wasn’t far off. The smoke whirled down the streets, its distortion good for the thieves, bad for the mercenaries. He heard sounds of combat from one home with a broken door, and he watched another group battle, four Hawks against two mercenaries. He let them be. There were too many fights for him to help them all. The graveman would be busy tomorrow, he thought grimly. Whatever didn’t burn would soon have its walls painted with blood.
A plume of smoke erupted to his left, accompanied by a deep explosion. His curiosity couldn’t take it. He turned, climbed onto a rooftop, and hurried that way. Whatever he was expecting to see, what he found was not it.
The area opened up to a fountain carved in the likeness of two women bathing each other, long broken and out of water. At least twenty men lay dead, half mercenaries, half thieves, their blood mixing together to stain the surrounding cobblestones red. A large group of thieves remained, Wolves judging by their colors. They faced off against only four, a strange four at that. Senke guarded one half of the fountain, parrying and blocking with his two flanged maces. On the other half fought a short man in platemail, a punch dagger in each hand. Delysia stood in the fountain behind Senke, her lovely red hair matted to her face by a cut across her forehead. She was taller than he remembered, and she wore the white robes of a priestess. His heartbeat raced faster, and he forced himself to move. While Delysia cast spells that bathed them with white light, the last of the four stood in the other side of the fountain with his hands surrounded by fire. He wore a yellow robe and a pointy yellow hat. The color reminded Haern of dandelions. He had red hair similar in color to Delysia’s, and a well-trimmed goatee.
Guy’s half off his rocker, the mercenary had said about Tarlak, their leader. Haern had a feeling that was him. Only the insane, or the extremely confident, would dare wear such an outfit.
This Tarlak swung his hands in a circle. Fire danced across his fingers, then streaked toward where a group of three hid behind an overturned wagon, trying to fire crossbow bolts from cover. The wagon exploded into shrapnel and embers. The short man seemed hard pressed fighting the one, but the wizard kept zapping thin bolts of blue lightning, knocking the thief back and keeping him from scoring a kill. Senke fought three at once, yet seemed to be doing better at protecting the two in the fountain. Having been on the receiving end of so many smacks to the head and kicks to the chest while training with him, Haern wasn’t surprised.
Decision made, he drew his swords and charged. It was Senke and Delysia he’d come to protect, so it was them he’d help. The wizard saw his approach and turned, magic shimmering on his hands.
“It’s Haern!” Senke shouted just as the lightning arced out, having seen his approach as well. Haern rolled, wishing he’d had far more training in dealing with spellcasters. The roll seemed to work, for he heard the ground behind him crackle and break from the impact. He kicked back to his feet and jumped, having closed enough distance to reach the first. The Wolf turned and tried to impale Haern with his sword. Having had enough of that nonsense only a few days before, Haern landed short, batting aside the thrust while still in the air. His opponent exposed, it was easy work looping his other sword around and cutting his throat.
“Sorry!” he heard the wizard shout.
Damn fool, Haern thought as he linked up with Senke, standing side to side as the Wolves closed in.
“Glad you could join us,” Senke said between breaths. Despite the smoothness of his parries and kills, he was clearly winded.
“I shouldn’t have to. What the Abyss are you doing out here?”
“Fight now, insult me later.”
As one they went on the offensive. It felt like old times, carelessly training in Thren’s safe house. But this time it wasn’t dummies they fought, nor did they wield wooden swords. This time their opponents bled. Haern struck both high and low, forcing the thief to make desperate parries with his daggers. The shorter weapons made his arms move more than Haern’s to keep up with the attacks, and Haern used that to put him more and more out of position. At last he feinted a wide slash,