David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

…forty, forty-one, forty-two…

She cut one across the eyes as he turned toward the sound of her charge. Another screamed and fell back, blood pouring out from underneath his arm. Better than expected, Kayla thought as she tried to twirl away. A hand latched onto her short raven hair. Now it was her turn to scream as she felt her scalp tug painfully, her momentum far too great to stop. The guard swore and tossed a handful of hair to the ground.

…fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven…

The blinded man staggered back toward the mansion, screaming like a stuck pig the whole time. Two chased after her, slashing the air before her chest and waist with their curved swords. The other man she had stabbed collapsed to the ground, only an occasional moan escaping his pale lips. That left only one to make for Haern.

Their lives depending on it, Kayla hurled a dagger between the two guards chasing her, through the air, and toward Haern’s attacker. The dagger struck true. The man collapsed, a blade embedded in his neck.

…sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four…

Now able to focus solely on the two guards, she went purely defensive. Her daggers could never compete for reach with the swords, but they had seen her throw, and that fear was strong enough for her to work with. As she twirled and dropped, she would randomly pump a hand as if to throw. Each time, one of the guards would back away and hunker down, trying to protect his exposed parts with the bulk of his armor. She never let one go, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they stopped falling for such a simple trick.

…seventy, seventy-one…

More shouts came from the house. The five they had sent had only been a quick roundup of the outside guard. They had expected only a young boy picking a lock. Now that they saw their own dying, the doors flung open, and a group of at least twenty approached in an impressive collection of swords, armor, and shields.

Kayla laughed, her situation so dire she found it somehow amusing.

“Fuck, seventy-seven, me, seventy-eight, up, seventy-nine, down, eighty…”

Now her opponents stepped back, clearly knowing numbers and time were on their side. They also blocked her way to Haern. Fear clawed at her throat. Accompanying Thren Felhorn’s son into the grounds of Keenan’s estate? She might as well have spat in the Reaper’s face. They would be tortured, killed, and sent back to the Spider Guild in many different sized containers. After five years, the Trifect was desperate for any sort of victory.

…eighty-five, eighty-six…

She heard Haern shout her name. The guards must have seen her own shocked look, and they spared a quick glance. Haern stood before the gates, lock in hand. Men charged after him from the estate, murder on their minds, yet the boy only smiled and hurled the heavy metal contraption toward Kayla’s attackers. When they glanced back, she had already thrown her daggers.

She didn’t wait to see how badly they hurt them. Haern had pushed open the gate for her by the time she arrived. She grabbed his arm as she passed, never slowing. He cried out in pain, but his leg pumped fast as it could go, which was not fast enough.

The guards poured out of the gate, sure to catch them.

For a moment, she thought of ditching the boy and saving her own skin. It would do her no good. Kayla knew she would spend the rest of her life, or at least Thren’s life, waiting for a poisoned dart to jab her neck while she slept. Too many had seen her during their flight. Even if it took years, Thren would find out who she was and deal with her. Some fools might think Thren would have more on his mind while waging war with the Trifect, but Kayla knew better. If you crossed Thren Felhorn, you died. There were never, ever exceptions.

Kayla had hoped to lose herself in a crowd, but the crowd gave way instead, wanting no part of the bloody affair. Kayla spun to face the guards, determined to die fighting rather than in the cells of Keenan’s mansion.

A small quarrel shot into the nearest guard’s throat. Several others fell back as more crossbow bolts whizzed through the air. Kayla grabbed Haern and pulled him down, cradling his head against her breast as she held him tight. Another volley of bolts tore into the guards. The commonfolk screamed and fled, even the few who had desired a bit of spectacle. A single errant shot was all it’d take to cross their role from spectator to dead participant.

Men in tattered green cloaks and crossbows in hand surrounded Kayla and Haern. Several others held long dirks, and grinning feral grins they dared the remaining guards to attack. In their indecision, more crossbow bolts shot at gaps in their armor. Whoever remained their leader, for a good many were dead, raised his arm and shouted a command. The guards turned tail and fled back to Keenan’s mansion.

“Stand up, girl,” one of the green cloaks said to her.

Kayla glanced up to see a bearded ruffian smiling at her. His eyes were green, and covering both cheeks were tattoos of snakes, one red, one emerald.

“The Serpents have no business in this,” she told him, doing her best to add a hard edge to her voice. It was the voice she used when someone offered to pay far less than her information was worth, or even worse, refused to pay at all.

“The Serpent Guild chooses its business,” the man said. “Now get off your ass. We have places to go.”

There were eight of the Serpents, and with their crossbows loaded, they searched up and down the street, which was slowly returning to its normal hum of voices and trade. Kayla started to ask where they were to go, but then the bearded man struck her with his fist. Rough hands grabbed her wrists and yanked her to her feet. Another grabbed Haern and hoisted him up.

“Hope he’s worth it,” another of the serpents said.

“Someone Keenan wants?” the bearded man said. “He’s worth it.” He turned to his two captives. “Keep your mouths shut and your feet moving, or you’ll find out just how much venom a serpent can spit.”

Kayla was in no shape to argue. She squeezed Haern’s hand, and he squeezed back. For a moment, she thought of telling the serpents who they had in their possession, but a sudden fear filled her. They might kill her so they could pretend ignorance until after selling the boy to the highest bidder. Yet while the boy lived, she was a valuable asset in discovering his name and true worth. She kept her mouth shut. Until her life seemed in immediate danger she would keep her mouth shut and wait.

Through the street they marched, the green cloaks encircling and protecting their recent acquisition. They took a winding path through the streets, but the general direction was west. When she realized this, Kayla perked up, her eyes searching the blur of faces they passed. Any one of them might be reporting to Thren.

The bearded man led them on an abrupt turn to their left, passing between two vendors selling apples and pears. The serpents’ crossbows fidgeted in their hands, and their eyes seemed to be all the more alert. They hurried along, jabbing Kayla harder in the back. She assumed the entrance to the Serpent Guild’s hideaway was near. Where it was, she didn’t know, considering she wasn’t affiliated with any of the guilds. She’d rather sell information in her own quiet way and avoid the death warrant that joining one almost always entailed. No intelligent person could say the Trifect was winning their little war, but they certainly had eliminated a large portion of Veldaren’s underworld. The thieves could recruit with promises of wealth and murder, while the wealthy nobles had to hand over real coin. Kayla had an idea which one would run out first.

A shrill whistle rang out above them. To either side of the group were giant homes, four stories tall, each one crammed tight with families barely able to scrape together a living. A few of the green cloaks looked up, but saw nothing.