Queen of the Night Guild, page 30
part #3 of Queen of Thieves Series
She plummeted toward the hard stone floor below, then the rope pulled tight with the eerie snap of bone. She winced at the pain in her arms and swung toward the second floor. Her grip on the rope loosened as she landed on the wooden planking. She didn’t wait to watch the body plummet toward the ground behind her, but sprinted toward the nearest thug.
The man was still picking himself up when Allon, who had hidden beneath the stairs to yank his feet from beneath him, reached him. The thump of the Hound’s knee slamming into the thug’s face sent a shiver down her spine. The Voramian’s wail of pain cut off with a gagging cry.
Ilanna leapt past the kneeling man and raced toward the staircase. At the top, Verum struggled to break free of the encircling arms of a Voramian. Another thug still stood halfway up, eyes wide and filled with uncertainty. Ilanna charged up the stairs and drove her fist up between the man’s legs, into his groin. He groaned, his breath hissing through his teeth. She dodged his fumbling hands and punched at his throat. Her knuckles rebounded off his chin.
Sucking in a gasp of pain, Ilanna retreated down the staircase. The Voramian stumbled after her, fury mingling with the pain etched in the lines of his face. “You bitch!” he roared. “You’ll pay for—”
Ilanna leapt over the railing of the staircase a heartbeat before a flying body collided into the thug. The two Voramians clattered down the stairs to land in a groaning, bleeding heap at Allon’s feet. Allon stamped down hard on one’s wrist as Ilanna drove her heel into the other’s throat. Their efforts to protect themselves only added to Ilanna’s rage. Over and over, she pounded them with her feet and fists. Blood flew, the men cried out, and then all was silent. Still she beat at them. She wouldn’t stop until they were dead.
“I think you got them.” Verum stood doubled over at the top of the stairs, wheezing, leaning on the railing for support.
“Now what?” Allon panted.
“Now we free the others,” she said without hesitation.
Allon protested. “But their chains—”
“Can be opened with that set of lockpicks.” Ilanna pointed to the leather case sitting on the card table. She darted down the stairs. “Allon, check the doors. Errik’s in the first one, but we need to find the other three. Verum, check the bodies for weapons.”
The sound of rattling door handles echoed behind her as she scooped up the lockpicks and her pouch. She cast around in vain for the tin hawk. Rhynd’s instructions to his thug to burn it echoed in her mind. She bit down on a surge of anger. The bastard had taken the only thing left of her son, but she didn’t have time for emotions. Her life and that of her crew depended on her.
Racing up the stairs, she burst into the room where Errik lay chained and set to work on the padlock holding the collar around his neck.
“Ilanna?” Errik sounded so weak.
“Lie still, and I’ll have this damned thing off you in a moment.”
“You need…to go.” Errik tried to push her away. “Rhynd will…”
“Rhynd is gone. And we’ll be out of here before he returns, if only you’d stop moving around.” Sweat trickled down her brow as she twisted the tension wrench. The lock clicked open and the collar fell away.
“Verum!” she called out. “Get in here!”
Long seconds passed before the Serpent shuffled into the room. He was gasping, his face pallid and a hand pressed to his ribs. He looked a heartbeat from collapse.
“Here, help Errik.” Between the two of them, they should manage to remain upright. “I’m going to check on the others.”
“No!” Errik called after her. “Get out of here.”
She turned back to him. “Not without you and the others. So shut up and let Verum help you before you get us both killed.”
Allon stood in front of a room two doors down. “This one.”
Ilanna set to work on the four-pin lock. The ache in her shoulders grew with every heartbeat, but she gritted her teeth against the pain. She pushed open the door and ran to the figure huddled against the wall. Joost still breathed, but he lay unconscious. A moment of work and the collar around his neck snapped open.
Allon was already inside the next room, crouching over the unmoving form of Veslund. The burly Fox had endured far worse than either Errik or Joost. Blood dripped from his mouth, nose, and ears. His breath came in wet, ragged gurgles. Ilanna didn’t need Tyman’s expertise to know the Fox had a punctured lung. He wouldn’t survive being moved.
She bowed her head. I’m sorry, Ves. He had died because of her.
