Shadowdance 05 - A Dance of Ghosts (2 page)

“What was done to my ears was not done for you, nor the wretches who fill this city,” the elf said. His voice was deep and aged. “Nor do I care if I am unwanted. That did not stop my Sun Guild in Mordeina, and it shall not stop us here. Now please, I’ve come to hear your answer, not your pathetic attempts at insult.”

“To get an answer, you need to ask a question,” Carlisle said, earning himself a glare from Muzien. “So far, I don’t think me and my guildmaster here have heard one yet.”

“Is this toad yours?” Muzien asked. “I guess I should take comfort in knowing that mankind shows no greater patience here than it has anywhere else in our world.”

“He only speaks my mind, if a bit hastily,” Kadish said. He wasn’t happy with Carlisle’s outburst either, but he would still defend his own over the accusations of some foreign elf guildmaster. “You asked to meet me, so here I am. You said you have questions, and I’m here to answer. Ask away, and I’ll do my best to play the good host.”

Kadish put his hands behind his back and tried to look relaxed. In truth, he was preparing to dive aside the second any of the three drew their blades. The moment he shouted out, his guild would reveal its ambush, but until then he wanted to learn what he could about the Sun Guild’s intentions, just in case someone else took up Muzien’s mantle after his death.

“I have but two questions,” said Muzien. “First … where is Thren Felhorn?”

Kadish was honestly surprised.

“Thren?” he asked. “Why do you care?”

At Muzien’s glare, Kadish shrugged.

“Fine, then; don’t tell me,” he said. “But Thren’s gone missing ever since he disbanded his Spider Guild. Rumors on the street claim your right hand Grayson killed him, but others said he got away only to be killed by Lord Victor Kane.”

“So he is dead?” Muzien asked. “Has anyone seen his body?”

Again Kadish shrugged.

“Not that I know of.”

“Then he isn’t dead.”

It was spoken so simply, with such finality, Kadish didn’t bother to argue. What did it matter if the legendary Thren Felhorn was dead? His guild had been disbanded, his territory swallowed up by the remaining guilds. He was a nonentity now, a relic of the past in an underworld willing to move on and forget within the blink of an eye.

“Well, there’s question one,” Kadish said. “What’s your second, so we can get this over with and I can go find myself a bed and a pair of tits?”

Still Muzien twisted the ring on his finger, as if it was nothing more than a nervous tic of his own. But it seemed strange to think that … seemed strange to even consider a man with those cold blue eyes ever being nervous about anything. The gold of the band appeared ludicrous when contrasted against the dark flesh beneath it.

“I offer you and your guild the same chance I will offer the Wolves, the Serpents, the Ash, and all the rest,” said the elf. “Despite whatever setbacks you think I have suffered, be assured our takeover of Veldaren is inevitable. The Sun Guild rises, and all who stand against us shall fall.”

“Big words,” Kadish mumbled. “You think we’ve not heard the same a hundred times before? There’s always a new challenger on the streets.”

Muzien smiled.

“You’ve not had a challenger like me. Listen well, Kadish Fel, for it is your only chance to survive this night unharmed. Toss aside your cloaks and accept the four-pointed star. There will be a place for everyone in my guild, for I will need strong hands and sharp minds to shape the future of Veldaren. You will have a station of honor, one worthy of the position you once held. All others will be given roles suited to their talents. No blood will be spilled. No wars fought between guilds. My victory is inevitable, so let us not waste the time, nor end lives unnecessarily.”

Kadish could hardly believe what he was hearing, and despite the deep pit of fear in his belly, he laughed.

“Is that so?” he asked. “Inevitable? You are truly something special, Muzien, but I fear you’ve let your pride overwhelm your common sense.
Hawks, now!
”

From the hay sprang his men, slipping out from behind bales, falling down from the rafters onto piles, dark sheets meant to hide them during their long wait discarded. Before the two bodyguards could draw their blades, a half dozen arrows plunged into each of their bodies, dropping them. Blood pooled at Muzien’s feet as he stood there, still twirling his ring. He’d not even blinked at the sudden ambush.

Kadish drew his own sword, took a step closer to Muzien.

