"A Soul in the Darkness" by James K Bowers

     “But, Your Excellency, this can’t be dismissed as nothing,” blurted the incredulous Captain of the Triad Guard.  “The wretched creature is crafty and unpredictable.  The only thing he has consistently shown is that he is dangerous beyond the wildest flights of imagination.”
     “He is just a man, Captain Ballaras.  He will bleed like any other.”  The elf’s calm countenance did not waver, but Lord Threngellian of the East left no doubt about his intentions.  “He has made a mockery of Silva’s justice and will pay for that indiscretion.  You will see to it, Captain.”
     “It isn’t a question of that, my lord.  It is a question of your very life.”  Ballaras held the black arrow up so the tiny silver scorpion on its shaft gleamed in the light.  “This did not appear in the uppermost chamber of East Tower yesterday by accident.  It is a warning, and one that should not be taken lightly-one that we all should take care to understand.”
     “I do understand,” said the elf, his hands gripping the arms of the chair.  His rage was barely contained.  Anger flashed in the depths of his silver-blue eyes and threatened to scorch his very words.  “That is why you must ensure he is no longer able to carry out such threats.  Must I remind you that the Triad’s faith in your abilities has been stretched to the limits over the past months?  The public disaster at the gallows was unforgivable and if not for my support, you would surely have found yourself dancing at the end of that rope.  The Lords of the North and South are not as forgiving as I.”  The Lord of the East allowed that thought to hang in the air between them for a moment, then let out an exasperated sigh to dismiss it.  “I cannot fathom why you have insisted on further discussion of this matter.  It has already been settled, Captain.”
     “As you have commanded, so I obey, Lord Threngellian.”  Captain Ballaras bowed with a mix of respectful duty and resignation.

---

     “Borgath’s beard!” Falcon exclaimed under her breath as she peered from the ruins of Gethy’s lair.  She pulled her eyes from the small figure leading a dark horse.  Scorpion slept on floor by her feet and she reached to shake him awake.  Fool, she thought, perfect way to get yourself killed.  She glanced back to the road to see them slow and stop in the shade of the old tree by Gethy’s broken gate.  Falcon stepped back a step, then picked up her bow to poke the slumbering assassin.  The result was both expected and unexpected.  Falcon found herself without a bow and almost failed to notice the hissing sound of a dagger leaving its sheath.  Perhaps it was only her imagination, but it seemed Scorpion’s response was not as crisp as she had anticipated.  Could time be catching up with Silva’s living legend?
     Falcon pointed in the direction of the road and Scorpion wasted no time finding out what was so important.  Outside by the gate was a boy in fine but tattered clothing: a faded rose-colored shirt tailored to fit comfortably loose, leather riding chaps over burnt orange leggings so dreadfully worn they could hardly be described as clothing, and a weathered, wide-brimmed hat that sported a single badly damaged plume.  The unfortunate feather looked as if it might have been plucked from a buzzard blasted from the air by wizard’s lightning.  He watched the dark-haired youth and his horse for a moment then commented, “So?  His fancy clothes are a bit ripped and ragged.  Doesn’t surprise me after yesterday’s riots and mayhem.”
     “No, Scorpion, look again.  His clothes aren’t rags.  That’s Jank’s daughter.”
     “Jaesy?”  With that, he did look again.  “Oh…well, that’s something.”
     “I’m going out to talk to her.”
     “You sure about this, Falcon?”  But it was too late; Falcon was already making good her promise.
     At Falcon’s sudden appearance from the shambles of the old witch’s cottage, Jaesy leapt on the horse and dug her heels into its side.
     “Wait!” shouted Falcon.  “Jaesy!  Wait!”  The young girl reined in sharply when she heard her name.  Her mount snorted in surprise and reared slightly before coming to a full halt.  The horse shook its head and raised puffs of dust as it stamped at the dry roadway.
     Jaesy kneed the horse into a tight turn, bringing it briskly back to the shade tree.  She smiled and swung down from the animal as they neared the gate.  She used a name for Falcon that no one else ever dared.  Jank Threefinger’s daughter used a name for Falcon that she had used ever since she was able to talk.  “Auntie Bird,” she said, “you can’t imagine how good it is to see a friendly face!”  The girl’s voice had an uneasy edge to it as she greeted her longtime acquaintance.
     Falcon smiled back and opened her arms for the inevitable hug.  Jaesy wasn’t really her niece, but Falcon had often thought how wonderful that might have been were it true. 

