"Which way do we go now, Poiniard?"
The young rogue looked up and down the corridor, and stifled a shrug. He didn't really know where in the Guild Halls they were- he was not even a full Journeyman, yet. But neither did he want to let Mheren down. She had saved his life in the fight with the troll- and that wasn't the first time. He didn't want to let her down. "This way," he said, indicating the passageway to the left.
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure. I've been through here many a time. Come on."
Mheren still held Monarchal in her hand. She looked at him dubiously and said nothing, but followed behind as Poiniard led the way. They could hear pounding footsteps elsewhere in the subterranean compound, but the corridor ahead appeared empty- until a figure stepped into view ahead of them.
"Well, well," Grimsley said. "If it ain't my old pal, Poiniard."
Mheren narrowed her eyes warily, but Poiniard breathed a sigh of relief. "Grim," he said, "am I glad to see you." He started to move past Grimsley.
Grimsley held a dagger in his fist, and refused to move aside.
"Huh?" Poiniard asked.
"Not so fast, Poin, old chum," Grimsley said, his eyes dark. "Blaylock an' I want our share of the gold back."
Poiniard blinked. "The whole guild is about to go down, and there's a troll behind us-"
"Feh, all tha more reason we needs our share. We know you snagged the loot."
"I don't have it! We left it upstairs, when we-"
"Nice sword you've got there, too, Poin," Grimsley said.
Poiniard narrowed his eyes. "You have a right to a third of the gold, Grimsley, and I'd give it to you if I could. But this sword- he's mine."
"We don't have time for this," Mheren said.
Grimsley raised his dagger, slightly, and seemed to notice Mheren for the first time. He licked his lips as his eyes lingered upon her. "And who is this beautiful lady?" Grimsley asked with an evil chuckle.
"She is none of your concern, Grim." Poiniard remained cautious. Though he and Mheren were both armed with longswords, they were unarmored. Grimsley wore his dark grey thieving leathers. Grimsley could be notoriously quick with a dagger, and Poiniard knew the man was clever. "Where's your partner? I don't think I've ever seen you and Blaylock apart."
Grimsley merely smiled, and suddenly Poiniard fell to the ground. His head felt like it had been split open. He struggled to his feet, but Blaylock pushed him back with a kick.
"Didn't even see me coming," Blaylock laughed at his companion. "Poiniard, you never were much good at spotting lurkers." He slapped his sturdy black club into the palm of his hand. "You'll stay down, if ya know what's good for ya." Poiniard struggled, but was unable to rise. Wyrding was like a lead weight in his hand.
The two thieves turned menacingly towards Mheren, madness in their eyes. "She's a pretty one," Grimsley said. "Maybe we can find a place for her in the guild."
"You have no idea who you are dealing with, Mheren said.
Their laughs died on their lips as Mheren struck. She wielded Monarchal two- handed, and to Poiniard's blurred vision, the slim warrioress seemed to move as if by magic. One instant she was being menaced by the two treacherous footpads, the next she stood behind them, her sword covered with blood. Grimsley clutched his stomach in disbelief and slumped to the floor as blood and organs spilled through his fingers. Blaylock whirled and tried to strike Mheren a blow with his club, but she was quicker than thought. His hand was severed at the wrist before he could even feel it, and in the space of a heartbeat, Blaylock too was dead, with Monarchal's point in his heart.
Mheren quickly freed her sword and went to Poiniard's side. He groaned.
"Thanks," Poiniard said weakly, wiping blood from his face. "He came out of the shadows, I should have-"
"Quiet," Mheren said, assessing his wounds. "It's not bad, but a knock on the head is still a knock on the head." She frowned, and began tearing wide strips from the hem of her floor-length dress. "I wish I had a proper bandage, Poin, but fortunately it's not bleeding too badly. Now, lay still."
Poiniard lay back while Mheren tended his wounds. Slowly, the world stopped spinning, and he was able to focus on her face while she knelt over him. "I thought those two were my friends."
"So much for honor among thieves." Mheren stood, and dusted off her hands. The strips she had torn to use as bandages had shortened her dress considerably. The fabulously expensive gown now hung barely to her knees.