“Ilanna!” Allon’s call snapped her from her moment of sorrow. “I found Darreth.”
Ilanna patted Veslund’s head and darted out of the room. Allon pointed to the last door before the descending staircase. “He’s in here.”
“Did you say Ilanna?” The wooden door muffled the voice, but Ilanna recognized Darreth’s precise diction.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Darreth. Just hold on.” She knelt before the door, but the pain in her shoulders set her hands trembling.
Allon reached for the lockpicks. “Here, let me.”
With reluctance, Ilanna passed them to him. As Allon set to work on the lock, Ilanna studied her pathetic crew. Verum and Errik clung to each other for support. Joost sat leaning against the banister, his eyes glazed and unfocused. Her hips, shoulders, knees, and elbows ached. If Rhynd came back now, they were in serious trouble.
A metallic ping sounded, and Allon cursed. “Damn it!”
Ilanna’s heart sank. The last tension wrench had snapped, the end still stuck in the lock. No way they could get the lock open now. But if they tried to break down the door, the noise could draw attention. She couldn’t risk the Praamian Guard finding them. Right now, they were as much the enemy as the Bloody Hand.
She cast around. What now? Her mind raced, but she could find no solution. If she didn’t hurry—
The door opened, and Rhynd and his four thugs strode into the warehouse. She had run out of time.
Chapter 39
Ilanna had a single moment to decide what to do. She could escape through the roof hatch and Rhynd would never catch her on the Hawk’s Highway. But her crew would never make it out. Errik and Verum could barely stand; Joost still sat dazed and half-conscious. And Allon…
Had disappeared? She glanced around and saw no sign of the Hound. She stood alone, facing Rhynd and his four thugs.
The Voramians froze as they spotted the empty table. As one, they turned toward her, and their eyes flew wide at the sight of her standing at the top of the staircase.
A vicious smile broadened Rhynd’s face. “Damn, girlie! Aren’t you the clever one?”
Ilanna swept a mocking bow. “I wish I could say the same about your men, but…” She shrugged.
Rhynd’s smile tightened. “You’re going to make this fun for me, aren’t you?” The crack of his huge knuckles echoed through the warehouse. “I suppose the First will have to settle for a corpse.”
Fury burned in her chest. This was the man who had destroyed Old Town Market, burned down her home, killed her son and Ria, and beaten a dozen of the Night Guild to death. “By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be enough left to send back in a jewelry box.”
The huge Voramian laughed, a sound which held cruel amusement. “Oh, I’ll enjoy this, little girl.” He bared his teeth in a snarl. “I’m going to break every bone in your—”
“Boring.” Ilanna yawned. “If it’s all the same to you, I could do without the dramatics.” She hefted the club and beckoned to the thugs. “Let’s just get on with it, shall we? I don’t have all day.”
Her mock bravado was intended to anger the thugs. Judging by the dark looks of Rhynd’s companions, it had the desired effect. They raced toward her, drawing their own clubs, daggers, and even one short sword. With shouts of fury, they charged up the stairs.
She leapt over a low swipe and brought her club down on the foremost thug’s head. The blow staggered the man, but his comrades surged around him. Ilanna darted backward to avoid a vicious dagger thrust, blocked a swinging club, and ducked beneath the chopping short sword. She stayed within striking range. If she could keep the attention of the thugs long enough—
With a shout, Errik and Verum joined the fight. Despite their pain—evidenced by the tightness of their pale faces—they fought with the skill of their House. Verum grunted as a thug drove a club into his gut but wrapped his fingers around the man’s wrist and twisted, breaking the man’s grip on the weapon. Errik leapt atop the man with the short sword. Though half the thug’s size, he had spent more than a decade training in every manner of combat.
The two remaining thugs joined in the fray—one coming for her, and the other laying into Errik. Ilanna winced at the loud thud of wood striking flesh, but she had no time to worry about the Serpent. The Voramian was pressing her hard, a club in one hand and a dagger in the other. She ducked, dodged, and blocked the dagger and club strikes, but lack of food, water, and rest left her exhausted. She couldn’t block every attack—she had no choice but to give ground.
