Jaerod shoved Thealos aside, a hard blow that sent him off his feet and onto the cobblestones. Thealos twisted around, his shoulder throbbing, and watched the Sleepwalker evade the Wolfsman’s blows.
Xenon was a trained Lor. He had been training since before Thealos had learned to read, and probably before Jaerod was even born. The short blade whipped around in dizzying strokes, slicing and stabbing at the black-clothed human. There was a frenzied haste to it, a hunger to kill so deep that Thealos recognized it in his eyes. The human would fall quickly. He was no match for the skill and training of a…
Xenon went over backwards, flipping, landing hard on his back. The Wolfsman blinked, stunned, and was on his feet instantly, slashing out again. The Sleepwalker waited for him. Jaerod moved like tidewater, his hands out and away from his body, his feet mercurial as he shifted his stances to avoid the hail of blows. He moved subtly, deftly, just enough so that the weapon passed harmlessly by him. The cloak followed his movements, snapping at the wind. Xenon struck again and again. He missed every time. In a quick reach, Jaerod caught the Wolfsman’s arm, locking it painfully at the elbow and hurled him into the wall of the Foxtale. He struck it hard. Blood dribbled from a cut at the warrior’s temple. Xenon didn’t flinch, but flung himself at the black shadow, high low – high again. Every move and technique meant to bring his opponent down.
“Jaerod, behind you!” Thealos warned as the second Wolfsman joined the attack, coming out from beneath a dark awning into the alley.
The Sleepwalker didn’t falter. He zigzagged around Xenon and put himself between them and Thealos. He faced two now, weaponless, his hands slightly apart as he studied them. Both came at him with a howl of fury and went down in a heap as the Sleepwalker ducked down, swept one down with a clip at the ankle and rose again, striking his palm under the other’s chin. Xenon gasped with the jolt and reeled backwards, clutching his neck and struggling to stay conscious. Twisting sideways, Jaerod dropped down, hammering the flat of his hand against the other’s neck. The Shae blacked out and slumped in the street.
The Sleepwalker rose slowly, his eyes never leaving the injured Lor. Xenon panted, clutching his throat and wheezing with pain. “The garrison,” Jaerod reminded Xenon pointedly. The advancing soldiers had filled the street outside the Foxtale. It was only a matter of time before they flooded the alleys too. “The Shae queen would be furious to know that Crimson Wolfsmen were involved in a ravinjon in Sol tonight.”
Xenon glared at Jaerod. He also replied in the king’s common. “Then we will meet again, human. And when we do, you will die.”
“All die in the gods’ due time. And only then.”
Thealos stared in amazement as the Crimson Wolfsman Lor heaved his unconscious comrade over his shoulder and stole deeper into the shadows before the first ranks of the Sol garrison reached them. Thealos looked at Jaerod, rubbing his throbbing shoulder.
The long sword dangled from the Sleepwalker’s hip still enfolded in the slender leather sheath. Untouched.
*
The Foxtale was in shambles. Broken tables and smashed chairs littered the main hall. Posts that supported the ceiling were splintered and the cross-beams sagged. Blood and ale lay in puddles on the floor. Many of the patrons had been trampled or stabbed by the Kiran Thall attack. The dead were brought out to the wharves by the city soldiers, lined up, and covered with blankets to be taken to the garrison coroner. But those who had started the encounter had paid the heaviest toll. Barely half of the Kiran Thall had escaped with their lives. The tavern keeper, Roye, was furious and surly as he complained in guttural harshness to the captain of the damage that was done. Thealos watched them from a chair, tenderly massaging his shoulder. The cut on his side had stopped bleeding.
“If you were going to start a fight on this side of the river,” Jaerod said, feeling the bone of Thealos’s shoulder. “You should have waited for me to get here first.” He took Thealos’ arm and bent it, testing the soundness.
“But I didn’t…” Thealos stammered and realized the Sleepwalker was only teasing him. His grey eyes glinted with amusement. He groaned as Jaerod popped his shoulder back into place. It hurt like fire, but at least he was alive. “I thought those Wolfsmen were going to take me back to Nordain. Thank Vannier you came when you did.”
Jaerod nodded and rose, observing the damages. “You can thank him when you say your prayers tonight. Tell me what happened.” He pulled out the damp bag of Everoot.