“Does it feel strange to you to be doing something like this without Victory here chiding us every step of the way about how stupid we are?” The second man’s voice was low and laced with amusement, but it wasn’t a voice she recognized. He raised a gloved hand as he spoke and pushed the hood back revealing lanky black hair that looked as though it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. His eyes were deep set and a long silvered scar traced down the left side of his face. Even without the scar she wouldn’t have considered him handsome. There was too much about him that screamed guttertrash. Even his clothes spoke of someone that would slit your throat for a bent copper.
“Victory made his choice.” Havoc said irritably as he unfastened the uppermost clasp of his leather brigandine. “I hate this armor. I hate this creeping about.” He snarled as the sound of a woman’s scream pierced the air from the direction Grim had gone.
The man in black let out a long deep sigh as if Havoc’s words were a complaint that was well worn through and moved gracefully past the Firym as he continued to strip out of the obviously stolen armor. “By the sounds of it the puppy has already started and we still haven’t located Zoelyn. Do you think we should continue on to the children without her? There is a chance we will encounter her along the way.”
“Puppy didn’t plan on us helping at all in this so I sincerely doubt he mentioned us to Zoey. As far as he was concerned all we were doing was pretending to be smugglers bringing in Firym silks to lure Kalleria out of the fortress.” Havoc sighed in disgust and threw the heavy leather armor to the street by the helmet. He wore silk padding under the Rivasan leathers and by the looks of it he planned to be wearing nothing but the padding in a few more minutes.
“Are they calling Caleb puppy as a nickname?” Dray’s words drifted through her mind. He hadn’t risked speaking the words aloud, not with the dangerous looking man standing so close to them.
Zoelyn shrugged in response never taking her eyes off the dark clad man. He had paused near the alley mouth and was so close she could have extended a finger and brushed his arm. Her eyes studied him closely from the tips of his soft leather boots to the edge of the scar on his face. It looked like an old knife wound and it wasn’t until she had traced it down to the very bottom that she realized it wasn’t a scar at all. The very bottom corner of the scar was beginning to peal from his sweat. It was make-up such as the stage actors use, and very cleverly done. Her eyes moved over him again taking in the faint smudge around his scraggly jaw line and then settling at last on his blue eyes. Her own eyes widened as the details of his costume faded and she studied his build and the bone structure of his face.
“Lord Dark, your scar is pealing and your beard appears to be losing its color from your sweat.” Zoelyn whispered.
Zachary Dark stiffened at the sound of her voice, but Havoc’s reaction was almost comical. The Firym cursed and stumbled on the leather pants still trailing from one leg. Barefoot Havoc wheeled to face the direction of her voice half-dressed with a dagger in one hand.
With a faint smile Zachary reached up and pulled the fake scar from his face and tucked it neatly into his pocket as Zoelyn released Dray’s hand allowing the Blight’s camouflage to fade from her.
“I didn’t recognize you at all. It’s a very good disguise Lord Dark.” Zoelyn murmured her gaze trailing back to Havoc. Her eyes roved over his silk padding and his discarded armor. It was tempting to ask where he had pulled the dagger from in such a hurry, but she decided it was something she likely didn’t want to know.
“Havoc has some odd friends. One of which specializes in costumes for theatre. I myself thought this ensemble was a bit over the top, but it seems to have served its purpose. The Guards at the gate believed I was a genuine smuggler.” He fell silent at the sound of hoof beats and shouting from down the road and glanced toward Havoc. “Perhaps you should dress quickly. I believe we need to be on our way very soon if we are going to rescue the children and free the slaves.”
“Free the slaves?” Zoelyn repeated in a hopeful voice. Her gaze flicked between the two men and it was Havoc that nodded in response though his attention was entirely focused on freeing his leg from the tangled leather trousers.
“Puppy’s request was that I manage to bring in something pretty to lure Kellaria out of her keep. With the war going every city in every country has faced shortages and I doubt Rivasa has seen a decent bolt of material in months let alone a piss drenched hole like Prendington. He said he was going to bring the city to ruin. I brought Zach into this because I am quite obviously Firym and very well known, but no one would ever expect the honorable Plate mail clad Zachary Dark to pose as a smuggler. After we discussed it a bit we both decided Prendington can burn, but the slaves can’t. So here we are and we are short on time.” Havoc explained in a rushed voice as he shook himself free of the armor at last and kicked it to land beside the rest of the Rivasan disguise.
“Are you really calling Grim, Puppy?” Zoelyn muttered in a bewildered voice. She couldn’t imagine anyone in Glis or Arovan speaking of Grim in such a condescending way.
“Been his nickname since he first stepped foot into the Academy and growled at me in his pathetic little adolescent way.” Havoc replied with a snort of amusement.
“Neither here nor there and we are short on time.” Zachary reminded him and Havoc nodded curtly.
The Firym’s gaze moved to the street beyond and then back to Zachary. “Is it too much for him? Do you think he can manage to live if we both go?”
“He has Morcaillo with him. I know enough of Shade from speaking with Jala to know he won’t leave the Puppy to face the Rivasans alone no matter what the plan is.” Zachary returned easily.
Havoc nodded once more and waved a hand toward himself in a careless gesture. Bright flame leaped from his fingers completely obscuring his body in fire for several breaths.
Blinking rapidly Zoelyn tried to clear her eyes of the temporary blindness. She hadn’t expected Havoc to douse himself in fire and she had been looking directly at him when he did. As the spots faded from her vision he gradually came back into focus. He was armored once more in the fine Black and red armor of a Flamerider officer. Two blades rested easily against his hips and his expression no longer held even a trace of annoyance.