Cloak and Spider: A Shadowdance Novella by David Dalglish Page B

Carr running inside it.
    “Do you smell the smoke?” Thren asked the men. “How well does a scorpion burn, I wonder?”
    The first slashed with his sword, but it was a feint. The two others lunged as the man suddenly pulled back. Thren lifted his blades, and he could not keep the look of contempt off his face. He’d seen the other two tense, seen the way their feet shifted for their lunges, and the feint could not have been more obvious, for even if Thren had not blocked, the angle was such that the blow would have missed anyway.
    If these were the best Carr had, Thren was sorely disappointed.
    With his left hand he blocked one attack, and the other he parried aside so he could step closer, pull his sword around, and double-thrust for the man’s stomach. Except instead of gaining an easy kill, he found his prey leaping away. The other two men converged simultaneously, one striking high, the other low. Thren let out a cry, and he fell back toward the stairs while batting aside the lower hit. Pain spiked across his chest, his shirt ripped and his chest bleeding from a shallow wound. Despite the pain, Thren let out a laugh. Perhaps Carr had at least one more trick left up his sleeve.
    But now Thren knew the level of his foes. More importantly, he had help coming from the stairs. He rushed them headlong, swords a blur. They tried to cut him as he passed, but he shifted, angled his run so he flew through them, cloak hiding the bulk of his movements. Skilled they were, but Thren felt his mind sharpened, its focus magnified by the corpse of his beloved Marion. With every step, every hit, he felt his rage growing. Bleeding from more shallow cuts along his arms and legs, Thren landed on a shoulder, rolled to his back, and then kicked up to his feet.
    “Not good enough,” he said, spitting blood. From the stairs ran Senke, the way no longer blocked by Thren. Attackers on both sides, the three Scorpions tried to divide their attention, two to Thren, one to Senke. Neither had a chance. Senke was as skilled with his mace as any man could be with a weapon. He swung wide for the man’s chest, but when he made to block, Senke had stepped in close, left leg sweeping out the man’s knees. When the Scorpion fell, Senke’s mace followed him to the ground, blasting in his ribs with an audible crunch.
    Thren’s two died just as easily, one sword finding throat, the other piercing lung. Yanking his blades free, Thren turned down the hall as smoke began to billow up the stairs.
    “At my side,” Thren said, ignoring the other doors as he ran. Finding the one on the far end, the one he’d seen Carr enter, he tested the handle and found it unlocked. Eyes narrowing, he turned the handle, kicked the door open, and then dodged to the side. An arrow shot through the center of the door, embedding into the opposite wall. Thren stepped inside, showing no hurry. Carr stood in a small but well-furnished bedroom. By the window stood Carr’s wife, Lenore, and his ten-year-old son, Reed. Seeing Thren, the guildmaster lowered his empty crossbow.
    “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” Carr said as Thren approached.
    “I know,” Thren said. “And I don’t care.”
    *  *  *
    They dragged all three through the street, their wrists bound together with rope. Of the fifteen Spiders who had come, only four had died, compared to the twenty Scorpions Thren’s men had killed. No doubt more Scorpions lurked throughout the city, but Thren walked with his sword pressed against their leader’s throat. None would dare interfere, not anymore. If anything, they’d all be looking for new guilds to take them in.
    Thren said nothing to them, as did Carr. Lenore wept, the pretty little thing, but she kept her mouth shut. Only the child dared say anything, but his questions were ignored, and eventually he fell silent.
    Arriving at Thren’s hideout, a simple unmarked warehouse, they entered, Thren leading the way.
    “Take them to the dark room,” Thren