“Not everyone here is as cowardly as you’d believe,” he said. “Now tell me why you’ve come to Veldaren, and why now.”

“Or what?” asked Muzien. “You’ll kill me?”

“Look around you,” Kadish said. “My guild is here and ready. However many you brought with you, it doesn’t matter. My arrows have you sighted. My swords are ready to plunge into your heart and lungs. You walked right into my home, you egotistical elf, so do you really think I wouldn’t be ready for an intruder like you?”

Slowly Muzien shook his head.

“Ready with an ambush, yes,” he said. “But for you to be stupid enough to spring it? No. No, I did not.”

The door to the warehouse slammed shut with a heavy thud.

“You and your guild fail to realize how far out of your depth you really are,” Muzien said as the rest of the Hawk Guild turned to the door, unsure of what was about to transpire. “You cannot see Veldaren’s fate even though it is as clear and undeniable as the rising sun. Your whores, your drug trades of leafs and powders, your
territory
as you would call it, will be swept into my arms. You could have continued on under my care. You could have had your place.”

A few of Kadish’s men pushed the doors, lightly at first, then with their entire bodies flung against it. The wood rattled but would not move.

“You could have lived,” said Muzien.

Kadish turned to the archers still in place.

“Kill him!” he shouted.

The arrows flew, but Muzien never moved. His body became a blur, the sight of it somehow hurting Kadish’s head. And then the arrows thudded into the dirt, leaving Muzien standing there, not a drop bleeding from his untouched form. The pit of fear in Kadish’s stomach turned to full-blown terror. As if lost in a dream he stepped closer to the elf and raised his sword. Muzien only stared at him with an expression that was equal parts pity and condescension. Still his swords remained buckled at his sides. Taking in a deep breath, Kadish plunged his weapon forward.

It disappeared into Muzien’s stomach without a hint of resistance, all the way up to Kadish’s hand. He felt nothing, only air. When he pulled the blade back, he knew his life was over.

“Do not resist,” said Muzien. “Let the smoke take you. Your death will be more peaceful that way.”

Kadish dropped his sword as the elf ceased the turning of his ring. Muzien’s image flickered, then faded away until it was as if he’d never been there at all.

All around him he heard screams, banging at the doors, people begging to be let out. Others were swearing they would change allegiance and join the Sun Guild. Kadish glanced to the door, saw even Carlisle was one of the ones willing to turn. It should have disappointed him, but it didn’t. Kadish was willing to toss aside his own cloak now, but he knew it was beyond that. He’d seen the look in Muzien’s eye. He knew his place now, what he meant to the Darkhand. They were but vermin to be destroyed.

From the very walls came the first hints of smoke, followed by the flickering tongues of fire.

Muzien watched as the building burned, twelve members of his Sun Guild forming a perfect circle surrounding it and holding torches aloft in silent ritual. The screams from within took several minutes to stop, and it wasn’t until they did that he spoke.

“He said he doesn’t know where Thren is hiding.”

Beside him stood his new right hand, a stocky man named Ridley with a pockmarked face.

“Did he at least offer an idea to explain the absence?”

Muzien nodded.

“He did. He said he believed Thren to be dead, though no proof of it has surfaced.”

Ridley took a step forward and tossed his own torch onto the burning wreckage. A large crack followed, one of the support beams having weakened so much it broke under the strain of the roof, which crumbled inward along with it.

“Of your students, who was the better, Grayson or Thren?” asked Ridley.

“Grayson.”

“Easy enough. Thren is still alive.”

Muzien cocked his head at that.

“How so?” he asked. “If the stronger and the more skilled has perished, why then should Thren have also survived?”

Ridley gave him a crooked smile.

“Because that’s the way this world works, Muzien. It’s the best of us who die before their time, the ones who the world gives cruel jokes and ignoble deaths.”

“If that is true, then why do I still live?”

Ridley winked.

“Because you’re
not
the best of us. You’re the worst of us, Muzien, the very worst.”

At that, the Darkhand had to smile. He looked to the sleeping city, which, despite the fire he set, would not dare come to put it out, not while so many of his guild walked the streets in all directions, ordering men and women to return to their beds should they poke their heads out their doors. The city was alive, Muzien knew, a living, breathing conglomerate of beings, and like any being, it could be made to fear, and fear him it would.

