Downshadow

TWENTY-FIVE

"Well met," Kalen said as he caught the nearest thief by the arm. The man turned and Kalen drove both daggers into his chest.

The thief stiffened, blinked rapidly several times, then fell with a choked gasp as Kalen-hands free from the blades he left in the scoundrel-caught the woman he carried.

No time. He set her aside, ripped the curved sword from the thief s belt, and ran forward.

Ten paces farther, two men carried a bulky noble lass in a green gown between them. They cursed and fumbled, pushing her back and forth. Finally, the smaller of the men-an ugly, warty dwarf-took her, and the freed thief-a half-ore-turned to face Kalen.

The brute bristled with metalnails that stood out from his skin like ghastly pierced rings or jewels. The half-ore hefted a stout buckler on his left arm and a length of barbed chain in his other hand, and opened his mouth to challenge.

Kalen didn't slow-he leaped to twice the half-ore's height in the air, driven by his boots. The brute looked up as Kalen hissed down toward him, sword plunging, deadly as a hawk.

The half-ore interposed his buckler between himself and the airborne knight. Kalen's thrust, backed by all his weight, shattered the stout wood-but snapped in two as well. The half-ore howled in pain as shards of wood flew into his face, putting more shrapnel in his flesh than before. The broken scimitar blade tumbled away.

The half-ore, infuriated, swung his chain at Kalen, who interposed his left arm. The chain enwrapped it greedily, barbs barely short of striking his helm. The slashing razors would have split his face open like a boiled egg. The barbs sank instead into his flesh, deep enough* that he could feel them prickle. The chain-wielder grinned and Kalen realized his misfortune.

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"Tymora-" Kalen managed, before the half-ore jerked the chain and slammed him against a building. Pain swept through his stunned Consciousness, and he sank down.

The half-ore wrenched him over and he flopped like a limp doll to the cobblestones. The impact ripped through him, but he was still alive and still conscious.

"Stlarning Watchman." He also growled a few Orcish words Kalen knew to be curses.

"Come!" shouted the dwarf, pausing near the half-ore and struggling to hold the kidnapped girl. "No time!"

"Wait," said the bruiser, and he reached down to seize Kalen's neck.

The noble girl, by chance, kicked the half-ore in the shoulder and his attention wavered.

It was just a heartbeat, but it was enough.

With a roar, Kalen rammed the jagged, shorn-off hilt of the thief's scimitar into one half-ore ankle. The creature howled in pain and faltered on his feet. As the brute teetered, Kalen wrenched the hilt upward and jammed it into the half-ore's groin. Black blood spurted forth and the creature gave a high-pitched squeal like a stuck pig.

Kalen rose, the half-ore's discarded chain hanging from his arm, and faced the dwarf thug who held the struggling girl. Kalen looked down at the chain, the barbs cutting into his arm. Without wincing, with barbs ripping out his flesh, Kalen unwrapped the chain.

This second thief looked somehow familiar.

"Wait!" he said, putting up his hands as though to surrender. "It's you! Shadowbane!"

Kalen hesitated. He recognized this one from Downshadow-this was the dwarf he'd let flee. Apparently, he hadn't learned aught.

The dwarf thrust his forearm forward, and a tiny arrow concealed in a handbow in his sleeve streaked through the air. Kalen batted it aside with the barbed chain.

Kalen leaped forward and split the dwarf's chin with a rising right hook. The thief slammed into the wall and Kalen caught him. With an expert twist of his wrist, he wrapped the blood-soaked chain around the dwarf s neck and pulled. The ugly man's eyes bugged, making his face even more hideous.

The noble girl had managed to free her hands and doff her hood and gag. "Thank-" She saw the strangling thief, saw the way Kalen spat and growled like a murderous wolf, and she froze, horror-stricken. "What-whar are you doing?"

Kalen ignored her. The dwarf fought for breath and Kalen pulled tighter on the chain.

The noble lass put her hands to her throat, found a scream, and split the night with her terror. Then she fled, shouting for aid.

Not all saviors are angels, Kalen thought. And not all killings are pretty-or quick.

The thief sputtered and slapped ar him impotently.

"Kalen," came Myrin's voice, whispering seemingly on the night's mists. She spoke softly, yet he could hear her as plainly as if she stood next to him.

