by Mike Truk
They weren’t a rock-solid group, but they were ready to follow me into the Noose, which was as good as it was going to get.
Cerys and Netherys were by my side, each dressed for battle. Cerys with her Gloom Knight bow in one hand, her first arrow in the other. Netherys wore a new outfit of black leather armor, no cloak, and a mask that covered the lower half of her face under her hood. Her twin curved blades hung at each hip, and she seemed completely unconcerned about what was to take place.
I turned to the war troll. “How you holding up, Pony?”
He grunted in response, and rolled his head about his neck, causing several frighteningly loud pops to sound out. Then he smacked his lips together as if ready for a snack, hoisted his huge hammer up onto his shoulder, and gave me a wink.
“That’s the spirit.”
I turned to Captain Rory and Lady Anna. Both were calm, Rory benefitting from his sangfroid and a touch of King Troll reassurance, Lady Anna naturally composed and exuding the serenity of all the Sworn. She was an older lady - in her mid-forties, perhaps - with a stately bearing and her blond hair already growing silver.
“Lady Anna, whenever you’re ready, you can move to the rear.”
“If that’s what you wish,” she said as if I’d not made my plans clear before. “I have no fear at being in the vanguard, you know. We Sworn are respected the world over, and even a Family Enforcer would think twice before -”
“I know, I know. Trust me. But it’s simply a matter of practicality. With you at the rear, you’ll come across the wounded as they fall. Nobody’s questioning your courage.”
Lady Anna sniffed. “Well. There’s no need to be rude about it.” And gathering her robes, she set off to the rear of the column.
“Is it just me or is Lady Anna a royal pain in the ass?”
“Royal pain,” said Cerys, still peering ahead.
“Agreed,” said Netherys.
Even Pony grunted in the affirmative.
“Good.” For a moment we stood in silence, and then I looked sidelong at them both. “We’ve come a long way since our attack on the Sodden Hold.”
“Indeed,” said Netherys with a sly smile. “Some of us have matured admirably since then. Congratulations, Cerys.”
“Oh, please,” said the assassin, rolling her eyes. “Though to be honest, I’d still swap out these Black Wolves for Iris’s undead.”
“Agreed. Though we’ve got over a thousand soldiers doing our bidding now. That’s a step up.”
“Honest assessment, Kellik.” Cerys’s voice was taut. “How bad do you think the Noose’s going to be?”
“Honestly? If it was just our crew going in there? Pretty bad. But we’re not alone. We’ve got exemplars, mages, Sworn, and the entire military might of Port Gloom.”
“Which isn’t saying much,” said Netherys. “I’ve seen better-defended caravans.”
“True.” Which of course made me think of Yashara. I forced the pain away. “But it’s enough for tonight. This is the difference between systems and individuals. We’re now bending forces as mighty as the Family toward our ends. Everything’s changed.”
And it was then that the White Sun bells began to toll the dawn, their clamorous cries ringing out across the city, first one, then a second, then a third blending into the first pair, and then so many that I could no longer tell them apart.
I shook out my arms and exhaled. “Here we go.” I raised my blade. In an ideal world, an errant ray of sunshine would have caught on the metal, making it flare - but no dice. “Forward march!”
And we were off. The large body of men followed as I led them the last few blocks toward the Noose, the tromp of their boots echoing off the buildings. I’d never done this before. It felt like going into a real battle. And this was just with some three hundred guards behind me. What would it be like to lead thousands?
Exhilarating. Terrifying. Probably beyond one’s ability to control.
Down Bridge Street we marched, till up ahead loomed the bulk of the Noose. Everything south of the Snake Head - especially west of Market Square, heading toward the docks - was cramped and filthy, people building atop each other, seeking to take advantage of every nook and cranny.
