The Night Parade h-4 Read online

  "Get on with what?" Callistraon asked in a small voice.

  "Punishing you for your cowardice," Zeal said as he raised his hand to reveal a fiery, yearning abyss within his palm that seemed to reach into the depths of some hellish dimension.

  Moments before, at the middle of the alley, the Harpers had tried to regain their bearing. Cardoc stumbled forward. Myrmeen realized for the first time that he had been hurt. His flesh was crisscrossed with burns that appeared to have been lashed into his flesh with a whip. The channeling of the tremendous forces that he had called upon also had served to drain him.

  Ord had crossed to where the black-skinned corpse had lain and had knelt beside the creature, curious about its inhuman nature. The monster's blackened arms had retreated into its chest and a new covering of soft pink flesh was sewing itself over the creature's leathery black skin. The dark man suddenly came to life, snatching Myrmeen's blade from its throat with one hand while it grasped Ord's wrist in the other. He dragged the boy into the ink-black shadows near the wall. They were smothered by the gathering darkness.

  "Ord!" Burke screamed.

  At that moment, a massive tongue of flames reached out from the mouth of the alley where the blond-haired man had vanished. A fireball rolled in their direction, instantly consuming the blond man, who stood in its path. The great sphere of flame unraveled long before it reached the Harpers, exploding against both walls of the alley, leaving a blackened, charred carpet on the pavement to mark its path.

  The flames had burned away the darkness, and Myrmeen was able to see the red-haired man whose right hand sweltered with flames. She had seen him before, in a dream when she was only six years old, a dream that she had only been able to recall in flashes until now. Suddenly the dream was before her, its image burned into her mind. She would not forget it this time. To do so would be deadly, she realized. Twice already she had made the mistake of underestimating her enemy. She would not do so again.

  Standing behind the man was a tall, lithe woman with creamy skin and long, shiny black hair. Wrapping her arms around him from behind, one arm around his ribs, the other over his right shoulder, she nuzzled at his neck. Then her hands reached into his shirt and caressed the rock-hard landscape of his chest. The woman whispered something in his ear. Whatever she was saying had caused the fire lord to hesitate and not simply turn his power against the humans.

  Suddenly, from the shadows where Ord and the blackskinned man had vanished, the tall, lanky teenager appeared. He seemed dazed as he cried, "My face! He was trying to take my face!"

  Another figure burst from the darkness, a young man who might have been Ord's twin. This boy's face was contorted in a mask of rage, and he launched himself at the wobbly-kneed teenager with undisguised hatred. The first Ord turned and drew his sword at the sight of the advancing doppleganger.

  The entire party's attention was drawn to Ord and his duplicate. Varina was the first to respond. Without hesitation she released a set of blades hidden on her right arm, then she drew her hand back and propelled the center spike toward the back of the teenager who had first emerged from the smoky mist. The sharp blade burst through the soft leathers of his back, piercing his heart from behind. An inhuman scream filled the alley as the true Ord snatched his sword away from the duplicate, who had fallen to his knees in agony. Ord cleaved the creature's head in two, his sword sinking down to the monster's collarbones. Blood as dark as ink sprayed from the creature as it fell in a heap, twitching and convulsing.

  Ord backed away, trembling. "How did you know?"

  "His face," Varina said. "It was fresh and new. Your old scars had not appeared."

  Cardoc glanced down at the corpse, which had not stopped moving. The two sections of its head were merging, healing. "This one is still alive. We may get some answers from it."

  "By the gods," Ord muttered, "what does it take to kill these things so they stay dead?"

  The mage felt a sudden chill in the air, the same sensation he had experienced an instant before the red-haired man's fires had erupted seconds earlier. He gestured quickly, casting a sphere of protection around the adventurers.

  The red-haired man stood at the end of the alley, a separate spear of fire bursting from each of his hands and mouth. Each of the three ragged tongues of flame struck the walls and were deflected perfectly to incinerate the bodies of the monsters downed by the Harpers. The flames never approached the obsidian sphere hiding the adventurers.

