Chapter 31: Judge, Jury, Executioner

As Wallace swung the scythe, Ronan roared and shot black flames from the palms of his tied hands. The fire caught Wallace’s legs and feet, and he danced as the flames burned viciously. They crackled with such strength that Ronan couldn’t hear Wallace’s anguished cries of pain.

Ronan sprung from the chopping block and thrusted his foot to Wallace’s chest, pushing him into a filthy puddle in the alley. Still, even rolling about and screaming in the water, the fires climbed up Wallace’s legs and to his torso.

With his hands still strapped behind his back, Ronan ran over to Maritza and the two purple-cloaked Nightblades. Maritza kicked one between the legs, and in a deep cough he was lifted several inches off the ground. As he regained his footing, Maritza bit the lobe off the man’s ear. He shoved her away then wildily barreled his scythe towards her, but she spun around, held out her hands, and allowed the scythe to tear through her rope bindings.

Before the second Nightblade could complete a follow-up attack on Maritza, Ronan tackled him into the rough stone of an alley wall. The Nightblade grunted and shoved Ronan away, and Ronan fell into Alfred.

“What are you doing?” Wallace shouted, dousing the flames on his legs and stomach with dirty gutter water. “Kill him, Alfred!”

Alfred darted his gaze from Wallace and to Ronan, and then shrieked when Maritza stabbed her sword through the heart of one of the hooded Nightblades.

While Alfred was cowering over the sight of Maritza’s sword dripping blood through the chest of a Nightblade, Ronan used the dagger in Alfred’s hand to break his own bindings. Then, with all his might and no regret, Ronan socked Alfred in the face with a mean left hook. Alfred landed face-first on the ground unconscious, and his fancy white mask shattered.

Maritza slid her sword out from the man’s chest, then blocked a series of fast blows from the other Nightblade. Steam smoked out from the sleeves of his cloak, and it was clear that he was using Butterfly magic to enhance the speed of his swings. Maritza was on edge, and struggling to breath with the rope still in her mouth.

Then the Nightblade knocked her sword out of her hands. She yanked the rope from her mouth and it dangled around the top of her cuirass like a necklace.

“Don’t do this!” she huffed.

But the Nightblade wasn’t listening, and focused only on completing the kill.

“No!” Ronan shouted. He grabbed his blade and rushed, but fell to the floor beside Alfred. Wallace had snatched him by the ankle.

“You will both die for this,” Wallace grunted. His boots and parts of his peacoat had been burned away, and his skin was a charred and nasty mixture of black and pink.

Maritza tried to lunge backwards but wasn’t fast enough, and she took a strike to the chest from the sharp edge of the scythe. It sliced her down the middle of her cuirass, and blood seeped out from the crack in the leather.

She had gotten lucky, and her armor had absorbed most of the strike.

Ronan’s forearm steamed and his Mark of the Butterfly activated. He turned the Hellblade nearly weightless with Butterfly magic, and slid it across the ground to Maritza in the blink of an eye.

“Use this!” Ronan beckoned, watching the sword move towards Maritza. He kicked Wallace in the nose.

Maritza cartwheeled, avoided another scythe slash, and grabbed the Hellblade. When she was back on her feet, she held the Hellblade outright, and in a flash of black light, Runes covered her arm, shoulder, neck and face. One eye turned black, and she moved with an untraceable speed, slicing the scythe’s blade in half, then the Nightblade holding it in two right after. As the two pieces of the scythe blade clattered to the alley ground, so did the Nightblade’s torso and legs.

Maritza dropped the Hellblade, panting, and the Runes retreated, and her skin returned to its normal rosy tone.

Ronan broke free from Wallace’s grasp, and Wallace’s eyes twitched as he stared at Maritza.

“What in the hell are you two?” he asked.

Without another second or chance to catch his breath, Wallace shouted to the skies, “Guards, guards! Help me please! The traitors are here!”

There was a series of footsteps on the rooftops above them.

Ronan and Maritza both picked up their swords, and Ronan checked Maritza’s wound.

“It’s only a surface scratch,” she assured. “We need to run.”

“Not so fast!” Alfred exclaimed. He wobbled to his feet, drew his dagger and his curved Butterfly sword. Shards of his mask still sticking to his face rained onto his boots, and Ronan saw just how badly he had burned Alfred’s skin down to the muscle.

Maritza snapped, “Stand down, Alfred.”

Alfred’s sword had a shake to it when he declared, “You’re both monsters with evil magic. Maritza, you’ve been living among us this whole time. You two are the reason for our troubles.”

“Even you don’t believe those ramblings,” Ronan said. “We share the common interest of destroying the Black Blade Army before it destroys all of us.”

The running on the rooftops got closer.

“Lord Wallace,” a woman’s deep voice shouted. “Our guards are approaching!”

“Over here, and make haste!” Alfred yelled. “It’s Maritza and Ronan. They are to be executed on sight for treason and murder.”

Wallace tried to stand but his burns were too bad.

“Alfred, strike these two down,” he scoffed.

“We’re almost there,” another guard called out.

Now, the clanking of armor was apparent, and rang through the alley walls. A combination of town guards and Nightblades ran down one side of the alley with their weapon raised.

“It’s time to move,” Ronan said to Maritza.

“Double-time,” she confirmed.

Alfred’s back steamed, and he lunged at the two, fueled with his bitter resentment for Ronan, and his fear towards what Maritza truly was.

Then, the running on the rooftops stopped, and Ike fell right on top of Alfred, squishing him with two heavy leather traveling packs saddled to his sides.

“Ike,” Clove shouted from the rooftop. She peeked her head over and looked down at Maritza and Ronan. She too had large sets of traveling gear strapped to her back.

“I’m okay,” Ike said, rolling off Alfred.

Alfred made a dull moaning sound. His shoulder had been crushed by the weight of Ike and his gear. Ronan and Maritza tugged Ike up, and both took a traveling pack off Ike and slung it around their own shoulders.

“Farrier warned us that something like this might happen,” Ike panted. “We’re to run as far as we can make it with these supplies.”

Guards stormed into the alley.

Wallace pointed a finger and hollered, “Get them and their accomplices.”

Clove waved from above and shouted, “Get moving already!”

She kicked down a storm drain, and gutter water soaked the guards.

Ike, Ronan, and Maritza all sprinted down the other end of the alley. Guards slipped and chased after them.

When the trio and Clove made it out from the alley, they saw even more guards from Augustate running down the streets towards them.

Clove jumped down from the roof and landed beside the trio.

“We’ll never make it out,” she said.

“No, we will,” Maritza assured. She nodded to the rooftops that remained from the Norovir’s attack.

Dozens of figures stood at the edges of the roofs where the guards were running.

“Looks like the cavalry has arrived,” Ronan smirked.