A Dance of Cloaks - By Dalglish, David Page 0,125

the first behind the knee, his head smacking the altar on the way down. Planting his feet firm, Haern rammed his body against the other, elbowing the bloody stump. The priest cried out, staggering backward on weak legs.

Giving neither time to respond, Haern scooped up the dagger, spun, and slashed open the first priest’s throat. As his body spasmed, he turned to the other and lunged. The dagger pierced the man’s chest.

“Only in blood,” the priest whispered with his dying breath.

A bolt of shadow struck Haern’s side. He cried out, stunned by the immense pain. It felt like every nerve in the area was firing off sensations of pain. Rolling to avoid the next, Haern clutched the dagger with both hands. The hilt was slick with blood, and he might lose it if he wasn’t careful.

“Killed amid worship!” the third priest shouted, his deep voice booming in the great room. “You will suffer for such blasphemy!”

Two more bolts of shadow flung from the priest’s hands, splintering wood and cracking stone where they struck. Haern ran between the pews, using their wood for cover. The priest was halfway down the center aisle. Close enough. Haern stepped onto a pew and leapt with all his strength. His body stretched, the dagger lashing out. The priest, stunned by the sudden assault, tried to ward himself. The spell died on his lips as the dagger slashed his face.

Then their bodies collided. Haern screamed as his shoulder rammed the priest’s chest, wrenching his whole body violently. He spun and landed awkwardly on a pew, his feet sticking into the air and his stomach pressed against the seat. The priest fared better, collapsing into a sitting position on the pew.

“Suffer!” the priest shouted. The word carried power with it. Haern rolled to the floor, his mind white with pain. His wounds from the Lion raged in anger. Blood soaked his clothing, some his, some not. He felt the dagger slipping from his weakened hand.

“You cannot resist Karak’s power,” the priest said, reaching down to take away the dagger. “How such a simple boy could kill two of his…”

Haern put a leg underneath him and pushed, shoving him into the priest’s lap. The dagger twirled and stabbed backward. The man’s hands clawed about him, flailing as if in search of a hug. Haern twisted the blade and then yanked it out. Blood shot across the front of his shirt.

“Karak is nothing to me,” Haern said, feeling a sick joy at denying the man’s dark god even as he died.

He had no time, though. The two priests had come running down the long entryway. Unlike the other three, they were not caught unaware. Dark magic crackled around their fingertips as they summoned the might of their god.

Haern ducked below the pew, cleaned the handle on the dead priest’s robe, and then took a deep breath. With the sounds of battle, the rest of the priesthood would soon awaken and join them. He had once chance to escape, and that involved a head-on approach against two furious priests.

“Protect me, or make sure I die,” Haern prayed. Either way, he had no intentions of staying any longer. Dagger clutched tight in his right hand, he made his charge.

Bolts of shadow struck the pews, exploding their wood into splinters. They hit either side of him, for Haern had leapt over the first row, using the seat to catapult him into the air. He flew heels first, curling gracefully to land atop the very last row. More bolts chased him but he twirled into another jump, the dagger flashing with each spin as it caught the light of the altar’s fire.

When he landed he did not engage but instead ran between them, his dagger lashing outward. The one on the right screamed as the tendons underneath his arm tore, blood rushing down his side. Haern went to cut the other, but the priest clapped his hands together. A wave of power rolled outward, knocking the boy aside as if he were an insect before a storm.

“Get back,” the priest on the left told his wounded friend, who reluctantly obeyed. Haern took two steps toward the door as if to flee, then dropped flat on the ground. A blast of red lightning shot above his head, breaking the thick bar across the doors. Haern rolled to his knees and kicked. Instead of directly charging the priest he lunged to the side, ramming his shoulder against the wall. Another bolt of shadow struck the