaching the spikes at the top.

Momentum carrying him forward, he did the only thing he knew to do: at the very top, he jumped. Soaring over the spikes of the fence, he saw Zusa waiting for him, and she did not betray his trust. Into her arms he landed, firm but gentle.

“Well done,” she said, taking his hand and setting him down. “Now come. Victor’s place is not far. If you tire, let me know so I may carry you.”

They hurried, Zusa glancing behind her several times to see if any chased. Twice, she looked worried, and she tugged him along at a speed his feet could barely maintain. Down streets and alleys they twisted, and he doubted they took anywhere close to a direct path, all to fool any potential followers. At last, when it felt as if his legs could take no more, and he was finding a way to swallow his pride and ask to be carried, they arrived.

“What reason brings you here?” asked one of the soldiers guarding the door to what might have been an inn prior to being boarded up.

“I need to speak with Victor,” Zusa said.

“And who might you be?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” she said. “But with me is Nathaniel Gemcroft.”

That was enough to get them moving. Into the building they went, and it was dark and stuffy. They stood in the center, ignoring the tables, until from down the stairs came the regal Lord Victor. The man smiled widely, and he dipped his head in respect to his guests.

“Welcome,” he said. “Unexpected company you may be, but please, consider yourselves at home. Sit and let my servants get you something to eat or drink if you’d like.”

Once Nathaniel was comfortably seated, as well as having turned down the offered meal despite the hunger in his stomach, Victor sat opposite him. The lord did his best to look relaxed, but Nathaniel could sense the serious atmosphere filling the room, and he felt ready to shrivel beneath the man’s fierce stare.

“So,” Victor said, “I suspect something significant is occurring for you two to be here, so would you care to explain just what that may be?”

Zusa spoke up first, and Nathaniel was glad for it.

“Melody Gemcroft has enlisted Lord John Gandrem’s aid in overthrowing Alyssa for control of the Gemcroft fortune,” Zusa said. “We have little time before she consolidates her power.”

Victor’s face darkened.

“You have proof?” he asked.

At that, Zusa gestured toward Nathaniel, and he felt his skin shrivel.

“Tell me everything,” said Victor, leaning forward, smothering him with that hungry, intelligent stare.

“John came into my bedroom this morning to wake me,” Nathaniel said. “He said … he said my mother is not fit to rule, and that Melody’s claim is just as strong. She’s in charge now; that’s what he said.”

“For how long?” Victor asked.

Nathaniel shrugged.

“Until he thinks my mother ready.”

Victor looked to Zusa, and he rose from his chair.

“I take it time is of the essence?” he asked.

“Too many of our business associates, even those of the Trifect, will gladly accept Melody’s takeover,” Zusa said. “Especially if they think Melody easier to manipulate or bully than Alyssa.”

Victor went to the door, opened it, and spoke to one of his guards stationed outside.

“Send for Guard Captain Antonil,” he said. “Tell him it is of the utmost urgency, and tell him I come calling for the aid he once promised.”

That done, the man strode back into the room, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“After Muzien’s display in the marketplace this morning, Antonil will do everything he can to aid me and, by extension, anyone who will stand against the elf,” Victor said.

“Muzien?” asked Zusa. “I don’t understand; what does he have to do with-”

“It doesn’t matter. When I say Alyssa will stand against him, her past deeds should convince Antonil. His men will join mine in an attack on the mansion. Once Alyssa is freed and Melody our prisoner, any and all chance of a coup dies.”

Victor moved closer to her, leaning down and whispering even though Nathaniel could still hear.

“I mean this,” he said. “Both Melody and John must not suffer harm. I want to question them, to know how much of this was planned and for how long. Keep your daggers under control when we assault the mansion. Is that clear?”

“I will lead the attack,” Zusa said. “Beyond that, I am Alyssa’s servant, not yours.”

Victor ignored her, instead kneeling down in front of Nathaniel so they might look eye to eye.

“I’ll save your mother,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Have no fear of that. And even if something should go wrong, remember you’ll always be safe in my care.”

Nathaniel tried to smile, to thank the man, but Victor was already moving on, calling out for his men, organizing, preparing.

“Zusa?” he said as the woman lurked by the door, watching.

“Don’t worry,” she said, glancing his direction. “I will be there, leading the way.”

“You won’t let them hurt her, will you?” Nathaniel asked, unable to shake the dread building in his heart.

Zusa shook her head, blood on her clothes and drying in her hair.

“Alyssa is not the woman who must fear this morning,” she said, and there was death in her smile.

An eighteen-year-old Melody Gemcroft knelt in prayer, a book open before her on a slender bench. Towering over her, illuminated in violet light burning from torches that never flickered or dwindled, was the statue of Karak, carved when he first walked the land, waging war against his cowardly brother. It was the third night in a row she’d come to Karak’s temple, yet her fervent prayers seemed to do little to diminish the fire burning in her breast.