The Dwarven Rebellion

by J. J. Thompson

  Several of them chuckled and there was a flurry of movement as all of the rogues pulled out an amazing variety of knives, shivs, darts, short swords and, in Dhara's case, a small sickle.

  “You're still using that silly thing?” Annia asked her as she saw the crescent-shaped weapon.

  It gleamed evilly in the light, its inner edge wickedly sharp.

  “What can I say?” Dhara replied with a shrug. “It's served me well. I keep it for...sentimental reasons, you might say.”

  “Oh my,” Ursilla exclaimed in distaste. “You are all certainly well prepared to do some damage, aren't you? Well, hold those things steady. This will only take a moment.”

  The rogues extended their blades and the cleric held her hands over them and closed her eyes.

  “Hear me, oh lords of Light and Justice. These weapons will be wielded in your name this night by champions who do battle against the servants of Darkness. Bless them that they strike true. Imbue them with your power and grant them a full measure of your holy fury. I pray that you show your favor for their righteous cause.”

  A silence descended over the room. Suddenly all of the weapons blazed with a pure white light for a few seconds. It faded quickly and left everyone in the room blinking rapidly as their eyes adjusted again.

  “Ah, the gods are with us,” Ursilla said, sounding pleased.

  She looked at Mel and Annia.

  “I wasn't sure that they would be, considering the naughty things that your guild has done over the years. But the enemy of my enemy and all that, I suppose.”

  Both of the rogues grinned at the cleric's rather resigned tone.

  “Maybe we aren't as bad as you think we are, eh my friend?” Annia asked Ursilla archly.

  “And maybe you are worse,” Ursilla replied with a smile. “But either way, your weapons are now infused with the gods' power. The blessing will only last the night, so make good use of it.”

  “Oh, we will. I assure you of that.”

  Annia looked at the others.

  “Larin will watch us through the mirror. When we are all in position, he will cast a spell that will lock the daemons into their physical forms. But it will only last for ten minutes at the most. If we haven't killed them in that time, they will be able to escape.”

  Dhara snorted in disgust.

  “If we can't kill something in less than ten minutes, daemons included, then we aren't skillful enough to call ourselves rogues,” she said as she pulled her hood up over her head again.

  There was a general murmur of agreement and Annia smiled at all of them.

  “Well said. Now off you go. Stay out of their sight and wait until you see their forms solidify. Then strike quickly. May fortune favor us this night.”

  The four rogues quickly left the room and Annia walked over to join Larin. Mel stood by the door and waited for her.

  “This has to go right the first time,” Annia told the mage. “We may only get one shot at this. Your spell is prepared?”

  “I'm ready to do my part,” he assured her. “Just remember that, even in corporeal form, daemons are fast and deadly. And some of them can use magic. Do not take their threat lightly.”

  Annia smiled at him as she took a final look in the mirror.

  “I know that they are dangerous, my friend,” she replied. “But so are we. Stay vigilant. This won't take long.”

  She winked at Ursilla as she quickly walked to the door, and the cleric smiled wanly in return.

  “You ready?” Annia asked Mel as she reached the doorway.

  “More than ready. Are you?”

  Annia just laughed in response and pulled up her hood.

  “Let's do this,” she said.

  The target that Mel and Annia had chosen was directly south of the guild-house entrance. Fortunately, like all of the buildings owned by the guild across the empire, there was more than one way in or out of the Cindercore house, and the three teams exited via a hidden trapdoor a block away from the main door.

  They went their separate ways immediately and disappeared into the shadows, heading toward their prey.

  As she followed Annia, Mel moved as calmly and confidently as the older rogue did. But inside, her heart was racing in anticipation. This was a way to strike back at those who had killed Darlheim and Ethen, and she was trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Mel was well aware that, in the heat of battle, she might make a stupid mistake if she allowed her heart to override her head. She had to maintain a professional detachment during the encounter.

  “There it is,” Annia whispered, breaking into her thoughts.

  The two of them were standing in shadow as they hugged a wall at the corner of a house. Mel looked past Annia and saw the flickering, hazy form of the daemon hunched atop another building across the street and down about twenty yards from where they were standing.

  “I hope that it will be obvious when Larin's spell kicks in,” Mel whispered in return, her voice a bit muffled by her mask. “If we miss it, this will fail.”

  “Have some faith,” Annia replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. “This is our night, my friend. I can feel it.”

  Mel pulled her hood up to cover her head as she watched the target in anticipation. It was probably just her imagination, but she almost felt her weapons tingling with divine energy in the presence of the enemy. She felt the same way.

  A sudden wave of cool air passed over the two rogues, like an invisible line of force sweeping up the street toward the hulking daemon.

  “That has to be it,” Annia murmured. “Get ready.”

  Mel quickly worked out the path that she would take to reach the target. The wall across the street had irregularities that she could use to quickly climb to the roof and then it would be a clear run to the daemon.

  I am ready, she thought eagerly. Let's go. Let's go.

  They saw the daemon's reaction as the wave of magic washed over it. The creature stood up with a jerk, its tall, heavy form flickering and flashing into and out of focus.

