David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“Well, at least there’s that. Thank you for the bed.”

“You’re welcome. I will leave you be.”

The priest blew out the small lamp and shut the door, closing him in darkness. Finding the room too hot, he removed his shirt and flung it into the same corner as his swords. He closed his eyes to rest, but then the door opened, and Zusa slipped inside.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

“I wish to join you, if that is fine.”

He furrowed his brow.

“But it’s morning.”

“I could not sleep through the night, for I spent too many days asleep as is. But I am tired now. If I would bother you, I will return…”

“No, that’s fine. The bed’s large enough.”

He shifted over, and she slid into the blankets. He turned, and he felt her press her back against his, and he was surprised by her closeness.

“We are a sad married couple,” he heard her whisper.

“We are, aren’t we?” Haern said, laughing. “Seems there’s not much need for the guise anymore. Probably best. I don’t think either of us were good at it.”

She fell silent a moment, and he tried to focus on his breathing instead of the touch of her skin against his.

“You found nothing, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Nothing.”

“I could tell. I fear we’re nothing but puppets in this farce.”

He heard ruffling of blankets beside him, and then Zusa’s arms slid underneath his, and she pressed her face against his neck. He tensed despite himself.

“Not that,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “My life is a lonely one, Watcher. Let me enjoy your comfort knowing you need nothing in return.”

Haern nodded, and felt embarrassed for the thought. Closing his eyes, he let his breathing slow. It was a strange but welcome feeling, her breath against his cheek, her arms loosely wrapped about him. She spoke of loneliness, and thinking of those long five years he’d spent living in the streets of Veldaren, he could sympathize with that ache.

He slept, and it was peaceful, but not long.

“Haern?”

He stirred, the worried tone of Zusa’s voice kicking in years of training. Fully alert, he sat up in bed, realizing that he was alone atop the mattress. Zusa knelt by the door, having cracked it open for just the tiniest sliver of light to pierce through.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Dress, and prepare your swords,” she said, shutting the door so they fell once more into darkness. She kept her voice low, as if afraid of being heard. “I fear we have been betrayed.”

“Betrayed?”

Already he’d thrown on his shirt and cloak, locating them easily enough in the corner. He heard a ringing sound as Zusa drew her daggers.

“Yes, betrayed. I weep for this city, Haern. Even the faithful are faithless.”

As he tightened his belt, he heard a heavily muffled noise. The second time, he guessed what it was, and he felt his throat tighten.

Voices were shouting from outside the temple.

“Alyssa?” he asked.

“Dead or sleeping, from what I can see. Move quickly.”

The door cracked open again, then closed, and suddenly Haern felt a pair of lips ram against his mouth. It took him a full second to kiss back, so stunned was he.

“Don’t die,” Zusa whispered into his ear. “In time, perhaps I’ll show you why Karak’s priests made me one of the faceless.”

Haern chuckled, then pulled his hood low.

“Go,” he said.

They burst through the door, weapons drawn. In seconds he’d taken in the scene, and it was not what he expected. Alyssa lay very still on the front bench. Beside her sat Nole, looking very tired. Logan was nowhere to be found. Zusa flung herself at the priest, grabbing the front of his robes and pulling him to the ground. Haern had a blade at his throat immediately.

“Check her,” Haern said as outside someone bellowed for Alyssa and the Watcher to come forth. Zusa put her fingers against Alyssa’s mouth as Nole slowly shook his head.

“She won’t wake,” the priest said. “Not for many hours. A simple leaf I crushed into her tea. I assure you, it will cause her no permanent harm.”

“Why?” Haern asked, trying to remain calm as fury swept through him at the betrayal.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Nole said, remaining calm despite the weapon pressed against his neck. “I do this for Ashhur, and only for him.”

Behind him, Zusa shook and slapped Alyssa, but the woman would not wake. Haern’s knuckles turned white as he clutched the hilt of his saber. He thought of Robert Haern, his mentor, giving his life to protect a young Aaron Felhorn from the wrath of his father. Comparing them seemed foul, given what Nole had done. Yet Nole was a priest, a holy man, while Robert had been just…Robert.

“The temple’s surrounded,” Nole said softly, interrupting Haern’s thoughts. “They won’t enter out of respect, at least for now. Turn yourselves in. Spare us all the bloodshed. If you are innocent, and your heart pure, you have nothing to fear, for even in death you will go to Ashhur’s Golden Eternity.”

“You’d sell us for blood money?” Zusa asked, finally setting Alyssa back down on the bench. “You are a disgrace.”

“I do what must be done!”

Haern shook his head.

“I’ve seen a man give his life to protect others, and it never had to be done,” he said, pulling back his saber. “I’m the one who must kill. I’m the one who wraps his hands in death. That is my lot, my sin, and if Ashhur turns me away at his gates then so be it. But I would never betray a man or woman I offered succor to, then claim it an act of faith. Damn you, Nole, are you so blind?”

He gave him no chance to answer, for he didn’t want to hear it. He slammed the priest’s head with the hilt of his saber, hard enough to knock him out, then let him drop to the floor. That done, he looked to Zusa, and he had no answers for her worried stare.

“We cannot take her,” she said. “Not if we hope to escape.”

“We can still try,” he insisted.

“Dying will not help Alyssa.”

“Then what, Zusa? What?”

Again the soldiers cried for them to come out, but this time it was all of them, not just the one. Their voices were like thunder shaking the walls. There had to be at least a hundred out there. They could not fight them off, especially trying to carry Alyssa’s unconscious body. Nor would any stand at the doors last, not against that many. They had no options, no obvious choice. Either they died, or they left Alyssa to her fate, and neither possibility was something Haern would willingly embrace. He could not leave her there, to suffer for a crime he knew she had not committed.

“We live,” Zusa said softly. “We continue on, and in doing so, rescue her on our terms.”

“You’d have us run. Have us wait. You said the same earlier, and because of it I watched children hang and did nothing. I think I’d rather fight, and die knowing I was not a coward. How could you even suggest leaving her?”

“Damn you, Haern, don’t you see? Leaving her will be the hardest thing I have ever done, and I will still do so because I am no fool. I rescued you from your prison. I can rescue her. Now will you stay, or will you come with me?”

Haern looked to Alyssa, and more than ever he hated the city of Angelport.

“Lead on,” he said, the words nearly catching in his throat.

“Don’t stop moving,” Zusa said, facing one of the slender windows, the milky glass preventing them from seeing anything outside but the yellow haze of light. “Keep fighting, keep running, and if we separate, find me at the docks come nightfall.”

Drawing her dagger across her palm, she clutched her cloak and let her blood seep into it. Eyes closed, she whispered words that sounded strange to Haern’s ears. Then the color spread throughout the cloak, and it shifted and swayed in an unnatural way. That done, she turned to the window and leapt, her body twisting sideways. Her fists smashed through, scattering glass and no doubt cutting her severely. Haern hesitated. The doors to the temple broke open. He almost stayed, almost assaulted the armored guard who came rushing up the aisle, but he had given Zusa his word he would follow, and so he did. The glass cut into his clothes, and he felt a vicious sting on his left arm as he rolled along the ground, but none of it mattered. Pulling out of his roll, he caught sight of Zusa and followed.