  Seconds later, it was over. The corpses were nothing but ash that was quickly dispersed by the heavy winds that followed the arcane fires. At the end of the alley, the deep shadows once again congealed around the spot where the red-haired man and dark-haired woman had stood. They were nowhere to be seen.

  Cardoc released the sphere of protection and surveyed the area for further threats. Burke finally spoke. "Where in the fiery hells of Cyric were you?"

  "Ord closed the door in my face. I cannot walk though walls. I had to go around the long way. Those shadows" the mage shuddered-"were alive and tried to stop me."

  Myrmeen moved past the others, then ran toward the end of the alley. Cardoc and the Harpers followed. The man and woman were gone, and the shadows were quickly dissipating. All evidence of the Night Parade's presence was vanishing before her, along with all hope of ever finding her daughter.

  Ord pointed upward. "Look!"

  The Harpers trained their gazes at the rooftops. "I see nothing," Burke said. "What was it?"

  Ord shook his head. "The leg of a spider, I'm certain. It scampered over the edge of that rooftop."

  "The spider would have to be the size of a man for you to be able to see it at this distance," Reisz said.

  "Yes," Ord said as he took a few tentative steps forward, "I know."

  On the rooftop, Imperator Zeal glanced down at the humans, the fires within his breast continuing to rage.

  "Tamara," he said, his voice distant, the call of the fire surging within him like a drug. The beautiful, lean, muscled woman approached him, a dangerous smile upon her exotic features. She appeared in her mid-twenties, and her hair was a very dark brunette, almost black. Zeal turned and ran his hand through her gorgeous, shining hair, which was long and given to curls, then he stared into her fine, dark eyes flecked with crimson. Only the most delicate traces of lines could be seen beneath her eyes and around her mouth. Her complexion was soft and light. She had a small bust, generous hips, and long legs. There was an elegant flow to the lines of her body. She wore a black-and-red shift that would fall away quickly when she made the change. Sandals protected her feet and a waist sash carried her valuables.

  "My love," she whispered as she leaned close and kissed him, her tongue snaking into his mouth to taste the intense heat within him. She pulled away and caressed his face. "You know why I didn't help the others." "Of course," she said with a knowing laugh. "No man may command Imperator Zeal, save for Lord Sixx." "And yet a woman can bend me to her will," he snapped. "He humiliates you and you take it. He treats you like a buffoon, a servant, and yet you give him nothing but love and loyalty. Perhaps he is justified in his treatment of you.

  "He's jealous of you," Tamara said for perhaps the hundredth time. "He fears you. He does not understand that every time his words lash you in public, he merely strengthens the love of the people for you."

  "Even if that is true, his fears are not warranted," Zeal responded. "I am not an ambitious man. What would I do with the power of the Night Parade at my command, if that is what you are urging me to take?"

  Tamara gave no answer. Imperator Zeal suspected she had another motive for wanting him to depose Lord Sixx, as wealth and power had never especially interested her. In his heart he prayed that his beloved and trusted friend would not force him to choose between them.

  She touched his lips with her finger. "I love you, husband. If you wish me to keep my opinions to myself, I will do so."

  Zeal shook his head. He knew that was a lie, and even if it were true, he valued
her counsel and the audacious fire that burned within her. Glancing at the alley once more, he saw that the humans were leaving. The assassins that Zeal had sent against the humans had been his Inextinguishables, the elite of his enforcers. Many of his kind could be killed with a simple knife thrust; they were as vulnerable as any human. How would it look if he allowed the killers of the Night Parade's finest to go free?

  "We should kill them," he said. "It would be a simple matter for us. Even the mage-"

  "Let them live," she urged. "The edicts of our kind tell us that we are to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. This scene will draw attention."

  "They will not stop," he said.

  "They must. There is nowhere left for them to turn."