Something crashed into the man’s legs, sending him stumbling forward. The thug pitched to the ground, and Joost pounced atop the fallen man’s back, raising his club. The Voramian lashed out with an elbow, and Joost fell back with a cry, blood streaming from a broken nose. The Voramian managed to stumble upright before Ilanna could strike. She gripped the club in both hands and brought it against the inside of her opponent’s knee with bone-crunching force. The Bloody Hand thug grunted, his shattered knee giving way. Ilanna brought the club up, striking him beneath the chin and snapping his head back. He sagged backward, hitting the wooden floor with a thump.
Ilanna had no time to hesitate. Joost lay pinned beneath the fallen man, hands clasped to his broken nose. Somehow, the Voramian remained conscious. Dazed, but aware enough to fumble for Joost’s throat. The Fox wheezed as the thug’s fingers encircled his neck and began to squeeze.
With a snarl, Ilanna brought her truncheon down on the base of the man’s skull. Bone crunched. The man flopped atop Joost. Again, Ilanna struck, this time bringing the club crashing into the back of the Voramian’s neck. The thug twitched once and moved no more.
A weak gurgling sound caused Ilanna’s head to snap upward. Rhynd stood at the top of the staircase, huge fingers wrapped around Verum’s throat and leg, holding the man over his head. Blood trickled from Verum’s mouth and nose. He coughed and beat in vain at Rhynd’s grip on his throat. Rhynd’s enormous muscles bunched.
“No!” Ilanna could do nothing but watch in horror as Rhynd hurled the Serpent across the warehouse. Verum hung in the air for a terribly long time before he crashed into the table. Cards, coins, and shards of wood flew in all directions.
Acid surged into Ilanna’s throat. Verum lay so still, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood pooled around him. The Serpent would never rise again.
Rhynd’s harsh laughter echoed in the warehouse. He turned his leer on her. “You fly next, little Hawk.”
With a shout of rage, Ilanna charged the huge Voramian. Rhynd carried no weapons, but his massive hands flexed and relaxed in anticipation. His grin broadened as he crouched on the balls of his feet.
Two paces from Rhynd, she hurled the club at his face. His eyes left her for a heartbeat as he reached out to catch the weapon. Ilanna slid between his tree trunk legs and scooped up the short sword that had fallen from the grip of Errik’s opponent. She whirled and slashed.
Rhynd moved with impressive speed for his bulk, leaping backward. Instead of digging into the artery in his leg, the blade drew a thin line of red just above his knee.
Rhynd gave a derisive snort. “That the best you can do? I’ve had worse cuts—”
The Voramian staggered forward with a grunt as Joost drove his heel into the huge man’s knee. Ilanna swiped at Rhynd with the sword. Rhynd slapped the blade wide and slammed his fist into Ilanna’s chest. The blow hurled her backward, knocking the air from her lungs. Her head struck the wooden planks hard. Pain radiated from her breastbone. She gasped, wheezed, and clawed for breath.
She dimly heard a cry of pain. Joost’s. Ilanna tried to focus her blurred vision. Rhynd stood over the lanky Fox, pounding at him with blows powerful enough to shatter stone. Ilanna staggered to her feet. Though the world spun about her, she gritted her teeth and launched the short sword at Rhynd. The weapon clattered against the Voramian’s broad back harmlessly.
Rhynd paused, fist raised, and turned to her with a sneer. “Really? That’s it?” He gave a mocking shake of his head. “Pathetic.” He stalked toward her, outstretched hands still stained with Joost’s blood. “I’m going to enjoy ripping you to pieces, you little c—”
A figure darted from a darkened room and slammed into Rhynd. Ilanna cried out as the huge thug crashed through the wooden railing, taking Allon with him. She felt as much as heard the meaty thump that echoed in the warehouse.
Allon had saved her life, had given her a chance. She dropped to the floor below, landing in a roll and rising to her feet. The Hound lay still, but Rhynd had already begun to move.
Without hesitation, Ilanna seized a sliver of the wooden railing and drove it into Rhynd’s leg. The huge thug grunted and fumbled for her. Leaping back, she scooped up a thick plank. She brought the wood down hard on Rhynd’s outstretched hands. Fingers bent and cracked, and Rhynd cried out.
