David Dalglish - Cloak and Spider

Yet as the hours passed, they saw not a sign of Carr’s arrival.

I know you’re patient , thought Thren as he shifted from side to side on his belly to keep his muscles loose. But not this patient.

Perhaps no one had run to Carr with information on Marion after all? Or perhaps Carr hadn’t realized, when presented with the tip, that it’d actually been about Marion and not a decoy? Worse, what if they’d planned an ambush on Grayson after all? His friend was possibly the best living fighter he knew, but all the skill in the world meant nothing if an arrow took you through the back of the skull.

Thren shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. Dozens of reasons could explain the delay, and dwelling on the worst of them did nothing. He had to focus on what he knew, and so far all he knew was that it was a quiet night in that little corner of Veldaren.

And then out went the candle.

“Where?” Thren breathed, pressing himself against the blackened wall. Across the rooftops he watched his guildmembers rise from their hiding spots, coming out through windows and up from false shingles. Several others rushed out from the alleyways, encircling the house. Yet despite it all, not a sign.

Dread clenched its cold fist around Thren’s stomach, and he staggered to his feet, ignoring the aches from spending so many hours in one position. Stepping through the broken wall, he drew his swords as members of his guild neared.

“We saw no sign,” said one, but Thren shook his head, hurrying toward the house.

“Inside,” he said. “All of you, inside, now!”

When he reached the door, he heard Marion’s scream. His foot slammed against the handle, and though it’d been locked, it broke under the force. The door opened a space, and using his shoulder for leverage, Thren smashed it open the rest of the way. He gave himself no time to think, no pause to survey the situation. It was time to act, and he whirled into motion. Two men were just before the door, small crossbows in hand. Their clothing was of the Scorpion Guild, and no doubt their arrows were tipped with the deadly poison of their namesake.

Thren flung himself to the left, lashing out with one of his short swords. One arrow sailed past him, embedding into the chest of one of his guildmembers behind him. The other bow failed to fire, Thren’s sword smashing through its frail construction, snapping the string and cutting the arrow in half. Before either Scorpion could react, he flung himself back the other way, his swords dancing, opening up their throats with a shower of blood.

When they fell, Thren found himself face-to-face with Carr. The man looked harmless enough, his face round, his eyes a soft brown. But there was nothing soft about the dagger that pressed against his Marion’s neck. Michael lay dead in the corner, an arrow lodged in his throat. By the window, his hand still resting atop the candle, was Wallace. The entire back of his shirt was soaked red.

“Not a step,” Carr said. His voice was calm, as if they were good friends.

“Let her go,” Thren said, the muscles in his body tensing.

“I said not a step.” Carr pressed the dagger tighter against her throat, drawing a single crimson drop. From outside came screams, followed by the sound of combat. “Do you think you’re the only one in Veldaren who knows how to plan an ambush?”

Thren looked to Marion, and she met his gaze. So far she had kept her mouth shut, but he could see by the fire in her eyes that she was just waiting for Carr to give her an opening. Even the slightest delay, and she would escape. Thren was not the only one who had grown up on the streets.

“How many men did you bring out there?” Thren asked, thinking to stall.

“Marion is mine,” Carr said. “Which means ten or ten hundred, it doesn’t matter, I have all the leverage I need right here.”

“You lay a finger on her…”

“You’ll what?” asked Carr. “Kill my wife? Cut a finger off little Reed’s hand? They’re not here, Thren, just you and me and Marion. Put down your swords, and fall to your knees.”

“And if I don’t?” asked Thren. He took a step closer, just to see how Carr reacted. The man didn’t even flinch. “You’ll kill Marion? Do it, and your family dies. Even if by a miracle you kill me as well, my orders will still stand. Grayson will execute both of them.”

“Except Grayson’s off stalking an empty warehouse,” Carr said, and there was no hiding the victory in his voice. “And as for my family…you don’t think I’d come after your wife without having freed my own, do you?”

The dread that had been building in Thren’s stomach suddenly exploded throughout his body. That was it then. All his maneuvers, all his planning…it’d meant nothing. He’d thought he’d hidden Lenore and Reed somewhere Carr could never find them. He’d thought his ambush careful enough, and subtle enough, to suffice. But instead it’d all come crumbling down.

“You haven’t won,” Thren said.

“Yes,” Carr said. “I have. Drop your swords.”

“No.” Thren took another step closer. “You’re here, right here. No matter the territory, the gold, the reputation, or anything else, I know that you’d sacrifice all of it to save your life. And that’s what’s at stake right now, Carr. Harm her, and you die. It’s that simple.”

“And I know you,” Carr said. “I know you’d never let something happen to Marion. No matter how fast you think you are, I’m the faster. On your knees, and drop your swords. I won’t ask ag-”

“Carr!” shouted a Scorpion as he barged through the front door. “More Spiders coming in from the…”

Marion twisted in Carr’s grasp, and Thren lunged. No one was faster than he was. He’d always believed it, worked hard training himself to be the absolute best. But it seemed time itself slowed so he might see the blur that was Carr’s hand, see the spray of red that flew across the room, see the gap of flesh that was once his beautiful Marion’s throat open up.

“No!” he screamed. He made to stab with his sword, but Carr flung Marion into his arms. Unable to help himself, he caught her, cradling her against him. She wasn’t dead yet, the cut on her throat too shallow. As Carr fled into the second room of the house, Thren held her, stared into her dazzling blue eyes as the life slowly drained from them.

Thren shoved his cloak against her neck, trying to stem the bleeding. He heard her cough, try to speak. Her lips formed the words, and he read them easily enough.

Don’t go.

Thren held her, looked to the other room. He felt his rage overwhelming him, felt his sorrow weighing down his shoulders. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Carr was getting away. That was all he could think about. The bastard was getting away.

Gently he put Marion down, cut off a shred of his cloak, and pressed it hard against her throat.

“I’ll be back,” he said, kissing her forehead.

When he ran into the other room, he found a latch open in the floor, the door lifted up to reveal a tunnel dug beneath the house. Thren heard Grayson’s damning words echo in his head.

This was Scorpion territory for years…

A tunnel network. How many houses linked together? How many secret raids and transactions had been carried out through them, completely under Thren’s nose? Not wanting to think on it, not wanting to let his mind realize how thoroughly he’d been outsmarted, Thren dropped into the tunnel. It was as dark a chasm as Thren had ever seen, but he was friends with the darkness. The tunnel went in only one direction, and on his hands and knees Thren crawled ahead. The sound of combat faded away, and on and on he rushed. His hands brushed the walls, following their gentle curves. In the growing silence, he listened for movements, for breathing, anything to signify Carr’s presence.