Wallace took the lead down the dark alley as the splintered off from the main group and led the men into the darkness. Smoke choked them as building burned all around, many of the men covered their mouths to muffle their coughs as they moved silently through the streets of Tharpe. The Master Sergeant eventually signaled a halt with an upheld hand, motioning for the men to huddle up. They were in the relative shadows of a smoldering building that used to be a bakery. Wallace squinted through teary eyes at one of his corporals, a veteran of twenty years, grizzled, sporting scars from the battles in the Banderling Wars fifteen years ago.

“Vic, I want you to take four to the left flank. I know there will be a fuss about this, but I am sending Damon scouting. “ Wallace braced for the quiet outburst. The battle had been started over the boy, but like it or not, Damon was one of the best scouts and thieves Wallace knew. The grumbling came, one after the other voiced their views and distrust of him. Some had even had the pleasure of locking him up once or twice themselves, so the Master Sergeant couldn’t blame them. He let them have there saw before he cleared his throat softly and waited for silence.

“Hush it, I know the boy, I have arrested him quite a few times myself too Esau,” he glared hard at one of the more vocal privates, “I like it even less than you but, there is none quieter than him, and it is in his best interest that we reach the prisoners. Now I want Rick to take a squad and take the right flank. Wedge, take a team and form a rear guard. I don’t want any surprises. I will take the remainder and take the point. If we hit trouble form a wedge. These are untrained soldiers, and it should work the best.”

The private glared hard at the smugly smiling boy. Damon shrugged his shoulders and winked at Wallace. The burly man began to doubt whether this was a good idea, but it was a little late for it now. He took in a deep breath and continued his instructions.

“Absolute silence, use hand signals only. Take out individuals quietly. We do this covertly, no open fighting in the streets if it can be helped. Once we have freed the prisoners, we make for the Harborside and burn the bastards’ last resort.” He looked from face to face of the soldiers under his command, all well trained but few, “Remember, we are only twenty-three well-trained soldiers against an army with no help. No heroics, we made those bastards pay at the Temple but not that much. Let’s get our friends out there and get out. Let the fire do the rest of the killing. We have suffered enough loss for a lifetime.”

The soldiers all nodded as Damon’s fingers stroked the flask on his side lovingly, smiling at the thought. Wallace signaled Damon ahead. The youth moved through the shadows like a ghost. Damon was too skilled for Wallace’s comfort. He did not trust him, not yet. In the backside of his head dwell the thought that he just loosed a wolf amidst the fabled sheep. That wolf moved swiftly with on wings of silent death. They covered the ground between the gate and the prisoners quickly, managing to kill three stragglers without more sound than the snap of a neck. They found the handy work of Damon twice. The gruesome sight made the men stop in disbelief that he had done it without a sound. Each man had their throats opened and had been disemboweled, the entrails spilled to the cobblestones below. Damon came back to warn them just before they got to Weaver’s Street, where the three were staked out. He stepped out of the darkness directly behind Wallace, making the commander jump and nearly yelp.

“Boy!” Wallace whispered fiercely, “You are as bad as your father. Clear your damn throat or something.” Damon smiled widely, his sharp features casting long shadows across his face. He was enjoying this immensely.

“They have guards there.” He warned quietly, as his face sobered up. “They must realize we are no longer home.”

“How many?” whispered Wallace as they huddled.

“Fifteen, they have circled our friends and are faced out,” Damon said.

“Well, we have two things, surprise and the light to our backs.” Wallace thought out loud. He scratched absently at the loose soil on the stone as he thought with the edge of his knife.

“How good are you with knives boy?” Vic asked looking expectantly at the boy half-hidden in the shadows. The veteran’s leather creaked as he squatted beside his commander. Vic was in his element. The Banderling Wars had engulfed the East over a decade ago and nearly every able body person had fought at that time. It was an uprising of what most people term as monsters, against the encroaching humans. Banderlings, being the more intelligent non-humans, lead the armies. It had done temporarily, what no man had ever accomplished. It united the Free Towns of the East for a few years but after they drifted back apart. Vic had lived through it, fought in it, and this little skirmish had been a nice breather.

