Chapter 15 Shadow Dance
"Run!"
The command was barely a whisper, but it cut through the turmoil in Elaine's mind like an ice-pick in the hands of a surgeon. The shadow world echoed across her eyes like the black spots caused from looking into the sun too long. But unlike that experience, where the spots were the malady, the world around her, the colors and shades of light felt wrong, and foreign.
It was only a moment, between passing through the dark shadow in the corner of her room and stepping out here, in an alley way two hundred feet away. Some how it felt longer, some how it felt far longer. Some how it felt like she was leaving home, and the urge to turn around and spring back into the shadow was over whelming.
"Run!", and this time the command came with hands pushing her down the alley to the road ahead. She ran. The memory of the horrors in the shadows behind her exploded into her mind from her spine. In only three strides the beggar that took her through the shadow world was ahead of her. Mac Anu and Naill were at the mouth of the alley, looking back to them. Mac Anu watched her run toward them. Just the hint of worry in his eyes, as he watched her sprint as fast as she could, trying to keep up with the beggar.
'This isn't going to work' she thought. 'I'm too slow. I won't keep up.' Her mind conjured the image of demon talons ripping through Mac Anu's chest as he tried to defend her. Fear laced her forehead with drops of sweat. 'I won't let that happen' she said sternly to the image, 'Not because of this, not because I'm too slow'.
On the black velvet of her fear she placed her rune of power, glowing silver light. "Run." she whispered
*************
Rupert watched the shadows moving across the curtains of the lower windows, and knew them for what they were; Effective distractions for most, but useless against someone of his talents and experience. The hag beside him, and her beasts appeared to be fooled however. He smiled. This was going to be easy.
The hags of Gleeda's forest, who called themselves the Sisters, took the bait so fast it nearly broke his will to keep from laughing. The addition of two more demons to their group was unforeseen, and a bit of a problem. In his jacket he had two small vials of liquid created by powerful clerics of the goddess Madriel, who despised these foul creatures almost as much as she hated the undead. Merely touching these creature's skin with the liquid would send them back to the nether planes they came from. The other two? He would figure that out as the plan unfolded. There was always something that went wrong, always something unforeseen. He would deal with it, and them, and their master as well.
"More are in there than you led us to believe." The hag growled behind him. He didn't turn to face her, the less of that he had to do, the better. She was truly hideous. Not just in appearance, but the very air around the creature felt tainted and greasy.
"There won't be." He answered, comfortable with the steadiness of his voice.
"What do you mean?" The hag asked.
"Exactly what I said. The others will leave, they are only there to deliver messages, perhaps to go over plans of escape and counter attacks. Then they will leave the city, as instructed by the priestess."
The hag spat. "Priestess? A worthless title given to the mouth piece of a lesser goddess."
Spit all you want, wretched creature. You will serve your purpose and then die. The girl will be in my care and Heilan will fall on his own sword come dawn. Rupert's smile returned. He wiped it away and raised his gray silk mask. 'Much too easy' he thought.
He felt no ill will to the girl; she was simply a piece on the game board. A lower piece, and one that he could use to bring down a prince and his royal guards. Taking out one of the Sisters in the same game was definitely a bonus to the play, but not a major goal. He would not put the end game at risk making sure these creatures were dead. They were unimportant. If the opportunity came to take the girl and jump away with her, then he would take it. If he could shake a couple of these creatures loose from the mortal coil in the process, all the sweeter.
The other Walkers thought he was dead, no one was looking for him, and no one would question his motives or loyalty to the goddess Drendari if he came in with the girl, safe and alive. Drendari only wanted the girl unharmed. How that was done, or by what means the Walkers chose to insure her safety was up to the individual, as it always was. Work alone or with others as you saw fit; just get the prize and get home alive. In fact such actions were encouraged by the clerics and the fold.
What really bothered him was seeing Ranter at the door earlier, and the fact that Ranter had not yet left. Ranter was not a Walker, not formally, but he was a problem. The other two were nothing. New comers to Shelzar and to the goddess. Perhaps they had some skills at thievery, but they knew nothing of the gray path. Some of the Grays seemed to think these two had potential, and were putting the word in that they be offered membership into the fold, but they were not part of the world yet, so they were fair game if he had to kill them to get the girl.