---

     The air within the barracks was stifling.  Captain Ballaras paced in front of the gathered guardsmen, his heels striking the rough stone floor with measured precision.  The guardsmen might have been wooden carvings for as much as they moved.  “You were fools.  Gullible fools!  You took orders from a mad but resourceful rogue and, in doing so, brought shame upon yourselves, your uniform, your Captain, and, yes… even the Triad itself.  The citizenry of Silva now believes you are nothing but a pack of overpaid incompetents.  And, perhaps, so do I.”  The officer paced a while longer before continuing.
     “This ‘Scorpion’ and all of his associates WILL be found.  And all of you will be assigned additional duty hours until that happens.”  Ballaras’ eyes swept over the men.  The late morning heat and still air had sweat pouring off the guardsmen and their Captain’s agitated tirade only made their discomfort more acute.  “You will turn this city inside out and find those responsible for yesterday’s debacle.”
Someone in the second rank coughed.  Captain Ballaras ignored it.  “You will search down filthy alleyways.  You will scour the wharf more thoroughly than vacationing bilge rats.  You will investigate every dark corner of the catacombs, every wine cellar, every attic and garret, every temple basement, every brothel, every guildhouse.  You will find and arrest this man… or bring me his corpse… and you will do it swiftly.  Am I understood?”
     The chorused “YES, SIR!” threatened to shake the shingles from the roof.
     “Good,” said Ballaras.
     “Sir?” came a weak and reluctant query from someone in the third rank.
     “Speak up, guardsman.”
     “Sir… uh… we don’t know what he looks like, sir.”

---

     “Auntie Bird, it is so good to know you’re safe.  And you, too, Scorpion.”  Jaesy and the two assassins ate a meager meal of dry bread and a few small pieces of cheese on a makeshift table with makeshift chairs.  Gethy’s furniture, rough and poorly made even when new, had long ago succumbed to the elements.  They washed the desiccated fare down with water from skins.  “The Triad will be merciless.  You know you can’t stay here.”
     “Don’t worry over us, Jaesy.  We can take care of ourselves,” Falcon soothed.
     “I know.  But they won’t rest until you both have your day on the gallows,” warned the young woman.  “I lost track of my father last night.  I can only hope he made it down to the ships.  He knows a good many sea captains-and worse---and if he made it onto one of the ships that set sail with the sunrise…”
     Falcon smiled compassionately and offered, “I’m sure he did, Jaesy.”
     “It’s only that I worry.  Mother has been gone for years.  I may have lost father last night.  I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, too, Auntie Bird.  You’ve been the closest thing to having a mother anyone could ever hope for.”
     Scorpion rose and walked to the window. 
     “We’re safe here, Jaesy,” promised Falcon.  “For a while, they’ll be far too busy searching the city to bother with the outlying countryside.”
     “Yes, we may be safe enough here-even for a day or two,” added Scorpion.  “But she’s right, Falcon.  When Ballaras decides we aren’t in the city anymore, we had better be somewhere other than here.  I’ve got a place or two in mind and we ought to move to one of them just before dawn tomorrow.  No one will be looking for you, Jaesy, but on the other hand, if the guard ever learns of your connections, they’ll do more than invite you to tea.  I know you’re tough as tanned jackalbeast hide-any offspring of Jank Threefinger would have to be-but those fiends in the Triad dungeons can make a mute monk sing.  You’ll have to decide if you’ll be living the life of the hunted with me or striking out to find your father in some distant port.”
     Jaesy knew any ordinary soul would not have been offered such a choice.  Were it not for her bloodline, she knew the only option would have been a third, less desirable, and unquestionably permanent solution.
     “Falcon, I expect you’ll have the same decision to make now that Jaesy is here.  I’ll leave the two of you to talk things over for a while.”

