“On the count of three, I’ll kill you,” Thren said.
“Overconfident ass.”
Thren swayed side to side, as if waiting. Nigel lunged with the greater reach of his sword, hoping to catch him off guard. Instead, Thren smoothly parried it to the side.
“One,” he said, stepping forward with his left foot.
Nigel looped his sword around above his head and struck for Thren’s neck. The rogue stepped forward again, blocking it with his short sword.
“Two.”
His foot curled around Nigel’s. Their weight connected. Thren lunged forward, slamming his elbow into Nigel’s face. The mercenary captain went down. A short sword stabbed through the crease of his chainmail underneath his armpit and into his chest.
“Three.”
“Not dead yet,” Nigel said, his voice sounding wet.
Thren laughed.
“A worthy attitude,” he said as he kicked the blade from Nigel’s hand. “Would you care to work for me, or die like the rest of your men?”
Nigel chuckled even though his chest was on fire.
“Cut my damn head off already,” he said. “I ain’t going to eternity as a turncoat.”
Thren shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him either way. He pulled his sword out, raised its tip, and prepared to thrust into Nigel’s throat.
Nigel saw a great burst of white, so powerful his eyes ached. He thought he was dead, yet his ears continued to hear. Voices shouted, many voices, some of them panicked. He heard singing. As his vision returned, Thren was gone. He tried craning his neck to look, but his muscles seemed oddly tight. For some reason, he could still hear the serving girls sobbing. Unknown voices spoke in hushed tones from seemingly all directions.
A man stepped over him and looked into his eyes. His bald head was smooth and rounded, as were his large ears. His mouth was pulled into a tight frown.
“Hold still,” the man said. He put his hands through the armor and against the wound on his chest. Nigel coughed. The stranger wore white. A gold pendant hung from his neck.
“Madelyn?” Nigel asked.
“The noblewoman?” the stranger asked.
Nigel nodded weakly.
“She’s quite alright. Brave, too, considering what she had to do. Be quiet. I must say my prayers without interruption.”
The man closed his eyes and whispered words that Nigel could not understand. White light glowed, as if his skin were luminescent. The pain in Nigel’s chest dulled. When he coughed again, it was dry and healthy.
“Who are you?” Nigel asked as the stranger opened his eyes and stood.
“Calan, high priest of Ashhur,” he said as he offered the mercenary a hand. “And as of now, consider you and your charges under my protection.”
At some point he must have fallen asleep. Ethric remembered no dreams, but when his eyes snapped open he felt a distinct disorientation at the loss of daylight. The sun was barely visible through a pale scattering of clouds as it hovered above the western wall of the city.
Ethric knew he had awakened because of his finely honed instincts. At first he saw no intruders and heard no footsteps. But he was hunting skillful prey, and lack of sight and sound meant nothing. He looked to the wall. The rock wedged inside the crack was gone.
“I thought you’d wait until dark,” Ethric said as he stood. His hand reached for the hilt of his sword. A dagger slid through a crease of his armor by his shoulder blades and pressed against unprotected flesh.
“It seems the priests have grown desperate,” he heard a voice behind him say. “A dark paladin alone in Veldaren in broad daylight? Will they soon announce their existence to the land, or are they just hoping a mob will kill you?”
“It would take far more than a mob,” Ethric said. “Pull back your blade, woman. I know what you are.”
She hesitated for a moment, and then the dagger withdrew. Ethric turned, his arms crossed over his chest.
“With whom do I speak?” he asked.
“I am Eliora,” the faceless said. “What message do you bring from the temple?”
“Just that Alyssa must be returned, immediately,” Ethric said. “Bring me to her at once.”
Eliora clicked her two daggers together as she gently weaved back and forth.
“Matters are not as simple as Pelarak believes,” she said. “Alyssa is surrounded by guards and protected by a wealthy tax collector.”
“None of which should matter to a faceless.”
Through the thin veil of white, Ethric could see hints of Eliora’s face. He’d swear she winked at him.
“Only if we wanted her dead, paladin. Escaping alive is another matter. I’m sure Pelarak told you she