Ranter however was another matter altogether. Not only was he a Gray, he was definitely a threat. It was said that he was a Beloved one as well. That he wore the amulet of Ebon Dreams, and that Twilight, the Harold of Drendari, was a friend of the old man. It was Ranter's presence that told him that they were going to move the girl tonight. The Grays would not send someone like Ranter for any other reason. The fact that he was still in there confirmed this reasoning.
He told the Sister this reasoning when she arrived, and she instructed two of the demons to focus on the old man when the time came to take the girl. Perhaps they could take him out, perhaps they couldn't. It didn't matter. In the first few seconds of the fray, Ranter would be busy, and in those moments, he would find the one kairos that allowed him the prize, and the opportunity to shed his compatriots, and be away with the girl. He just had to keep his head. Keep his mind on the prize. Don't loose focus.
A slight tremor in the shadows around him broke his thoughts. Someone, someone very close, just jumped into the Shadow realm, and from years of experience, he knew exactly who it was.
"They've left the house." He drew his short sword with his left hand, keeping his right free to use the potions.
"What?" The Sister said, pushing him aside and looking across the street to the house. Shadows moved behind the curtains, the shadows of men pacing and talking in the large living room area.
"They aren't there!" Ranter said again. "They are down the alley, we have to move now! Those shadows aren't real. Move!" The darkness spell around them kept him from jumping away to follow Ranter, and probably the girl. Ranter wouldn't leave the house without her, and the disturbance wasn't enough to suggest that all of them made the jump. He had to get across the street and into the alley before he could use the shadows to follow them.
Shadows are not darkness, nor are they light. In total light, or total darkness, the paths of shadow magic didn't work. Shadow was the place that stood between the darkness and the light. The place where pathways to good, or evil were not clear, and many times looked the same. Shadow was a world of free will, a world where the individual had to make up his own mind regarding the questions of who and what he really was. It was not for the weak of mind or heart.
A soldier could always tell himself that he was just following orders, and a cleric stood on the absolution of her deity's command. Even wizards had the logical moral excuse of having to follow ritual and decorum. The laws, the ways, the tribunals, the commands from on high, the dictates of decorum, all of them were mere cloaks people used to shield them from awful truths about themselves. But the Grays and the Walkers had true freedom, and with that freedom came the yoke of true accountability. He could not look at himself in the mirror come morning and say, "I was just following orders." Nor could he put the responsibility of his actions on the alter of Drendari to bear. He did not have to be here, he didn't have to achieve his prize by these means. It was his choice, and it was his burden.
Many who came to the temple doors of Drendari never fully understood that, and that was the very thin, translucent line that separated a Gray from a thug or a member of the Cartel. The umbra line between a thief, and a rogue. The veil between stealing, and achieving a goal greater than yourself. We are shadow, we stand between the darkness and the light. We do what others can not. We go where others can not. We face the darkness with our own darkness. We guard the light, even from itself.
A smile on his lips, Rupert leapt from the darkness into the moonlight of the street.
*************
The bolt Lianca loaded into her crossbow was difficult to see, even this close, even when it was in her hand. It looked like forged night. Runes of silver, so small, they appeared to be merely specks of starlight, ran down the quarrel's shaft. When she was not looking at it directly, she could see tendrils of death magic writhing around the thing. A rare item indeed, and the cost of the thing was great, but the contract was too important to use anything less.
Death magic like this quarrel was made from, had to be forged with the blood of the same race it was intended to kill. A death arrow for a member of the elf race, for example, required the immolated blood of one hundred elf souls to be used to harden the metal tip, or blade of the weapon. A heavy cost, and a heavy risk to create. The slaughter of one hundred members of a race tended to attract attention. Makers of death weapons did so at peril, and most of them did not live long.
These weapons were effective however. Despite her fatal aim, any wounding by such a weapon sent the death magic into the victim's blood. Death was instantaneous. On the moment the magic touched blood, the victim's lungs froze, her heart stopped, and her mind was blackened. So quick was the result, the target never screamed, and never knew they were wounded, or so the souls of victims have reported.