---

     “So, tell me, Sergeant, who is this wretch?”  Captain Ballaras sat at the cluttered table and eyed them both with equal indifference.  The sergeant exuded military precision even though his uniform still carried smears of blood and ash from the Triad’s night of retribution.  The peasant stood in tattered, dirt-smudged clothes, wide-eyed but silent in the presence of the much-feared symbol of the Triad’s might.
     “No one of consequence, sir, but he does claim to have information.” 
     “And what is it he seeks in return for this information?” inquired the captain, knowing that the parasites inhabiting Silva always wanted something for nothing.  But, perhaps this time it would be more than nothing.  With portions of the city smoldering, some still burning, fear of the Triad would flush out a few desperate souls.  Some would prove to be both desperate and useful.
     “He asks only for enough silver to restore his livelihood, sir.  He claims he is a street vendor who lost his cart and vegetables in last night’s chaos.”
     “Well, I suppose I can hear him out.  Bring that chair closer for him,” Ballaras commanded, pointing toward a chair by the wall.  “He’s been checked for weapons?”
     “Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied as he hurried to comply, 
     “Good.  Then you may wait outside the door while we speak, Sergeant.  If what he has to say is of any worth, you may also find something extra in your pay at month’s end.”
     The sergeant retreated from the room, closing the door.
     “Do you have a name, merchant?”
     “Pell, milord.  Until last night, a vendor in the low market.”
     “Yes.  You understand, Pell, that I can do nothing about your lost vegetables.  If your information is valuable enough, however, I may find it possible to do something about your cart.”
     “Yes, milord.  Thank you.”
     “Well?”
     “I am but a lowly peddler and it sometimes happens that I overhear things not meant for me.  You understand, milord, that this does not happen often.  Mostly I hear only marketplace prattle and useless rumor.  I want to believe I am a worthy citizen of Silva, and that is why I have come forward to share this information.  The cart and vegetables lost in the night of panic were my only possessions and again I thank you for your kindness, milord.”
     “I understand your gratitude, but I am a busy man, Pell.  Get to the point…”
     “Yes, milord.  Jank Threefinger.  You know of him?”
     “Yes.  Go on…”
     “Milord, he fled to the docks as the fires burned.  His fate I do not know, but…”  The peasant swallowed hard.
     “But what?” urged the Captain.
     “Well, milord, he has a daughter.”
     “I already know this,“ he said, recalling several half-fermented plans for using her as pawn, or bait, or bargaining chip.
     “But I know the road she took from Silva, and maybe even where she was going.”
     “Tell me,” Ballaras commanded.  “If we capture her, Pell, I’ll see you have more than enough silver to replace your cart.”

