The Cost of Betrayal by David Dalglish

attitude adjustment,” Tarlak said. He snapped his fingers. The assassin walked over, knelt down, and then buried a saber into the thief’s right wrist. He screamed and struggled, but the location of the saber was perfect, in between the bones so the blade could not tear free. Finally, the man calmed, wincing against the pain. Delysia pointedly turned away, her face disgusted.
    “You do not approve?” Qurrah asked her.
    “There are always better ways,” she said. “Violence is rarely the best.”
    The half-orc laughed. Aurelia glared at him.
    “Silence, Qurrah, or I will quiet you myself.”
    He grinned at her but obeyed.
    “Care to talk now?” Tarlak asked once the thief regained his composure. The man nodded. “Good, tell me your name.”
    “Terrence.”
    “Alright Terrence, who orchestrated this whole farce? All I want is a name and I will let you live.”
    “They will kill me if I talk,” Terrence said.
    “You will die if you don’t,” Haern whispered. “Besides, all will think you dead. Now give us a name.”
    Tarlak stood watching and stroking his goatee. The man appeared to be greatly troubled, and when Haern yanked his blade free, it did not help his confused mind.
    “I will tell,” Terrance said at last. “But I want you to promise.”
    Tarlak clapped the man on the shoulder, ignoring the wince of pain on his face. “I speak for the Eschaton. You will not be harmed, nor persecuted for any crimes you might have committed in your guild.”
    Terrence glanced about before his eyes settled on a vacant area of the floor.
    “What they’ve told us,” he said, “is that all of the guildmasters wish the Watcher dead. The guilds are united. They prepare for war.”
    Haern’s face darkened. He pulled his hood lower. “Who initiated it?” he asked.
    “I don’t know,” Terrence said. “The Spider Guild seems the most eager. Thren has spoken with our representatives every night. Now may I go?”
    The mercenaries let him stand. He winced, clutching his tender chest. Delysia turned back around and grabbed his hand in hers.
    “Go with the peace of Ashhur,” she told him, light swirling about her hands. When she released, there was no trace of the wound. He nodded to each of them, pilfered coins from his dead comrades, and then ran.
    “Why did you let that one live?” Tarlak asked, watching him go.
    “He was the least bloodthirsty, and had some measure of skill. I thought he might be the most tempted by a new life.”
    The wizard shrugged. “Makes sense to-”
    “Look out!” Aurelia shouted. She dove in front of Haern and then screamed as an arrow pierced through the flesh of her breast. Haern spun, seeing just the trace of a gray cloak at the door Qurrah had shattered. Tarlak caught Aurelia in his arms and helped her to the floor. Haern knelt beside her, eyeing the wound.
    “Poison,” he whispered. “Lady Thyne, please forgive me.”
    He yanked the arrow out.
    Harruq rushed to the door, his swords drawn and ready. He ran out into the street, spun one way, then the other. No one was in sight.
    “Move Haern, I must help her,” Delysia said. She knelt down, her hands upon the wound. She prayed for healing, and white light shone about her. Suddenly, her face contorted in pain, and a black light poured out of the wound and into her fingers.
    “Sis, stop it!” Tarlak screamed, trying to pull her away.
    “I have to…I have to…” she said before shrieking. More and more darkness poured into her, pushing away the white. As the rest stood helpless, Qurrah walked over, knelt beside Delysia, and put his hands atop of hers.
    “ Delrn rel thun yaer, ” he hissed. The black magic poured into his hands, but did no harm to him. Instead, it swirled above his palms, held captive by the necromancer.
    “Let your death go elsewhere,” he said. He flung his hand as if throwing a spear straight into the ground. A dark, ethereal arrow flew through the dirt and vanished. For a brief moment, healing light