There were Life magics available that guarded against these weapons, and while her target probably did not have access to these protections, it never hurt to be sure. Once the bolt was loaded, Lianca took out a small vial of burnt red liquid and with respectful care, applied the gel like substance to the tip of the quarrel. What magic would not kill, this poison surely would. The scent of roses and burn citrus wafted from the weapon. She put the stopper back on the vial, and carefully retuned it to her pack.
There were even fewer in the world who knew how to make Blood and Tears, than those who could forge a death weapon. The handful that could are all members of the Ancients. The formula is not especially difficult, nor are the components overly rare to find in these lands, but the distilling of the liquid is deadly to those who did not know exactly how the alchemy was performed. And not just to the would be alchemist either.
A few years back, the Ancients learned of a gnome who had gleaned the requirements for the formula. Before she and a few other members could arrive in his town to eliminate him however, the gnome had dispatched himself and everyone else in the town as well. Everything within a mile of the town, was also dead. Horses, cattle, sheep, rats, even the insects. Anything with life, perished when the gnome's formula got away from him and a cloud of deadly gas rolled out of his small lab.
She and the other Ancients with her, fired the town, and recovered the gnome's notes, insuring that the secrets of Blood and Tears remained inside their arsenal, and theirs alone.
Originally the formula was created to deal with the Monks, and other creatures who were not susceptible to poisons. It is said that Chern, the Scourge, Titan of disease and poison created the distillation, though more than likely it was concocted by some of his druids. The blood of a titan is one of the components, but it was in use much sooner in the war than Chern's death, and was the bane of Monks and Paladins. Men who could withstand poisons poured into them, fell on the field from a single crossbow bolt breaching their metal armor. In many cases, their own clerics dealt them the final blow, as the poison becomes virulent and corrosive when healing magic is used on a victim of Blood and Tears.
Members of the Ancients caught one of the druids who knew how to make the gel like substance and from him, learned its secrets. Druids are difficult to break, but break he did. Few can withstand the wrenching of death more than a few times, and the inquisitors of the Ancients were experts and death and resurrection. Once the process was learned, the Ancients then killed any druid who knew how to make the poison, and several who may have only known the formula existed.
She looked over the facade facing of the roof she was on, and took in the house across the street. In the lower room, shadows that looked like several men were in the front room, moved across the curtains. There was no sound though. The ruse was pretty good, and if they had added a murmuring to the effect, they might have fooled even her. Not that it would matter. There could be fifteen or twenty men in there for all she cared.
She searched the area. Her target could not be seen, but she was there. Lianca settled down into a comfortable position, and waited. The time would come soon enough. She didn't want it to happen, she didn't wish it to happen. She simply waited for it to happen. A moment. A single moment in time when the mark was there, and the wind was just right. She could wait all night, following the mark through the streets and alleys, waiting for that single perfect moment, when life, luck and protection was vulnerable to the breath of death. When it came, she would see it, as clearly as others would see the sun in the sky, or their reflection in a mirror. And she would be ready.
Lianca looked at her bracelet, three of the gems now glowed steadily, and a fourth was about to come to life. The time of death was very near now. As soon as the sapphire lit, the board would be set, All the players would be in, and nothing could stop play of the game. As she thought this, the sapphire lit up.
*****************
Mac Anu hurtled a low fence and rolled across the small front lawn, putting his back against the house wall, taking position to trade rear guard with the beggar. After crossing the street they were back into the main sprawl area of the north city. Here there were very few clearly defined streets, or even houses. Families and people built where there was room. Houses stacked on houses, and it was common that you had to cross through the yards and gardens of many homes to reach your own if you lived in this area of town. Spaces between structures were a tangle of laundry lines and clothing. Chickens, pigs, and even larger animals roamed around between the yards. Often buildings seemed to lean on each other for support.
This area was the blight of the richer households in the main city, south, behind the center walls. Many times the councils had tried to vote to have the area razed and new structures built. So far the poor and labor families have fought them off, but it was said that time would always be against this area. Sooner or later the city would move in, and these families and their homes would be pushed out of the city walls once again.
