Lord Day and Lady Night

49. The Lord's Sword of Vengeance

Hsss...!

The sound of a blade cutting through the air reached her ears nearly too late to alert her. Releasing her grip, she hurled herself back, separating herself from the guard with a kick. A sword slammed into the ground where she had been a moment ago, burying itself in the wooden floor. Without the slightest hesitation, she stabbed towards the hand holding it, forcing it to let go. Leaping up, she tore the thing out of the floor and hurled it out of the window.

Fingers crossed dey aren't all da way up the rope yet.

Oh well, even if they are, it wouldn't be too bad, would it? Like they say, a decapitation a day keeps the doctor away.

"Bitch!" the man who'd just lost his sword gasped from the ground. "Twat!"

Amy waved. "Hello, Penis."

For some reason, her good manners didn't seem to be well-received. Eyes burning with rage, they rushed towards her. Unfortunately, their reason wasn't so far gone yet as to not know what they were doing. Moving with cohesion, they approached her in a pincer movement.

Amy's eyes flicked from right to left. One was unarmed, and one was bleeding from his arm. But they both were still strong men, and looked very determined. The element of surprise was gone. Superiority in numbers had never been there in the first place. All she had left was...

Friggin' nothing.

Blast!

The men charged.

***

Lord Patrick Day's hands were burning. Fire was everywhere, searing his nerves. And yet he climbed. Climbed faster than he ever had in his life,

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw shadows streaming towards the tower wall below from all directions. The men Karim had brought. They had been quite...efficient on the way in. The way they had dealt with some of the guards...

Well, suffice it to say he was beginning to suspect they were not office clerks.

They moved ruthlessly.

They moved fast.

But right now, for him, it wasn't nearly fast enough!

From up above, he heard the sound of a door slamming open, and felt his heart drop.

Don't you dare! Don't you bloody dare!

For some reason, he didn't care one bit about the vile curses flooding through his mind.

Just you wait, Arrendyle. This time, you have gone too far. You have stuck your head into the lion's maw!

He was almost halfway up the tower now. Only yards above him, he saw the battlements, and—

Bloody hell!

Ducking down, he pressed himself against the wall as, above him, the footsteps of a guard approached. Slowly. Far too slowly. Should he wait? But—

From the tower window far above came the insidious chuckle of men.

To hell with it!

Teeth clenching, he lunged up. One hand grabbed the stone merlon, and he hung between rope and stone, spread like butter on fresh toast. Then...

He let go.

The rope fell away. For an instant, he dangled from the castle battlements by a single hand. Then he dragged in a deep breath—and moved.

In a blink, he launched himself up and, grabbing the guard by the scruff of the neck, gave a quick jerk. Before the man could even find the time to squeal, he sailed over the wall and down into the darkness. Half a second later came a dull crunch.