A sudden crash of breaking glass and the grinning man appeared to have grown a crossbow bolt from his temple, head swivelling as his lips slackened to mumble gibberish before he collapsed facedown on the floor. The window opposite exploded as Illian propelled herself through it feet-first, landing astride Lemera’s corpse with sword drawn. She flicked a cut at the man holding Frentis’s arms, leaving a deep wound on his forehead as he dodged away with a remarkable swiftness. His companion avoided her next blow altogether, rolling and coming to his feet with sword drawn in a perfect backward somersault. However, they had both been obliged to release their hold on Frentis.
He came to his knees in a whirl, the chain manacled to his wrist blurring like a whip as it caught the man nearest him about the legs. He jerked it tight, bearing his enemy to the floor, then leapt, bringing both feet down on his head, the neck snapping with a crack. Frentis claimed the man’s sword and turned to find Illian engaged in a desperate struggle with the other, her sword moving in frantic swipes as he drove her back, her face a picture of frustration whilst the red-armoured man wore the same maddening grin as his fallen comrade. Frentis whipped his chain at him, causing him to dance aside with a speed that would have shamed even a Kuritai, but leaving enough room for Illian to thrust at his neck. He parried the blow with consummate ease but had no counter for the stroke Frentis delivered to his leg, the blade sinking deep enough to grind on the bone. The man swore, but his face betrayed no anger, just amusement and even admiration, inclining his head at Frentis in appreciation even as Illian’s sword point pierced his throat.
“Brother!” she rushed to his side, eyes scanning him for injury.
“I’m unhurt.” He moved to the corpse of the man with the broken neck, finding a key for the manacles tucked into his boot. “You were guarding my room?”
“We take turns. There’s a comfortable ledge on the roof outside.”
His gaze went to Lemera, framed on the bedsheets in a spreading blossom of dark blood. I choose to die free . . .
“I know you didn’t break your oath, brother,” Illian said, following his gaze. “She told me she found comfort sleeping at your side.”
Frentis hauled on his shirt and trews and reached for his boots. “What’s happening outside?”
“All quiet. I had no notion of any alarm until I heard the struggle.” She went to the first man she had killed, crouching to extract her bolt from his skull with a grinding squelch. “What are they?”
“They’re called Arisai. And I’ve little doubt there are more.” He retrieved his sword and rushed to the window, eyes tracking across the empty streets below to the walls where the sentries strolled on the parapet. Nothing, no indication of any threat. You did remember to check the sewers . . . His eyes went to an iron-covered drain in the cobbled street below. Waiting. Commanded to ensure they fulfilled their Empress’s mission above all else.
He shuddered at the realisation he would now be shackled and his people facing slaughter but for her warning, a warning he knew had been no mistake. She wanted them to fail. He glanced back at the silent room of corpses. And they don’t know they have.
“Fetch Draker, Lekran and Master Rensial,” he told Illian, going back inside. “And Tekrav. Be quiet but quick.”
? ? ?
He hung between Lekran and Rensial, head slumped, the chains on his ankles rattling on the cobbles as they bore him towards the iron drain cover in the shadow of the town’s main warehouse. Unlike Lekran and Rensial, Draker’s red-enamelled breastplate didn’t quite cover his frame, obliging him to keep to the shadows as he followed. Frentis was certain the Arisai would be watching carefully, his albeit brief experience convincing him of the dangers of underestimating their abilities whilst also giving a clue to a potential weakness. The way they smile. They take joy from battle, from killing, and joy can make us overeager.
A red-armoured shape resolved out of the shadows as they approached the drain, Frentis looking up at him with half-closed eyes, gratified by the welcoming grin. “No trouble then?” he asked in whispered Volarian, unwisely keeping his gaze on Frentis as they came closer.
“None,” Lekran agreed, he and Rensial dumping Frentis at the Arisai’s feet.
“Thought he might’ve done for one of you at least,” he said, drawing a dagger and crouching to tap the pommel three times on the drain cover.
Lekran glanced down at Frentis, his own grin now genuine. “His legend greatly exceeds his skills, it seems.”
The Arisai grunted and moved back as the drain cover was hauled up and to the side by unseen hands, beckoning impatiently at Lekran. “Get him below, we’ve work to do.”
“No,” Lekran told the Arisai, drawing his gaze as Master Rensial stepped behind him. “You’re done now.”
Rensial’s dagger flashed across the Arisai’s throat, leaving him kneeling on the cobbles, blood seeping through his fingers as he coughed a laugh of appalled surprise. An Arisai’s head emerged from the drain, hands clutching the sides to haul himself free, falling back in a cloud of blood as Lekran’s axe swept down.
“Come on you lazy buggers!” Draker called, running from the shadows and gesticulating wildly as Tekrav appeared at the far end of the street with a dozen or so of his porters, each rolling a barrel.