Apparently, it had not ended at all.
Leesil tried to peer beyond the newcomer into the alley. Where was Magiere? There were too many anmaglâhk to fight, even with Chap’s help, if he remained captive. In that racing instant, two things happened.
The wire around Leesil’s neck slid upward along his pinned blade, as if Én’nish were trying to slip it over the blade’s tip to his throat. And the newcomer shouted in Elvish.
“Fhœt’as-na dœrsa!”
The one anmaglâhk before the cutway spun about and then quickly retreated two paces at the sight of the newcomer. The fourth anmaglâhk, creeping in to join his companion, froze three paces off, raising both blades in defense. And the wire stopped sliding up Leesil’s blade.
Leesil couldn’t speak Elvish, and Wynn had told him never to try. He understood the few words she’d taught him, but the newcomer’s command in that guttural, lilting language had come too fast for him to catch anything. He didn’t know what was happening, and he didn’t care. This brief hesitation was all he needed.
Leesil slipped his blade tip out from beneath the garrote. As the wire snapped tight against his neck, he twisted around on Én’nish.
Chap slowed for an instant, startled by a tall form appearing suddenly in the cutway’s opening.
“Fhœt’as-na dœrsa!”
He understood the an’Cróan dialect perfectly: Disable the captor!
The captor ... not the captive? What was happening?
Then Leesil twisted around on his captor, and the garrote pulled taut against his neck.
Chap forgot everything and leaped from a dead run. He was in the air when he heard the small anmaglâhk shriek. Then he hit her, and they both tumbled along the cobblestones. A sharp pain burned across the side of his head. He scrambled up, ready to rush her again, and then froze.
The small one rolled over, teetering as she stood up. An arrow with black feathers was stuck through her left upper arm, and her silvery stiletto lay on the street.
Leesil ripped the garrote off his throat, but Chap was still stalled, wondering what had just happened. Who had shot the small female? And the voice of the newcomer worked in his thoughts.
Chap knew that voice from somewhere.
Leesil felt the garrote drag and cut across the back of his neck as Én’nish cried out. He stumbled as Chap knocked her clear, and then he ripped the garrote off, looking for the closest opponent, and ...
The tall newcomer went straight at the anmaglâhk between them.
Both men became almost a blur in Leesil’s sight. Amid the click and screech of stiletto blades, the anmaglâhk that Chap had faced up the street came racing in. Leesil had to turn away. His slash missed as the anmaglâhk passed him, and when he looked for Chap ...
There was Én’nish, holding her left arm, with an arrow protruding from it. She nearly screamed out in Elvish, and Leesil understood only one word—go!
Everything changed.
Én’nish and the one who’d gone after Chap sped back the way Leesil had first come. The one creeping toward the cutway’s mouth backed up and shouted at the last, now locked in battle with the tall newcomer. That last anmaglâhk leaped backward, trying to disengage, and the newcomer matched him like a shadow in flight. One of his blades cut out and up, slashing through that last anmaglahk’s shoulder.
The anmaglâhk didn’t flinch or pause. He twisted away from the newcomer’s next strike and came straight at Leesil, and Leesil took a step to meet him. The anmaglâhk suddenly dropped to the street in midrun.
Leesil felt a foot hook his right ankle, and he careened forward, straight toward the newcomer. Off balance, all he could do was swing on instinct.
The tall newcomer instantly inverted one stiletto and sidestepped.
Leesil’s weak strike met with empty air. Something struck his right temple and the world went black. Through the ringing in his ears, he barely felt the impact as he hit the cobble street.
Everything had gone dark again in Magiere’s sight as she struggled to take up her falchion and rise again. All her wild hunger was gone, and without it, the pain in her thigh nearly made her fall. Her head was ringing and her neck ached from whatever had hit her. When she found herself down the cutway again, she wasn’t certain how she’d gotten there.
The first thing she spotted out of the cutway’s mouth was Leesil in the street, trying to get up. She hobbled along the cutway’s wall, trying to get to him, and then the silhouette of a very tall figure stepped into her view.
The cloaked and hooded man, so overly tall, suddenly turned her way, as if knowing she was there.
A distant street lantern glinted on the thin anmaglâhk stilettos in his gloved hands. The stranger stood over Leesil.
Magiere tried to raise her falchion as she lunged along the cutway’s wall.
That tall, cloaked figure flipped one blade into his other hand with the second weapon. He raised his empty hand, palm out toward her. His hood shifted as if he shook his head slightly.
Leesil regained his feet, but the newcomer remained where he stood, and Magiere hesitated.
She couldn’t see much inside the dark pocket of the man’s hood. With the exception of the dark fabric across his lower face, he wasn’t dressed like an anmaglâhk. He reached down with his free hand and unfastened his cloak’s corners, which were tied up around his waist, like an anmaglâhk would do. She noticed the cloak was brown, like the jerkin beneath it. With his marred, dun-colored pants and worn, soft calf-high boots, he looked like some overly tall, overly weathered traveler.
But not so with those blades in his hand.
Leesil wobbled, blinked, and rubbed his head as if, like Magiere, he’d been struck down. Chap came racing into view from down the street as Magiere reached the cutway’s mouth. His hackles were stiff as he circled Leesil and growled at the stranger. When he caught sight of her, his growl faded.
A rush of memories flooded the forefront of Magiere’s mind.
She saw a grove of trees outside the glade where Leesil’s mother had been imprisoned. A party of anmaglâhk had attacked all of them, and Chap had tried to drive one off, chasing him. This memory replayed several times, and Magiere understood.
The anmaglâhk had fled for some reason. Chap had given chase and then broke off to come back.
The cloaked stranger raised his head a little, just enough that Magiere thought she saw the spark of amber eyes inside the darkness of his hood. A shrill whistle rose from him as he tucked both blades up his sleeves, waved Leesil forward, and then strode straight toward the cutway’s mouth.
Magiere raised her falchion, and he slowed. Somewhere behind him, Chap began to growl again. The stranger pointed beyond Magiere, down the cutway, and then just walked right past, not even looking at her.
She was exhausted and the pain in her thigh was growing. With one shoulder against the wall, she tried to turn and keep the man in her sight.
Leesil was suddenly at her side. He sheathed one blade and grabbed her arm on the side opposite her wounded leg. Just the sight of his tan face brought her a little relief. They’d survived the Anmaglâhk—again—but the manner in which this had happened left Magiere wary as she glanced along the cutway.
The stranger paused down the dark path between the buildings. Half turning, he motioned for them to follow.
Magiere looked to Leesil, about to ask who the man was. Leesil just shook his head, his eyes unblinking, narrowed, and still fixed on the tall one. He pulled her arm over the back of his neck, and they headed down the cutway with Chap close behind, growling softly.