Warlock's shadow by Stephen Deas

Author:Stephen Deas
Language: eng
Format: epub

18

THE FACE OF THE ENEMY

The door flew open. For a moment it blocked Berren’s sight. Master Sy disappeared from view. The door began to swing to. Outside in the hall, two shouts and one clash of steel rang out. Then there was silence.

The door stopped, half-open. Something was in the way, stopping it from fully closing. Berren hardly dared to breathe. And then he heard his name. It was Master Sy’s voice, a low whisper.

‘Berren?’

Berren went to the door and pulled it open again. What stopped it from closing was a pair of boots. One of the snuffers was lying there, flat on his back. The thief-taker’s sword had ripped his throat out and there was blood everywhere. Berren gawped in awe. He wished he’d been standing somewhere else when the door had flown open so he could have seen what Master Sy had done.

Out in the hall, by the top of the stairs, a second snuffer lay still. Master Sy was standing over him.

‘Come here.’

Berren ran over. The second soldier had his throat slit open as well.

‘You want me to teach you to fight?’ whispered the thief-taker.

Berren nodded, almost salivating at the prospect.

‘Then take a long look, because this is how it ends.’ He ran down the stairs, favouring his good leg, leaving Berren behind to stare at the bodies and wonder.

When Berren was done staring at the bodies, he ran his hands through their pockets and helped himself to their purses. He’d been right about the jackets and they had good boots and good clothes too, and if he’d been with Master Hatchet there was no question: he’d have stripped both the snuffers of as much as he could carry.

There was a shout from below, another clash of steel and a strangled cry: ‘You? You’re dead!’ That was the man with the cane. Whatever Master Sy’s reply, it was too quiet to reach up the stairs. Berren took a sword from one of the snuffers. The usual old cavalry swords were too long for Berren’s arms, but this … this was perfect. A sword like Master Sy’s. The man’s belt was too big and he couldn’t get the scabbard free, but he didn’t care. Simply holding a real steel blade made him feel six feet taller. Made him feel like he was a man, not a boy any more.

Another yell came from below and another clash of blades. Berren bounded down. In the gloom of the hallway he saw the man with the cane, his back to the front door. He had a sword, but his hand was shaking. Between him and Berren stood Master Sy, his long coat hanging loose. He had a sword too and his was as steady as a rock. Two more snuffers lay slumped in the passageway, dead or well on their way.

‘No, no.’ The man with the cane was shaking his head. ‘No!’ He looked from side to side as though some miracle might save his life. He reached one hand behind him, fumbling for the door.

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