But the Noose was another proposition altogether. Where they’d run out of space, they’d built up, so the average building was three or four stories tall, with some rising like towers above the madness. And even in the pre-dawn gloom, I could see the ingenuity of the builders - the generations of the poor and desperate,who’d placed brick atop stone, hammered planks together, stretched walls of canvas, so the whole of it was bedlam, a cacophony of improbable construction set cheek to jowl. Bridge Street had once run through the Noose, but its breadth had been encroached upon by landgrabs. Within a dozen paces of entering the neighborhood, it narrowed to an alley.
“Shields up,” I commanded as we drew close. This wasn’t an ambush. Kavark would have been notified of the assault ages ago, his spies in the guard giving him plenty of time to mull over his options. My one hope was that he’d not take a guard-initiative seriously, and after seeing the quality of the people I was dealing with, it wasn’t an unreasonable expectation on his part.
The guard, assault the Noose? It’d be a shambolic affair.
Without a king troll to lead it, that was.
Shadowy shapes lurked atop the exterior buildings, and I saw movement down the narrowed Bridge Street.
Enforcers, turned out to protect their own.
Netherys drew her twin blades. “Archers up top. I see a dozen at least.”
We were twenty yards from entering the Noose proper when the archers loosed.
The twang and hiss caused a reflexive shiver to pass through me, but I was past the point where I needed to worry about arrows.
Still, Netherys went to work, and purple fire limned the shafts that rained down at us, their aim knocked off, the fates contriving against them. Most shattered upon the cobblestones or flew overhead; a few clanged against the raised shields. The first volley raised only a couple of cries of pain, but not enough to stall our advance.
From the far side of the Noose, I heard shouts.
The urge to break into a jog was unbearable. But discipline would collapse if I forced the men to run; they could barely stay in ranks at a steady walk. So I grit my jaws and walked on, the alleyway right ahead of us.
Another volley of arrows. This time the fire was concentrated on Cerys, Netherys, and I - the leaders, no doubt, and thus doubly worth taking down.
Purple fire twisted their trajectories, but one slammed into my thigh, hitting me like a hammer blow.
I staggered, thrown off balance, then simply tore the arrow free, not caring for how the barbs ripped my flesh. Seconds later the wound was completely healed, the pain gone.
“Mother Magrathaar wept,” whispered Netherys. “They’ve got scorpions in the alley.”
I felt a bucket of ice dump itself into my gut. The alley ahead was a dark gullet, choked with shadows, but now I could barely make out a knot of activity ten yards in. Men working around an angular object, something that could conceivably be a massive crossbow.
I opened my mouth, about to scream the order to charge, when I heard the mightiest twang yet, the sound a sharp and violent snap. Then a spear came flying forth from the gloom, thick as my wrist.
Time seemed to slow, the command dying in my throat. It was coming right at me, moving fast enough to punch through my body and who knew how many ranks behind me.
Cerys turned, a shout of warning leaving her lips. Netherys raised her blades, intent on chopping the spear from the air.
But it was Pony that moved fastest.
Leaving his warhammer propped on one shoulder, he simply snapped out his lanky arm, fast as a man trying to catch a fly, and halfway through his swing his fist caught fire, blazing forth with a white brilliance that sent the shadows fleeing.
And, making it look easy, he snatched the spear out of the air.
I coul
d only gape.
Pony pursed his broad mouth, examined the massive spear, then flipped it up and around, caught it from below, and hurled it right back into the alley.
A scream tore out into the night.
Mad elation suffused me. It took a good thirty seconds to reload a scorpion. We wouldn’t give them the time.
“Black Wolves!” I raised my blade once more, and this time it glimmered like a fae enchanted weapon in the light of Pony’s burning fist. “Charge!”
The men behind me screamed, my power giving them no choice but to follow, I led the way, sprinting into the alley and right at the scorpion. Its operators panicked. Releasing some mechanism which caused the scorpion to twang again, not nearly as loudly and without a bolt in place, they turned to run.
I leaped and drove my blade down between the shoulder blades of the first man. Pony, his long strides carrying him deceptively fast, brought his warhammer down like the judgment of the Hanged God himself and splattered the second.
