Time for some Shadow Wolf!
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“Hello, Greeneyes,” I said.
Sometimes you just have to roll the dice and see where they lead you. I had little to go on but suspicion, and Murith counselled me to check simple reactions. Sometimes the guilty react to certain keys, even when they should not. I half expected her to greet me with a look of confusion, or even irritation at the inappropriate use of her God’s moniker.
“What is the meaning of this Ragnar?” asked Madame Glorianna, more annoyed than alarmed.
Interestingly enough Crimson Wind went for her employer first. She lunged across the room, Kiyari swords a cascade of glittering metal, blurring as they swept.
I moved. A crossbow thrummed. Murith, shooting blind, still hit Crimson Wind centre of mass. An springloaded arbalest, a holdwarden’s weapon, powerful enough to split a stone block. The Sirutiran woman slammed into the wall behind Madame Glorianna’s desk.
“What the fuck Ragnar–” madame Glorianna began.
“Get behind me Glory,” I said. “I don’t think she’s done.
Madame Glorianna moved with alacrity that should not be possible in the kind of dress that she was wearing. Crimson Wind kicked to her feet, I moved between the two, axe in one hand, pick in the other.
“You won’t get another shot, Dwarf,” said Crimson Wind.
“I won’t need one,” said Murith. She was right. Crimson Wind was deadly with a blade, but she had a crossbow bolt thought her belly. I was surprised that she could stand. She lifted her Kiyari, long swords with an elegant curved blade. The glinted in the warm light of the glow crystals. I could hear people running. It would be over by the time they got here.
“You don’t have to do this Crimson Wind,” I said, meeting her eye, watching her response. “We already know about your friends–“
“You know nothing, Northman,” she spat, painting the hardwood with red.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I asked. “Did Sapphire betray your little cult?”
She swayed and for a moment I hope that she would drop. Madame Glorianna had people who could keep her alive and make her answer questions. But Sword-Brides are tough, and she snapped back into focus and came at me.
The Kiyari is the worlds deadliest slashing blade. I love my people dearly, but our swords seem like lead footed adolescents trying to match steps with dancers next to a Kiyari. Crimson Wind’s swords split the air beautifully, one coming high from my left, one coming low from my right. She left me no choice.
I stepped in, burying my axe in her skull. Her high blade cut through my mail and grazed a rib. Her low blade bounced off my pick. She twitched, still trying to kill me. Her mouth moved, drooling blood.
“Only the strong, Northman,” said Crimson Wind, then she collapsed.
I frowned. I had hoped to question her, but she chose to attack me in such a way that I was forced to kill her or suffer a terrible wound. As it was my arm was bleeding more than I was used to. Kiyaris seem sharp enough to wound even a Twiceborn it seems.
Madame Glorianna let out a breath behind me. Her people were already in the room, including two enormous bouncers. She held up a hand before they could interfere.
“You had better have a good explanation for this, Ragnar” she stated.