The Grays were on the side of these people however, showing up to lend much needed support when the city guard stomped down the road to lean on chosen areas. Harassing these bands of thugs, often recruited from the ranks of the Cartel, forcing them back, and often with humorous effect. Paint bombs, and stink bombs were used in ambushes inside the tight areas. Taking care to push the intruders away without serious damage. Never drawing blood. That part was important, a single broken arm or knife wound and the tinder keg of the sprawl would ignite into riot. Which was just what the Council and the Cartel wanted. The common people's anger and frustration were not the only things in this area that was ready to ignite.
Because of their support however, most of the families in this area turned the other way when Grays ran into their yards with the City Watch on their heals. A growing number even kept a sharp eye out for the occasional Gray in trouble and extended refuge to them. Honest folks who would never think of stealing a copper themselves, risked jail time and finds to harbor thieves on the dodge. Even if a family would not go so far as harboring, none of them would help the City Watch catch the Gray, or even make it easy to pass. Wash basins were emptied, hay, and other yard material was tossed. Delays were inevitable.
At this hour, however, the people of the sprawl were in their beds, which was just as well as far as Mac Anu was concerned. If the creatures Elaine had seen were half the demons she described, he didn't want some well meaning carpenter or blacksmith to try to stand his ground against them.
Naill left the small fence and without pause rounded the corner, running at full speed down the two foot space between two houses. At the end would be a larger fence, where she would stop, and ready herself to help the others over as they came.
Elaine was close on her heals, but the beggar touched her shoulder and motioned for her to stay behind him. Wise choice, Mac Anu thought, not a good thing for her to be the first one over. The beggar passed, Elaine close on his heals.
He was worried when he saw Elaine running down the first alley. She was slow, and even awkward. Now she was running faster than any of them, and her stride was grace itself. It was probably the effects of coming out of the Shadow world, he decided. Never having been in the Shadow world, even for a short jump like that, he had to rely on what others told him the experience was like. Those tales never made the place sound welcoming. There were creatures in there that could snatch your soul. "Your soul!" Mac Anu thought, "what in the Goddess' name is that about?"
As Elaine turns the corner, Mac Anu starts counting. He will wait for 10 and then take off down the narrow passage way himself. He has a good view of their back trail, and a strong enough shadow to hide from instant notice. Nothing stirs in the darkness. He reaches ten and turns to run down the passage, just as something catches the edge of his vision.
Taking two steps down the passage he turns, twists and lands on his belly to see what caught his eye, and his blood runs cold.
A Night Hag stepped out of the darkness across the street, her eyes specs of living hell fire, and she is staring straight at him. Not more than a hundred feet away. Then he sees the demon Elaine described. He compares his dagger to the claws on the thing and decides she was right about them as well.
The creature is massive, and looks like a gorilla with heavy horns. Its eyes are pits of darkness, the claws look like steel. There is no chance of fighting a creature like that and winning. He doubts if all three of them could take that creature down, even at the cost of their lives. While he is considering this, another steps out of the darkness. And then another.
They are wider than this passage. But the hag isn't. Quickly running through his possible options, he decides that this is where he would hold ground, and make good on his oath. If he could stall this menace for even a minute, the sprawl would slow these creatures down enough to give the others the distance they needed to make it to the Red Lady. Once there, safety was possible at least.
Without further thought he takes out a thin dagger from his jacket lining, and after a quick look over his shoulder to see where Naill is, throws the dagger, sinking it into the wood by her left ear. She doesn't hesitate, and leaps over the fence, disappearing into the night and sprawl behind him.
"Well, that was professional of her. Have to admit that." Mac Anu mumbles. "She could have at least hesitated a bit, or acted like she wouldn't leave me alone to face certain death." He looks that the creatures. Another comes into view, making the count four, plus the Night Hag. "And it is certain."
Mac Anu draws daggers into his hands, placing one between his teeth, and melts back, low, pressing into shadows of the passage, but not so far that he can't see the menace across the road. The Hag is sniffing the air. Trying to track them? He doesn't know, but she is hesitant to step out into the road. Maybe she didn't see him duck into the alley. Maybe she is worried about something else. He hopes that isn't the case. Anything that can worry a Night Hag with four demons with her, Mac Anu doesn't want to see.
