David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“If you want to live, then put down that sword and follow me.”

An arrow sailed over their heads, and both dropped to their knees. Ulrich chewed on his lower lip. He was in no position to think clearly, not with Violet and battle lust pounding through his veins, but it didn’t appear he had any choice. Despite the bounty on his head, despite his killing of William Amour, it seemed the Wraith was willing to be an ally. But why?

“Lead on,” he said. “If you can keep me safe, I’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”

“You don’t have the power to give me what I seek. But I will accept your help in smaller things. Now hurry!”

A few more arrows flew over, wild guesses to their actual positions. Running with his back bent, the Wraith led Ulrich to the southern side of his mansion, which faced the docks. From there, he saw smoke rising to the evening sky.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Ulrich asked him.

“You are not the only one in danger,” said the Wraith. “It seems Madelyn is trying to eradicate all the Merchant Lords from Angelport. I doubt she’ll be successful, stupid woman. How dare she think she could do such a thing in my city without my noticing?”

By the shouts inside the mansion, the mercenaries clearly realized Ulrich had fled to the roof. He felt trapped, but with the frighteningly skilled fighter protecting him, he still might have a chance. The Wraith peered over the edge, then rolled onto his back, his sword lying across his chest.

“Jump down,” he said, glancing over. “Roll when you land, and make sure you brace with your arms, not your legs. Better you’re unable to hold a sword than unable to walk.”

Ulrich nodded, and then the Wraith rolled off the roof to the ground below. A trio of mercenaries were passing underneath, and Ulrich watched as they fell in an explosion of gore. With them dead, The Wraith beckoned him to follow. Given no choice, Ulrich hung from the edge by his hands, then let go. He hit hard, and his right knee popped. Before he could cry out in pain The Wraith was there, yanking him to his feet.

“Run, you fool!”

With the Wraith pulling him along, they reached the fence. The top was lined with spikes, and Ulrich wondered how he was to cross.

“Here,” the Wraith said, offering his hands for Ulrich to step upon. “Run, and jump. Do not think, now do it!”

Over ten armed men turned the corner from the front, and they let out an alarm upon spotting the two by the fence. One let fly an arrow, and it clacked into the bars mere feet away. That was enough to get Ulrich moving. He ran, and when he planted his foot on the Wraith’s hands, he was stunned. It felt like he was stepping onto stone. As he moved to jump, he felt himself lifted, and suddenly he was sailing headfirst over the fence. He landed flat on his back, the impact blasting the air from his lungs. Tears ran down his face as he tried to stand. His right knee throbbed, and when he took a step with it, it buckled under his weight.

Before the mercenaries could arrive, the Wraith jumped over the fence, not needing a running start. Ulrich could hardly believe the sight. The man glared down at him, and for once his smile was gone.

“I told you to brace with your arms.”

“I know.”

The Wraith pulled him back up, and he let a bit of his weight rest on his shoulders.

“Move fast, and in rhythm. We must get you to your brother, where the battle still rages.”

Step by step they ran toward the docks, Ulrich feeling like troublesome baggage. As they came closer, he saw a great pillar of smoke, and his throat tightened.

“That’s my brother’s home,” he said.

“Stay calm. He fled sooner than most, and has gathered his men. He is why the others might live.”

“Why aren’t the city guard doing something to stop it?”

The Wraith laughed.

“Because Ingram has signed off on it, you dimwitted animal. They’ve rolled the dice together, hoping to wipe out your group forever. A desperate maneuver, really.”

Ulrich picked up the pace, limping along as fast as his leg could go. Rage burned in his chest at the thought of Madelyn striking against them. Perhaps she did so to protect Alyssa? The Trifect always stuck together, at least in the many years he’d paid attention to them. Was that Madelyn’s reward for saving Lord Ingram from their influence?

Stern’s home was far smaller than Ulrich’s, though his brother had an equal amount of wealth, if not more. He didn’t flaunt it as openly, but that didn’t mean his home lacked defensive measures. He, too, had a large wall about it, made of thick stone and topped with steel spears. The building itself was in flames. Sailors and lowborn men fought against the mercenaries, nearly outnumbering them two to one. Strangely, it was the Madelyn’s men trapped within the wall between the mob and the fire, not the merchants’.

“Stern came around back and ambushed them,” the Wraith said. “Very good.”

Something pierced Ulrich’s back, and he screamed as he collapsed. The Wraith immediately let him drop so he could face the new threat. Ulrich rolled to one side, and he caught glimpse of an quarrel sticking out from beneath his shoulder blade. Far down the street, several mercenaries gathered, one of them reloading a crossbow. Whether they had chased from Ulrich’s place, or come to help from elsewhere, he didn’t know, nor did it matter. The Wraith weaved side to side as he chased, avoiding a second bolt that wasn’t even close.

Warm blood pooled below him as Ulrich watched the mercenaries try in vain to match the Wraith’s wicked skill. Their swords were slow by comparison, each defense always seeming to be the wrong one. The Wraith feinted, took off the head of one man, parried a desperate lunge, and then whirled. Gore splashed across the ground as two more fell, huge gashes in their throats. Ulrich’s heart leapt as the crossbowman fired again, and this time it seemed his aim was true.

It didn’t take him down, and the bolt lodged in the Wraith’s side only seemed to increase in his fury. The remaining two died in a furious display, his sword severing limbs and tearing flesh with its frighteningly keen edge. The last of them dealt with, he fell to one knee, grabbed the shaft, and tore it free. He made no cry of pain. When he dropped the bloody projectile to the ground and turned, he was smiling.

Never before had Ulrich doubted the man’s mortality until seeing that smile.

“Can you stand?” the Wraith asked as he approached. “We must hurry if we are to turn the battle in your favor.”

His whole upper back throbbed with pain, and his right knee felt almost as bad. Gingerly he stood, bracing his weight on his left leg. The Wraith leaned down to help him, and Ulrich realized he was staring into the shadowed hood from mere inches away. So close, he could almost make out the features hidden beneath the unnatural darkness. As he reached for support, he brushed the side of the hood, just enough so he might see. His mouth dropped.

“You! But…”

A sword rammed through his throat, and his whole body went rigid, his arms and legs wracked with spasms. Ulrich’s vision darkened, then exploded with light. If not for the horrendous pain, he would have found it amusing how similar it was to a heavy dose of Violet. As it carried him, he heard the Wraith’s voice float away.

“You damn fool, you could have lived. You were useful…”

Haern crouched on the rooftop as he watched the mansion burn in the night.

“What madness is this?” he wondered aloud. “Have you not had your fill of betrayal, Madelyn?”

He wore his assassin’s colors, his gray cloaks, and his hood pulled low. In the shadows of the fire, he felt himself the Watcher once more. At least the cursed city hadn’t stolen that from him, no matter the doubts it had brought him.