  Zeal's hands bunched into fists. "They know we exist."

  "Who would believe them?" she said as she kissed his throat and licked a single bead of sweat that descended along the hard, glistening muscles of his neck. Below, the humans on the street were quickly out of view.

  "You are certain they will stop?" he asked.

  "Of course," Tamara said as she turned the red-haired man to face her. "What choice do they have?"

  With a passionate cry, she threw her arms around her husband, kissing him full on the mouth. He returned the kiss greedily, roughly caressing her hard, trim flesh. The call of the flames rose up within his body.

  As they kissed, small piles of trash burst into flame on the rooftop.

  Five

  Temples with healers who were not above taking a healthy contribution to the church in return for treating heathens were not difficult to find in the financial district. Reisz's wound appeared worse than it actually had been and when the healer was finished with him, a new layer of bright pink skin had appeared on his arm and he had regained the limb's full use. Several of Ord's minor cuts and bruises were removed by the healer before they left the temple and walked back toward the stables.

  Burke admonished Cardoc for his independent ways, ordering him to stay visible at all times and keep close to the party. The Night Parade would be most worried about him, and his visible presence might cause them to stay away rather than move in for a second attack. Reisz eyed everyone on the street with suspicion. The Night Parade's members had expertise in disguising themselves as human and he stood ready to attack anyone who made the slightest move in his direction. Varina had stayed close to her husband, who was overcome with shame. He had done nothing in the fight, and his wife had almost been killed. The incident had weighed more heavily on the strongly built warrior than on his lover, who was grateful that they had made it out of the ambush alive.

  At the stables, Myrmeen found the stable boy once more. He gazed at her with distress, but respected her privacy and did not ask what had happened. He led her to the small office, where she changed back into her warrior's attire. She emerged to hand the boy the remains of her dress with a straightforward command: "Burn this."

  Myrmeen returned to the others, who were gathered near Cardoc's sleek black mount. Burke had been severely shaken. He looked at Myrmeen with a tired, haunted expression. "Last night I dreamt that if we didn't leave this city by nightfall tonight, we would all die here. My dream nearly came true this day."

  "When I was little, the other children said that the Night Parade could make you have strange dreams," Myrmeen said. "Some would come true. Others would not."

  Burke shook his head. "Vfe've taken a vote. The consensus is that we should take what we've learned to the local authorities then flee this nightmare-infested city."

  "There are five of you," Myrmeen said quietly. "Did anyone vote to remain?"

  "My wife and the mage."

  "You didn't ask me," she said, angered at the thought of being forced to give up on the child she had never seen.

  "Wfe're asking now."

  "I can't go back," Myrmeen said. "I picture the girl in my mind. I wonder what her first words were. I need to know what they did to her, Burke."

  Reisz cleared his throat. "I have something to say to Myrmeen in private, if that's all right."

  The others nodded and Myrmeen allowed the curly-haired fighter to lead her to another part of the stables. Once they were alone, he ran his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair and stared at her with hard, dark eyes that had witnessed more death and brutality than Myrmeen would ever believe possible. "I must speak plainly," he said.

  "Yes."

  "You know that I have feelings for you. I always have. You are the only woman I have ever loved."

  "Reisz, please," she said, her tension drifting away as she caressed the side of his face with a compassion she had worried was lost after the day's horrors. He tensed and gently forced her hand away. Her touch was more than he could bear.

  "I was married for a time after you left us," Reisz said. "The woman loved me. I found that I could say, 'I love you,' easily enough, but the words were meaningless. After a time, she understood this and turned elsewhere to find the love I could not give her."

  Myrmeen's compassion suddenly flared into anger. "Reisz, I don't know why you feel it necessary to bring all this up now, but I'm not going to accept the role of the woman who ruined your life. I never led you on and I never lied to you. You can forget it right now if you-"

  "Shut up," he said painfully. "That's not it at all."

  She stood before him, chest heaving in anger, waiting for him to continue.