If he could get her behind the knee or a blade into her arm pit, it might be enough to keep her from casting some hideous magic at him. Might wound her enough so Naill and the beggar had a chance against her later. He had to watch the eyes though. Those could be deadly too, or so he was told. Or was that Medusas? Crap. The arm pit would be best. Get her there. Faint to the waist, twist, up thrust.
He works out the move in his mind. Going over it, letting his muscles know what he expects from them. "This isn't going to work is it?" Nothing in his mind nor any voice on the wind, argues with him. The night is holding its breath. Even the crickets are silent. "Damn." he sighs after a bit.
It was probably only a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. His body is hot, the passage way feels stifling. His pupils flare out so that the world looks like early twilight. He feels exposed, trapped.
Never before had he stood ground like this, there was never a need to. Run fast, run hard, and only fight if he absolutely has too. That was the key, that was the drill. If it was just him, and nothing else to worry about, he was sure he could out run this group of demons, and even that hag. The sprawl was the perfect place to find safety and cover. But it wasn't just him.
It crosses his mind that he doesn't have to stand ground. A fast attack and then a sprint down the alley, he could ambush them again, and again. Slowing them down, making them cautious, and leading them in the wrong direction. Sure, he would probably just piss off those demons and they would stop worrying about little things like fences and houses after a couple of attacks, but at least he would have a chance.
Standing his ground here he might give Elaine and Naill a minute more distance. Doing it this other way, he might give them two or three.
Shifting his body weight a little, he looks down the passage way. Eye marking his stride, and the fence height, mapping his route. There is a house wall not four feet past the fence. The others would have gone left, he will go right. The wall of the house he is against has stone for four feet and then wood. The edge of the stone sticks out a good two inches. That is enough to get his boost, and if he lands right, he could get out of the way of what ever hex spell that hag has waiting for him.
The hag begins crossing the road, coming directly at him. What ever had her worried doesn't worry her now. There is something awful about the way she walks. It is powerful, sure, and knowing that nothing ahead of her, or behind her, is a threat. He walks through his plan once more, and sizing it against this dark creature, knows he will never make the fence.
She is easily eight feet tall. The skin is deep black, the eyes blazing red, like a forge. Her fingernails are long claws of ink. The garment she wears is torn and rotting. Leather pouches hang from a heavy sword belt, but she has no weapon, other than those claws of course. She will see him the instant she steps into the passage, if she doesn't already know where he is.
Her long strides easily clear the low fence. The air feels thick and greasy as she steps into the mouth of the passage. Mac Anu relaxes his body, and readies for the attack. She will step into the passage with her right leg first, which is perfect.
The trigger of a crossbow clacks across the night. With his senses as raw as they are, it sounds like the hammer fall of a blacksmith. The hag hears it too. Her eyes go wide like blood moons, and she looks right at Mac Anu, expecting perhaps to see the cross bow in his hands. Her claws flash, yellow fangs snarl behind pulled back lips. Mac Anu springs at her, feinting to the creature's mid section. The hag's claws rake down his right shoulder. He twists, feeling the leather rip away and skin under. He bites down on the dagger blade in his mouth and doesn't scream.
The demons move forward fast. Their arms are clearly long enough to reach around the hag and tear his head off. He stabs at her face with the dagger in his left hand, she lifts her right to fend off the blow and he sinks the dagger in his right hand into her armpit, straight to the hilt. Completing his planned move he spins and runs as fast as he can down the passage way. His spine crawls with expectation at every step. She is going to blast him from existence at any moment. Or catch him and rip his spine from his body.
He doesn't look back, he runs. Four strides, five, six, he leaps into the air, placing his right boot onto the small ledge, vaulting into the air. Flattening his body as close to the fence top as possible. The wood edges of top scrape across his leather jacket and thighs. "Here it comes. She was just waiting for me to be air born."
He lands on the ground, rolls, coming up as soon as his boots find purchase in the dust, to the right is a jagged alley between three sets of houses, no wider than the passage he just left. The homes aren't aligned straight, so he will have a little cover as he runs, but not much. He bolts down the row, never looking back. He knows she is there, he can feel her, only inches from the back of his neck.
