Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks
Since he’d placed the “message” in the middle of the day, they’d certainly know something was amiss.
“Patience serves the wise,” Ethric said, finding himself a seat beside a fence. He leaned his back against the bars. He was out of sight of any travelers on the road, and he doubted the owner of the home would be stupid enough to call him out from his position. All he had to do was watch and wait.
At some point he must have fallen asleep. Ethric remembered no dreams, but when his eyes snapped open he felt a distinct disorientation at the loss of daylight. The sun was barely visible through a pale scattering of clouds as it hovered above the western wall of the city.
Ethric knew he had awakened because of his finely honed instincts. At first he saw no intruders and heard no footsteps. But he was hunting skillful prey, and lack of sight and sound meant nothing. He looked to the wall. The rock wedged inside the crack was gone.
“I thought you’d wait until dark,” Ethric said as he stood. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword. A dagger slid through a crease of his armor by his shoulder blades and pressed against unprotected flesh before he could.
“It seems the priests have grown desperate,” he heard a voice behind him say. “A dark paladin alone in Veldaren in broad daylight? Will they soon announce their existence to the land, or are they just hoping a mob will kill you?”
“It would take far more than a mob,” Ethric said. “Pull back your blade, woman. I know what you are.”
She hesitated for a moment, and then the dagger withdrew. Ethric turned, his arms crossed over his chest.
“With whom do I speak?” he asked.
“I am Eliora,” the faceless said. “What message do you bring from the temple?”
“Just that Alyssa must be returned, immediately,” Ethric said. “Bring her to me at once.”
Eliora clicked her two daggers together as she gently weaved back and forth.
“Matters are not as simple as Pelarak believes,” she said. “Alyssa is surrounded by guards and protected by a wealthy tax collector.”
“None of which should matter to a faceless.”
Through the thin veil of white, Ethric could see hints of Eliora’s face. He’d swear she winked at him.
“Only if we wanted her dead, Paladin. Escaping alive is another matter. I’m sure Pelarak told you she is worthless to us if harmed.”
“Where is she held?” Ethric asked. “Tell me and you may go.”
Eliora’s swaying slowed, then came to a stop.
“Whom do the dark paladins serve, Karak or his priests?” she asked.
“They are the same,” Ethric said. “His priests speak the word of Karak.”
Eliora took a step back.
“Then I will not bring you to her. Karak has given us faith, and a mind to use it. We are not Pelarak’s slaves, not anymore. We do the will of our god.
Our
god. Will you remain blind to Pelarak’s manipulation and control?”
“You will bring me to her, or you will die.”
Eliora cocked her head. She seemed to be staring into Ethric’s heart.
“You would kill me anyway. Pelarak has made his move. So be it.”
Ethric drew his sword and lashed out in a single smooth motion, the blade bathed in dark fire. The faceless woman fell backward, her spine arching and her knees bending. After the sword passed harmlessly above her, she snapped forward, lunging with her daggers. One scraped against his plate mail and caught in a crease while the other gouged the flesh underneath his chin.
Before she could finish the kill, Ethric rammed an open palm against her chest. The strength of Karak was with him, and she flew backward, a shock wave of sound and fire exploding from the contact. Eliora rolled, shadows splashing off her body and lying like deep puddles. Her feet touched ground, she spun, crossed her arms, and vanished in a puff of smoke.
A long shadow stretched from the western wall from the sunset, and out of that shadow leaped Eliora. Her feet slammed into the small of Ethric’s back. He cried out in pain as he stumbled forward, his sword slashing behind him blindly. Its fire singed some of her wrappings, but cut no flesh. A dagger struck Ethric, cutting a thin but bloody wound across the back of his head.
Ethric fell forward, avoiding the vicious thrust aimed between his collarbone and neck that would have surely finished him. The dagger struck his armor. The magic in both collided, strength against strength. Sparks showered to the ground. The dagger dulled. When Eliora
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