  And then its body became solid and it stood there, fully exposed to the watching rogues. The daemon's form was still indistinct and its features were impossible to make out. But it was now corporeal, and that meant that it was vulnerable.

  “Go!” Annia hissed.

  Both of them raced from the shadows and crossed the street. With consummate skill, they clamored up the wall and reached the roof in seconds. Then they ran toward their target on silent feet. The surface of the roof was flat and clear of obstructions and the rogues were able to concentrate on the daemon instead of their footing.

  “Go right. I'll go left,” Annia ordered.

  “Got it,” Mel replied.

  The daemon seemed to be frozen in surprise as it realized that it was no longer hidden and safe. It barely saw the two rogues before they moved in to attack it.

  Annia's first slashing blow made the monster wail, more with surprise than pain. It threw itself back and raised its hands. A pair of long jagged blades, twisted black swords made of dark metal, appeared in its grip and it swung the weapons at the rogues.

  Mel leaped back to avoid a savage blow and then threw a steel dirk directly at the center of the heavy body. The daemon screeched, a shivering cry of rage, and raised its swords to deal a massive blow at her. But before it could strike, it staggered forward as Annia attacked it from behind.

  It whipped around and Mel saw the hilt of a dagger sticking out of its back.

  It's confused, she thought with satisfaction. It can't focus on more than one of us at a time. That is its weakness.

  As the daemon swung at Annia, Mel pulled out a handful small, wickedly sharp steel darts from an inner pocket and launched a half-dozen of them at it in rapid succession.

  Each blessed dart slammed into the daemon's back with the impact of a bullet and it fell forward, screeching in agony. Unlike the monster who had confronted her father in the guild headquarters, this daemon did not attempt to taunt its attackers or threat
en them. It seemed more like a wild animal than a sentient creature and Mel wondered if it was just an unthinking servant, rather than an intelligent assassin like the one she had encountered before. That seemed to be the case.

  The daemon quickly rose to its feet again and whirled around to leap at Mel. She rolled aside, dodging its attack, and then backed away cautiously. She had drawn her daggers now and she watched the monster closely, ready to counter whatever it tried to do.

  Not as challenging as I thought it would be, she mused, feeling a little cocky at how easy the fight was going. This should be over pretty quickly.

  And that foolish lapse in judgment almost proved to be her undoing.

  The creature launched itself into the air so high that it seemed to have sprouted wings. Both rogues gaped at it as it soared a dozen yards over their heads, spinning rapidly as it rose.

  “What's it doing?” Mel asked in confusion.

  Annia could only shake her head as she looked up at their foe.

  A few seconds later they had their answer as frozen spears of ice rained down on to the roof, smashing and shattering all around them.

  Both rogues dodged and weaved away from the missiles, trying to avoid their deadly touch. The icy shards were razor-sharp and fell like deadly rain from the spinning figure above them.

  It can do magic, Mel reminded herself as she tried not to get punctured or pummeled by the ice. Larin warned us and I still underestimated it. That was so stupid of me.

  The rain of ice only lasted for a few moments and then the daemon plunged back to the rooftop. It slammed heavily on to its surface and jumped straight at Mel. But this time, the rogue was ready for it.

  As it slashed at her, Mel feinted to the right and then jumped left. She jumped high and stabbed straight down at the daemon.

  At the same time, Annia came in from the monster's rear and thrust her razor-thin stilettos at the back of the daemon's head.

  Both rogues' attacks connected at the same time and the creature collapsed with a scream of pure agony. Its body convulsed violently and threw Mel and Annia back several feet. They crouched down, ready to attack again and then stared in disbelief as the daemon's form seemed to fold in upon itself.

  With a final wail of despair, the black body dissolved and disappeared, leaving behind a dark mist that quickly faded away.

  Mel stood up straight and sheathed her weapons. She pulled back her hood and stared at Annia as the older rogue did the same.

  “Well, that was...interesting,” Annia said.

  She was breathing rapidly but she was as calm as ever.

  “You're wounded, by the way,” she added with a sharp glance at Mel's face.

  “I am?”

  Mel touched her face and looked at the tips of her gloved fingers. There was a smear of red on them and she felt a sharp stab of pain across the bridge of her nose.

  “Is it bad?” she asked Annia. “I can't tell.”

  The older woman pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to Mel, who accepted it gratefully.

  “Well, it will end up being an interesting scar,” Annia told her with a smile. “I suppose one of those damned icicles slashed you across the nose. It cut down diagonally, but it doesn't look too deep. Those shallow wounds always bleed the most. You'll be fine.”

  Mel nodded as she put the handkerchief on her nose and applied pressure.

  “As long as I still have a nose, I don't care about scars,” she told Annia. “So, now what?”

  “Larin, can you hear me?” the older rogue called out, looking upwards.

  “I hear you, my friend,” the mage's voice replied quickly.

  “How is everyone doing?”

  “Dhara and Fosk eliminated their target very quickly,” he told them. “That sickle of hers is horribly efficient.”

  “That it is,” Annia said, glancing at Mel, who smiled. “What about Jassim and Tukk?”

