This looks like a bit of a set-up. How did Malik know that we were going to be coming this way?

“Well, well, well, look what we have here, me boys. Some of the Watch out of their uniform, and in a terrible place too. What should we do with them?” And there it is, luck pissing on my life. “Ah, it’s my lucky day today. Not only do we get boatloads of slips for this, but I also have the pleasure of taking a pound of flesh from this thorn.”

The sneer on Malik’s face oozes pleasure. I think the sick bastard will actually enjoy cutting me open. Mind you, the feeling is mutual, so I guess I am a sick bastard too.

Yay! Think, think, what to do ... Drawing a blank.

Stillwater says, “Come on, Malik, just because we don't have our uniforms on doesn't mean we have any less authority.” Good, Stillwater will handle this. Smirk and look tough. “Best case scenario, we go our way, you go yours. I don't want to have to get physical here, but if you push me, you will quickly find out why I am one of the Champions of the Hall.”

She is a what, now? They were shocked at me being ex-army. But for Stillwater to have won fights with previous Champions? Damn! Too many surprises today. I am trying to hide my surprise, but the Boys are not liking this. Even if they outnumber us, we have a lot of unknowns. We might make it out of here.

There is that oily sneer again. I spoke too soon. “Oh no. I’m quaking in my boots. There are fifteen of us, and I tell you right now, we are not going to come at you one at a time, lass. But please, insult us, threaten us, show us your skills. When we are standing at the end, we'll have a good laugh about you being a so-called ‘Champion’ while you bleed on the ground. Just hope we kill you—there are fates worse than death.”

Fifteen! I had a good run. Wish Pela had not talked me into coming down here. Mind you, if it is my time I am not going quaking in my boots like some kind of novice.

Time for me to jump in. “Hey, Malik, I can still see you have issues with your mathematics, my friend. That must be because you are so lowbrow, or did Mummy not send you to school?”

If looks could kill, I would be dead from the front and the back. I can hear Gunnar mumbling to himself. Going to cop it later, if we make it.

“Judging by the dumb look on your face—” Or is it rage? “—I can tell I am going to have to explain it to you very simply and slowly. Firstly, yes, you outnumber us, but I can tell you that at least half will be down before you know it.” That is not sitting well with the Boys as they fidget and exchange glances.

“Secondly, you do not know our capabilities, but I know yours. I have been outnumbered by your lads a few times. Even if you have beaten me in the past, I have taken at least three or four of you each time. And this time, I have a bloody Champion on my side!” Yes, some are looking around, seeing where they can go.

“And lastly, I am going to be taking my pound of flesh off you, Malik, really close to the bone! Think about that, Dock Boys. Anyone who wants to die stand between me and him, or you could let your glorious leader fight his own battles.”

A few nasty looks from his Boys. “You talk big, boy. Even if you take half of us down, you'll still be dead. I can keep up this banter, but while we have been talking my reinforcements have arrived.” What was that? By the most Holy! Behind us is another group of Boys. “So, you were saying that I can't do my sums? Well, I think I might have the advantage now.”

I do not think either me or Stillwater can talk our way out of this. Is Gunnar okay? He has been muttering to himself for the last few minutes. What is that in his hands?

“Malik, we are here conducting official Watch duties, so the best thing for you would be to step aside and allow us through.” That’s it, Stillwater, try to convince this murderous maniac to let us go. “There’s no need for violence.”

“There you go again, lass, thinking that I care! Someone higher up than you gave me a lot of slips to make sure nobody makes it out of this area alive.” Hang on, does that mean the people we just killed as well? This changes a few things. Big secrets mean big sacrifices, I’m guessing. “Make it easy for you and us. Put down your weapons, and we'll make it quick!”

No. I am not going to do that. I prefer to die with a sword in my hand than die like a dog in the dirt. Limber up a little, no stiffness in my shoulder or leg. Some good healing Gunnar did; still, do not know how he did it. Stillwater looks back at me, I nod. WayWocket is reaching into his vast number of pouches, and there is Gunnar just mumbling away. I hope they will be on the same page as Stillwater and I and that they realise this is going to turn ugly.