“Are you kidding Vic?” Wedge, a small, rat-faced man with a neatly kept mustache, nudged him, “I was there last night when he was arrested, I was. I doubt there is a man on our little force, who can out throw him or his friend tied up out there.”

Vic drew out one of his spare throwing daggers and flipped it towards Damon, who snatched it by the blade out of the air. Wedge gave Damon a genial smile and nodded in satisfaction and Vic nodded his approval. “Ok, so we have twenty-three here. How many do you reckon we can drop with knives?” His grey eyes stared intently at their scout. Vic might have grey his stubbled beard, but anyone could see that age had not affected the clarity of his thought. Damon dropped to his heels and drew a diagram in the dirt. The others leaned in to see in the dim light let off by the nearby burning buildings.

“Here is the wall,” Damon indicated to a line north of the circle and three dots, “ that is at least a bow shot and a half away with no cover but on these sides. These houses are only smoldering, and we could still find shadows between them without becoming a barbecue. If we hurry, we could take out maybe all but five. If we time it right, the five could be engaged at the same time from forces from this direction.” He drew a line coming in from the south hitting them from the direction the street ran pinning the five men against the wall. Vic nodded his approval to the boy and looked at Wallace who thought about it.

He walked back and forth scratching at his beard in irritation. Wallace did not like relying on throwing knives. But with fifteen to their twenty-three, it would be a bloody, noisy battle. He finally raised his eyes to Damon and growled, “I hope your half as good as they say, or else I will cut your nuts off myself.”

“If I miss, I will gladly pull my pants down for you.” Damon clapped Wallace on the shoulder, turned and followed Vic. “Besides, it will settle a dispute between me and Faldo.”

Wedge threw back his head and laughed out loud, and his friends beat him over his head. He wiped tears from his pinched face as he moved forward with the boy. Wedge had been one of the only who had shown Damon any comradeship They moved forward down the dark alleys silently until they came to the smoldering houses Damon had indicated. Part of the group stuck in smoke-filled doorways while Damon led another group around to the other side. Wallace gave him to the count of fifty and then gave Vic the signal. Wallace would leave the knife throwing to the Temple Garrison. The Master Sergeant had spent years with a sword and was among one of the best in Tharpe but when it came to knives he was shit. Half the time it hit handle first if he even hit the target.

Vic stood and with fluid grace, threw, belying the man’s age and the same time Wallace stepped out of the shadows and crossed the wide street in a few bounds. As the other ten mean fell dead, confusion set in, making the remaining five easy prey for Wallace and his soldiers. The well-trained men dispatched the five without much more than a gurgle.

Wallace put his boot on the chest of the dying man and wrenched his sword out. Wiping his blade off with the cloth at his belt he turned to see that Damon was working on cutting the girl loose. The Master Sergeant recognized her as Cariline. She was a serving wench at the Three Pigs that nobody was allowed to touch. Next was one of his very good friends, Faldo. The big man had been roughed over a few times and was a little worse for wear. Faldo looked up at Wallace and gave him a half-hearted smile.

“Can you help an old friend out?” he asked wearily.

“Always getting into scapes where I have to bail your ass out.” Wallace teased back gently, “I guess since I am in the area, I can do it...again.”

Wallace pulled his belt knife and cut at the hemp that held Faldo to the pole. The ropes released and the big man stood to full height and moved his arms, Wallace moved to the last prisoner.

The blacksmith Marlin, the living giant of a man, had ropes wrapped around him. His massive head looked up at Wallace and the commander could see a raging inferno burning behind normally gentle eyes. But patience was there too, Marlin had not strained against his bonds. He waited for a rescue he somehow knew was coming for him. The men who had tied him had layered them till you could no longer see the inhumanly large man. It was clear they were afraid he might break out of the ordinary means. Perplexed at the blacksmith’s somber anger, Wallace found the central knot, worked at the thick rope with his knife while he looked over at Faldo to get some answers for his burning questions.