Was this truly her voice, or his imagination? Did that matter?

Kalen released the chain, let the dwarf collapse retching to the ground, and ran.

The night had grown misty of a sudden, and Kalen knew magic was at work. The thieves were hiding their escape, trying to throw him off, but Myrin's voice led him.

He saw another kidnapper who carried a barefoot girl over his shoulder. Kalen outran him and dived, slamming into the man's back. Kalen rolled so the thief did not fall on him and hoped he had picked the right direction to catch the captive. Sure enough, she landed atop him, and wild silver-whire hair tumbled down.

He pulled off the girl's hood, and the shocked eyes of Talantress Roaringhorn stared into his. The magic that changed her skin black had failed, leaving her flesh very pale, but her hair was still long and whire. She managed to spit out her gag, and she blinked at him, confused.

Then a smile spread across her face. "My… my hero!"

Kalen growled in frustration and thrust her aside. Her captor had" risen and was plunging a rapier down at his chest. Kalen rolled away, then back against the blade, wrenching it out of the thief's hand.

He kicked the man's legs out from under him, toppling him to the ground. Kalen rose and put the man out with a kick to the jaw., i "Kalen!" came Myrin's cry-louder this time. Talantress hadn't seemed to hear it. Kalen turned toward the source of the sound and saw a greenish glow: magic.

Kalen seized the thief s fallen rapier. He coughed, opened his helm halfway to spit blood, then sealed his mask. He strode on.

"Wait!" Kneeling, Talantress caught his hand and held him back.

Calmly, Kalen snaked his hand around and unbuckled his gauntlet. It came free, and Talantress hit herself in the chest with it and fell on her overprivileged rump.

"Wait!" Talantress cried from the ground. "Come back right this breath!"

He continued his run, hobbling a bit more slowly after the punishment he'd sndured. Young Lady Roaringhorn got up and gave chase, but he paid her no mind. He plunged into the mists, following Myrin's voice and the green glow.

The fog swelled thicker than before, but Kalen pressed on. He was nearing the source, he realized, but he quickly lost his bearing and swam, blind. His body was aching, his lungs heaving, and his heart raced to put him down. He clutched his left arm, which was in agony. He felt as if the half-ore were sitting on his chest.

"Not yet, Eye of Justice," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Not yet."

He channeled healing into himself, praying that he had proven himself once more worthy, but no power came. He gritted his teeth and pressed on.

Kalen stumbled through an empty, gray-black world. Mist swirled around him.

"Myrin!" he choked. He felt that he would fall at any breath. "Kalen," came her voice, leading him forward. "Kalen…" He staggered ahead, stolen rapier ready for any attack, but found only mist.

"Show yourself!" he challenged. "Cowards!" As though in response, the mist parted, and Kalen saw a woman from whose cupped hands the mist flowed. A green glow suffused her fingers-magic. Beside her stood a thief who looked more terrified than anything else, and in his arms was a limp girl in a red dress.

"Something's countering my casting," the woman murmured in a deep, rasping voice that didn't match her slim body. She seemed an ordinary human woman, but the voice was that of a beast. "It's the girl. Somehow, even dazed, she's-"

"Then we stop her!" The thief drew a hooked dagger and raised it over Myrin.

"No, you fool!" the woman roared.

Kalen ran forward and stabbed the thief through the chest. Stunned, the man looked down at the blade, then at a panting, heaving Kalen. He toppled, loosing Myrin as he went.

Kalen dived to catch her. She weighed little in his arms and he cradled her tightly.

An arcane word, in a voice like a grinding gravestone, stole his attention. He looked up at the woman to see her gloved, clawlike hand reaching for his face. A finger touched his brow.

Power seized him-cruel power that sucked the life out of his limbs. Lightning arced through Kalen, lashing every strerch of bone and sinew, stealing the strength from his muscles. He fell ro his knees.

"Well," the woman said in her corpselike voice. "This is what happens, Sir Fool, when you cross wills with the most powerful wizard in Waterdeep."

She raised her hands and began to chant a spell that Kalen could only imagine would be his doom. Flames and shadow flickered around her hands, like the fires of the Nine Hells.

And so it ends, he thought.

His eyes blurred and he sank toward peaceful sleep. Myrin's eyes opened and blue lighr flooded the alley.