by A. M. Deese
She seemed disappointed but accepted his answer. She no longer needed to, but she remained close to him. He liked that.
He didn’t like being back in the dungeons. He’d forgotten how awful the smell was. The rusty water and filth of those that lived above dripped around them. Unlike the halls above, the dungeon was constructed of heavy stone. Without Jura’s guidance, he would have been utterly lost.
“How do you keep all these turns straight?” he asked as she once again pulled him opposite of the direction he’d been headed.
“It’s a direct copy of the palace halls. In a way, I grew up down here,” she answered, taking another sharp turn. “And when I forget, I pick one at random.”
He sincerely hoped she was joking. Torches were scarce in the dungeon, making the halls dark and foreboding. There wasn’t enough firelight for him to bend light around them, so it was a good thing the dungeon halls were deserted.
Probably because of the frequent executions, the dungeon held few occupants. Each prisoner was locked in a stone room. There wasn’t a need for more than one or two guards at a time. Much like their last time in the dungeon halls together, Jura was intense and withdrawn, lost in her own thoughts. They walked in comfortable silence until she grabbed his arm. He looked down at her to find her raise a finger to her lips.
“Guard,” she called out, stepping toward the torchlight.
He wished she had waited before making their presence known. There was enough torch light here that he could have bent it around them. He wasn’t surprised though, all women were impatient.
The dozing guard jumped in his skin and, embarrassed, bowed low in front of her. “My lady First, a thousand apologies. I wasn’t expecting any members of the council.”
“So, in the absence of a council member you are lax in your duties?”
“No, of course not. I was just…that is to say—”
“Please, save your excuses. I’ll let your shoddy guard skills slide if you’ll give me privacy.”
“My lady?”
“I need to speak with former councilman Dahr. Alone.”
The guard anxiously wrung his hands. “I can’t have anyone disappearing, my lady. His Greatness specified that Dahr was to remain locked up in his cell until his execution.”
“I see. So, you’re questioning my authority?”
The guard paled further. “Never, my lady the First. Err, your Greatness. That is…it’s just, the last time you were in here—”
Tylak groaned, this bumbling idiot would never be convinced. He stepped up beside the man and clocked him soundly in the head. He fell in a crumpled heap to the floor at their feet. Tylak grinned at Jura.
“Why’d you do that?” Her voice was annoyed.
Damn. He thought she’d be pleased. Flaming women. There was just no pleasing them.
He shrugged. “It was faster.” He held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “But don’t worry. I respect your authority.”
She laughed and he smiled, enjoying the sound of it. He knelt down beside the fallen guard, rummaging in the man’s pockets for his keys to the cell. Triumphant, he stood and tossed the keys toward her outstretched hand.
They fell on the floor.
He choked back a laugh and bent to retrieve them, careful to place them in her hand.
“I’m a terrible catch.” She took the keys, turning away from him.
“Oh, you aren’t so bad,” he heard himself say. Great, now he was outwardly flirting with her. She didn’t seem to notice as she concentrated on finding the correct key for the locked cell.
“My lady the First? Is that you?” A man, presumably the councilman they’d come for, came to the door of the cell. He stared at them in wonder. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to help you escape,” she mumbled under her breath and tried another key.
Tylak swore that she was mumbling curses.
“Thank you, thank you! I didn’t do it, you know. I didn’t poison the Third.”
“That’s good to know,” Tylak quipped coming forward. “If you’d confessed, she’d probably leave you in there.”
“Got it.” The key turned in the lock with a loud click. Jura stepped back, a satisfied smile on her face and the councilman swung the door open.
He fell to his knees in gratitude, kissing at the bottom of Jura’s robe.
“Really, it’s nothing. Please, rise. We have to get you out of the city.” She looked at Tylak, embarrassed.
Tylak stretched out his hand to help the man up. He took it with trembling fingers, and Tylak hauled the man up to his feet. When his face met Tylak’s, he turned pale white and pulled his hand away, pointing a finger at him in wonder.