Arrows rained down from above, a good four or five bristling in Pony’s back and shoulders, but he ignored them. A sideways swipe from his hammer and the scorpion was knocked clattering aside.
But there was a second scorpion right ahead. Kavark had anticipated the first being overrun. The bastards manning it were grinning like idiots, and just as I made eye contact with their leader, he raised his hand.
“Fire!”
The bolt flew forth with another almighty snap, and once again Pony lunged forth, batting the spear away with the back of his fist.
It careened up into the night and shattered a window.
“Fuck!” shouted one of the enemy enforcers. “That’s not -”
But by then we were on them.
It wasn’t really fair. Four armed enforcers against a war troll? A war troll blessed with the powers of the White Sun? Pony lunged amongst them, sending two flying with a sweep of his hammer, and then lifted the scorpion right off the ground with one hand to bring it smashing down upon a third.
Cerys was loosing arrow after arrow up into the darkness, each catching fire with purple and green light as it sped up and found a mark. Netherys was wreathing attacks in flame and causing them to miss, and more than one enforcer screamed in panic as he slipped or lost his footing above to come crashing down into the street.
Black Wolves were boiling into the alley, smashing down doors, pouring into the buildings to find their ways up to the streets. Now that they were in the mix, I knew they’d do all right - these weren’t regular military types, but Port Gloom guards, raised on the streets. They were familiar with the Family, and aware of just what needed to be done in a clusterfuck situation like this.
I strode on, blade held at the ready. Bridge Street - or Bridge Alley at this point - should lead us directly into the heart of the Noose, and right to the Bloody Knot.
The trick lay in walking its length alive.
Buildings crowded above us, leaning out over the alley so precariously that they nearly formed a tunnel. Faces appeared at most windows, crossbows appearing for a hastily squeezed off shot that more often than not flew wide.
I marched on with Pony, feeling invincible. Not even flinching when quarrels or arrows sped past me. Any that found their mark, I simply tore free. Pony didn’t even bother with that.
“You picked the wrong street to wander down,” came a voice from up ahead, and a Gloom Knight detached themself from the shadows of a recessed doorway. Easy to tell that it was a Gloom Knight from the way they were dressed - cloak of black feathers, raven mask, a bandolier of throwing knives across their narrow chest. Everything gleaming, everything of the highest quality. They held a curved blade in one hand, a dueling dagger in the other.
“I mean, I know you guys are half-imp,” I said, not breaking my stride as I walked toward them. “But is that why you guys all go for masks and fancy cloaks? That an imp thing?”
The Gloom Knight drew a knife and flicked it out. The blade blossomed in Pony’s left eye, causing him to grunt and falter.
“It’s called style,” said the Gloom Knight. “You don’t need an imp to understand it. Just taste.”
“I ain’t got much of that,” I agreed. “Just a humble kid from the docks. Ah, well.”
The Gloom Knight tossed a second knife at me, their hand moving so quickly I could barely track the movement. Purple fire wreathed the blade and it missed my face by an inch.
I didn’t flinch, but kept closing the distance.
“Shouldn’t have left the docks,” said the Gloom Knight. Their voice was a melancholy whisper, making it hard to tell their gender. “Bad things happen to those who overreach.”
A burning arrow flew over my shoulder at the Knight, its green and purple flames sending eerie ripples of light across the buildings as it sped forth.
The Gloom Knight knocked it out of the air without any effort.
“Bad things are about to happen to you,” I said, trying to keep my voice friendly.
“They already have,” said the Knight. “Life’s been one bad time. Ah, well. No sense in complaining.”
Their hand flickered, sending a number of daggers right at me. Purple flames wreathed them, but Netherys was unable to deflect them all - three punched home, one in my throat, the second in my chest, the third through my wrist, causing my fingers to become nerveless and drop my blade.
The Gloom Knight straightened, clearly thinking they’d ended the conversation.
Hot blood sluiced down my throat, made me want to choke. I pulled the blade free, and my neck healed over immediately. A moment later the other two knives were out.
