Beaugrat stepped closer, prompting Slanya to lift her staff. “If he submits without a fight,” the man said, “you have nothing to fear.”
Slanya drew up to her full height. She was taller than Beaugrat, and although the man outweighed her by double, she managed to look down on him. “I do not want to fight you, sir,” she said. “But you will find me a formidable opponent. There is also a formal alliance between the leaders of my monastery and Commander Accordant Vraith of your order. Any aggression toward me would jeopardize that, and such an act would meet with punishment from above. So, in that light, Beaugrat, I suggest you look elsewhere.”
For a passing moment, Beaugrat hesitated, his face revealing his confusion. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I’m afraid you don’t understand,” he said. “Just tell me where Duvan is, or we will be forced to kill you.”
Without warning, the bowman on the horse behind Beaugrat grunted. Slanya looked up to see his face stricken into a frozen grimace of pain. He toppled sideways off the horse, his arrow springing free from his grip. The wayward quarrel plunged into the hindquarters of Beaugrat’s riderless horse. The black stallion reared and bolted.
Slanya saw Duvan’s shadowy form approaching Beaugrat from behind, moving fast. Go, go, she urged silently. On the periphery of her vision, she noticed the cleric make a pattern with her hands, drawing power from her god. That would not do.
Slanya leaped sideways, closing the distance, and struck three rapid blows to the cleric’s head and neck, aiming for the specific spots she knew had a high chance of stunning the dwarf. Two of the blows landed, and the dwarf slumped unconscious mid cast.
A quick glance told her that Duvan was fighting with Beaugrat. Duvan lunged, touching the tip of his dagger blade to the exposed part of the big man’s neck. Beaugrat’s huge gauntleted hands tried to lock down on Duvan. They failed as the smaller man snaked out of his grasp and danced away.
Not dead yet. Which was good, because she needed him.
Slanya darted at the pilgrim in leather armor. The man made a slow attempt to draw the unfamiliar sword on his waist. But he was clearly not trained for this sort of activity and had come along as a tourist or voyeur. His mistake. Two strikes of her staff later, and the pilgrim lay on the ground, disarmed and knocked out.
Slanya heard the distinct sound of a large sword being drawn from its sheath. She turned to see Duvan and Beaugrat circling each other. The big man swung the huge sword in broad arcs that prevented Duvan from getting in close. Duvan, for his part, was keeping a good distance, dodging and feinting to keep the barbarian off-balance.
Slanya purposefully made noise as she approached. “You’d do yourself a favor to leave,” she told Beaugrat. “Your companions cannot aid you.”
Beaugrat took his eyes off Duvan to glance at what remained of his group. When he turned back, there was a brilliant flash of light in Duvan’s vicinity, blinding Slanya for a second.
She caught the sound of metal glancing off metal and saw one of Duvan’s throwing daggers skitter across the hard dirt.
Beaugrat swung his sword in huge arcs, backing toward the other horses. He grabbed the pilgrim’s chestnut mare and swung up. “I’ll be back for you, Duvan,” he said, riding off. “And you, too, priest.” He rode off toward the city.
Slanya looked over to find Duvan standing over the dead body of the archer. He was breathing hard and taking stock of the situation.
“I had things under control,” she said, feeling the anger driving her words. “Fighting is not always the best option.”
Narrowing his eyes, Duvan said, “You’re welcome.”
Slanya blinked, unperturbed.
“He was going to kill you!”
“No,” Slanya said. “He would’ve realized that he couldn’t attack me without angering his superiors. Then he would’ve left us alone. A peaceful solution.”
“Um, not likely,” Duvan scoffed. “Beaugrat is driven by revenge for his wounded pride. I don’t practice revenge myself, and I suspect you don’t either, but unlike you, I do understand it. He would never have given in to a logical argument.”
“Perhaps not,” Slanya conceded. “But there’s more to this attack than simple revenge. The Order of Blue Fire is interested enough in you to spy on your activities. Think about it: what do they want from you? Boiling it down to revenge is a dangerous oversimplification.”
Duvan was quiet for a minute, then he nodded. “You’re right; they want me for something.”
When he didn’t elaborate, Slanya decided to let the issue drop. For now.
“I’m sorry that you got caught up in my business, Slanya. This was certainly not your battle.”
Slanya shrugged. “I am not worried,” she said. “They attacked us, and we held our own.” In truth, she’d found the fight exciting. “We should get going.”
Nodding, Duvan drew a dagger from one of his leg sheaths and kneeled by the unconscious body of the dwarf cleric. He started to press the dagger to the cleric’s neck.
“Stop!” Slanya said. “There will be no more killing.”
Duvan looked up at her, his eyes wide in stunned disbelief. “You’re not serious. If we leave her and that scarecrow alive, they will be back after us, and they might kill us the next time. Or worse.”
“Perhaps,” Slanya said, her voice measured. “But what they have done to us does not deserve death, and it is not our role to mete out this level of justice. Death will come to them on its own time.”
A scowl crossed Duvan’s face as his brows narrowed. He stood up and sheathed his dagger. “You knocked them out, so I will respect your wishes here,” he said. “But you’re being naive, and your decision now could cost me later.”
“You can’t kill the whole world, Duvan,” Slanya said. “You can’t even kill those who may do you ill in the future. That is not your role in the universe, and it goes against your responsibility to society.”
“I don’t want to kill the whole world, Slanya,” he replied, and his scowl gave way to an all-too-attractive grin. “I just want to kill these here. They are the threat. Your ethical code is just one way to approach things. One idealistic point of view. In the real world where I live, I’ve found it prudent to eliminate threats when the opportunity presents-because there may not be another chance.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sweat prickled on Duvan’s brow as he gathered up the rest of his throwing daggers. He removed a blade from the dead archer’s back and wiped the blood on the archer’s linen shirt.
“We must hurry,” Slanya said. “Beaugrat may return with reinforcements.”
Duvan squinted in the bright sun, trying to see his companion’s face clearly. “Beaugrat will be back, yes,” he said. “But he’s too much of a coward to attack when we’re expecting it.”
“When will he come for us?”
Duvan pulled out some rope to bind the prisoners. “Sometime when we’re already beaten down or otherwise occupied. Sometime when he thinks he’ll have a clear advantage.”
“That would be highly unethical,” Slanya said.
Duvan rolled his eyes. For someone so talented and well trained, Slanya was very idealistic about how people acted in the world outside her temple and its grounds. Tyrangal must be punishing me for something, Duvan thought.
He helped Slanya bind and gag the two assailants that she’d knocked out. It was foolish not to kill them; Ormpetarr was small enough that it would only be a matter of time before he crossed paths with these two again.
“They’ll just die out here anyway,” he said.
“Bind them to each other, but not to anything else. That should give them a chance, but they won’t be able to follow us.”
“All right,” he said, too tired to argue. She had defeated them, so as far as he was concerned, she held their fate.
Slanya peered at him. “Are you agreeing with me?”