David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“I fought him,” Haern said, finally looking at her. Death hovered in his eyes, and it terrified her. “I fought the Wraith, and I know him now. He wants something, and he’ll slaughter every man, woman, and child alive to get it. Get me out of here, Alyssa. For the sake of everyone, the Wraith must die.”

“I don’t know if I can,” she said.

His gaze hardened, and she took a step back.

“Get me out of here,” he said again. “I don’t care how. No one else can take him, but I can. I’m the only one, and even I might not be strong enough.”

She looked around the dark cell, then stepped closer. Light from a thin window shone upon her face.

“I swear it,” she said. “Even if I must give my life to succeed. You saved Nathan. No matter what, I’ll save you.”

He smiled, and all that death and rage sank into his blue eyes, safely hidden and locked away.

“Thank you,” he said.

Despite his battered face, he still looked handsome, and she gently leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“Don’t lose hope,” she whispered into his ear. “Even if they slip the noose around your neck, do not lose hope. This isn’t how you die.”

She returned to the cell door, then called out for the jailor. While she waited, she glanced at Haern and fought back a smile.

“I told you to stay away from Ingram,” she said.

Despite his chains and exhaustion, Haern laughed.

Alyssa returned to her mercenaries, led by Torgar on reluctant loan.

“Take me home,” she told him.

“As you wish,” Torgar grumbled. “So what’s going to happen with him?”

“He won’t die,” she said as they walked down the hill toward the street.

“Everyone’s got to die sometime.”

She shook her head.

“He deserves better than that.”

Torgar chuckled, grabbing his huge sword on his back as if out of reflex.

“Maybe he don’t,” he said, glaring at a few beggars who eyed Alyssa hungrily. “Or maybe he deserves far worse, having killed hundreds of people. Not all of ‘em could have been thieves or murderers. No one’s that perfect, certainly not him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alyssa said, thinking of her son. “I’ll find a way to help him. Keep this to yourself, Torgar. This business is my own, not Laurie’s, and not Madelyn’s.”

The mercenary shot her a grin.

“I keep my word, lady, but I only give it out when money’s involved.”

She reached into her pocket and tossed him some coins. He caught them in his beefy hands, his grin spreading.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he said.

“There’s more I need than just you holding your tongue,” she said.

When they returned to the mansion, Alyssa went into her room and quickly undressed. Two of Keenan’s maidservants came to help her, but she shooed them away. Not that she resented the help, but she didn’t want them to see her after she was done changing into her new outfit. The fewer eyes on her, the better. Gone was her expensive dress, diamonds and jewelry. Instead she put on a plain pair of slacks, a white shirt, and a small, triangular hat currently in style. She’d purchased every item the day before, under the guise of simple gifts for her servants.

Finished, she stashed a small sum of silver in her pocket, belted a dagger to her waist, and went to Zusa’s room. It was still dark, and she heard heavy breathing from the bed. Alyssa shook her head. She’d have welcomed the company, but whatever the faceless woman had endured the night before had taken a hefty toll. Let her rest, she thought. Come nightfall, she’d need Zusa’s strength to keep her promise to the Watcher. She closed the door, pulled her hat lower over her face, and headed to the servants’ back entrance.

Torgar was waiting there as she’d requested.

“Got somewhere secret to be?” he asked.

“Just take me to the gate,” she said coldly. “And remember how much I paid you.”

He patted his pocket, rattling the gold within.

“It’ll be hard to forget, not for many glorious nights of drinking and whoring. My tongue’s yours, milady.”

She hated his lecherous grin, but she bowed her head and gestured for him to lead the way. Following behind as if she were a simple servant on errand, she kept her head low and did not make eye contact with any of the other guards patrolling the area.

“Stay safe,” he said when she was at the street, and he shut the gates. “It’s a scary place out there for lonely ladies…especially ones who ain’t looking like they should.”

Alyssa ignored him, and with as much speed as she could muster without looking suspicious, she hurried toward the outer sections the city. The streets grew less crowded as she moved further away from the docks and into the slums of Angelport. Most ignored her, only a few tossing her strange looks. Glancing down at her clothes, all spotless and clean, made her realize how naive she’d been. Simply wearing their clothes would not make her look like one of them. Desperately wishing she’d waken Zusa, she continued on, her jaw clenched to hide her growing fear.

She reached her destination without incident, and sighed with relief. It seemed no one had recognized her. She knocked twice, waited, then twice more. From the opposite side, she heard a click, and then the door swung open. Stepping inside the small building, Alyssa removed her hat and bowed.

“My, my,” said Graeven, bowing in return. All around him, the gathered elves glanced their way. “For what reason does our gracious hostess come to pay us a visit?”

Alyssa looked about, counting the number of elves in the two-bedroom home. At least thirty, if not more.

“Are the accommodations sufficient?” she asked, smoothing out her shirt, which had wrinkled from her walk, the cotton inferior in quality to what she was used to.

“Cramped, but we cannot complain,” Graeven said. “I doubt Lord Ingram would have given us anything as welcoming. Lice-ridden beds and rat-infested walls do not suit me, nor would staying outside the city like unwelcome invaders.”

“Though we are unwelcome,” said a lady elf, who came and gracefully curtseyed to Alyssa. “Lady Gemcroft, I assume?”

“Indeed,” Alyssa said, returning the curtsey despite her lack of a dress. “May I have the pleasure of your name?”

“Laryssa Sinistel,” she said, her voice oddly beautiful, like the soft sound of glass chimes. She wore a green dress shining with sapphires shaped like a hundred raindrops. Alyssa had to hide her shock upon hearing the name of the elven princess.

“Your Highness,” she said, bowing low. “I am honored to be in your presence.”

“You are one of the few in this city,” Laryssa said. “Words of welcome are not what your people gave to us as we entered the walls.” She glanced to Graeven, who sported a swollen cut above his right eye. “No, they hurled stones and curses. I once thought my people were rash to condemn humans, to be so eager for a cleansing war. Now I wonder.”

“They are merely scared,” Graeven said. “They know little beyond what they are told. It is the human leaders we must convince, and they’ll make the rest of the populace follow.”

“Perhaps,” Laryssa said, and she smiled again at Alyssa. “But we will discuss this all too soon with Lord Ingram and his various puppets. Let us not worry on this now. Why have you come, Lady Gemcroft?”

Alyssa swallowed, and tried to remember every lesson she’d ever been taught. She’d have one chance at this. Originally, she’d thought to pitch it to the elven ambassador, but with Laryssa there, it was clear who would be in charge.

“A friend of mine has been wrongfully imprisoned by Ingram,” she began.

“Who?” asked Graeven, interrupting her.