As Ilanna cast about for another weapon, Rhynd roared and hurled himself atop her. His huge arms wrapped around her knees. She fell hard, her head striking the stone floor of the warehouse. Spots swam in her vision. A fresh wave of pain exploded in her side as Rhynd’s fist slammed into her ribs. She cried out. Bone bent but held.
She tried to squirm free of Rhynd’s grip, but he closed his uninjured hand around her throat and drew her face toward his. “You bitch!” he roared, spraying spittle. “You’ll pay for—”
Something slammed into the back of his head. His grip on her throat weakened, and Ilanna tore free of his grasp. Errik stood over them, a wooden truncheon clutched in blood-soaked hands. He raised the club and brought it down hard atop the back of Rhynd’s head.
Rhynd struck out with a wild blow that caught Errik in the knee, sending him staggering. His hand returned to Ilanna’s throat and squeezed. Ilanna choked out a strangled cry. Her right hand lay trapped beneath Rhynd’s bulk, and her left beat at the thug’s iron-hard forearms in vain. Blackness pressed in on the edges of her vision.
Rhynd’s face filled her world. Teeth bared in a snarl, eyes alight with maddened rage, the huge Voramian leered down at her. Desperation surged within Ilanna. This would be the last thing she’d see before she died.
Her right hand pressed against something hard. The dagger in Rhynd’s belt. Her dagger.
With all her remaining strength, she bucked her hips and knees upward. She had no hope of dislodging him, but the movement opened up enough space for her to rip the blade from his belt. The razor edge sliced into the flesh of her stomach as she pulled it free. Snarling her rage, she drove the tip of the dagger into the side of Rhynd’s neck.
Rhynd’s eyes flew wide. His ruined hand fumbled at the dagger’s hilt, his hold on her throat never weakening. Ilanna tore the blade free. Blood sprayed from the wound, a crimson torrent that washed over her hand. She brought the edge across the back of the hand choking the life from her. Rhynd’s fingers instinctively twitched, releasing their hold. She squirmed backward as the thug gasped and hacked. His hands went to his neck in a vain attempt to stanch the arterial spray. His rage-filled eyes never left hers as the light faded. His movements grew weak, his breathing ragged. With a twitch and a hoarse croak, Rhynd lay still.
Ilanna gasped for air. Her throat ached, and fire raced through her lungs, chest, and ribs. Rhynd’s weight pinned her to the ground. The stink of blood and his loosened bowels washed over her.
Errik crawled toward her, his face twisted in pain. Together, they levered Rhynd’s corpse from atop her until she could wriggle free. She lay panting on the floor, too tired to move, to think. Allon gave a weak cough that ended in a groan. Joost’s bruised and bloodied face peered over the balcony.
Ilanna dragged herself over to Allon. The Hound’s right arm lay twisted at an angle that turned her stomach. Blood seeped from a massive gash in his forehead. But he would live.
Every shred of effort went into climbing to her feet. Retrieving her dagger, she stumbled up the stairs to collapse before the room where Darreth waited.
“I-Ilanna?” Fear filled the Scorpion’s voice. “Is that you?”
Ilanna coughed and winced at the fire in her ribs. “It’s me, Darreth. I’m going to get you out of here.” She forced the dagger into the space between the door and frame and shoved. The door popped open. Darreth knelt in the darkness, ropes holding him bound instead of chains.
“I’ve come…to save you.” She staggered two steps forward and collapsed. The dagger skittered from her hands as exhaustion, fatigue, and pain washed over her. With a weak cough, she gave in to the merciful embrace of unconsciousness.
Chapter 40
The peal of the Lady’s Bells snapped Ilanna awake. Each toll drove the dagger of fear deeper into her chest.
Six bells. The sixth hour of morning. Dawn lay less than an hour off.
She lay on the hard stone floor of the warehouse, not the wooden planks of the second story. Darreth must have cut himself free and carried me down here. Three bodies lay on the ground beside her. One belonged to Veslund, and beyond him Allon lay silent and still. Rhynd’s enormous corpse remained undisturbed. A fire crackled in the brazier beside the card table where the Bloody Hand thugs had sat.
She tried to leap to her feet, but her body proved clumsy and unresponsive. Every muscle throbbed, adding to the pounding in her head. Her chest ached with every labored breath.
