The Shattered Land_ The Dreaming Dark - Keith Baker [41]
No, Daine thought, struggling against the pain. He fought to lift his sword, but every motion was torture. It can’t end like this …
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the pain came to an end. There was a flash of red energy, and the masked woman fell to her knees, clasping her hand. The crystal had shattered, and her skin was raw and studded with tiny shards. Even through the haze of agony, the cause was clear: her hand was transfixed by a short crossbow bolt, which must have hit the crystal dead center.
There was no time to lose. Forcing his heavy limbs to move, he lunged at the woman, landing a solid blow in her left shoulder. It was by no means a mortal injury, but at this point he just wanted to slow her down.
A new pain tore through his back: Daine had lowered his guard, and the man with the crystal sword had not let the opportunity go to waste. Caught between two foes, Daine drew his dagger and turned to face the veiled swordsman.
“Come on, then,” he muttered, vowing to bury his blade in the man’s heart with his last breath.
Fate had its own agenda. The lean man leapt forward, launching a lightning-fast thrust at Daine’s throat. It never connected. There was a blur of motion, and another quarrel lodged itself in the man’s leg, throwing him off of his path. Granted a moment’s reprieve, Daine took a step backwards, setting his back against the wall of the alley. There was a silver streak, and Pierce’s flail came flashing forward from the edge of his vision, knocking the Riedran to the ground.
It’s good to have friends, Daine thought.
He took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the supporting wall. Pierce was fighting the swordsman, forcing the lithe assassin back down the alley. Lei and Lakashtai had also recovered and engaged the two soldiers Lei had trapped in the magic web. That left the woman with the shattered crystal. Though she was still clutching her injured hand, she was rising to her feet, and Daine had no idea what other powers she might have in reserve. He steadied his grip and prepared to strike.
“Kolesq!” a voice cried: the man with the crystal sword. As Daine lunged forward, the woman slapped her left wrist with her right hand. Her outline wavered, growing ghostly and translucent—in an instant, she was gone, and the point of Daine’s sword struck the hard wall behind her. He swept the blade from side to side; he’d dealt with invisible foes before. This time, he felt nothing. It seemed she had fled.
She wasn’t the only one. Glancing around, Daine saw that all of their assailants had vanished—even those trapped in Lei’s mystical web.
“Status?” he called, sharply.
“Nothing serious, Daine,” Pierce called.
He never calls me “captain” anymore, Daine thought.
“Minor injury,” Lei said, and Daine spun to face her, his heart pounding harder. There was a shallow cut on her right arm, and she was clutching her lower left ribs. Daine knew that she could judge her own injuries, but he found himself by her side, studying the cut. “I can heal it …” she said, gritting her teeth. “Made wand …”
Lakashtai seemed to be in the worst condition, for all that Daine could see no physical injuries. She had fallen back against the alley wall, and was clutching her forehead. When she pulled her hand away, her face was paler than usual, her skin covered with sweat—the first time Daine had actually seen her sweat, he realized.
“Who … who shattered the crystal?” she said, her voice tight.
“That would be me,” a voice said, just behind Daine. Even as he spun to face the new sound, a lithe figure slithered down the wall, landing smoothly on the alley path.
“My name’s Gerrion,” the stranger said, in a voice that sounded like laughter. “I understand you’re in the market for a guide.”
At a glance, the stranger was unremarkable; he wouldn’t attract a moment’s notice on the streets of Sharn. His clothes were threadbare and plain, patched brown breeches, tall leather boots in need of resoling, a light wool cloak that had