A thunderous roar blasts into the night behind him. The demons are coming too, probably pushing the houses out of their way. That fence isn't going to slow them down, he knows that.
The structures on each side are three stories high. Laundry lines spider web the passage above him, holding ghostly shirts and sheets in their traps. The moon glows in the deep night. Wolf hour is here, and hell is on his heel.
Slamming into the wall as he makes the third bend without slowing down, he sees the passage ahead is sealed by the side of another house. He is trapped. Thirty foot walls on each side. No doors, but there are three windows. He could crash through one and get a few more breaths of life. His mind flashes the vision of Helen and her children huddled on the floor of their house. No, he can't bring this hag into someone's home, children or no children.
Still running at full speed, he underhands the dagger in his left hand, throwing it to mid section height behind him, then leaps forward, spinning in mid air throwing the dagger in his right as his left draws another from his belt.
Landing, boots sliding on the hard pack earth, left knee bending to balance the slide, ready to spring forward into the hag. Right hand drawing the dagger behind his neck, he growls into the darkness "Time to die!", as his boots find traction and he charges forward, hoping the hag believes its her he is talking about.
****************
Lianca listens to the last breaths of Rupert, and thinks the hag was right. What was he thinking? Was he thinking at all? "We were on to you when you made your offer Walker. No Walker has ever turned against Drendari. We have tortured Vigil and broken them, but never a Walker." The hag had said, as she held in her hand the man's liver. Lianca wanted to take her out then, but one of her demons was in the way. She had to wait. She looks down at the dieing man. His eyes are already seeing the next world. He doesn't see her.
He won't live much longer. Not with that wound. There's nothing she can do for him.
The hag is already at the other end of the alley. She won't be hard to track. The smell of her and those beasts were enough to find her, even if she didn't have the jewels of her bracelet to tell her where she was. The Sisters.
It really was one of the Sisters. She didn't believe it, they never come out of their forest grove. What could possibly be so important about that girl that a Sister is here to fetch her? Within their grove the Sisters were practically invulnerable. Outside of it, was the only chance of taking one of them down. And they never left. Never. They didn't have to. There were plenty of other hags, and titan spawn who would do their bidding. They were a power, a power that held off gods.
She looked down at Rupert again, he was still gasping. His eyes wide, searching, searching the sky for some way out. There was no way out for him now. He was dead. Dead in the middle of the street, under Belsameth's moon. Was that why he clung to life so hard? She looked down the alley, the hag was already past, in hot pursuit of the girl, and her guardians. She didn't have time for this. It wasn't her problem. She started to walk away.
After two steps she thought of the halfling in the park. The peaceful look on his face. She looked back at the Walker, still struggling to stay alive long enough; long enough to find a shadow. She stepped back to him, putting herself between the moonlight and him. "Make it fast Walker, I've no time for the dead."
She looks up at the moon, her goddess, and wonders what price she may have to pay for this; when she looks back, he is gone with only his blood on the street to mark where he had fallen.
She looks back at the moon. Belsameth says nothing to her. Perhaps she doesn't care. He wasn't one of hers. It would be a bad bet to believe she was not watching this night. If the girl was so important that a Sister was out to retrieve her, then there was a strong chance that the Slayer had and interest in what was going on as well. What that interest might be, was beyond guessing. After all, she was quite insane.
Lianca wraps her cloak around her, and she blurs, a dark wind gust down the alley, up the next and then onto the roof tops. She's ahead of the hag now. She sees Elaine and the young man she met on the roof. Mac Anu is his name. Not much on him, just that he is wanted in Darakeene for a few minor things. He's squatting down, letting the others pass. His partner Naill is already at the end of the alley way, Elaine lets the third pass her, and Lianca recognizes him has he turns his face to her briefly. Ranter. Shadow Guardian. What was he doing here?
The three of them are working as a team, switching off rear guard, hoping to have some warning or sign of what is after them. She wonders if Ranter already knows. Chances were he did. What was so important about this girl that he was here? Why weren't they all in shadow? He could have them miles from here. Nothing could catch him, not even her if Ranter didn't want them too. Why the ruse?
Darkness fills the alley way, Lianca looks into it and sees nothing, no light, no sound. The hag is on their trail. She readies the crossbow again. Perhaps this time she'll get her shot.