“You…”
Great, the man recognized him as the fire stealing convict. “Don’t worry, I’m harmless. Seems like Jura makes a habit of setting prisoners free.”
“But…How are you here? And in this form? I thought Beshar had you. I tried to set you free. I tried to go back for you.” His eyes were wild and he clutched at Tylak’s chest. “Is it the stone? Is that what set you free? I looked for it. I wanted to help you, Sykk. I wa—”
The councilman fell to his knees, clutching at his chest. It took Tylak several moments before he registered that the man had been stabbed. A dagger protruded from his chest and he choked as blood gurgled in his throat. The man had said Sykk. He’d said his brother’s name! He dropped to his knees beside the councilman, shaking his shoulders.
“How do you know my brother? How do you know Sykk?”
“I’m s-sorry Sykk…” He coughed up more blood. “I nev….” His eyes closed. No. Burn it all, no! He’d been ready to leave town. He’d given up on finding his brother. How could this be happening?
He looked around wildly, searching for the source of the dagger and found himself looking into the smiling face of a Shadow Dancer.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
JURA
It was all happening so fast. One minute, she was standing there smiling and laughing to herself over Dahr’s gratitude. The councilman was babbling, clutching at Tylak’s chest and speaking so quickly that his words tumbled over one another. She couldn’t understand what he said. Then, she’d watched as a dagger plunged into his chest. She looked up to see five masked men dressed in the dark clothing of Shadow Dancers come around the corner. Had they been followed? What were they doing here? And why had they killed Dahr? Had they even meant to kill Dahr or had the councilman just gotten in the way?
All too fast, the men had her and Tylak surrounded. Tylak knelt beside Dahr. He screamed and tried to staunch the steady flow of blood pumping out of the man’s chest. The Shadow Dancers moved closer. They weren’t here to talk. Each of the men held a long, wicked dagger similar to Tylak’s.
Wildly, she whirled in a circle, trying to take it all in. They were in serious danger. They were going to die. It was happening here and now, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was too fast.
Time slowed down.
She felt her heartbeat, slow and steady in her chest, as one of the Dancers reached for her. She easily sidestepped his grasp. Why was he moving so slowly? She was grateful, because it allowed her to turn her attention to the next. He came at her from behind. She saw him coming, just as slowly as the first. She ducked low, causing the man to grasp at nothing but air. She came up at the man’s side, kicking her leg out like Akkim had taught her, hitting his knee. He cried out in pain. When he fell low, she kicked again, hitting him square in the chest. He fell all too easily.
Another man lunged at her from her right. She turned to her left knowing that her action would cause the man to run headfirst into the stone wall behind her. She watched him fall to the ground with the lazy descent of a falling feather. She turned back toward the first man who was poised and ready to throw his dagger at her. Why was he taking so long to aim? She watched him take aim for several heartbeats. Watched him slowly release the dagger toward her. Saw the dagger would hit her in th
e heart if she didn’t move. She fell to the ground, sweeping her leg out as she did so, and knocked another Dancer’s legs out from under him. She twirled around as another Dancer threw yet another dagger, this one coming for her face. It was easy to grab as it floated toward her. She caught it in the air and plunged it into the man’s chest. The first Dancer, the one that had too slowly thrown his dagger, stared at her for several moments, his face frozen in shock. While he wasn’t moving, she rushed at him, throwing all of her weight low at his legs and tackling him to the ground. He lay still. She leapt back to her feet and pivoted tight on her heel to avoid getting punched by another Dancer. The Dancer’s movements were sluggish and heavy, and she easily dodged his blows. The man growled, clearly frustrated that his fist connected with nothing but air. Jura wondered how it was that everyone appeared so stagnant.