“Here,” I said, voice hoarse. “You dropped these.” I tossed the three blades up high, instinct causing the Knight to follow their trajectory, even as I scooped up my sword and raced to close the distance.
They were too fast, too alert, to fall for the trick. The Knight tore their attention away from the flying blades and moved to engage me, curved blade rising like a tongue of silver fire.
I was grossly outmatched. Within seconds of crossing blades, I took three mortal blows. It didn’t much matter, however - I wasn’t making a very strenuous effort to parry their attacks.
Instead, I welcomed them, and whenever the Knight went in for the killing thrust, I took advantage and hammered my own attack home.
My foe grew quickly bewildered. People were supposed to drop after a sword thrust to the gut, or a stab to the heart.
“Why won’t you die?” demanded the Knight, falling back in disarray, reflexively blocking another of Cerys’s arrows as it sped toward their face.
“Ornery, I guess.” I inhaled deeply, a broad gash across my abdomen healing up, and then offered an apologetic grin. “I’d apologize for it not being fair, but then again, that’s not something you’ve ever worried about before.”
Pony stepped in, a long, gliding step, and his hammer came down from the heavens like a burning meteor, its white head aflame.
The Knight cursed, leaping up and back, and the street cratered where Pony’s hammer hit home. Ancient cobbles flew in every direction with a massive spray of dirt.
Cerys took the opportunity to send an arrow straight into the Gloom Knight’s chest as they sailed back, then purple fire wreathed their boots as they landed, causing them to overbalance and crash to the ground.
“Bad time to be in the Noose,” I said, sliding forward to impale the Knight neatly as they sought to roll away. My blade stabbed through the feathered cloak and sank deep between ribs. “Bad time to be part of the Family.”
The Knight hissed, their pain control admirable; then Pony was there, hammer raised high, burning like the White Sun in that dark alley sky.
“Shit,” said the Gloom Knight, looking up, then the hammer came down. The Knight was no more.
“One down,” I said, pulling my blade free. “Nice work, Pony.”
The war troll grunted and pulled his hammer free of the mess that had been the Knight.
Black Wo
lves pressed up behind us, eager now to keep going, their bloodlust up, screams and shouts ringing out from the buildings around us. Some had made the rooftops, and I heard the clang of weapons from high above.
“Two more blocks,” I said, striding on. “Wonder if Kavark is -”
Pony grunted, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me to him, hunching his body over mine protectively. The world exploded into a sliding roar and an avalanche of rubble came pouring down upon us.
The sheer weight of the rocks drove Pony down to one knee, forcing me into a crouch beneath him, and when the noise subsided, everything was white dust and fading pain.
With a grunt Pony rose, dislodging blocks of masonry, and shook his head, bat ears twitching in annoyance. Dents and broken bones quickly reknit themselves, and, obviously annoyed, he climbed out of the pile of shattered stones that had just rained down upon us, blocking the alley to about chest height.
“Thanks,” I said, climbing out after, then gazed up to see a handful of enforcers staring back down in surprise. I could just make out the twin carts that had been placed on either side of the alley, no doubt loaded up with stones.
I gave a wave, managed a tight smile, and the enforcers cursed, ducking out of view.
“Doing all right?” asked Cerys from behind,
“Doing great,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and failing.
Pony and I resumed our assault. Tripwires caused bolts to fly forth from dark windows; cobblestones collapsed underfoot to reveal pit traps filled with excrement coated spikes; a massive log came swinging down from above like a battering ram, and would have hit Pony square on if purple fire hadn’t caused one of the knots to give way and the log to suddenly go off center, plowing into the ground early and fouling up the trap altogether.
I eyed Pony over the ruined battering ram. It’d been fronted by a metal spike a yard long. “No wonder the guards stayed out of here.”
Pony hefted his hammer and propped it back upon his shoulders. “Not guards.”
Was he speaking more? Either way, it was a joy to hear his gravelly voice. “No,” I agreed. “We’re not.”
