Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

spun, thrusting it forward, Ethric twisted so she stabbed directly into his thick breastplate. The dagger exploded into shards that bit her hand. Blood soaked her wrappings.
    “Yield and I will be merciful,” Ethric said as he went on the offensive, slashing back and forth with his blade. Eliora ducked, shifted, and leaped away like a dancer, each cut passing close enough to burn more of her wrappings. When his sword stabbed forward, it should have pierced her heart. Instead he cut smoke, for she was gone.
    Anticipating the attack, he spun, cutting the air between him and the wall’s shadow. Eliora was there, her foot outstretched for a kick, but again his sword passed through only smoke. He coughed and retched as it swarmed over him, burning his lungs and tasting foul on his tongue. Within the smoke he heard laughter. Within the laughter he heard rage.
    Something sharp pierced his side just above his belt. Warm blood poured down his thigh. He felt it twist, and the pain doubled. Ethric swung, but he felt blind and dull. His sword cut air and smoke, nothing more.
    “I will not be treated as a fool,” Ethric shouted. He struck the ground with his blade, both hands gripping the handle to increase his strength. Power rolled from the blow, pushing away the smoke. Clean air filled Ethric’s lungs. Before his head could clear he saw Eliora lunging at him, her dagger aimed for his eye.
    His reactions were quicker. He dropped his sword. His left hand shot up, blocking the stab with his vambrace. His right hand reached forward, grabbing Eliora’s neck and crushing her throat. Before she could turn to smoke in his hands, he shouted the name of his god and let his full power roll forth.
    Eliora’s whole body went rigid. The wrappings around her face blasted off, revealing her beautiful face locked in a grimace of pain. Ash billowed from her nostrils and open mouth. Her entire weight hung from the fierce grip of his hand.
    “Chaos … must … end!” screamed Ethric. He slammed her headfirst to the dirt. As she gagged, trying to force air through a charred throat, the dark paladin picked up his sword.
    “Karak will abandon you,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.
    “Don’t you see?” Ethric said, showing her the blaze of dark flame on his blade. “My faith is strong, and his presence in me is stronger. You’re the one abandoned, heretic.”
    With one vicious stroke he cut off her head. So hot was the flame on his sword that her body never bled, the flesh and veins cauterized by its heat.
    “Two left,” Ethric said, leaving the body to rot. “Take her soul, Karak. Punish her as you please.”
    Eliora had told him enough. Before he’d left, Pelarak had informed Ethric of the entire matter of Alyssa Gemcroft, the thief guilds, and Theo Kull.
Tax collector
Theo Kull. At first he’d thought Alyssa was secreted away somewhere with the other faceless. To be with Theo Kull meant servants, living quarters, and mercenaries. Pelarak had never mentioned their being inside the city, which meant only one thing … they lurked outside the walls, and a collection that large could not hide from him.
    Ethric traveled south toward the gate, determined to see his business done before nightfall.

CHAPTER
26
    M adelyn Keenan sat in a small room that made her wagon outside the city seem like a castle. She had a plain wooden chair with no padding, a bare desk, and a bed stuffed with straw, not feathers. She wore a clean white dress given to her after she’d bathed. She still smelled the blood that had covered her hands and face.
    Young girls had come and gone the entire day, attending to her needs. No one had ordered her to stay, but the unspoken desire seemed obvious enough. Madelyn lay on the uncomfortable bed, accepting pillows, warm tea mixed with honey, and the occasional girl coming in to ask if there was anything else she could do.
    Calan had promised to send word of her safety to her husband, but Madelyn had not seen the high priest since arriving at the temple. He’d said something about attending others, and something more about patrols, and then he’d left. She wished she’d gone with him.
    The walls were bare wood. The floor was stained a dark brown. There was nothing to read, nothing to do. She felt more a prisoner than she’d ever felt in her life, and this was in a place she’d been brought to for protection.
    At last, when she thought she could take no more, the door opened and Calan stepped