Poiniard turned his head to look at the corpses of Grimsley and Blaylock. "I should have seen that coming, I guess."
Mheren was about to answer, when another voice came from over her shoulder. "Yes, you should have."
Mheren whirled at the voice, Monarchal ready in her hand. Poiniard managed to struggle to his knees. They both gasped. "Lady Shespi!"
The Dark Lady's lieutenant closed a secret door behind her and stepped distastefully over the bodies of Grimsley and Blaylock. She smiled, and offered a slim hand to Poiniard. "On your feet," she said. "Come with me, and I will show you the way out."
Poiniard found himself staring into Shespi's brown eyes, so different from Mheren's blue ones. But he accepted her hand and managed to get to his feet. A bit unsteady, he nearly fell, until the red-haired woman caught his arm.
"Careful, Poiniard," she said, eyeing the bandage on his head. "Lean on me for a moment. We're not in THAT big of a hurry."
Mheren narrowed her eyes. "You're going to help us escape?"
Shespi did not smile, but she maintained her gentle hold on Poiniard's arm, holding him up. "I am, and I know the ways of these halls better than any save one. And I've brought your gear, it's over there." She pointed towards a pair of familiar backpacks which lay against the wall. "What have you got in that thing, anyway? It's terribly heavy."
Mheren sheathed her sword and went to pick up the packs.
"A bag of gold," Poiniard muttered, finally able to stand on his own.
"Ah," Shespi said, nodding. "That explains the little altercation with Grimsley and Blaylock here." Seeing Mheren's frown, she held up a hand. "I would have intervened, but by the time I got the secret door unlatched, you had things well in hand, Lady Mheren. Don't fret- those two were bound to meet their demise sooner than later." She turned back to Poiniard. "You really should choose your mentors with better care."
"I'll try, M'Lady," was the only thing he could think to say.
Her soft laugh was like music, and she smiled. "You can just call me Shespi now," she said, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"We need to get moving," Mheren said, scowling as she began rummaging through her pack. "I just need a moment to don my armor."
"No time for that," Shespi said, leaving Poiniard's side and going over to the packs. She picked up Poiniard's and handed it to him. "The trolls have found their way into the lower halls. We need to flee, but every moment counts- they could be here any moment. Just bring your gear- you can change into it later.
Mheren looked dubious, but when she saw that Poiniard had already shouldered his pack and was ready to follow the redhead, she relented. "I'm going to look rather silly wearing a backpack with this dress on," she said with a wry smile.
"Nonsense," Shespi said. "With a figure like yours, no one's going to notice what's on your back." She smiled at the tattered hem of Mheren's gown. "But you really should find a new tailor."
Mheren put a hand on her sword hilt and eyed the other woman cautiously. "Lead on, then. You go first."
Shespi took a few steps back down the corridor, and stopped before a narrow doorway. "One thing before we go," she said.
"What are you doing?"
"This is the guild storehouse," Shespi explained, pulling a small key from the shadows of her bodice. Fitting it in the lock, she turned the key, and pushed open the door. "Poin, you and Mheren stand guard. And one of you give me your pack- I've got to get a few things before we leave."
Mheren handed the other woman her pack, and watched as Shespi scooped handfulls of cut gems and gold coins from a strongbox.
"Good idea," Poiniard said.
"Just keep an eye out," Shespi called out over her shoulder.
Mheren turned, suddenly. A familiar, handsome rogue appeared out of the shadows, with a sinister-looking crew of footpads behind him.
"I should have known I'd find you here, Shespi, robbing the treasury." Lithome was not nearly so handsome as he'd been the last time Mheren had seen him. The Dark Lady's lieutenant was wounded and haggard from his fights in the tunnels.
"Robbing the robbers, you mean," Shespi said, taking up Mheren's pack and closing the door behind her. "Look, Lithome, the Dark Lady is missing- do you know what that means? It means this hall is doomed. At least help me salvage what I can, and we can rebuild elsewhere."
Lithome looked as if he was about to laugh. "I have a half dozen bravos at my back. How about you give it all to me, and I let you go on your way?"
Shespi glared at him, while Mheren and Poiniard drew their swords.