Mac Anu starts to head down the alley, then drops and turns. He saw something. She looks over at the darkness and sees the Sister step to the street. She's wary. Lianca blends into the darkness. She's sure the hag can't see her, or detect her in any way, yet the Sister is sniffing the air, searching. Lianca looks at the tip of the death arrow. The Blood and Tears. Is that it? Can she smell it from there, up wind? Can't take the shot now, the creature is on guard. Protections are ready. She'll just have to wait.
The demons come out, one by one. Mac Anu is still there, though his partner is gone. Is he really planning to attack this creature? It looks like he is. Lianca grins, and levels her crossbow at the entrance to the passage way. That hag will kill him on sight, but she'll pause just long enough to kill her if he remains. The world turns crystal around her. Every facet, every leaf, every change in the atmosphere is registered. She breaths, evenly, slowly, and watches the hag cross the street. The demons follow.
Mac Anu is still there, daggers in his hands. He's hard to see, but he isn't a Walker, or even a Gray. He's good though for an amateur. If he could live a few more months, and had a decent teacher, he could have been one of the best. Instead he'll die a hero, and give her the shot she came for. But his death won't be in vain. He's dying for the girl, and after this shot, the girl will be safe. At least from the Sisters. Does he love her? Does he love Elaine? Is that why he is doing this?
Love is the strongest destructive force she knows about. Look what its done to her. A cold ruthless assassin, now breaks the chase to give a Walker she doesn't know and cares nothing about, a chance to get home.
The hairs on the back of her neck stand. She becomes stone. She's missed something. Someone is aiming at her. Someone has spotted her and is taking aim. Impossible. Her hairs tell her otherwise, and they are not wrong.
The hag steps over the fence, the demons are back a good ten feet. The shot will be perfect. But it's going to cost her. She controls her heart beat, tries to feel where the shot will come from. The hag is stepping into her sights perfectly. The slight wind dies. This is the moment. She can feel death on her shoulder, ready to take his due. The hag steps into the passage way.
She fires.
Mac Anu is on the hag as soon as the bolt is loosed. His attack is good, fast. His dagger flashes into the hag's face, she pulls back. Perfect. His other hand sinks its dagger into her arm pit, at the same instant the bolt slams into the back of the hag's neck. She doesn't cry out. She's dead. Mac Anu doesn't know that though and is running for his life down the passage way. He's gone, and over the fence before the Sister's lifeless body crumples to the ground.
Lianca smiles. It was perfect. She waits for her own death. She knows the Ancients have been in council about her since she failed to kill the man who is now her husband. Obviously the talks are over. They've come for her. Somehow they found out how the payment wasn't made. That she killed the primary. No payment, no contract. It wasn't completely against the rules, but ...
"Nice shot." A female voice says behind her.
"Yes." Lianca agrees, a hint of a smile on her lips. "It was."
"Not many could have made that with a hand crossbow."
"Maybe five."
"Maybe."
The demons are not as shocked as others might be. Their master is down, but their orders are the same. They start to step over the corpse. An arrow whistles past Liancas ear, then three more, so fast she barely counts them.
"You aren't contracted for the demons as well are you?" The voice asks.
"No. Just the Sister." Lianca says, marveling at the accuracy of the shots. Two hit the first demon at the base of the skull, the next two the second in line in the same place. The arrows are so close, they may have both hit the spine. The two fall, dead.
"Good, because this is personal."
Four more arrows stream past Lianca's ear, she can feel the fletchings across her cheek. The remaining demons have turned, and looked up. The arrows punch through their eyes, perfectly. One roars into the night as he dies.
Lianca waits. The woman behind her is gone. She looks at the carnage below, and then at the moon. She should have known that it was not the Ancients. She really should have. Belsameth had already taken her punishment. She made the man Lianca loved, fall in love with her, and then showed him who she really was.
She looks away from the moon, tears in her eyes, and sits down. Wrapping her arms around her knees she sobs. She was so grateful in that last moment that she was given a perfect death, and an end to her torment. For that small moment in time she knew perfect peace, the kind of peace that the halfing had on his face. Belsameth truly was an evil being.