---

     The cottage doorway framed Scorpion’s silhouette, his forbidding black form eclipsing the brilliance of the afternoon sun.  “There are riders coming.  Six of them.  They’re wearing Triad colors.”
     “They have no reason to look here,” offered Falcon. “We can just wait for them to pass.”
     “Agreed.”  Scorpion nodded then shrugged.  “It hardly matters.  Where would we run to?”
     “Good question.  Tough to outrun six of ‘em, anyway.”
     Scorpion turned to Jank’s daughter.  “You just stay here in the shadows by the door, Jaesy.  And don’t make a sound.  They should be here in a few minutes and safely past in no time at all.”
     “Here, Scorpion,” said Falcon, handing his bow and quiver over to him.  She picked up her own and moved across the room.  “Let’s hope we don’t need them.”
     Jaesy huddled in the shadows.  Falcon and Scorpion became shadows themselves, each watching the road through ragged holes in the jumbled ruin of the cottage.  Time crept by as the trio waited in the silence and shadow.
     As expected, the troop approached.  They should have ridden by.  They should have, but they didn’t.
     Instead, the guardsmen came to a halt beneath the shade tree at the gate. “Dismount!” shouted the corporal.
     “Draze, stay with the horses.  Kellum, check this old hovel.  The rest of you, fill waterskins.  We’ve got a long day ahead.”
     Falcon shot Scorpion a look of concern.
      “Corporal, this is ol’ Gethy’s place… the witch… Shouldn’t we just get the water and leave the curse for someone else?” asked Kellum.
     “A tale to frighten children,” scoffed the corporal.  “Do as you’re ordered.”
     The trooper, obedient if yet unconvinced, turned reluctantly toward the cottage and drew his sword.  Satisfied, the corporal handed his horse’s reins to Draze and then, with the other guardsmen, headed toward the well that that had fallen into as much disrepair as the cottage.
     Kellum, meanwhile, waded through the tall grass and weeds that led to the dark doorway of the cottage.  Whether he saw signs that others were present was unclear, but he held his sword at the ready.  He was cautious as he stepped through the doorway and his eyes began to adjust to the dark interior.  Two arrows ended his life, the one through his throat silencing him forever.  He stood, staring blankly for a moment, then crumpled to the dirt floor with a muffled clatter of armor.
     “Kellum!  What are you doing?” came the shout from outside.
     “Rats!” called back Scorpion.  “There’s rats!”
     “Well leave ‘em alone and get on with it,” shouted the corporal.
     Scorpion glanced to the rubble and shadows where Jaesy was hidden.  Her eyes were wide, but she looked as if she was controlling her fear well enough.  He signaled for her to stay.  Then to Falcon he signed his plan to her.  She nodded, and then signaled to Jaesy to reinforce Scorpion’s instruction to her: stay.
     Scorpion and Falcon shifted quietly with the cottage.  The doorway was two strides away, but their field of vision through a crumbled windowframe gave them a clear shot at three of the four men at the well.  They drew back on their bowstrings and with a whispered, “Now!” from Falcon, two of the three guardsmen lurched backward, one shrieking in pain and fear before lapsing into shock, the other dead before he hit the ground.  The two assassins bolted through the open doorway.
     The corporal and a very young trooper were still looking at their fallen comrades as Scorpion drew his dagger and closed with them.  Falcon pulled her bowstring taut and loosed her second arrow.  The young trooper’s eyes left the dead men at his feet and focused on the shaft of an arrow that had suddenly sprouted from his chest.  He, too, fell, a look of disbelief still riveted on his face.
     The corporal, while taken by surprise, was also experienced.  His sword came free of its scabbard in a fluid arc and his stance shifted automatically as he faced the man with the short, woefully inadequate blade.  The corporal’s quick sidestep gave him some additional protection, placing Scorpion between him and the woman with the bow.  He waited for the man in black to make a move, not rash enough to take anything for granted with three of his men dead or dying.  Probably four, he corrected himself, remembering Kellum.
     The man lurched at him and the corporal twisted his swordpoint toward the movement, expecting to skewer the fool as he rushed in.  But the man was much more swift and agile than he had anticipated.  The man was a black blur as he spun.  To the corporal’s amazement, a screech of metal on metal tore the air as his sword was deflected upward.  Scorpion’s boot hit the corporal’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and sending him reeling backward.  He failed to regain his balance, taking one, then two steps, then realizing that-
     The corporal screamed a curse as he tripped and fell, backward and headfirst, over the crumbled low stones and into Gethy’s well.  Scorpion spun, the corporal no longer a threat.  One more.  Where was he?  The horses blocked his view.
     Falcon had a third arrow nocked and ready to release.  She cursed as she let it fly.
     The screams of pain were nearly simultaneous.
     Falcon fell to her knees, the arrow in her chest at an odd angle.  “Noooooo!”  screamed Scorpion, though It did not occur to him that he was.      Falcon’s eyes met his, pleading, and then a flurry of slow-motion events paraded past of him.
     Jaesy ran from the cottage shouting, “No, Auntie Bird! No!”
     Draze, the last guardsman, struggled onto his mount, blood soaking his left arm from the arrow in his shoulder.  Jaesy snatched up Falcon’s bow and one of the arrows spilled from her quiver and aimed it at the trooper as he spurred his horse.
     “No!” Scorpion shouted and slapped the bow from her hands, spoiling her shot.  The guardsman galloped back toward Silva.
     “Damn you, Scorpion!” shouted Jank’s daughter.
     Scorpion ignored her as he knelt down beside Falcon then lifted her into his arms.  There was blood.  Too much blood.
     Her eyes met Scorpion’s, this time no longer pleading.  Scorpion bent low to hear her words, then whispered something to her that Jaesy could not hear.  Blood ran from the corner of her mouth, marring the weak smile his words had brought to her lips.  Falcon closed her eyes and breathed a final shuddering breath.
     “Damn you, Scorpion!” shouted Jaesy, kicking at the assassin.  “Damn you!”
     He lowered Falcon’s body gently to the ground, and then stood and faced Jaesy.  “We will bury her here,” he said.  The young girl sobbed uncontrollably, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.  “She will be avenged.  His name is Draze.  He will look death in the eyes.  He will know I have come for him, and he will know fear before he dies.”  

---