Tylak had finally found his feet and was locked in battle with a Dancer. Their movements also seemed slow. Jura watched as Tylak swung a lethargic arm toward the man’s face, his skin pushed back as Tylak made contact. Another Dancer was coming for her. She could feel him behind her. She rolled sideways, easily dodging yet another dagger thrown at her. She picked up the dagger and held it to the man’s face, breathing hard.
Tylak slowly walked toward her. Why were his movements so unhurried?
“How.” The word was long and drawn out. Why was he moving so slowly? “Are.” The registry of his voice was low. “You.” He took another step, and she marveled at the way each fiber of hair on his head seemed to move in deliberate synchronization with him.
“Doing this?” He suddenly sounded normal. He closed the distance between them at a normal pace.
“What’s happening,” she demanded. Had he done something? It was as if Tylak had slowed down time around her. How was he able to do such a thing?
“That’s what I was going to ask you. How did you learn to fight like that?” He was staring at her, eyes wide and confused.
“Fight like…I didn’t…I…” She looked around dazed, realizing that four of the Dancers lay still. Were they dead? The fifth Dancer lay beside her, she still held a dagger pressed to his throat. She blinked up at Tylak in wonder.
Jura was going to be sick.
“Okay, take it easy.” Tylak knelt beside her, peeling her fingers from the dagger one by one. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Deep breaths now, everything is fine.”
She sat down heavily, grateful that the stone floor felt so cool against her thin clothing. Her skin was burning, and she struggled to catch her breath.
Tylak held the dagger up to the Dancer’s throat. The man stared at them with hatred in his eyes.
“What are you waiting for? Go ahead. Kill me.” The Dancer didn’t struggle under Tylak’s blade. If anything, he pressed himself closer to it, causing a tiny drop of blood to form under his chin.
Tylak held the blade steady. “Not without answers.”
“You think I’ll talk?” The Shadow Dancer laughed. “You’re more foolish than I thought.”
“The councilman. Why did you kill him? Was it because of what he was saying? Why don’t you want me to find my brother?”
The man said nothing, and Tylak moved with lightning speed, slicing off one of the Dancer’s ears. The man screamed in pain.
Jura swallowed down the rush of bile. Tylak just sliced off that man’s ear. He cut off his ear. The man had no ear! She panted short, shallow breaths in an effort to control her nausea.
“Why did you kill the councilman?” Tylak asked.
The man whimpered and Tylak moved the dagger to his other ear.
“No, please no,” the man shouted, his voice pleading and irregularly pitched.
“Tell me,” Tylak growled.
“It wasn’t meant for the councilman. Jo has always had bad aim. We were meant to kill her. Kill the girl and whoever gets in the way.”
“The councilman knew about my brother. How do you explain that?” Tylak pressed the blade further, drawing blood from the man’s still intact ear.
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He sniffled. “I didn’t even know you would be with her. We were told to watch her. That she might come down to the dungeons. We waited in the halls. When we saw you come down, we attacked. We don’t ask questions. The money was offered, so we took it. It was supposed to be easy. She’s just a stupid girl.”
“Why would the Prince of Shadows want Jura dead? Was it because of their deal?”
“It wasn’t the Prince.” The dancer moaned, squinting up at them through the blood that flowed into his eyes.
“Who is she?” He turned toward Jura, his eyes wild and his face covered in blood. “How did you do that? Move so fast? Who are you?”
She stared back at him, trembling. Assassins. The chain master had hired assassins.
“If it wasn’t the Prince, then who sent you?” Tylak demanded.
The man began trembling violently. Blood red foam poured out of his mouth, and his eyes bulged. The shaking stopped. The man fell limp in Tylak’s arms.
Tylak laid the man down and pulled Jura into his arms. She fell into them, sobbing. “The other men…”
“Shh, it’s alright. They’re all gone.”
“But the men—-”
“Shh…they’re dead. You’re safe now.
“I killed them, didn’t I?”
“Well, I got one. And this one killed himself. Poison, to keep from talking. I think I should get the credit though. So officially, I got two.”