The young rogue looked up and down the corridor, and stifled a shrug. He didn't really know where in the Guild Halls they were- he was not even a full Journeyman, yet. But neither did he want to let Mheren down. She had saved his life in the fight with the troll- and that wasn't the first time. He didn't want to let her down. "This way," he said, indicating the passageway to the left.
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure. I've been through here many a time. Come on."
Mheren still held Monarchal in her hand. She looked at him dubiously and said nothing, but followed behind as Poiniard led the way. They could hear pounding footsteps elsewhere in the subterranean compound, but the corridor ahead appeared empty- until a figure stepped into view ahead of them.
"Well, well," Grimsley said. "If it ain't my old pal, Poiniard."
Mheren narrowed her eyes warily, but Poiniard breathed a sigh of relief. "Grim," he said, "am I glad to see you." He started to move past Grimsley.
Grimsley held a dagger in his fist, and refused to move aside.
"Huh?" Poiniard asked.
"Not so fast, Poin, old chum," Grimsley said, his eyes dark. "Blaylock an' I want our share of the gold back."
Poiniard blinked. "The whole guild is about to go down, and there's a troll behind us-"
"Feh, all tha more reason we needs our share. We know you snagged the loot."
"I don't have it! We left it upstairs, when we-"
"Nice sword you've got there, too, Poin," Grimsley said.
Poiniard narrowed his eyes. "You have a right to a third of the gold, Grimsley, and I'd give it to you if I could. But this sword- he's mine."
"We don't have time for this," Mheren said.
Grimsley raised his dagger, slightly, and seemed to notice Mheren for the first time. He licked his lips as his eyes lingered upon her. "And who is this beautiful lady?" Grimsley asked with an evil chuckle.
"She is none of your concern, Grim." Poiniard remained cautious. Though he and Mheren were both armed with longswords, they were unarmored. Grimsley wore his dark grey thieving leathers. Grimsley could be notoriously quick with a dagger, and Poiniard knew the man was clever. "Where's your partner? I don't think I've ever seen you and Blaylock apart."
Grimsley merely smiled, and suddenly Poiniard fell to the ground. His head felt like it had been split open. He struggled to his feet, but Blaylock pushed him back with a kick.
"Didn't even see me coming," Blaylock laughed at his companion. "Poiniard, you never were much good at spotting lurkers." He slapped his sturdy black club into the palm of his hand. "You'll stay down, if ya know what's good for ya." Poiniard struggled, but was unable to rise. Wyrding was like a lead weight in his hand.
The two thieves turned menacingly towards Mheren, madness in their eyes. "She's a pretty one," Grimsley said. "Maybe we can find a place for her in the guild."
"You have no idea who you are dealing with, Mheren said.
Their laughs died on their lips as Mheren struck. She wielded Monarchal two- handed, and to Poiniard's blurred vision, the slim warrioress seemed to move as if by magic. One instant she was being menaced by the two treacherous footpads, the next she stood behind them, her sword covered with blood. Grimsley clutched his stomach in disbelief and slumped to the floor as blood and organs spilled through his fingers. Blaylock whirled and tried to strike Mheren a blow with his club, but she was quicker than thought. His hand was severed at the wrist before he could even feel it, and in the space of a heartbeat, Blaylock too was dead, with Monarchal's point in his heart.
Mheren quickly freed her sword and went to Poiniard's side. He groaned.
"Thanks," Poiniard said weakly, wiping blood from his face. "He came out of the shadows, I should have-"
"Quiet," Mheren said, assessing his wounds. "It's not bad, but a knock on the head is still a knock on the head." She frowned, and began tearing wide strips from the hem of her floor-length dress. "I wish I had a proper bandage, Poin, but fortunately it's not bleeding too badly. Now, lay still."
Poiniard lay back while Mheren tended his wounds. Slowly, the world stopped spinning, and he was able to focus on her face while she knelt over him. "I thought those two were my friends."
"So much for honor among thieves." Mheren stood, and dusted off her hands. The strips she had torn to use as bandages had shortened her dress considerably. The fabulously expensive gown now hung barely to her knees.
