Another hail of arrows launched skyward. One of the shadows fell in the darkness beyond the ring of bonfires.
"C'mon Gabriel. Where are you?" Jonmarc muttered as he readied his crossbow. "What's that?" a woman screamed from the back of the green. Barely visible beyond the fires, the night seemed to have grown darker. Shadows blurred, and a wind rose, heaping snow onto the bonfires that sputtered and hissed. In the moment the archers were distracted, dark shapes dove from overhead, swooping into the crowd and snatching half a dozen villagers into the sky.
"Hold your ground!" Jonmarc shouted above the chaos. Just beyond arrows' range, the shadows hovered, holding aloft their terrified prisoners. The sky became a stage, lit by the wind-whipped flames. The shadowed shapes held their screaming captives aloft, dropping and catching them to heighten the terror and gain the attention of the crowd below. Swiftly, the dark shapes drew their victims to them, and the cries halted abruptly. As the captives jerked and grew still, the attackers twisted the bodies in their grasp, ripping off limbs and severing heads, spattering the screaming villagers below with gore before letting the mangled bodies fall to ground.
A crash from behind them made Jonmarc turn, crossbow leveled. Three wagons, hurled with inhuman strength, barreled through the waning bonfires, scattering people and burning brands across the trampled green. "Look out!"
Jonmarc dove out of the way of the careening wagons, but not fast enough. One of the wagons rolled straight for him, taking him off his feet. He rolled across it, falling hard, bleeding from gashes along his left arm and leg. He scrambled up, weapon ready. "Weapons out! Charge!" Jonmarc shouted, anger silencing his fear. Half of the villagers surged forward with him, armed with torches, sickles and bows. The others fled in terror as the dark shapes dove and dodged through the crowd.
Abruptly, the attackers drew back. Jonmarc leapt across the scattered remains of the bonfire, and glimpsed Gabriel and Laisren across the broad village street, each battling two of the rogue vayash moru. His crossbow found its mark, picking off one of Laisren's opponents before Jonmarc had to dive beneath a wagon to avoid one of the black-clad attackers.
In the moonlight, Jonmarc made out a single figure near the edge of the fray. Malesh. Jonmarc scrambled from cover and ran toward his quarry, crossbow ready. Malesh disappeared from sight down a narrow path between two daub and wattle homes. Jonmarc ran after him, dodging the washtubs and laundry lines that littered the alleyway. Even in the cold, the dank passage smelled of chamber pots and spoiled meat. Jonmarc caught a glimpse of Malesh in the distance and doubled his speed, although the bitter cold made his lungs ache. He burst from the alley with his crossbow notched, only to find himself alone in a brick courtyard. By the smell, the building in front of him was a tannery. That explains why I haven't seen any rats, Jonmarc thought, forcing down the urge to retch. Three fetid clay pits sat beneath a slanted roof, filled with the tanners' vile liquid. He blinked, and Malesh stood in the shadows behind the pits, holding a small child in front of him.
Malesh sauntered forward. The child, a dark-haired young girl, whimpered in his grip. "Parley?"
Jonmarc kept his crossbow leveled. "Let the girl go."
Malesh smiled. "And lose my shield? I don't doubt that you're good with that bow. No, I think I'll keep her here where she can be useful." "I didn't come to talk." "I have an offer for you." "Your head on a stake?"
Malesh gave an exaggerated sigh. "Nothing quite so dramatic. But you can end the slaughter."
"How?"
"Your fighting skills are every bit as good as Uri said-better. Imagine what they'd be enhanced by the Dark Gift. I can give you that," Malesh said, meeting Jonmarc's eyes. "Speed. Agility. No more pain, no getting old. Forever strong, young, invincible. Let me bring you across and I'll end the attacks on the villages. You're a lord now-you could be a god." Would you be a slave again? Jonmarc remembered Gabriel's words when he had asked his friend to bring him across to join Carina.
"Your slave, until I grew strong enough to destroy you," Jonmarc countered.
"You'd be with your lady. That's why I brought her across-to offer you an, incentive. to join me."
Jonmarc's finger tightened on the trigger. The girl squirmed in Malesh's hold, and the vayash moru tightened his grip until she cried out. "Careful. By the time your arrow cuts through her, I'll be gone." "Carina can't be brought across. She's a healer."
"What was I thinking?" Malesh said, feigning surprise. "Oh yes. The incentive. Destroy me, and you destroy her. We have a bond, you know. Make me suffer, and so does she." "I'm not planning on taking my time."
"Gabriel won't offer you immortality. I will. There are ways to destroy the healing gift. Old books tell of it. Blood charms. Rule with me, with your lady beside you. We're both predators. You
mastered the Games in Nargi. You killed to survive, for their sport. Once we're established, the killing can stop. You've as much blood on your hands as I do. Why not rule like a god while you can? Eventually, the Crone comes for us all." "Because I'm not you."
Malesh shifted, just slightly, enough for Jonmarc to take his shot. The arrow struck Malesh in the chest, piercing through his waistcoat and emerging from the back. There was a blur of movement. Malesh threw the child aside and shot upward, dripping black ichor as he soared into the night. Jonmarc raced toward the girl, who lay in a heap on the snow. Her skin was cold to his touch, and two bloody punctures in her throat confirmed his fears. He gathered the girl into his arms. Her breathing was shallow and ragged. "Hold on," he whispered. "I'll find a healer for you." She stiffened and gasped, then fell silent. Jonmarc bowed his head.
How many people have to die because of me? When does it end? "Jonmarc!"
Jonmarc turned, still holding the girl's body. Gabriel and Laisren emerged from the alley. Judging from their torn and stained clothing, Jonmarc was sure the fighting had been vicious.
"What were you thinking, going after Malesh by yourself?" Laisren looked more angry than Jonmarc had ever seen him.
"We saw you, but we couldn't get free from the fight to follow." Gabriel looked from Jonmarc to the girl. "You confronted him?"
Jonmarc nodded. "He was waiting for me. He used the girl as a shield. I didn't know she was nearly dead." Laisren moved to take the body from him, but Jonmarc refused. "I got off a clean shot-it hit him in the chest. Then he flew away."
"If he could fly, he's not destroyed." Gabriel looked up into the empty night sky. "He's too young in the Gift. But a near miss ought to make him think twice." "How bad is it-out there?" Jonmarc asked with a nod toward the center of the village. "Malesh's brood didn't stay long once we showed up, although from the looks of it, he's recruited more vayash moru to his side. I don't think they meant to fight us tonight-they intended to destroy the village and provoke their war." Laisren's voice was tight. "As it is, about of a third of the villagers are dead, and the fire's spread to a few of the buildings. Your strategy to hold off Malesh was sound-not bad considering what you had to work with." "What now?" "We'll patrol here for the rest of the night, although I don't think Malesh would dare return. Laisren and I will make sure you get back to Wolvenskorn."
"How do we make sure Malesh doesn't come back tomorrow night and finish the job?" Jonmarc looked down at the dead girl in his arms. He rose and led them out of the tanner's courtyard, back through the winding alley to the center of the village. One of the townsmen spotted them and cried out, running to meet them. He took the girl's body from Jonmarc and looked darkly at the two vayash moru before hurrying off toward a group of women who huddled together down the street. When he reached them, the women keened in mourning. "I can offer to move the villagers to another town but there's no way to be sure where Malesh will strike." Gabriel's expression was grim.