Lord Sha was in a foul mood that day, as they finally made ready their preparations to leave High Raena. From here they would sail for Sheld, then on to Noress-That-Was to report of their success to the Three Matriarchs. Sha—who had grown more bitter and disparaging as their journey into Radregar had progressed—would oft complain of his posting with them and curse his competing spymaster, Erril, who had stolen all the favour of the Matriarchs.
Today, however, Farek’s travelling comrade sneered over the breakfast porridge and commented that the Matriarchs would not approve of his pairing with Miss Roek. No, Lord Sha reminded Farek, he was to wed a Lady of Lo Mallago as had been agreed.
Enora had uncomfortably excused herself, while Farek had scowled at Lord Sha and had told him in no unclear words to mind his own business. Farek had not forgotten what agreements he had made, but a peaceful transition of government in Lo Mallago was now many years off. If Enora and he were still sharing a bed after the war, then the agreements could be abridged.
Now, a few hours after the incident, Lord Sha walked smugly behind Farek. Their surrounding guards parted the bustling streets of the Joyous King’s city as they headed toward the harbour and the Sea’s Sword. The jostling crowd grew denser and noisier until its cacophony came to a head in the form of a cheering audience. Ahead, obstructing the street, some two hundred had packed to watch performers recite their lines on a tavern’s front deck. Furthermore, a tall covered wagon had been parked the long way across the avenue, to provide a partition for the audience.
“We’d best cut around,” called Sievus, from the head of their escort.
“What?” Farek shouted back.
Sievus raised his voice, “We’d best cut through here!” Though Sievus had formed the plan, Ayvim was now leading the way toward an alleyway. Farek, Lord Sha, and Ambassador Tolia followed with their servants and guards. Enora walked just ahead of Farek when the crowds oppressed them from the sides.
“Through here,” Ralla waved, letting half of the group pass ahead of her and into the dim passage. The roofs of the adjacent buildings nearly met overhead. From here, they would bridge to the next street and follow it toward the harbour instead.
Just as Farek, Enora, and the guards at the front of their procession reached the end of the alley, an armed man strode into their way. He was followed by four more. Others filed out behind them, leaning naked blades against their shoulders or leaning on hefty clubs. “Just a moment,” said the man in the front of the group, raising the remnants of his left eyebrow—webbed with scars. “Just hold up.”
The procession came to a stop with the rasping sound of metal leaving leather. Farek glanced behind them as half of his guards had done. A similar group of antagonists—weapons at the ready—were advancing down the alley from the street they had just left.
Lord Sha grabbed Farek’s collar fearfully and stammered, “I-I knew it—you and I are never getting back to Var Nordos.”
Farek shoved Sha back toward the alley wall. “What do you mean? What do you know?” he demanded, shaking the terrified spymaster with his free hand. He had already drawn the old family sword that he wore at his belt.
“Come on friends,” said the scarred-brow man, “lower your weapons and we’ll get this over quick.”
When no one lowered their weapons, the man grunted, “Then we’ll do it slow,” and took a swing at Ayvim. Glancing metal rang out, and the gang that had surrounded them began to close in. It had been months since Farek’s last fight, but the years of sparring as a boy and young man were deeply engrained in him. He out-danced his first assailant with ease, ensuring that Enora, the Ambassador, and the spineless spy were protected behind him and his guards.
By his second kill, Farek had grown angry. How many times must he endure attacks, assassins, and undeclared enemies? And how dare Sha keep something from him that concerned the safety of their entire party? He yanked his blade free of a braided Raderan man, splattering blood across the muddy cobblestones of the old alley.
Before a third gangster engaged him, Farek glimpsed the surrounding enemies and his loyal defenders. A few of his comrades had minor gashes or favoured one arm or leg over the other. But several of their opponents littered the ground and none of their own had fallen yet. By the time Farek managed to get his sword past his attacker’s guard, one of Sha’s guards had fallen.
Then—like a ray of light—Ralla and Sievus cut down two more of the enemies and stumbled into the street. “Follow through there!” shouted Matek, bodily pushing Lord Sha toward the opening. Farek and Diaren ushered Enora and Lady Tolia forward, while the circle of loyal guards constricted their defence to find the exit.
Ayvim was yanked out of the ring by one of the attackers—slammed against the wall and pinned. Farek knocked aside his own assailant and charged forward. With his shoulder, he knocked Ayvim’s attacker off his loyal guard and slashed him open with an uppercut. As he turned to check on Ayvim, Farek found another crook charging him with his blade raised. They collided with the wall and Farek felt a sharp prick below his shoulder.
Matek bellowed, “Farek—no!” With Diaren in tow, they tried to reach Farek’s attacker, but the opening into the street was closing quickly and there were still so many enemies.
When the man that had pinned Farek stepped back from him, Farek realized how badly he had been hit. The pain seemed oddly muted, but blood was soaking his shirt and he found himself unable to move more than a teetering step forward. Then the man pulled out the blade that transfixed Farek and a ring of shadows seemed to seize Farek’s vision. He sagged back against the wall once more with a haggard cough. Blood splattered his beard.
“No,” Matek cried, once more. Diaren dragged him into the street with the rest of the guards. Their master was as good as dead and there were charges still in need of their protection.
Farek’s slump reached the ground and his head hung forward. The burning hole below his collar bone was growing, filling his torso with a fire that soon crawled up into his brain and took the world away.