Poiniard turned his head to look at the corpses of Grimsley and Blaylock. "I should have seen that coming, I guess."
Mheren was about to answer, when another voice came from over her shoulder. "Yes, you should have."
Mheren whirled at the voice, Monarchal ready in her hand. Poiniard managed to struggle to his knees. They both gasped. "Lady Shespi!"
The Dark Lady's lieutenant closed a secret door behind her and stepped distastefully over the bodies of Grimsley and Blaylock. She smiled, and offered a slim hand to Poiniard. "On your feet," she said. "Come with me, and I will show you the way out."
Poiniard found himself staring into Shespi's brown eyes, so different from Mheren's blue ones. But he accepted her hand and managed to get to his feet. A bit unsteady, he nearly fell, until the red-haired woman caught his arm.
"Careful, Poiniard," she said, eyeing the bandage on his head. "Lean on me for a moment. We're not in THAT big of a hurry."
Mheren narrowed her eyes. "You're going to help us escape?"
Shespi did not smile, but she maintained her gentle hold on Poiniard's arm, holding him up. "I am, and I know the ways of these halls better than any save one. And I've brought your gear, it's over there." She pointed towards a pair of familiar backpacks which lay against the wall. "What have you got in that thing, anyway? It's terribly heavy."
Mheren sheathed her sword and went to pick up the packs.
"A bag of gold," Poiniard muttered, finally able to stand on his own.
"Ah," Shespi said, nodding. "That explains the little altercation with Grimsley and Blaylock here." Seeing Mheren's frown, she held up a hand. "I would have intervened, but by the time I got the secret door unlatched, you had things well in hand, Lady Mheren. Don't fret- those two were bound to meet their demise sooner than later." She turned back to Poiniard. "You really should choose your mentors with better care."
"I'll try, M'Lady," was the only thing he could think to say.
Her soft laugh was like music, and she smiled. "You can just call me Shespi now," she said, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"We need to get moving," Mheren said, scowling as she began rummaging through her pack. "I just need a moment to don my armor."
"No time for that," Shespi said, leaving Poiniard's side and going over to the packs. She picked up Poiniard's and handed it to him. "The trolls have found their way into the lower halls. We need to flee, but every moment counts- they could be here any moment. Just bring your gear- you can change into it later.
Mheren looked dubious, but when she saw that Poiniard had already shouldered his pack and was ready to follow the redhead, she relented. "I'm going to look rather silly wearing a backpack with this dress on," she said with a wry smile.
"Nonsense," Shespi said. "With a figure like yours, no one's going to notice what's on your back." She smiled at the tattered hem of Mheren's gown. "But you really should find a new tailor."
Mheren put a hand on her sword hilt and eyed the other woman cautiously. "Lead on, then. You go first."
Shespi took a few steps back down the corridor, and stopped before a narrow doorway. "One thing before we go," she said.
"What are you doing?"
"This is the guild storehouse," Shespi explained, pulling a small key from the shadows of her bodice. Fitting it in the lock, she turned the key, and pushed open the door. "Poin, you and Mheren stand guard. And one of you give me your pack- I've got to get a few things before we leave."
Mheren handed the other woman her pack, and watched as Shespi scooped handfulls of cut gems and gold coins from a strongbox.
"Good idea," Poiniard said.
"Just keep an eye out," Shespi called out over her shoulder.
Mheren turned, suddenly. A familiar, handsome rogue appeared out of the shadows, with a sinister-looking crew of footpads behind him.
"I should have known I'd find you here, Shespi, robbing the treasury." Lithome was not nearly so handsome as he'd been the last time Mheren had seen him. The Dark Lady's lieutenant was wounded and haggard from his fights in the tunnels.
"Robbing the robbers, you mean," Shespi said, taking up Mheren's pack and closing the door behind her. "Look, Lithome, the Dark Lady is missing- do you know what that means? It means this hall is doomed. At least help me salvage what I can, and we can rebuild elsewhere."
Lithome looked as if he was about to laugh. "I have a half dozen bravos at my back. How about you give it all to me, and I let you go on your way?"
Shespi glared at him, while Mheren and Poiniard drew their swords.