But there was still one man out there who wouldn’t fear him, who could be a great asset to his plan, or its most terrible threat.

“Where have you gone, my student?” Muzien asked with a breathless whisper that was carried away by the night wind along with the smoke, ash, and all else that remained of the Hawk Guild.

T
he wagons, all three of them full of men and women laughing and calling to one another, rumbled along on wooden wheels down the road that split the forest. So far, it seemed none realized they were being watched.

“I don’t see why we must hide,” Thren whispered beside Haern as they crouched together against the trunks of trees fifteen feet out from the road.

“Caution over haste,” Haern said. He gestured to the dark gray clothes and long cloak each of them wore. “Besides, neither of us is inconspicuous.”

As Thren shrugged, Haern returned his attention to the three wagons, particularly the men and women visible at the front or walking alongside. They’d passed so many already, yet if there were even more …

“They’re with the Sun Guild,” Thren said, his voice slowly growing louder as the wagons continued. “If that is what you’re searching for, then stop bothering. Their earrings mark them clearly as such.”

“Damn,” Haern muttered, thudding his forehead against the rough bark of the tree, feeling it scratch his skin. “How many will he move into our city? A thousand? Ten?”

“A hundred thousand if need be,” Thren said, drawing his two short swords and calmly walking toward the road. “That’s how Muzien works. The idea of failing doesn’t even enter his head.”

Haern reached out to grab his arm, hesitated just before. Thren paused and looked his way, and there was a fire in his glare at the very idea that Haern might try to stop him.

“What is it?” Thren asked, pulling his gray hood up over his blond hair. “Since when are you one to shy away from bloodshed?”

“We have no reason to fight.”

Thren laughed.

“Those wagons are full of killers and thieves that will make life miserable for everyone in your precious little city. We’re doing the world a favor. Now either stay and watch, or take the east flank. Your choice.”

Haern watched his father break out into a sprint, racing just outside the limits of the road so the trees still blocked sight of him with their low branches and their wide green leaves. Despite his speed, he was still a whisper compared to the cheer coming from the wagons. Haern estimated at least twenty total in the group, perhaps more if anyone were inside wagons and hidden by the sun-bleached tarps. Twenty dead, and all for what? Wearing the wrong earrings?

They’re not innocent,
Haern told himself as he drew his own swords and dashed to the other side of the road, rushing through the trees while eyeing the rapidly approaching wagons. The people in the Sun Guild were flooding into his city, taking over the various drug trades, demanding protection money from every street they controlled. They were threatening the peace he’d bled for. That was what he told himself as he watched his father come leaping out of the woods, spearing a raven-haired woman through the neck as she walked alongside one of the horses. That was what he repeated in his head as the driver of the wagon fell, intestines spilling out beneath him before he hit the dirt.

Not innocent.

From the other side, Haern emerged, his sabers feeling heavy in his hands. The party was letting out confused cries, many making mad dashes for wherever it was they’d stashed their weaponry. Haern knew the early period was when they’d need to score the most kills. If the survivors could band together, form a perimeter …

One saber cut through the heel of a fleeing man, and his other lashed out, opening the neck of a man who’d come rushing in with his own sword raised. A turn, a step, and the wounded man on the ground died with his lungs pierced through the back. As the blood flowed, Haern let out a grim chuckle.

Who was he kidding? The combined wrath of the Watcher and Thren Felhorn had descended upon the Sun guildmembers. There would be no survivors.

“Fall back!” a man yelled, heavyset and with dirty hair hanging over his face. He seemed to be the only one aware of what was going on, and Haern set his sights immediately upon him. His foe wielded a long blade in his left hand, his other ushering people toward the third wagon. Two more had joined his side by the time Haern came crashing in, whose haste nearly cost him dearly. The two others, each holding a short sword, tried to rush him simultaneously, their blades slashing. Haern skidded to a stop out of reach, and he flung himself to the right, smashing away the pathetic attacks to create an opening. The third man, however, had far more skill than the other two and anticipated the maneuver. Out lashed his sword with his long reach, its aim for Haern’s chest.