“Faldo, mind telling me what happened?” Wallace asked as the ropes gave way to his blade and he began to unwind the mess of cordage.

“Yeah, Fredrick planned this whole damn thing. He has people planted in every city in the East to bring the Temples under his heel where he will gleefully ground them.” Faldo seethed as he walked over to help with the ropes on Marlin, “This was never about Damon! He is just a convenient excuse. This, this is about power and whose hands it lay in.”

Faldo turned and kicked angrily at the post in the ground making it shudder violently. He was muttering curses as he paced back and forth.

Wallace turned to look at him pale, “You can’t be serious. The whole of the East will go up in the flames of war. The Banderlings will look like a barroom brawl...”

“He is very serious,” Marlin reassured him in a deep rumbling bass that seemed to shake the very ground as the rest of the ropes snapped, and Marlin stood up, favoring his side slightly. Wallace saw a wound under the smith's giant hand.

“Grim will need to know,” Wallace spoke it softly, almost to himself. He shook his head to clear it, voice cracking as he said, “We need to move.”

He glanced over at the young couple standing a short distance off to the side. Damon was trying to calm the hysterical girl. He held her tight, rocking her back and forth while stroking her matted, auburn hair. Cariline sobbed something quietly to Damon and he went stiff. His soothing strokes stopped. He bowed his head and he swore softly under his breath. The girl starting apologizing loudly and that’s when he dark-haired youth gently kissed his girl as she shook. Damon turned his head toward’s the Master Sergeant and glared. In those dark pools, Wallace saw hatred burning, murderous intent that could not be mistaken.

“Everything alright Damon?” The Master Sergeant asked, speaking slowly as he walked carefully towards Damon. He still held his sword, and he moved the point cautiously towards the youth who had been known for his past violent behavior. They may have just fought for the same goal, but Damon now had what he wanted. Wallace had been there to arrest him through the years all too often. Once or twice, the guard had run across unexplained murders. Though they were never able to prove it, this lad was always the suspect.

“You go and take Cariline,” Damon said softly, Wallace. The Master Sergeant lowered his sword point in confusion. Damon slowly cupped his beloved’s face, “I have a debt to pay, and one should always pay a debt.--” He whispered something in Cariline’s ear as she wept in his arms and he kissed her, holding her tight around her thin waist. Cariline whimpered as she clung to his neck, all the while digging her face into his chest. He pried her fingers loose from the tabard on his armor and held her hand for a moment longer, lingering in reassurance. His dark eyes pleaded with her, reducing her open sobbing to muffled whimpering. He patted her small hands, letting out a sigh as he released them.

“Go with them love, I will be alright,” Damon reassured her softly as one would a startled animal. He then went over and picked a throwing knife out of a still body with a slight sucking sound. The small man turned and smiled pleasantly at Wallace. He gestured at the lowered sword tip that was still pointed in his general direction, "Point that somewhere else, would you? You are not the debt Master Sergeant. Though I am flattered at the compliment."

“Where are you going, what debt?” Wallace asked as he relaxed his stance and directing some of the guards to escort Cariline. The commander wasn’t about to miss out on a fight, and he was charged with seeing all his friends back safe, especially the son of Grim.

Faldo bent over picking up a sword from another dead body, testing the balance, “The same one I am going to collect on. Roldem steel nice.” He flexed the slender sword a little, “That bastard of a father let his own soldiers rape his daughter repeatedly for two hours. That debt, we will collect on if we have to tear the city apart, building by burning building, to do it.”

Marlin bent and picked up an ax from a nearby man and put it over his massive shoulder. The giant rose to full height, towering over the rest of the company by two head heights, “Aye, you have that one straight. We will have the bastard’s head.”

Damon eyed the two and nodded in approval.

