David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

The city guard had formed a circle around the building, but most were gathered near the front. At the side, the line was only two men deep, spread out enough that Haern knew they could punch through if they assaulted with enough ferocity. Zusa knew this as well, and she had already begun. Her daggers were brilliant flashes of steel, spinning and twirling in their bloody dance. Her cloak lashed out as if it had a mind of its own, and its edges were as sharp as knives. As Haern rushed in to help her, he saw the cloak snap toward a guard, shift its angle, and then slice open his throat.

Haern kicked that same guard, and he fell. Landing atop the body, Haern heard Zusa cry out, “Left!” He followed without thinking, jointly assaulting a trio of soldiers who thrust at them with spears. Zusa shifted her body so she slid between them, and Haern parried away the sole spear aimed at his chest. Her feet hardly touching the ground, Zusa stabbed the one of her left, twisted the blade, then yanked it free in time to double-thrust into the other guard’s chest. The chainmail there kept them from piercing, but the blow knocked out his wind, and Zusa’s ensuing kick to his forehead took him down.

As for Haern, he ran right past his guard, lashing out with a saber as he did. The guard fell to one knee, holding a hand against the side of his neck to stem the bleeding. The two sprinted down the streets, leaving a pile of corpses behind them. The city guard chased, spurred on by the sight of so many dead.

“Move!” Haern shouted, grabbing Zusa’s wrist and pulling her to the ground as he glimpsed several guards behind him with crossbows taking aim. Bolts sailed over their heads, one catching the thigh of a woman haggling with a merchant. Her scream sent the early morning crowd into a frenzy. Once back on their feet, the two easily weaved through the chaos, while the city guard had to fight for every step.

They ducked into an alley once far enough away. Haern removed his hood, and he glanced at Zusa. Her clothes were torn and stained with blood, but he had no clue how much was hers, and how much that of the guards. The red of her cloak had faded, whatever magic infusing it now gone.

“You need new clothes,” he said, nodding toward the blood.

“As do you,” she said, pointing to the long scrape along his arm. It wasn’t deep, but it’d certainly leave a scar.

“At least you’re not wearing your wrappings,” he said.

Neither laughed, for they were in no mood for humor. They drifted toward the more crowded marketplace, far away from where the guards still searched. With the little money left in his pockets after purchasing his new swords, he bought them new clothes, plain grays and browns.

“A dress?” Zusa said when he returned.

“Best I could find,” he said, handing it to her.

“I can’t fight in a dress.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Where they hid ended in a dead end, so Haern stood with his back to her as she changed, blocking sight of her best he could from the street ahead. When she finished, he turned around, and he gave a half-hearted laugh at the comic sight of her short hair, exotic features, and slender form stuffed into a plain brown dress that hung loose around her shoulders.

“Perhaps we were better off with the bloody clothes,” he said.

He changed into his own clothes, then tied their old outfits into a bundle he could throw over his shoulder. Zusa hid her daggers within the folds of her dress, while Haern stashed his sabers in the bundle.

“Very well,” she said. “A simple couple we are once more. Where now?”

Haern took her hand and led her out into the street.

“We check on Alyssa.”

They hurried toward Ingram’s mansion, hoping to beat the guards there. At first Haern had thought they’d taken too long changing, but he found himself proven wrong. As they neared, a large group gathered along the sides of the road, following the escort of nearly fifty city guard carrying Alyssa to the dungeon.

“What’s going on?” Zusa asked as they pushed to the front so they could see. “They’re celebrating.”

He could sense her anger rising, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

The men and women of the city were cheering, many of them raising their arms or crying out at the top of their lungs. But they were not celebrating Alyssa’s capture, nor the work of the city guard in doing so. Instead, they cried out against the elves, and hailed her bravery.

“Unbelievable,” Haern whispered into Zusa’s ear. The small mob gave way as Alyssa entered the gated compound, where the people of Angelport could not follow.

“Is that how much they hate the elves?” Zusa asked.

It seemed so, and suddenly unsure, the two watched as the guards took the city’s heroine into the heavily protected dungeon as all the while people exalted her name.

Madelyn sat in her room as her servants finished adjusting her clothes, tightening the laces of her corset, and applying various colored powders to her face and lips. Last was the ornate tying of her hair, four braids curling through one another so it formed a necklace around her neck that dipped into the curve of her breasts.

Her mood soured as Torgar stepped through the door and leaned against the frame with his arms crossed.

“Not sure this is a good idea,” he said. “The streets still aren’t the safest.”

“If you and your men do your job, I have nothing to fear.”

“We can’t hold back a mob.”

She glared at him, careful not to move her head and disrupt the work of the two servants still braiding her hair.

“There will be no mobs. Why would they bear any ill will toward me?”

The giant man shrugged, and he said nothing though he still clearly disagreed. One of the servants tugged too hard, and she snapped at the girl.

“Watch what you’re doing.”

By the time they finished, she was glad to stand. She looked and felt like the regal ruler she truly was. Laurie might have tried to remain humble in his later years, but she had no such plans. She was beautiful, and she would let all the city know it. Surely in time she could find a wealthy man to marry, one that would willingly accept a submissive role, given her status.

“Make sure you wake Tori for a feeding within the hour,” she told Lily, who nodded as she cradled the baby.

“You ready?” Torgar asked.

“I am,” she said, standing tall. The brute sneered at her but held his tongue.

With eight additional guards, they marched out to the streets, and she was surprised by how vacant they were. There was a hushed quality to the air, and she found herself nervous mere feet from her gates.

“You all right, milady?” Torgar asked, still with that mocking tone.

“I’m fine,” she said. “The city is a bit strange, that’s all. I guess I should have expected as much after all the riots. Surely the commoners need to recover.”

“They ain’t recovering. They’re holding their breath waiting for the next hit, and it ain’t going to be from their own kind this time.”

She shot him a glare as they walked south, toward Ingram’s mansion.

“You think the elves will attack? Nonsense. I’m sure they’ve threatened, and they’ll make life miserable for those forced to live near their forests, but here?”

Torgar pointed to the distance.

“You see that man?”

She looked, and caught a brief glimpse of someone ducking into an alley, his clothes a dull brown and his head covered by a similar-colored hood.

“Why, was he an elf?”

“No. But he could have been. Every man and woman you see hiding in the shadows might have ears a bit pointier than they’re supposed to be. And don’t forget, they have that tricky magic of theirs. I wonder how many poor and hungry travelers flooding into the city have masks over their faces and a bit of forest sap running in their veins…”