The Broken Pieces(61)

Four dead, yet far too many left. Corpses were everywhere. Two more wolf-men rushed him simultaneously, and with a cold stare Darius met their uncontrolled rage. Claws swiped toward him, and he stepped back, and even parried one paw as if it were a blade. Instead of cutting through, the sword sparked at the mere contact against those glowing claws. He seemed just as surprised as the wolf-man, but he recovered faster. His sword shoved through the muscular chest and pierced the heart.

Too deep, thought Darius, struggling to pull the blade out in time. The other creature struck him across the chest, the claws punching deep grooves into his platemail. The force of the impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Unable to hold onto the sword, he fell back as another swipe cut across his arm. He felt blood drip down to his elbow, and it spiked with pain.

Unarmed, Darius had no way to hurt the monstrous creature. His foe howled at the top of his lungs, then tensed for a leap. He never got off the ground. Valessa landed atop him, repeatedly stabbing his eyes with her dagger. The wolf-man let out a stinging howl, then collapsed. Valessa stood atop the corpse, her body strangely still. A normal woman would have shaken with the adrenaline of a kill, and blood should have covered her from the fight, but she was clean as always.

“How many?” Darius asked, clutching his left arm and trying to decide how bad it was.

“I killed four,” she said. “Five if I count yours. The rest fled.”

Darius bent down to retrieve his sword. Putting a boot against the wolf-man’s chest, he yanked it free with a sickening plop. With a heavy intake of air, he stood to his full height. Grunting against the pain in his chest, he lifted the blade high into the air. The light shone far, and he hoped those who fled through the city would see it and know they were safe.

“How many?” he asked again.

“I told you, five.”

“No,” Darius said, shaking his head. “How many of ours?”

Valessa put away her dagger, and her hesitance in answering was enough.

“At least half,” she said at last.

Darius nodded, his teeth clenched tight for he knew nothing else to say. He’d led them there for safety. For that, thirty had died, perhaps more. Valessa reached out toward him, then let her hand fall. Darius saw strange markings on her clothing as she did, and he stepped closer.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

In answer, Valessa lifted her arm again, let him see the claw marks that shone red against her ribs, refusing to change like the rest of her. Liquid shadow dripped from them, intermixed with a light that shone like silver as it bled to the ground.

“Their claws,” she said. “Cyric has blessed them.”

He could just barely hear it in her voice, but it was there. Fear. Taking a step closer, he yanked off one of his gauntlets and then pressed his hand against her face, which she kept firm so he might make contact. Neither said a word, but they understood each other. They were both vulnerable now. They both bore wounds.

“You won’t die to them,” he promised. “You’ll die on your terms, and only after Cyric, not before.”

“Don’t make promises you cannot keep,” she said.

“It is a promise I can keep,” he said. “If you’ll help me.”



Two hours before dawn they rode up to Tower Red, just a pitifully small band. Daniel’s men welcomed them warmly despite the early hour. Many were led to the docks without a moment of rest, to board boats kept waiting all that time.

“Was it worth it?” Daniel asked Darius as he met him at the gates.

“Worth it?” Darius said. “Thirty will live that might have died. Yes, it was worth it.”

“Funny, then, that you don’t look so eager to celebrate.”

“I said it was worth it,” Darius said. “I never claimed it was easy. Get us to a boat. I want to be miles from here when Cyric comes with his damn wolf-men.”

Daniel clapped him on the back, eliciting a groan of pain.

“You try to do too much, paladin,” he said. “It’ll get you killed one day.”

“Better to die trying for too much than dying old having done too little,” Darius said, earning himself a chuckle.

“You’ll get your chance,” Daniel said as they approached the docks. “Once we hit Tower Silver, we’ll be abandoning the river, instead making a run toward the Castle of the Yellow Rose. I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunities to die along the way, you and your demon girl.”





18



They marched out at dawn, and Jerico felt like a sheep among wolves as they passed by Lord Arthur’s camp. He kept his armor on, and his mace clipped to his side. Against the glares from the other priests and paladins it was meager protection. He touched his shield often, and only from its soft light did he receive comfort.