All of a sudden, Gunnar throws some thick liquid into the air with a grunt. Each Dock boy near us is hit with a red splat ... Is that blood? Jara’s hammer! Rats, cats, and dogs are running in from the alleys around us and starting to attack the Dock Boys!

“What are you waiting for?” Malik draws a falchion. I have not seen a lot of those around—more of a chopping weapon than a finesse one. “Attack!”

The cats are jumping up and clawing at faces; the dogs are ripping at hamstrings, and the rats are chewing on anyone who drops. In the corner of my eye, I see WayWocket throw a little globe behind the Boys—KABOOM!! It is not just the explosion that stuns everyone, the noise is deafening. At least I knew something like that was going to happen, so I had time to shield myself.

Stillwater is wading in with her hand and a half sword, swinging left and right, taking advantage of the shock and confusion. Each hit cleaves heads and chests; chunks of flesh fly. I guess it is my turn. Drawing my duelling dagger to match my sword, I have only one target in my sights—Malik!

One of the Boys charges me with a rusty axe. As I run towards him, just before I reach him, he is struck by a lightning bolt. Where did that come from? WayWocket! Impressive. I dodge past the steaming corpse, and I see Malik with two guards. This will be fun!

“Come on, you yellow-livered dirt pile of excrement! Face me like a man. Stop hiding behind your dogs!”

I hear Malik say, “Get that turd!” With that, his Boys head towards me, grinning devilishly. Need to make it quick and move through. I feint to the right to draw Lefty into an attack. Pulling back, I extend my dagger and catch him in the throat. Parrying, thug stage right counters. I pivot and slash him across the back. He drops and two dogs jump on him and start tearing at him. Seeing him trying to fight them off warms my cockles.

Even with all the noise, explosions, and screams, I only see and hear Malik. His face is turning a lovely shade of purple; spittle bubbles form on his lips as he grinds his teeth, and his knuckles are near white holding on to his falchion. That stiffness and tension will be in my favour. This man has caused me more hurt in the last few months than I could ever cause him, but I will still be glad to give him two spans of sharpened steel in his gullet.

He stops, grins, and with a whoosh, something solid hits my lower rib cage. Concentrating too hard on Malik, I am blindsided! Turning, I see the bastard that hit me; a big one too. Lucky my armour took most of the hit, but I can still feel a few cracked ribs. Malik, that lazy piece of work, is just standing there, some of the purple in his face receding.

Never mind that now. Focus. The bigger you are, the slower you are too. Drawback from this swinging tree trunk and pick my moment. I lunge forward quickly and give him a sweet new smile around the neck area. Cannot forget the dimples; need the ladies to like his new smile.

Malik does not seem to like his goon’s new grin. “Do you have any more, Malik, or are you going to do your own dirty work now?” All I receive is a grunt before he charges. I casually take his falchion on my dagger, making sure it slips off, as that was a powerful blow. “You are out of practice, my friend. That was a pretty obvious attack!” His face looks like a beetroot. Another pathetic swing; I just parry it again.

It is time to humiliate him. Even if we lose, he will not be leading the Dock Boys anymore! “Nearly had a good swing there, but need to change up your pattern. Here, let me show you.”

Stepping back, dodging his last massive blow that would have cut me from neck to groin if he could hit me. Hit him on the arm with the flat of my blade, then turn the blade to give him a little nick too, just for sport. Another swing and miss, nick him again with my dagger. Then follow up with another across the cheek, that one was a little deep, oops, but fun. I hear a grunt behind me. I thrust my sword back and hear a yelp—another Boy down. And here is Malik, thinking he has an advantage. Pity, he does not.

