Cloak and Spider: A Shadowdance Novella Read Online Free PDF

man to bandage it. They wouldn’t give him the time. Crion released his hand, held it up bloody before them, and let out a primal cry. He charged them, but this time there were no games, no letting him get close so they might look for an opening. They stayed on the opposite side no matter where he went. Crion stumbled, he bumped into tables, he slipped once on a pool of spilled wine left by some nameless member of the Sun Guild. All the while his weakened body lost blood.
    Thren felt ready to pass out himself, but he carried on. Just a little while longer, he told himself. Just a tiny bit more.
    At last Crion slumped to the ground in the middle of the dining hall, sword limp in his right hand. Thren and Grayson stalked over to him, as if they were lions and he a wounded animal. Crion saw them coming, and he chuckled.
    “Fuck you, Phillip,” he breathed.
    When the boys were close he flung his sword at Grayson, but the throw was errant, the weapon not designed for such use. It clattered along the ground, leaving him helpless.
    Thren leaped at him first, then pulled away when Crion tried to punch him in the face. Grayson jumped him from behind then, stabbing the man’s back repeatedly. As he screamed and tried to reach around to grab Grayson, Thren took the opening and dove in, stabbing the man’s throat as Crion screamed his denial. When he pulled the dagger free, blood poured across his hands from the gaping wound. Grayson jumped away, and together, each soaked in blood, they watched the man die.
    “Last one,” Grayson said, and he looked ready to vomit.
    “Not quite,” Thren said, and he met his friend’s eye. They each held a weapon, both stained with another man’s blood. Thren opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t know what to say. Grayson, however, was the better of them.
    “No,” he said. “It is.”
    He dropped his dagger.
    Thren took a step closer, grip tightening on his own dagger. This was his chance, a way to ensure that Muzien would not be disappointed in him. But after all they’d done, all they had endured in both the streets of Mordeina and the dining hall of the Sun Guild…
    Thren dropped his dagger.
    “Enough!”
    Together they turned around and fell to their knees as Muzien the Darkhand stepped into the room. His face was a calm mask, but his eyes seemed to shine.
    “You were but a gamble and a dream,” he said as he approached. “Never did I believe you would succeed. But you did, you two did. The Sun Guild’s future has never been brighter than at this very moment.”
    Thren felt something burning in his chest, and he wondered what it was. Pain? Hunger?
    It felt good, though. It felt like worth. It felt like pride. It felt as if a legend had just given him meaning and purpose. When he glanced at Grayson, he saw that same understanding revealing itself as a giant grin on his dark-skinned friend’s face.
    “Follow me,” Muzien said, taking them toward the exit. There seemed to be a bounce to his step, and an excitement to his voice. “You both will need to recover, and I’ll ensure you have food and drink ready for you in your rooms.”
    They stepped out the door, and as they did Thren let out a gasp.
    All around the door lay the bodies of dozens of men and women, all those who had left earlier. They had died the exact same way, their throats slit, no doubt denying them their dying screams. Thren looked to Muzien, and he felt growing in his addled brain an understanding of just what type of man their lives were now sworn to, of what kind of kingdom he was expected to build.
    “Why?” he dared ask.
    Muzien frowned at the bodies, as if he hadn’t noticed their presence until Thren asked about them.
    “The door was a gift for the weak, nothing more. A man or woman unwilling to risk everything is someone I do not want in the ranks of my guild.”
    He turned, knelt before the two so they might see eye to eye. His presence held Thren captive, the strength of his will a