“So, do you intend to stop us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Stop you? Demons no, why would I let you have all the damn fun?” Wallace asked as he signaled them to move out with a dark look on his face. He, as a soldier, had heard of gruesome things in his line of work in keeping the peace but as a man, that was an absolutely horrendous act. He would hold the demon down while the three did what they would on one condition, they let Cariline have her go with her father first. He would give the girl a knife himself and kill any man that got in her way, with the exception of her father.

“Where are we going?” He asked Damon who was walking whistling a tavern tune, idly flipping his knife in his hand. He was taking this too light for Wallace's comfort. They were not out for a summer stroll, be damned. The boy either was mad or lacked a complete lack of empathy. As a career soldier, killing was always serious and business-like and to imagine any other way made him cringe.

“You need to get Cariline to safety. She doesn’t need to see this. I am going to cut this bastard’s cock off and shove it so far down his throat that it comes out his ass.” Damon said casually fingering his knife blade. Wallaces's eyes opened wide, and his mouth went dry at the callous attitude exhibited by the man in his company. He shuddered inwardly but considering the circumstance, he could not blame Damon's thirst for blood and vengeance. Maybe, this would just be metaphorical, or at least he hoped.

“Well, umm, yes I guess that would be gruesome. But the lady needs to see it through herself, to know its taken care of Damon. It helps.” Wallace stammered as he tried to carefully explain.

“Then tag along if you want, but that bastard is mine! Don’t get in my way or you will squat the rest of your life.” Damon threatened seriously, pointing his knife at Wallace's nose, “We are going to Thewar’s Inn, it is where they are headquartered.”

Wallace stared hard at Damon as his men’s hands went for their weapons. Wallace held up his fist to stay the guards’ steel and nodded at the young man once. After this was over, him and that boy were going to have to have a talk about civility, manners, and just plain out whose cock was bigger.

“Well let’s go; that’s only a few minutes from here.” Wallace said slowly, not taking his eyes off of Damon. He took point with Damon, Faldo, and Marlin. The Master Sergeant had an honor guard escorting the terror-stricken girl, with orders to bring her forward when the time was right. If anything went wrong they were to get her out of the city and report what had happened.

“Damon, they have a sorcerer with them. We need to be careful when we go into the inn.” Faldo said cautiously, “I hate sorcery with a passion, I hate fighting it. A sword or knife I know what to do against, but there is just no defense against that mumbo jumbo. It makes my skin itch.” Faldo gave a visible shutter.

To Wallace, it didn’t matter, sorcerers died as easy as any other living things, but this was a side to his big friend he had never seen. Faldo was a rather large man, but despite his girth, he was blessed with nimbleness too. His father had made sure Faldo had learned swordplay from a very young age and now Faldo was among one of the best in the entire East. Wallace can’t remember the last time he saw Faldo beat. To hear him say he feared something was something of a novelty and something disturbing.

“It’s easy, stick a knife in them before they do the mumbo jumbo,” Damon said casually stabbing the air in front of him in the demonstration.

“Or clunk them on the head. Hard to talk when your unconscious” Marlin interjected. Damon shrugged in the giant's direction as if to say true enough. It was not his style, he preferred them dead but Marlin, despite his massive size, was much gentler than most men. Marlin’s views had irritated Damon somewhat growing up, but the man had been there and stood for the boy often enough that Damon could overlook that small fault. If there was one quality the small thief had come to value, it was fealty.

“Yeah that does work,” Wallace said as they worked their way cautiously down the smoke-filled streets. It was almost heart wrenching to see mean and women choking and coughing, as they frantically fought a new battle to save the city of Tharpe. At one point, during that march, Wallace began to have doubts that the plan had been a sound one. His heart ached as he saw a family huddled in the street watching a roaring inferno that used to be their home. People seemed more worried now about saving the buildings that weren’t engulfed in flames then they were about the armed men walking down the streets with their weapons drawn. They came across a man who was grabbing everyone in the street begging them for help, only a block from the Inn of the Second Home. Wild-eyed he nearly ripped out another patch of his own hair as he begged them for their help.