His joke didn’t make her feel better. She moaned and buried her face in his chest, feeling the hot tears flow down her face. He held her for several minutes, rubbing his large hand down the length of her back until her sobbing quieted down to sniffles.
“We need to get you out of the palace. It’s not safe.”
“No.”
“Jura, you can’t stay here. This person isn’t going to stop. They want you dead.”
“I said no.” She pushed against his chest and stared up at him. “If I leave now, I’ll be leaving everyone in danger. My father, Amira, everyone. I have to stay. I have to find out who’s responsible. The Republic has to be warned.”
“All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll take you back to your rooms. But I don’t want you going anywhere without your bodyguards until we find out who’s responsible. And I’m staying with you.”
She nodded, suddenly feeling tired. She’d wished she’d just taken a nap after all. Maybe then Dahr would still be alive.
“How did you do it?” she asked him as the two made their way back to the upper halls of the palace.
“Do what?” He still had his arm draped over her shoulders. She snuggled closer, enjoying the way he made her feel safe.
“How did you slow down time for me so I could fight? And if that’s something all Shadow Dancers could do, how come they didn’t do it too?”
“Jura, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stopped walking and turned her around so that she faced him. He frowned down at her. “I don’t know what happened back there, how you managed to fight like you did, but you did that all on your own.”
Chapter Forty
ASH
“I wish I could take you there, Kay, I really do. But didn’t you say your parents were gone? I know you can’t easily forget the life you left behind, but you have to accept the fact that your old life is in your past. This is your home now.” Ash looked to Kindle. She translated the words to Drakori, her voice low and reasoning as she reached out a comforting hand to the child.
“I want to go home,” Kay repeated, her chin lifted stubbornly and Ash sighed. How could he reason with a child?
“I know. Why don’t you two come with me to the sparring arena? I bet Kay would enjoy it. And you both could use some fresh air.” Kindle’s voice dripped with optimism, and Ash felt himself warming to the idea. It would be nice to get out of his tiny room.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Kay, get your boots on.” Despite the fact that she
wasn’t truly a cadet, Ash had outfitted her as one, partly because he had no access to children’s clothing and partly because he wanted her to keep up appearances in case Beshar decided to make another unannounced visit. Though the councilman had said he wouldn’t be back for a week’s time, Ash knew better than to trust the word of one of the Thirteen.
He’d spoken the words in the language of the Republic, but Kay sullenly rose and begun to tug on her boots, proving once again that she was quick to learn. Flames, but it was such a shame she wasn’t gifted.
Once Kay had slid on her boots, the trio made their way out to the sands of the practice field. The twin fields were already full. The cadets working lines in one while the Dancers sparred with each other in the other. As they neared the field for the Dancers, Kindle began to bounce in excitement. Ash grinned, he remembered the feeling well. Outside of the days spent in the actual arena, there was nothing better than testing out your strengths and skills against your fellow Dancers.
Kindle mumbled several phrases to Kay, bringing a smile to the girl’s face. Ash was once again grateful that Kindle spoke her language. He’d be lost without her assistance.
Sending a wink his way, Kindle trotted out into the field.
“She’s sparring against Flint today,” Ash said. Kay looked up at him with her wide blue eyes. She couldn’t understand him he knew, but he continued anyway, feeling that it couldn’t hurt. “Flint’s all right as far as Dancers go. It’s his third season in the arena, so he’s made it farther than half of us anyway.” He grinned. Kay continued to watch him. “He’s not as good as I was of course, but I was a special case. In any case, Flint manages to hold his own.”
Kindle adjusted her leather blade cover at the tip of her assegai. Unlike cadets who used training poles, the Dancers in the sparring field tended to use their actual assegai during sparring practice. It was best to simulate an arena fight as closely as possible. That way there were no surprises in the actual arena. The bladed tips of the assegai were covered with a leather pouch that dulled the blade from cutting but still left it capable to hurt an opponent something fierce.
