Vambran snorted in disgust. "Of course," he said sarcastically. "Speak of a devil, and he appears." The lieutenant moved slightly so he could keep both opponents in view. "Come to gloat over my shock and surprise?"
"Truthfully, no, though I'll take that as an added bonus," the assassin said, smirking. "I actually came to throttle Rodolpho here for not living up to his end of the bargain." He turned to the hooded man and asked, "Unless you'd like to reconsider giving up the cure?"
Vambran eyed the assassin with suspicion. "The cure?" he asked. "You have a cure?"
"No," Junce answered, still looking at Rodolpho. "This wretch of a man refuses to divulge it."
Rodolpho laughed. "What, and ruin everything just when I'm on the verge of marching an army to my cousin's gates and demanding his surrender? I think not. Now, why haven't you died yet? Surely you've been exposed to the plague by now." He spun and hurled a beaker of something viscous and yellow at Junce.
The assassin seemed to anticipate the attack, for he leaped out of the way, allowing the glassware to shatter against the wall behind him. But as soon as it did, a phlegm-colored cloud of vapors expanded outward, drifting to fill the room.
Junce backed away from it, stumbling as he bumped into a horrific torture rack. The cloud billowed up and outward, threatening to engulf them all.
"I'm sorry you won't be able to take that cure back to dear cousin Wianar," Rodolpho said, striding across the room to another door on the far side, "but you can let him know yourself, once you're part of my army." He opened the door as Junce and Vambran retreated from the cloud, backing into the same corner, trapped. "Just in case you manage to evade my recipe," Rodolpho added, swinging the door wide, "my seven apprentices are on hand to finish the job."
One by one, seven figures filed into the chamber, fanning out to stare at the two men pinned in the corner. Each man and woman might have been young and strong when they entered into Rodolpho's service, but no longer.
Vambran could see the beauty that might once have been part of each face, but that beauty was twisted and distorted in undeath. Pieces of flesh were missing, exposing bone beneath, and where the creatures' eyes should have been, red points of malevolent light glowed instead. Dressed in fine clothing and wearing cloaks of red and gold, the seven gruesome figures stood waiting and watching.
Rodolpho waved at the two men and disappeared through the door.
As memories of the previous night washed over Emriana, she felt her knees weaken, her hands tremble. Denrick was leaning against the wall, his hands folded across his chest, still wearing that smug grin that haunted her. She retreated a step, wanting to turn and run, fearing that she would never flee fast enough.
"Hello, Em," Denrick said, pushing away from the wall and following her, sauntering. "I was hoping you'd stop by for a visit. I enjoyed last evening so much, and I thought you might like to spend time with me again."
No! Emriana silently screamed, fighting the feelings of helplessness. Not again! "Get away from me," she said with as much cold hatred as she could muster. "I know you're not real."
"I'm not?" Denrick asked, looking wounded. "Last night sure felt real enough," he said, that smug smile returning. "And this is certainly real," he added, lunging forward and grabbing at the girl's wrist.
His grip was strong, so strong. He twisted her arm, bending her hand and elbow awkwardly out to her side. The pressure locked the joint and forced her to torque her body, to bow. She understood what he was doing, the mental edge he was gaining from making her bend to him. She wanted to fight it, but he kept twisting, forcing her down, down to one knee lest her arm pop free of her shoulder. His smile was gone, replaced by a grimace of effort. His eyes held a sparkling glint that radiated hatred.
"Ow!" she cried out as he continued to push, continued to angle her body to the floor. Her arm hurt and her mind told her she was not strong enough to fight him, to resist him. He would have what he wanted, again.
No, she thought, more firmly. Not again. Never again.
And in that one moment of clarity, Emriana remembered that she was strong, too. She could fight Denrick in ways that he could not defend. She could turn the tables, gain the upper hand. She stopped giving in to her fear and started feeding off it, garnering strength from it.
She reminded herself that it was not really Denrick. Oh, last night was real enough, she told herself. Accept it. But it was not Denrick. The thing in front of her needed to pretend to be Denrick in order to cow her. And she would not be cowed.
She would not succumb to it.
With a kick, Emriana lunged upward, flipping her body completely over in a single, fluid motion. As she spun, she rotated herself half a twist so that her opposite shoulder was nearest the shapeshifter, and the arm it gripped was draped across the front of her body. The look on its face was mild surprise, but Emriana did not wait for it to recover. Her free elbow came up hard beneath its chin, snapping its head up and back. A second strike with her elbow into its gut made it grunt. At the same time, Emriana yanked hard, thrusting her hip out and using leverage to hoist the shapeshifter off the floor. She pivoted on her foot, rotating her shoulders, and sent the Denrick lookalike tumbling away from her.
The thing landed in a heap a pace or so away, glowering at the girl. She ignored the stare, made a quick run forward, and snapped her foot out at its face, as Xaphira had taught her.
"I said," she growled, kicking again, "that you're not real!" A third kick. "You're just a pathetic forgery. And I'm done messing around." A final kick, then Emriana retreated a step, crouching. She drew one of the two daggers that Xaphira had given her, hidden at the small of her back. She was ready to finish the fight once and for all.
Denrick's face looked at her, a wounded expression on it. "I thought you loved me," the thing said.
"Drop the act," Emriana replied, raising her dagger, ready to snap her wrist and flick it right between its eyes. "I'm done being afraid of you."
"Please," it said, shifting its form. "Don't hurt me," it added, its voice changing, softening, rising in pitch.
Emriana gaped, her intention to deliver a death blow with her dagger forgotten for a moment. She stared at an exact image of herself, as though she were gazing into a mirror.
In her amazement, the girl let her guard down and that was all the shapeshifter needed. In a sudden burst of speed, it shot up from the floor and rammed its shoulder into Emriana's stomach. She felt the wind knocked from her lungs, and the feeble attempt she made to stab at the creature caught only air. She stumbled back, her balance lost, as her duplicate stepped back from her, light on its feet, grinning.
"So what do you think?" Emriana's reflection asked. "Good enough to fool your aunt?" And before the girl could catch her breath enough to answer or react, the shapeshifter was gone, sprinting off deeper into the house.
Arbeenok wished that it were day, to make it easier for him to see. You cannot force the pattern of the butterfly's flight or the pictures the stars make, he reminded himself. They simply are. Day or night didn't change the fact that he had a task ahead of him. He considered where to start the healing. The center of the city, he decided. That is where the fighting will be the worst.
Aloft, even at night, the alaghi saw the destruction, for many fires burned again. He could see that the mercenaries had done a credible job of erecting barricades, for those were what burned. An effective deterrent, he thought. If only they'd remembered the sewers.
In one neighborhood, Arbeenok witnessed a shambling horde of zombies moving down a street, while a contingent of soldiers tried to keep them at bay with crossbows. The soldiers had no burning barricades to huddle behind and the fight was not going well for them. More zombies were appearing in an alley, crawling out of the sewer. From the height at which Arbeenok observed them, they appeared as sluggish beetles.