David Dalglish - Blood of the Underworld

“Who would do such a thing?” Alyssa wondered aloud. “What could this poor boy have done to anyone?”

“There’s a message,” one of the guards said, sounding uncomfortable. He pointed, and sure enough, letters were cut into the grass by means of something sharp. It was hurried, disjointed, but she could read it well enough to put a shiver down her spine.

tongue of gold, eyes of silver

run, run little nathan

from the widow’s quiver

“When did this happen?” she asked, glancing about. They were far from any door, and the body was partially hidden behind the trunk of a tree.

“He’d have been up before daylight to do morning chores,” said the man who’d brought her. “Blood’s pretty dry.”

Her conversation with her mother, along with Victor, had already left her unnerved, but this awoke a brand new fury. The killer mocked her, and decreed her son to be his intended victim. What madness was this? Who would dare sneak onto her land to murder an innocent child?

“Bury him, and ensure his family is paid well,” she said.

“Right.” A guard knelt down, scooping the body into his arms. As he lifted, the boy’s neck snapped back, and his eyes opened. Alyssa let out a soft gasp. Two silver coins stared at her. All around, guards muttered and cursed at such strange mutilation. Swallowing down her revulsion, Alyssa put her back to the body and found Zusa standing there, observing everything silently.

“Whoever it is wants Nathanial next,” Alyssa said.

Zusa’s eyes narrowed.

“What would you have me do?”

Alyssa glanced back, saw the guards pry open the boy’s mouth and pull out two bloody coins of gold.

“Find Haern,” she said, quiet enough that no one else would hear. “He has to know who this Widow is, or what it means. And contact that wizard of his. I will have this murderer found, no matter the cost.”

“Will you be safe without me?”

Alyssa sighed.

“No, but I trust no one else. Go, now.”

Zusa headed for the front gates, then stopped. Hurrying back, she kissed Alyssa’s hand and pulling her close.

“Something is wrong in this city,” the Faceless woman whispered. “Too many pieces are moving at once to be coincidence. We are lost in someone’s game. Be wary, and be safe.”

With that, she left, vaulting over the spiked walls with ease. Alyssa watched her go while absently rubbing her hand. She did not know all Zusa meant, but she understood the feeling well. Her mother, Victor’s arrival, the Widow, plus Zusa had mentioned a personal matter…

“Stay safe,” she murmured, staring at the wall Zusa had vanished beyond. Wrapping her arms around her chest as if cold, she returned to her mansion.

Haern awoke a little after midday to the sound of the tower doors slamming shut. Instinct told him that something was wrong, a bad feeling in the air. Grabbing his sabers and cloaks, he slipped out his room and down to the bottom floor. There, before the fireplace, he found Delysia sitting on a couch, her brother pacing furiously.

“The audacity!” the wizard muttered.

“Care to fill me in, Tar?” Haern asked, still on the steps. Tarlak heard him and stopped. His look was none too friendly.

“Honestly? No. I’m too pissed.”

“Behave,” Delysia said, and despite her brother’s mood, she laughed. “You’re overreacting and you know it. And good morning, Haern.”

Haern joined Delysia on the couch, and together they watched Tarlak fume. Delysia leaned over, her head resting against his chest. After a sniff, she sat back up.

“Your cloaks smell like death.”

Haern shrugged.

“That tends to happen.”

The priestess sighed, and reached out her hand. When he removed his cloaks, she took them to the door and set them down to be washed later that day. As she did, Tarlak stopped pacing, and instead crossed his arms and frowned at the assassin.

“Lord Victor was just here,” said the wizard.

“That so?” Haern lifted an eyebrow. “What did he want?”

“Wanted me to ward the home he’s currently staying in, cover it with various protection spells so no clever thief can teleport under his bed and stab him while he sleeps.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Haern said as Delysia returned, leaning against his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “Why the fuss?”

“He wanted…bah!” He threw up his hands. “He wanted to pay us after his quest or mission or whatever this nonsense he’s doing is over. Said he couldn’t spare the coin just yet, something about mouths to feed. Worse, he actually hinted he’d appreciate me doing it for free. You hear that? Free!”

“Truly, he is an evil man,” Haern said.

Tarlak stopped and gave him a death glare.

“Care to share your opinion, mister cloak and saber?”

“It’s pretty simple, though you won’t want to hear it. I think you should help him.”

Tarlak blinked.

“You do?”

Haern shrugged. He still hadn’t fully made up his mind about the man, but he had little doubt Victor meant to see through to the end his desire to clean the streets of Veldaren. If he could be trusted to at least do that…

“I think he truly thinks he’s helping. More importantly, I think he might pull it off. The thief guilds haven’t faced a man quite like him before. Look at you. The only reason you’re so bothered is because you’re thinking of helping him for free, despite all desire otherwise.”

Tarlak shook his head.

“He’s an egotistical ass.”

“Hardly the only one around here.”

The wizard glared as his sister covered her mouth with a hand to hide her laughter.

“Careful,” he said to Haern. “Otherwise I might turn you into an actual ass for a day and rent you out to a farmer.”

Haern only grinned at him. With a sigh, Tarlak relented, and he took a seat in a wooden rocking chair beside the fire. Removing his yellow hat, he scratched the top of his head with his fingers, then ran them through his red hair to straighten it.

“If we help him, then he’ll live long enough to actually accomplish something,” he said, all his bluster and anger fading away. “That means the current peace with the thief guilds cannot last. They’ll react soon, and violently. But how? If they focus on just Victor, we might counter, but if they target the rest of the Trifect, Veldaren will fall to chaos within days.”

“We can’t let there be another thief war,” Delysia said. She said it softly, but it weighed heavily on her heart. “The last one went on for more than ten years. So many died, so many…”

Haern shifted, feeling uncomfortable, especially with her so close to him. Her father had been just one of the many casualties of that conflict, killed by Thren while Haern watched. It had been his first true mission, to kill Delysia when she fled. But hearing her heartfelt sobbing for her father, and her prayers for safety, he had not been able to bring himself to go through with it. He’d later told her, and she’d forgiven him. He didn’t know how, but she had.

“I won’t let it happen,” Haern insisted.

Tarlak shook his head.

“Then perhaps instead of helping Lord Victor, we should get him out of Veldaren as fast as possible?”

“Even if he has a chance to succeed?”

Tarlak threw up his hands in surrender.

“If that’s your idea of intelligence, then so be it. No matter what we do, we risk this blowing up in our faces, so might as well go for broke.”

A knocking turned their attention to the door.

“Who is it now?” Haern asked.

Tarlak shook his head, for scrying spells embedded in the tower let him see the visitor.