“Put down your weapons and grab a bucket,” cried a man who was quite literally pulling his hair out. He wore some armor of sorts, marked with a snake with its head cut off. “My shop is on fire. Please, I will be destitute. I will pay you anything!”

As he ran off to seek the help of a grief-stricken pair standing in front of the remains of a townhouse, Wallace clucked his tongue lightly and shook his head sadly. Next to him, Faldo growled deeply, his grip on the rapier he picked up tightening. Damon gave Marlin a questioning look as the blacksmith took the ax off his shoulder and thumped it in his hand.

“He was one of the bastard soldiers if you get my meaning,” Marlin explained, his eyes never leaving the man as he worked his way across the street begging for help. No one got to react as Damon whipped a throwing knife with blinding speed, sending flickering steel across the stone street and burying the blade in the backside of the man’s head. He fell dead to the cobbled street in a crumpled heap. Damon walked over and pulled the knife out, taking a deep sigh of relief as the blade rasped against the skull a slight steely ring. Marlin turned around to glare at the little man that barely reached his sternum.

“What! He almost got away.” He mocked the giant defensively, “Now, one down, how many were there?” He asked cheerfully whistling as he came back from retrieving his thrown knife. Marlin grunted and walked ahead a little in irritation, a little bit a vengeance being denied him. Seldom did Marlin approve of violence but when the primal instinct did call, the lust in him needed to be fulfilled. The Master Sergeant needed to set an example now, to try to keep peace in the ranks while they were still in danger.

“Don’t hog all the fun mate” Wallace glowered as he slapped at the backside of Damon’s head.

“Well he was right here, and no one did anything about it,” Damon said defensively ducking the blow. He smiled sheepishly and sprinted forward to scout the alley ahead. They did not encounter any more trouble in the few streets to the corner of Miller's Lane and Victor's Alley, where the Inn of the Second Home stood. The Inn stood a distance away from the Temple and the fire was slow to spread, but as more buildings went from smoldering to open flames, their window to leave would rapidly close.

They stopped when they reached the end of the lane and Faldo looked around the corner. The Inn stood as a large three-story complex with an attached outbuilding used for housing horses and carriages. In its grandest of days, it was an establishment for the wealthiest businessmen in the East, but the late Lord Dravor had squandered most of the fortunes, and the Inn had fallen into disrepair.

The building on the outside had been left unguarded, but Damon knew that was probably not the case inside. The buildings near the Inn had succumbed to flame, but the Inn itself looked untouched and occupied. The bottom floor was masonry, then the next two stories were the typical timber-framed structure that could be found throughout the East. From how it let off steam, The Lady Thewar had it doused in as much water as she could wipe her men into. Some rooms glowed with the soft glow of lantern light, so Damon could infer that the Inn had company in it or at least did have some recently. He turned to his friend, “We need six people in there. Any more, and we will be sticking each other, not the stinking rapist.”

Wallace silently nodded his agreement and turned to the company of vanguard, pointing out two of the better corporals, “Vic, Wedge, you're with me. Charles, take command. If you hear two whistles, come in but if you hear my death scream, run like hell for the dockside. Burn the boats, and get out.”

The group of six moved out of the shadows of the alley towards the Inn of the Second Home. Marlin’s chocolate brown eyes grew misty as he beheld his smithy at the end of the way from the Inn. Fire now roared through holes in the roof, and the rear portion had collapsed. Marlin shook his head sadly as he saw his life’s work gon. Faldo put an understanding hand on the giant’s shoulder. Everyone it seemed would lose what they love this night and no one would be unscathed.

The small group mounted the stone steps that led between the tall marble pillars into the vestibule of the Inn. The entrance had double oak doors that were unlocked, and the lanterns were left lit at the front desk. As the group eased their way past the desk quietly, sounds of moaning could be heard coming down the short hallway. Both Damon and Faldo were familiar with the Inn, having burglarized Lord Dravor many times throughout the years. Damon raised an eyebrow at Faldo curiously who shrugged his shoulders. Damon signaled them down the lit hall. He was nervous, up to this point everything seemed to go well. The youth was not used to working with so many or with the guard. These men had not been your typical, clumsy oafs that he was used to evading, he could thank the demons for that. Had the guard consisted of men trained like the vanguard, his operation might never have existed.