  “They were successful as well, but Tukk was wounded. Rather badly, by the looks of it. Jassim is trying to help him down from the roof, but she is having a hard time of it. With your permission, I will Gate them both back here. Ursilla is waiting to care for him.”

  “Please do that. Mel and I are on our way back now.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Let's get out of here,” Annia said urgently. “I want to know what went wrong.”

  Both rogues raced across the roof and climbed down to the ground. Annia ran ahead and Mel followed her closely. The satisfaction she had felt from defeating the daemon had disappeared at the news that a fellow rogue had been injured. She could only hope that he would be okay.

  When Annia and Mel returned to the guild-house, they were told that Tukk had been carried to his own quarters and that Ursilla was treating him. They were also informed that the cleric had asked not to be disturbed while she worked and so the rogues went back to Annia's office.

  Inside, Larin was waiting along with the other three who had assaulted the daemons. The rogues had removed their head coverings and were sitting down. All had mugs of ale in their hands.

  “Well done, everyone,” Annia told them as she entered the room. “Well done indeed. Three daemons downed in the space of a few minutes? Not too shabby, I'd say.”

  “Except for us,” Jassim muttered, scowling into her mug.

  She was young, with short hair dyed a shocking purple color and a dozen piercings in each ear. Her pale blue eyes rose reluctantly to catch Annia's.

  “That damned monster conjured a sword out of thin air,” she told the master rogue. “Tukk never even saw it before it hit him in the back. He still got the killing blow though,” she added with a grim smile.

  She was sitting next to Dhara on the sofa, with Fosk resting in a chair set to one side. Larin was seated in front of the fireplace, watching them all, his face blank of expression.

  Annia crossed the room and pulled up a chair to sit across from Jassim.

  “How's he doing?” she asked her.

  Jassim shrugged.

  “Dunno. Cleric said that the sword went deep, might have hit some vitals. She said that it's in the gods' hands now.”

  The young rogue made a sound of disgust.

  “Gods' hands? Superstitious nonsense, that. Yeah, I know that Ursilla means well, and I know that the gods are real. But what have they ever done for us rogues, eh? Nothing. They ignore us and we ignore them. Seems to work best for both sides. Somehow I doubt that they are gonna help Tukk now.”

  Mel looked over at Larin, who seemed to feel her gaze and smiled across the room at her. She walked over and took a seat opposite from him.

  “How bad did he look when you Gated them back?” she asked the mage under her breath.

  “Bad,” he replied softly. “There was a lot of blood. But Ursilla was waiting for him and had him carried to his quarters immediately. Despite what Jassim thinks, the gods may well smile on him this day, after you all destroyed three of their enemies.”

  Mel nodded thoughtfully.

  “I was thinking the same thing. I guess we'll see soon enough.”

  She dabbed at her nose with the bloody handkerchief and saw no new stains. The wound seemed to have stopped bleeding.

  “You're hurt?” Larin asked her as he leaned forward to look at her face.

  Mel laughed and slipped the stained cloth into her pocket.

  “Just a scratch from that ice shower that the daemon conjured up. It's fine.”

  Annia had finished speaking with the others and the three rogues got up and headed for the door. Dhara looked over at Mel and flashed her a quick salute.

  “It was an honor sharing a mission with the daughter of Hallic Barston,” she told her with a smile.

  The others murmured their thanks as well and Mel grinned at the trio.

  “The honor was mine,” she replied. “Well done, all of you. We gave the prince and his witch a black eye today. They'll be more wary of the rogues guild after this.”

  “Good. We've been taken for granted fo
r far too long,” Dhara told her. “It's time we reminded the enemies of the empire that we are, first and foremost, patriots, and that we will fight for our people.”

  “Well said.”

  The three rogues left the office and Annia carried her chair back over to set it in front of the fireplace near the others.

  “I guess that we can only wait for Ursilla to finish her work now,” she told Larin and Mel as she sat down with a sigh. “Damn it, I was hoping for a clean mission with no injuries. If Tukk dies, it will be on my shoulders.”

  “When it comes to the servants of Darkness, unpredictable things can happen,” Larin said. “Don't blame yourself, Annia. When was the last time your people fought against evil magics, hmm? Not for millennia. Frankly, I was relieved that only one of you was badly wounded.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Mel said dryly.

  The mage chuckled.

  “I do have confidence in all of you,” he assured them. “But even we mages are still learning what we can do in this new age. We certainly can't be sure of the powers of the dark gods and their servants. That will take time to discover.”

  “Time that we may not have,” Annia told him. “For Cindra to have so brazenly summoned daemons to spy on us probably means that she is feeling confident in her power. And you've told us, Larin, that she has a great deal of that. With your aid, we were able to fight back against her here in Cindercore, but what about the other guild-houses across the empire? Are they being watched? Are they at risk of being attacked? You are only one person, my friend, and you can't be everywhere at once.”

  Larin nodded slowly. He looked over at the dark mirror still standing in the middle of the room.

  “I wonder,” he muttered.

  Mel leaned forward in her seat.

  “You wonder what?” she asked him.

  “There are ten major cities in the empire. In addition to them, there are another handful of large towns. And then there are a scattering of smaller towns and villages here and there in between.”