don’t stand a chance.”
When he ceased, the room filled with an angry silence. Thren stood over the bed, one hand clenched into a fist, the other clutching the dagger with the eyeball still pierced by the tip.
“Thren,” Haern said, voice soft. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
Thren shook his head, and without a word he climbed onto the bed, straddled Ridley, and held his head once more in a vise grip.
“I’ve seen the loyalty Muzien inspires,” Thren said, and somehow, something had changed. He seemed to glow with cold loathing. Each word dripped with disgust and hatred. “I’ve seen men bow to him as if he were a god. He’s no different than Karak, no different than Ashhur. He wants to be worshipped as a divinity. He wants to build a legend to rival anything accomplished by humanity’s hands. You’ve screamed and begged, Ridley, but you haven’t made me believe you.”
“You know nothing of him,” Ridley said, panic creeping into his voice.
“I was his heir,” Thren whispered, dagger slipping beneath the remaining eye. “Who’s the damn fool now?”
The door to the bedroom opened, and Haern felt his heart leap in his chest. Spinning, hands falling for his sabers, he expected members of the Sun Guild. Instead he found a fat man with a receding hairline and alcohol stains on his shirt. The home’s owner, Haern realized.
“…The fuck?” the man asked, eyes bloodshot, brow furrowed.
Before either could answer, Ridley flung his body forward, straining every limit of his bonds. His head snapped forward, plunging Thren’s dagger deep into his other eye, burying it up to the hilt. Immediately afterward his body began to seize, head flopping up and down, arms flailing against the tied sheets.
“Gods damn it!” Thren said, ripping out the dagger. Furious, he turned to the interloper, yanked off the eyeball, and then flung the dagger across the room. It sank into the throat of the fat man, who stood there, stunned. Haern watched just as stunned, knowing he should have done something to stop it, yet he’d not. With two men now dead, the room began to stink of blood and evacuated bowels. Pulling his hood lower, Haern stepped over the homeowner’s corpse.
“Time to go,” he said. “It’s almost morning, and there’s nothing left for us here.”
“You’re wrong,” Thren said, retrieving his dagger. “We may not have learned anything, but we’re fighting a war, and must take every victory we can.”
Haern turned back around, shrugged.
“Then what do you want?” he asked.
Thren glared down at Ridley’s body.
“To leave a message,” he said, and then he began to work.
Using the sheets of the bed, they tied his arms together and then hung him naked before the door of his home. His eyes were gone, as were his fingers, his ears, and his tongue.
Across his bare chest, carved deep into the skin, bled the symbol of the Spider.
CHAPTER
7
M uzien stormed into the guildhouse, between the guards who snapped alert in near terror, and into the main foyer. Nearly a dozen men and women stood waiting, their ears full of rings. They were his best, his brightest … what was left of them, anyway. Those whom Thren Felhorn hadn’t butchered the night before.
“What do we know?” Muzien asked as they gave way, allowing him access to the large round table in the center of the well-lit room. On the table was a grand map of Veldaren, accompanied by multiple bottles of wine and ale. Muzien grabbed one, accepted a glass immediately offered by a man to his right, and poured himself a drink.
“Ridley was attacked at his home,” said Haley, a woman with blond hair and fifteen rings and studs in her left ear. She was one of the few from Veldaren’s old guilds to rapidly rise in rank, all fifteen kills having come after her joining the Sun Guild. “His guards were ready for it, not that it seemed to matter. We found dead bodies all about both the rooftops and the ground below.
When he ceased, the room filled with an angry silence. Thren stood over the bed, one hand clenched into a fist, the other clutching the dagger with the eyeball still pierced by the tip.
“Thren,” Haern said, voice soft. “I think he’s telling the truth.”
Thren shook his head, and without a word he climbed onto the bed, straddled Ridley, and held his head once more in a vise grip.
“I’ve seen the loyalty Muzien inspires,” Thren said, and somehow, something had changed. He seemed to glow with cold loathing. Each word dripped with disgust and hatred. “I’ve seen men bow to him as if he were a god. He’s no different than Karak, no different than Ashhur. He wants to be worshipped as a divinity. He wants to build a legend to rival anything accomplished by humanity’s hands. You’ve screamed and begged, Ridley, but you haven’t made me believe you.”
“You know nothing of him,” Ridley said, panic creeping into his voice.
“I was his heir,” Thren whispered, dagger slipping beneath the remaining eye. “Who’s the damn fool now?”
The door to the bedroom opened, and Haern felt his heart leap in his chest. Spinning, hands falling for his sabers, he expected members of the Sun Guild. Instead he found a fat man with a receding hairline and alcohol stains on his shirt. The home’s owner, Haern realized.
“…The fuck?” the man asked, eyes bloodshot, brow furrowed.
Before either could answer, Ridley flung his body forward, straining every limit of his bonds. His head snapped forward, plunging Thren’s dagger deep into his other eye, burying it up to the hilt. Immediately afterward his body began to seize, head flopping up and down, arms flailing against the tied sheets.
“Gods damn it!” Thren said, ripping out the dagger. Furious, he turned to the interloper, yanked off the eyeball, and then flung the dagger across the room. It sank into the throat of the fat man, who stood there, stunned. Haern watched just as stunned, knowing he should have done something to stop it, yet he’d not. With two men now dead, the room began to stink of blood and evacuated bowels. Pulling his hood lower, Haern stepped over the homeowner’s corpse.
“Time to go,” he said. “It’s almost morning, and there’s nothing left for us here.”
“You’re wrong,” Thren said, retrieving his dagger. “We may not have learned anything, but we’re fighting a war, and must take every victory we can.”
Haern turned back around, shrugged.
“Then what do you want?” he asked.
Thren glared down at Ridley’s body.
“To leave a message,” he said, and then he began to work.
Using the sheets of the bed, they tied his arms together and then hung him naked before the door of his home. His eyes were gone, as were his fingers, his ears, and his tongue.
Across his bare chest, carved deep into the skin, bled the symbol of the Spider.
CHAPTER
7
M uzien stormed into the guildhouse, between the guards who snapped alert in near terror, and into the main foyer. Nearly a dozen men and women stood waiting, their ears full of rings. They were his best, his brightest … what was left of them, anyway. Those whom Thren Felhorn hadn’t butchered the night before.
“What do we know?” Muzien asked as they gave way, allowing him access to the large round table in the center of the well-lit room. On the table was a grand map of Veldaren, accompanied by multiple bottles of wine and ale. Muzien grabbed one, accepted a glass immediately offered by a man to his right, and poured himself a drink.
“Ridley was attacked at his home,” said Haley, a woman with blond hair and fifteen rings and studs in her left ear. She was one of the few from Veldaren’s old guilds to rapidly rise in rank, all fifteen kills having come after her joining the Sun Guild. “His guards were ready for it, not that it seemed to matter. We found dead bodies all about both the rooftops and the ground below.
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