David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“Zusa!”

She ran harder, faster. Whatever she’d expected, she felt a fool for expecting it. She and Daverik were no longer children. Many times she’d pondered how she’d react upon seeing him, and now she knew. There’d be no slipping into a past of excitement and danger. There’d be no becoming the doomed, lovesick lovers exploring the body of another for the very first time. Now he was a shadow, a ghost, a deceitful creation of flesh and memories. His very touch upon her arm had sent a mixture of revulsion and excitement down her spine, and it was the revulsion that had been stronger.

Coming storm , she wondered as she ran. What had Daverik meant by that? What did he know that she did not? Did the temple of Karak have plans for the city? And what did his remarks about factions within the temple actually mean? She felt trapped in a web, just one of many in the strands. But who was the spider spinning in the center of it all?

She didn’t know, but she must find out. Alyssa’s life was in danger. The city passed by her, a silent blur, and it was only when she reached the Gemcroft mansion that she realized she was being followed. Turning, she drew her daggers, but by then they were already gone, the four faceless women vanishing into the night like the ghosts they were.

“Don’t you dare,” Zusa whispered, standing at the closed gate as she issued her threat, not just to the faceless but to the entire city spread out before her. “You won’t take her away from me. None of you will.”

In the distance she heard the roar of another explosion, and as it rumbled, she felt as if it were the city’s heartless, mocking laughter.

When they pulled the black cloth from his face, Victor found himself in what appeared to be a small cellar, the walls made of uneven rock and lit by two torches in opposite corners. He saw no windows, and no doors. His arms were bound behind him, rough rope biting into his wrists. His ankles were tied with equal skill to the legs of the chair he sat in. Before him, looking far too amused to be harmless, were Deathmask and his Ash Guild.

“How have you enjoyed tonight’s entertainment?” Deathmask asked, sitting across from him in the only other furniture Victor could see, a similarly old and worn chair. “I’m not sure about you, but killing Spiders always gives me a smile.”

Beside him a woman crossed her arms and leaned against his side. From what he’d learned, her name was Veliana, his second-in-command.

“I’m not sure he’s worth it,” she said. Victor peered up at her. He decided there was more compassion and mercy in her bloodied eye than in the healthy one.

“Perhaps not,” Victor said, trying to remain calm. “Though it’d help if I knew what value my life was being weighed against.”

“Coin,” said one of the twins lurking against the wall, their pale skin making them seem like ghosts in the dim light.

“Lots of coin,” said the other.

“Right,” Victor said, turning his attention to Deathmask, the clear leader of them all. If anyone was to decide his fate, it was he. “But as ransom, or bounty? Or did you lie to me earlier, and there actually is something my soldiers will soon dig up on your little guild?”

Deathmask scooted his chair closer, and his grin spread.

“You think you’re sharp,” he said. “You think your charm will keep you safe from what your soldiers cannot. But you’ve come to a city that eats men like you for supper. We spit your bones out in the gutters. At most, you’re gristle to get stuck in our teeth. You aren’t a white knight come to save us all, and the sooner you accept that, the sooner you and I might start to get along.”

“You’ve never faced a man like me before.”

Deathmask shook his head and wagged a finger at him. “You see, that’s the thing… we have. I daresay you remind me most of Thren Felhorn. Oh, don’t give me that look. You two are more alike than you’ll ever admit. Same cockiness, same certainty that you’ll live forever without meeting someone better. You know, it might even be true. But the problem is you keep acting like you’re special . You keep thinking that there’s something unique about you.”

He slid even closer and raised a palm to the ceiling. Purple fire burst into existence in its center, and it swirled in an unfelt wind, burned on fuel that was not there.

“If I shoved this fire into your lungs,” said Deathmask, “you’d scream like anyone else, you’d die like anyone else, and then your corpse would shit itself, just like every other man and woman who has ever lived and died on this joke of a world. When the worms are eating our bodies, there’ll be no difference between you and me, not a one.”

Victor took a deep breath, and was glad that the tight ropes holding him to the chair kept him from shaking. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said. “Tell me what it is you want, or untie me and let me go.”

Deathmask chuckled, and he clenched his fist, banishing the fire. “Do the ropes bother you so much? They’re really for your own protection, not mine. I’d like you to listen without trying anything stupid, like escape. As for what I want? I want you safe and alive, that’s what I want. Why else would I have saved you from Thren’s men as they were about to hack you to pieces in the middle of Iron Road? But that’s just a momentary gesture. If I want you to stay safe and alive, you need to start listening. If we work together, we’ll both meet our goals, and you might even live long enough to see the end.”

Victor tried to hide his revulsion and failed. He thought of his words to the Watcher and shook his head.

“I will not have you drag me down,” he said. “No deals, no bribes, no sacrificing a shred of my intent. I know how you work, Deathmask. You can’t defeat me, so you hope to make me like you.”

“Can’t defeat you?” Veliana asked. She grabbed his face in her hands and gave him an earful of her mocking laughter. “Can’t defeat you? Look around, Victor. Instead of removing that mask over your head, we could have buried a dagger in your throat and been done with all this. In fact, that was my preferred method of handling your meddling in Veldaren. Use that mind of yours. Deathmask is the only reason you’re alive, so stop spouting blind nonsense, and for once, listen to the words you’re saying. You might surprise yourself.”

She let go, pushing his head back hard enough to hurt the muscles in his neck. He felt his face flush, and he caught the twins snickering in the background. Pride wounded, he looked to the floor, forced himself to think. They were right, of course. His life was fully in their hands. But that didn’t mean he had to surrender. It didn’t mean he had to break.

“I will not die a hypocrite,” he said softly. “I’ve come to Veldaren to cleanse it of your kind. I will not work with you to do it. It is a poor executioner who relies on the condemned to swing his own ax.”

“Are you so sure?” Deathmask asked. “We now have a common enemy. Thren will never forgive me for what I’ve done, and you damn well know Thren is the biggest threat to this farce of yours you’ve set up. I say we take him down together. Such a lovely couple, the two of us, don’t you agree?”

Despite their mocking, Victor was no fool. He knew what would happen if he declined their offer. So long as he was useful, Deathmask would keep him alive. The moment he stopped being useful, the moment he became more of a pain than an amusement, his life was over. Could he refuse? Was it right to let everything come crashing down, all because of his pride? Deathmask was right: if Thren died, the biggest threat to his entire campaign would be eliminated. The Ash Guild was dangerous, but it was also powerful, resourceful…