  "I'm telling you this so you understand that what is in the past is not always buried as deep as we would like to think," Reisz said. "You left us behind because we were reminders of what you had lost. Then you found yourself in the arms of a man who could give you what no man had offered you before: peace of mind, a chance to stop running, an opportunity to reinvent yourself. But none of that was what you really needed, was it?"

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Did you love Haverstrom Lhal?" he asked.

  "He was my husband."

  "That does not answer my question."

  She hung her head low, then looked away. "In my way, yes, I felt love for him. But after what Dak had put me through, I knew that I could never give myself completely to another. My body, my loyalty, and affection-these I could give. But my ability to love died with my child. It died that night, during the storm."

  "Lost, perhaps, but not dead. If that were the case, you wouldn't be here. But there is a danger to what you are doing, a danger beyond the threat to our lives. Myrmeen, you have always been more interested in the quest, in the hunt for the prize, than in dealing with the rewards and the consequences of what you bring about. What will you do if we find your daughter? She will be a stranger to you, and you to her. You will have to try to love her, Myrmeen. It will change your life forever. Do you think you can do that?"

  "I don't know," she said, a single tear threatening to fall from her eye. "But I need to… I need to find out, Reisz. I need to know if I'm really dead inside, or if I have something left to give."

  Reisz nodded and tried to draw her into a comforting embrace. Myrmeen placed her hand on his chest to stop him.

  "No," she said. "If you want to help me, you know what you have to do."

  He touched her face gently, then turned away. They returned to the group. Burke and Ord were talking with the stable boy, getting the best directions back to the city's main gates.

  "You won't be needing them," Reisz said. "I've changed my vote. We are Harpers, sworn to protect the Realms. I see no greater threat now than the villains we faced today. I say we stay and try to find them. After we've forced them to tell us what they know of Myrmeen's child, we will bring their organization to the end it deserves."

  Burke looked at his wife and understood that he would receive no support there. Ord shook his head, anger and fear coursing through him. "Where do you suggest we start looking?" the boy spat. "Our dreams or the shadows that gather when the sun falls from the sky?"

  Myrmeen glanced at the stable boy and held out another coin. "Tell us the name of the
most disreputable house of criminals in this vile city."

  "Keep your money," he said with a laugh. "That one's too easy. All you need do is go to the Gentleman's Hall. Ask for Pieraccinni. He's the one in charge. If you like, I can draw you a map…"

  By nightfall the Harpers once again were near the docks. They had found lodgings nearby and had dined and rested. The directions that the stable boy had produced were perfectly accurate. The Gentleman's Hall was an abandoned temple that had been converted into a surprisingly stylish and restrained meeting place for thieves, hired killers, and others with similarly low aspirations. The Harpers were stopped at the door and politely requested to check their weapons by a young, golden-haired man named Alden, who possessed soft green eyes and a rakish smile. He raised an eyebrow when Cardoc approached.

  "You reek with the stench of magic," he said brightly. "I've been requested to inform all mages that there are wards throughout this establishment whose sole duty is to capture any magic that is discharged and turn it back upon its sender twofold. Now that you have been warned, please try to enjoy yourselves without causing any trouble. There are gambling rooms, musicians, poets, and women and men of severely loose morals if anyone is feeling in need of company."

  Myrmeen said, "We would like to speak to a man named Pieraccinni."

  The name caught the young man's attention. "Who should I say is calling?"

  "The mistress of pearls," she said, holding out a handful of platinum coins.

  "Remember our restrictions," Alden said as he waved a finger before her, then turned and motioned for her to follow. The Harpers were led past several rooms where men and women who would normally be found hiding in shadows, nervously waiting for fresh prey to arrive, were openly laughing and trading stories over drinks. Others played good-hearted games where the stakes were kept low for the enjoyment of all. A dark-eyed serving maid winked at Ord, who strained to look over his shoulder at her passing form until Burke grabbed his shoulder and reminded him to stay alert.