Another miss as I move my body slightly. And I just had my armour repaired. Withdrawing my sword from the dead Boy, the blood flicks up into Malik's face. This is too easy. He has got nothing on the soldiers I served with. Still, wish I had my shield with me; it would be a lot simpler.

Enough playing, time to finish this. Another pathetic swing. Just aim for the neck, and that is that.

What? Stars? Did he just hit me with his fist? Dropping his falchion, he moves towards me and punches me in the face again. He grabs my hair and brings his knee up to my nose. I can feel it being smeared onto my face. Left, right, he keeps jabbing, keeping me off balance. Need to steady my wits! Just cannot get him off me. Need to catch my breath. Screw this! Another one coming—smash his hand with my hilt and follow up with a swipe from my dagger. Good, he backs off.

Taken too much for granted. I hope everyone else has it under control. “Good to see that you have a little left in the basement there, Malik. Rattled my cage a few times.”

“Don't you ever shut up? Yack, yack, yack! Killing my Boys, think you are the tough guy now, boy? You'll pay, one way or the other!”

“Look around you, not much left. Even if you beat me, my team will make sure the only way you leave this place tonight is in a pine box! Come on, you filthy rodent!”

Hands open, he looks like he is going to try catching my sword. I have to admit, he is a pretty good brawler. I need to finish this. Press my advantage. Slow and steady, do not overextend. Shift closer, lead with the sword, use the knife as counter. Strike! Now!

His severed hands bounce slightly on the ground, and he slumps down between them. There he is, bleeding out. I wait, and soon ... No life. It is over.

I mutter, “You should not have thrown your sword away, Malik.” I spit on his corpse, glad that he is dead, but my attention is drawn back to my team.

I spin around to see that most of the Boys are down; about fifteen dead, including Malik. The others are dropping their weapons and running.

I stagger over to Stillwater. “We cannot rest now. Before those thugs have the first good idea they have ever had, we should get back to base, before we lick our wounds.”

With a nod of agreement, Stillwater limps forward, holding her side. Gunnar follows; he has a few deep cuts and bruises. WayWocket seems to be completely untouched—lucky son of Mela! I have a broken nose, cracked ribs, some loose teeth, and a nice assortment of cuts. Still standing, that is the main thing.

Stillwater asks, “Do you think it’s safe to use the roads now or should we still use the sewer, Gunnar?”

I try to speak but I just cough up blood. It was that hit in the back. Down I go. Then I see Gunnar, with green light surrounding his hands. “This is the second time tonight that I have saved—” His voice drops into a mutter. “—your useless life.”

WayWocket moves over with a flask of multi-coloured fluid. “Here, drink. Rib bone broken in your lung. Pity if you die. You are interesting.”

“Gunnar, can he make it back?”

“With Way's potion and my healing, he might make it. It’s a risk. Best to just leave him here and go back ourselves. Betters our chances.”

Propping myself up, I try to regain my breath to speak. Suddenly, Stillwater king-hits Gunnar, and he is now a flying Dwarf. You see something new every day. “How dare you suggest such a thing! If it wasn't for Lone, we'd all be dead. He is a comrade and should be treated with respect. How would you feel if I left you here?”

“Joan, leave him be. I agree. You have to make it back to give your report, and leaving me here will increase your chances.”

“Self-sacrifice sounds good on paper, Lone, but I don't leave my people behind! Even if sometimes they deserve it.” She glares at Gunnar briefly. Stillwater turns back to me, with softness in her tone now. “Can you walk or do you need us to carry you?”

What is this wetness on my cheek? Is it raining? … Oh, it is not.

Getting to my feet, the pain is not as severe but it still feels like a knife in my side. “I will be fine. Do not worry about me, Joan. Going through the sewer is not necessary. We won. Let us just head back. The Dock Boys will not stop us now that I have killed their leader.”

Gunnar grunts in agreement. WayWocket whistles and starts to move towards the end of the street like the decision has been made. Stillwater comes to my side and chuckles. “Looks like WayWocket thinks it’s a good idea. Let’s go home, Lone.”