Damon and Faldo stood at the door, Damon looked back at Wallace nodding three times and burst through the door. The five soldiers they found had little time to react. Pre-occupied, having found themselves suitable company of women, they were ill-prepared for a battle against armed men. Damon lunged to the nearest man as he struggled to rise, his legs tangled in his captured woman the soldier threw off him. Damon’s knife took him in his open groin, severing his artery. Damon let his momentum carry him over the dying man and rolled forward over the screaming naked woman’s back.

“S’cuse me, sorry for the interruption,” Damon apologized as he came to his feet. Faldo flashed his sword out and cleared the table, while one naked man begged for his life. Faldo cleanly speared the blubbering man’s throat just to shut him up. The woman, the begging man had been enjoying, let out an ear-piercing scream. The big man winced at the octave hit by the frightened woman.

“Yes sorry for the interruption but have you girls seen any rapist?” He asked putting his foot on the gurgling man's chest and pushing him off onto the woman who grunted. Her arms flailed wildly under the weight of the man that was now pinning her to the table. Her screaming subsided to a whimper of dismay under the weight of her dead companion.

“Oh sorry, how clumsy of me,” he said in a gentleman fashion pushing the man off the screaming woman with his boot, leaving a trail of blood down her bareback. The bloody woman ran for the nearest exit as the fighting continued. Marlin took two steps and kicked with a leg the size of a small tree. He caught the man, who was still on his back, under his jaw. The man's head snapped back with the bone splintering sound of his jaw shattering. His head held at a funny angle while his body went limp. The ladies at this point, ran from the room, regardless of the state of their dress.

Marlin looked injured, “Do you think it was something we did,” he said hiking a thumb at the running nude women.

Wallace gestured with his sword in disgust to a man who was cowering behind a chair, trying to find some kind of modesty. The short, stocky man shook his head in disgust at the frightened guard.

“Stand up man and have some damnable honor in death. I have already seen everything you have.” He yelled angrily, waving the tip of his sword at him in frustration. Damon smoothly threw his knife from across the room, the flickering steel deadly dance flickering in the lantern light. The blade caught the man through the side of the head, and the cowering guard collapsed to the floor.

Wallace turned in frustration to look at Damon, “Didn’t I tell you not to take all the damn fun!”

“Then what is that behind you,” the smiling little man pointed his finger to a point behind the Master Sergeant. Wallace turned in time to find the last man drawing a dagger from his clothes on the floor, coming down. He pivoted and slashed down with his sword, severing the man's hand. The man wailed loudly, grabbing his wrist just above the spurting blood and fell to his knees.

“Was that fun enough?” Damon asked the leader, Wallace flashed Damon an evil grin.

“Where is Fredrick?” Wallace asked in a gruff tone. The tone of voice one heard just before the throat was slit in a back alley and suggested violence before acceptance.

“Go suck one!” The man replied.

“Seems he just said he wanted to lose his cock. It will be easy, he’s already naked,” Damon said casually stepping forward. He leaned over to the wounded man’s comrade and viciously jerked the knife out. He walked a saunter over, smiling almost casually and reached towards the man’s lower anatomy.

The man screamed, “Wait!”

“See,” Damon said to Wallace with a ruefully, “They are always a little touchy about their pride.”

“Now, Fredrick we need to have a chat. It seems he saw fit to start a war in the wrong city.” Wallace demanded.

“He is on the third floor. Nobody disturbs him or else they die.” The man said pleadingly.

“I dearly hope he tries, Damon, now we need to decide what to do with him--.” Wallace began, “--You..”

Damon reached down, “I need some practice for Fredrick,” and grabbed the man’s lower anatomy and did precisely like the young man said he would. The man’s screaming was agonizingly loud to start with, and then Damon muffled it with body parts. The pitiful wailing died down to a gurgling groan. Wallace blanched, Vic threw up, and Wedge passed out with a soft thunk against the hardwood floor. Marlin and Faldo just watched with their arms folded across their chest contently.

