David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“Then why continue, if you have failed so poorly?”

“Because maybe I’ll at least save one life,” Nole said. “That makes this all matter, right? Besides…there’s no one else who will.”

Haern put his hand on the door, and the weight of the temple’s silence was heavy on his shoulders.

“At least in that, I understand,” he said, and then he left, feeling no better than when he’d arrived.

When Graeven returned, Alyssa’s heart immediately dropped at the sight of him. The elf looked flustered, and in a great hurry.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up on the bed so her back rested against the wall.

“It is nothing,” Graeven said, but it was an obvious lie.

“Then what ‘nothing’ bothers you?” asked Zusa, who had begun doing various training stretches to keep herself from going stir crazy in the room. Meanwhile, the elf was rifling through one of the few shelves, removing a few personal objects Alyssa didn’t recognize.

“The merchants have…done something interesting, and I must try to deal with it accordingly. They launched all their boats from the harbor, burning what few belonged to the Keenans.”

“They’re planning something,” Alyssa said. “But what?”

“I need to find out. Please, stay here tonight. I have a feeling it will not be safe for anyone.”

He glanced around.

“Where’s the Watcher?”

Zusa shrugged.

“Out.”

Graeven went to Alyssa, and he grabbed her hands in his.

“Please,” he insisted. “Promise me you will stay. Your safety is now my responsibility, and I do not want the shame of something happening to you, especially with all I have gone through.”

Alyssa tried to decide how to respond, especially given her precarious situation.

“I will,” she said. “Only because you have been so kind. Good luck, Graeven.”

The elf smiled.

“I won’t need your luck, Alyssa.”

He bowed and then left. Zusa came up behind her and wrapped her arms around her as they stared out the window.

“It isn’t safe,” the faceless woman whispered.

“Here, or leaving?”

“Both.”

Alyssa sighed.

“I know. But what else can I do? No wonder Laurie had such trouble keeping things in line here in Angelport. I have done no better. I never should have made my coming here a secret. I should have marched down with a thousand men and killed anyone who moved against us. It seems everyone here has their guards, their mercenaries, and their fighting men. What do I have?”

Behind her, Zusa laughed.

“You have me and the Watcher. Are we so terrible?”

Alyssa put her hand on Zusa’s.

“No, but I’d rather lose a thousand fighting men than you.”

The door opened, and Haern stepped inside, his face locked in a scowl.

“Something wrong?” Alyssa asked, stepping away from Zusa.

“The docks,” he said. “I saw them on my way back. Every boat’s fled, except a few that were burned.”

“We know,” Zusa said. “Graeven told us.”

“Did he tell you why? ”

Alyssa shook her head.

“I can only assume they’re planning…”

“They’re planning nothing,” Haern interrupted. He drew a saber, showing them the blood on it. “I managed to find one of their paid men, who’d been left behind to start the fires. They have no attack planned. Instead, they’re getting out of the way.”

Alyssa knew what that meant, but she had to ask, had to hear it out loud.

“Out of whose way?”

Haern’s scowl deepened.

“The elves. Tonight, they’ll make their move.”

The room they hid in suddenly seemed so small, the area of the city far less safe than it once was. Alyssa wrapped her arms about her, and she thought of the chaos that would follow.

“What do we do?” she asked.

Zusa gestured to her daggers, lying sheathed upon the floor.

“We stop them.”

Haern looked to her, and she saw he agreed.

“I don’t know what hope we have,” she told them. “But do what you can.”

They readied their weapons, donned their cloaks, hid their faces, and then vanished into the streets of Angelport, where the sun was beginning to set.

Gregory stood at the wall surrounding the mansion, his hand on his sword hilt. It remained in the scabbard, but he liked the assurance of knowing it was there. At some point that night, he’d get to use it.

“Think they’ll be foolish enough to attack?” asked the man next to him, a large but gruff guard named Turk. Refusing the standard issue sword, he kept a large axe on his back, which he claimed was a family heirloom.

“I hope not,” Gregory said. “Don’t make much sense otherwise, though. They sailed off and burned those ships. They got to know we won’t go easy on them when they land, no matter what they say.”

Turk scratched at his beard.

“Maybe. But we’re ready. Why would they attack when we’re ready?”

Gregory shrugged. Everyone had been assigned a squadmate to fight with, and protect each other’s back. Turk was Gregory’s. He’d been happy about the situation, given how solid a fighter Turk was. But he wasn’t much for thinking, nor stimulating conversation.

“Maybe because they think they’ll win no matter what?”

Turk laughed.

“Well, they’re stupid, then. Look how many we got.”

Indeed, thought Gregory. He glanced about the exterior of the mansion. The outer city walls were left with just a skeleton crew, and nearly every guard who had ever lifted a sword had been called in to protect Ingram and his home. A thousand men in various amounts of armor crowded the grounds, with at least a hundred patrolling the outer walls. Another hundred, well-armed men sworn to Lord Egar, guarded the front gate.

From their position, the wall blocked their sight of the harbor. Still, they’d hastily constructed ladders over the course of the day, and one of them had been given to the pair. Climbing up the three steps, Gregory peered over the wall to the distant harbor.

“Still not moving,” he said. The boats were large shadows on the moonlit water. As he watched, he heard cries of alarm west, and he glanced in that direction. Far off, near the main entrance to the city, a building had somehow caught fire.

“What’s going on?” Turk asked from below.

“There’s a fire.”

“Well shit. We going to put it out?”

Gregory shrugged, but he doubted it. Within a minute, orders came hollering out from the mansion, and various captains repeated them. No one was to leave. It’d be up to the peasants to put it out themselves. Gregory was hardly surprised. From what little he knew of Ingram, the man would be content to let the city burn, so long as he survived. Of course, there was the question of who had started the fire…

Smoke blotted out the stars as another fire began, this one closer to the center of the city.

“Shit,” Gregory muttered.

“What now?” asked Turk. Gregory stepped down so the man could look himself. Seeing the fire, he swore long and loud.

“You live near there?” Gregory asked.

“No. Worried that’s the Nag’s Head they burned down. Fuckers. That’s my favorite pub. The folks rioting again?”

As smoke drifted higher, this from a third location, Gregory began to wonder, as did many of the men circling the mansion.

“The boats still out there?” he asked. Turk looked that way, then nodded.

“Sure are.”

“Then what in blazes is going…”

He stopped as cries of alarm sounded from the opposite end of the compound. His hand instinctively reached for his sword, and he tensed, looking for enemies.

“What’d they say?” asked Turk, twisting on the ladder.