Adrian Tchaikovsky - Dragonfly Falling

Graf sat at his desk, no doubt dealing with the contracts of the men killed at the warehouse and the few who survived. He looked in an ill temper, barely glancing at them as they filed in. Thalric himself was obviously ready to depart for Vek. He had donned a long coat and there was a pack slung ready on the back of his chair. He did seem to frown a little as the three of them took their places about the room. Hofi moved close to Graf, flicking his wings to perch on the corner of the desk. Arianna herself was leaning by the window, and she knew she was looking casual, nothing in her stance to betray her. Scadran just stood in the middle of the room, and to her he radiated tension.

She supposed they had a lot to be tense about, considering all the changes recently. A lot had happened and a lot had gone wrong. The future held clouds yet to come.

Thalric nodded at them, eventually. He seemed tired, which would work well for them. No doubt he had been busy from the early hours, putting his plans in place.

‘I have your final assignments before the Vekken get here,’ he told them. ‘After that I will try to get word to you, but you’ll understand I can’t guarantee it. After the siege starts I’ll leave it to Graf here, and to your own judgements, how the city’s defence can best be sabotaged. A quick victory for Vek will serve us best, although one that kills a great many Vekken troops at the same time would be the perfect result.’

‘Excuse me, Major, but what should we do when the walls actually fall?’ Hofi asked. ‘You won’t be able to provide the entire army of Vek with our descriptions.’

His tone was too confrontational, and Arianna guessed he was steeling himself to the task. Thalric’s frown returned.

‘If you can’t extract yourselves from the situation then you’re in the wrong trade,’ he said shortly. ‘If all else fails, defect at the last moment and drop my name to whoever chances to question you. I’ve not abandoned my people before and I will not do so this time, worry not.’

‘What do you have for us, sir?’ Arianna asked.

‘Well for you, I want you to work your charms on someone in the Collegium militia. One of their senior officers, in fact. They’re all old men who like wearing medals and uniforms. Most of them haven’t held a sword in ten years. I want information about the military, and you’ll be in a position to throw a wrench into their gears when the fighting starts.’ He turned from her. ‘Hofi, I want you to start spreading rumours amongst your clientele and your peers. Rumours about the military weakness of the city. Rumours that Sarn has become sick of this place. Rumours that Sarn may even be looking to make Collegium merely the junior partner in their alliance. A Sarnesh attack — yes, that might sell well.’

‘I see, sir,’ Hofi said. ‘Lower their morale, you mean. Take away their hope.’

‘Indeed. As for you, Scadran, you must look to the port defences. The attack will surely include a naval action, or the Vekken are greater fools than I take them for. Look to see what can be sabotaged at the relevant moment.’

Scadran nodded sullenly.

‘Well, I take it we all now understand our tasks, and I wish you good luck with them. Now, I have an appointment with our people in Vek.’

He rose, and just then Hofi slammed his open palm on the desk, their signal.

Arianna had her dagger already clear of its sheath as Hofi drove his own into Lieutenant Graf. The Fly-kinden had been trying to sink the blade over the man’s collarbone, but Graf jerked back even as he struck, and Hofi ended up driving it up to the hilt into his shoulder, the Fly’s wings powering the blow. Graf roared with pain and reached for his sword.

Scadran was already rushing for Thalric. He had a heavy-bladed sword out, but swung it so wildly that Arianna could not get close to help him. Thalric swayed back, his face set and hard, and as the blade came down again he tried to catch Scadran’s wrist. The force of the blow knocked Thalric back into a corner of the room, Scadran’s weight and strength pushing him almost to his knees. The big man’s off-hand fumbled at Thalric’s collar, trying for a hold around his throat.

There was the familiar crackling sound of a Wasp sting from behind her, and Arianna turned to look. Hofi was hanging in the air amidst the glitter of his own wings, and Graf had blown a charred circle into the far wall. Then the Fly slashed savagely with his blade and Graf was reeling back, clutching at his face and screaming. There was blood spitting from between his fingers and Arianna realized that Hofi had gashed the man’s one good eye.

She turned back to Thalric. The Wasp was stronger than he looked, every muscle straining to keep Scadran off him, but his halfbreed assailant had the advantage. Thalric’s teeth were bared and his eyes bulged, not from Scadran’s throttling grip but from his own sheer fury. They swayed back and forth, but with Scadran always forcing him into the wall again at last. Arianna saw her moment. She darted in and rammed her dagger into Thalric’s side.

Or that had been the idea. Instead, although the stroke was true, she struck something hard beneath his coat and the blade of her knife snapped at the hilt.

Thalric made a hissing sound that might have been triumph, and kicked Scadran solidly across his bandaged calf. The big man roared in pain, his grip loosening for just a second, and Thalric put a hand under Scadran’s chin and unleashed his sting.

Scadran’s head simply exploded. There was nothing more to it than that. The body that fell colossally back to the floor was virtually decapitated. Arianna felt her insides lurch in fear and horror but she had her Art-made weapons out now, the narrow claws jutting from her knuckles, and she struck Thalric across the face, gashing his cheek. She had hoped to snap his head round but he took the blow without flinching, and then backhanded her solidly, spinning her to the floor.

He walked past her, and she tried to stand, her head spinning. He had not killed her, which could only mean he wanted to question her or to prolong her death. The Rekef showed no forgiveness for treachery.

She saw Hofi, red with Graf’s blood, rise from behind the desk and see Thalric. The Fly-kinden did not hesitate. She had never guessed that the unassuming barber was such a fierce fighter but he hurled himself on Thalric instantly, his wings flinging him across the room. Arianna was on her feet now, swaying, seeing Thalric’s sword clear its scabbard and cut across Hofi even as the Fly charged him. The impact spun the blade from Thalric’s hand, but trailing crimson as it flew, and Hofi had fallen from the air, striking the ground hard with his hands pressed to the red stain growing over his tunic.

She looked at the sword. It lay beyond Thalric, but a concerted rush might capture it.

Thalric stared down at the writhing Fly for a moment and then raised his arm and finished him with a single sizzling bolt of energy.

Arianna ran. She flung the door open and was out of the room, then out of the building, unarmed and spattered with Scadran’s blood.

Thalric sighed heavily. He should have seen this coming, but a lot of things had been demanding his attention recently. He had not thought to look more carefully into the faces of his own people.

That will teach me to trust any inferior race , but in the Rekef Outlander there was frequently little choice. He went to check Graf, in faint hope, but just the sight of the man’s butchered body was enough. No help there. Graf had been a good agent, a loyal subject of the Empire. He deserved a better end than this.

Thalric reclaimed his sword, and one hand found the puncture that Arianna had made in the leather of his coat. Beneath it gleamed the links of his copperweave shirt. Though not what it once was, having been pieced back together with steel after Tynisa had sheared it open down the front, it had saved his life again.