“There! Justice served on one rapist,” Damon said with happy satisfaction, wiping his bloody hand on the man's chest, leaving bloody smears on the bare skin.

“I did..did not think you were serious,” Wallace said horrified, staring at the gruesome sight that was before him. The body still thrashing slightly as the body starved for the last bit of oxygen.

“Oh? That was just the test run.” Faldo said with a bit of grim satisfaction, “Next time, I will be holding the bastard’s mouth open, there won’t be any gurgling. He will choke on his damn cock.”

“Well every time can’t be perfect,” Damon said lightly to his friend. Faldo smiled and gave him a shrug and clapped him on the back. They continued up, the next floor looked like it was being used for barracks of some sort, but now it was empty. He probably had his soldiers out bucketing water. They came to the next set of stairs. They led up to a door. Damon eased up to the door and gave it a jiggle. It was unlocked, he signaled for them to come up. They lightly climbed the stairs, in single file, with Marlin having to duck in the narrow stairwell. Damon took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

Inside was the wealthy owner’s suite, and it had everything that you could need, even private jakes and baths. Damon quietly eased in, on feet that seemed to walk on shadows when he heard a twang of a crossbow string and rolled his shoulder. A blossom of pain shot through his arm, as a bolt meant for his heart, had missed.

“Drat!” Came a female voice. Damon gave a weak underhanded throw, but it was not at where the shot was, it was back at the door. The blade flipped twice and Faldo snatched the knife out of the air, rolling out of the doorway. He spotted his target and gave Damon’s knife a throw. It sailed true and found the lady’s heart, and she dropped her crossbow, grabbing the knife and pulling it out releasing the throwing knife to the ground with a steely clatter. She stared in horror at her chest and then looked to Faldo with recognition registering on her face.

“Yeah, you bitch!” He gazed at her. Faldo's hatred could almost be tangibly felt by the others in the room, “It is a little to the side to make dying very slow. We need some answers, and I won’t permit you to die until you give us them.”

Wallace and the others came forward as the female collapsed to the floor. Her breathing becoming labored. The Lady’s typically pale complexion had taken a gray cast, and her chubby cheeks had dark curls matted to it by beads of sweat that was now slowly dribbling down her face.

Damon broke the crossbow bolt off and pulled it out with a curse. His breathing came in short gasp of pain as Vic tied a bandage over it, putting the knots over the wounds.

“Son,” Vic said, “You were lucky she was using a little handheld toy. Had that been one the military used, it would have shattered bone and all.”

Damon gave him a little nod and with pursed lips stood up and came over to where the dark-haired lady lay on the floor. He nudged her with his foot none too gently.

“My Lady Thewar,” Damon said with his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Such an honor to meet you again. By the way, my lady thanks you for the necklace and ring. Now, where is dear old Fred? He has parts of his anatomy that he needs to be acquainted with the taste. That way he knows just how foul of a man he truly is.”

“Hehe, he is truly a foul man is he not? Probably leprosy, he is a disgusting enough man. ” She coughed, a little bloody foam coming out her mouth, “I would have just been happy enough with the fall of the old Matron bitch, but he had to have all the Temples. Now, he has left me for dead.”

“So he has fled?” Faldo disappointment clear in his voice.

“Not yet,” her eyes flicked towards the jakes and a bloody, toothy smile coming to her chubby cheeks. She coughed and more brothy foam came up.

“That will be enough, put your weapons down.” Came a stern voice from behind them as they heard the door from the jakes open.

“By the damned demons!” stormed Wallace as he slowly turned not letting go of his weapon. Damon turned also but not before he stomped on the wound on the Lady’s chest, rupturing her injuries and ending her life. He flashed Fredrick a feral smile to let him know that this encounter would end with one of their lives. Fredrick stood there with a military crossbow drawn and pointed at the group and another cocked beside him. The look on his worn face was victorious as he had the one person he had hunted for two years in front of him. His hair stood frazzled, and he wreaked of a week old body odor.

“Well, you set fire to my city,” he chuckled, “Bold move and one I did not anticipate. But I have bolder ones made. I know the Grim is here in Tharpe and here in Tharpe, we will make his grave. Now I said drop the weapons. I won’t ask again. I have an appointment to make. Schedules to keep and all. So, let’s not be rude and make this hard.”

“I am sorry, but you miscount sir, you have two crossbows. That is two shots. Here I will even hold up the number of fingers if it is too hard for your brain to comprehend.” Damon held up two fingers, “Now, that can only take down two of us, from my last count there are six of us. Now if you can’t count that high my assistant over here will help. Faldo, do you mind?”

Faldo held up five on the one hand and made an obscene gesture with his other, bringing the total count to six. Damon flashed him a grin of approval.

“Yes very nice educational program, is it not Sedrick?” Fredrick asked a figure that appeared out of thin air behind them. “You see I have some education for you folks too; this is Sedrick. He is the one who will be putting an end to all this Necromancer bullshit. Sedrick, this is the soon to be dead, pain in the asses. Would you mind starting with the wounded one? We should take pity and put down the weak and wounded first.”

“So you have a pet sorcerer, or does he have a favorite playmate now that your wife is dead?” Prodded Faldo as he slowly moved off to the right and away from the sorcerer. For some reason unknown, they made his skin crawl. If he were fighting anyone, it would be against the son of a bitch that made him walk the Planes of Chaos themselves, watching Cariline endure man after man being raped. He would die, and he knew it, but he would meet his end helping Damon do what they came here to do.

“No, I am here for my own reasons as the brave leader over there pointed out. I will be on my way now, I have appointments. So sorry to run Fred.” With that the sorcerer gave Damon a wink, “Stick him once for me will you, for what he did to his daughter. I don’t care what view you have, that was evil.”

The sorcerer gave a few gestures of his hands and a short incantation and was gone before anyone could lunge. A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wooden wall behind where Sedrick was. Damon turned back to Fredrick smiling maliciously at him still holding up two fingers with his good hand. He slowly lowered one finger and looked around at his companions, who all smiled showing teeth at the middle-aged Resistance leader. There was smoke starting to form around them, as the wet building was beginning to succumb to the raging inferno of the burning city around.

“Well,” Wallace said with a cough, “We better get to it lads, on three?”

“It won’t matter he can’t count that high, THREE !” Faldo yelled and charged at Fredrick. Faldo had been moving the entire time slowly and had come to within a few bounds of him. He closed the distance to the middle-aged man in seconds and kicked the crossbow upwards sending the bolt into the ceiling with a thud. His weight carried both of them back into the jakes. They hit the floor with a jarring crash and the others heard a splintering of the wood.

Damon sprinted forwards, with Wallace and Marlin on his heels. They saw Faldo look back at them over his shoulder, with his eyes wide in terror, before the floor gave out into a deluge of flames. They all cried out and tried to reach out for him, but it was too late. Their friend had disappeared, but at least it was not in vain. The man who had done such evil had vanished into the blaze with him.

Wallace grabbed his companions’ arms and dragged them back down the two flights of stairs, and they made the harrowing flight to the docks. They set fire to the remaining boats with the flask they carried, and the men got in the vessel, casting off into the dark lake. Damon and Cariline sat in the bow of the ship, huddled against the wind as the chop got worse. It would be rough going; they were quartering the wind. The city shrank behind them, making the sky glow a fiery red. On the far shore, they saw the encampment of the army and their companions waiting for them. There, they would find relative safety after two days of utter chaos.

Just before they reached the shore, an explosion ripped through the city, centered on the Temple. Wallace rose in the boat they were in and stared back teary-eyed.

“What happened?” Asked a sleepy-eyed Cariline.

“The Temple has been destroyed. The Grim will perish.” Wallace said with a heaving sob.