Damien sighed and followed Lane down the steps out of The Golden Stag. She’d said only one night and meant it. Too bad. Damien hadn’t slept as well as he did last night in weeks. Deep feather beds combined with the best meal he’d eaten since leaving the capital added up to nine hours’ unbroken sleep. For the first time in his life Damien cursed the training that had him awake before the sun rose.

Outside dawn was just coloring the horizon. Low, dark clouds and brisk temperatures threatened a late-season flurry before the end of the day. Two new boys in identical livery waited with their horses saddled and ready. From the shine, it looked like they’d combed them out and cleaned the mud from their tails and the feathering around their hooves. The horses looked better than when Damien claimed them from the last supply depot. They’d even slicked up the mule.

He tossed the boys a crown apiece. They snatched the silver coins out of the air with practiced ease. Damien patted his mare on the neck and swung up into the saddle. He hung his rucksack from the pommel and followed Lane out the open gate.

After a moment of silence Damien said, “Best six royals I ever spent. Tell me you didn’t love those beds and I’ve never eaten roast that tender.”

Lane nodded. “Maybe I was too quick to dismiss an occasional bit of luxury. The beds were a delight.”

“Ha! Thank you very much. I guarantee we both would have ended up with food poisoning if we ate at the other place.”

They rode through the slowly awakening town, eager to finish their journey. According to Lane’s map, they’d reach Baron Kannon’s castle late tomorrow, barring any unforeseen adventures. Damien hoped she could convince the barons to do their duty. Though he had no qualms about killing, he preferred to avoid it when possible.

They came to a stop a hundred yards from the south gate. Nine rough men in leathers stood blocking their way. All of them carried a weapon of some sort, with axes, swords with chipped blades, and heavy cudgels making up the bulk.

In the center, a little ahead of the rest, Bonzo stood with his arms crossed across his massive chest. He looked none the worse for last night’s pounding. He’d found an ax as long as he was tall with a massive, double-bitted head that probably weighed thirty pounds. A pair of town guards stood by the closed gates leaning on their spears. It didn’t look like they planned to offer any assistance.

Damien turned to Lane. “Do you want me to handle this or do you want to try and negotiate?”

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Lane frowned. “Part of being a good negotiator is knowing when negotiation is a waste of time. Could you please keep it subtle? No golden dragons or smoking craters.”

“Come on, how did you know I was going to use a golden dragon?”

A hint of a smile cracked her stony face. “This is serious.”

Damien dug his thin leather gloves out of his rucksack and pulled them on. “No it isn’t. I’ve been in a few serious situations. This is a nuisance at worst.”

He dismounted and handed her his reins. “Keep your distance just the same.”

Damien strode toward the assembled thugs. His eyes narrowed as he studied their soul force. Only Bonzo had anything more than normal.

He could kill them all in an instant, probably should, since he suspected they were all members of the Daggers. Nevertheless, he wanted to give them a chance to surrender. He just didn’t know where to take them since the Lord Mayor and his men were in the gang’s pocket.

He stopped halfway between the gate and Lane. Damien crooked his finger, beckoning Bonzo forward. Even from a distance the enforcer’s clenched jaw was visible. If he didn’t move out of the way he was about to get a lot less happy and a lot more dead.

Bonzo slung his ax over his shoulder and marched toward Damien. When he stopped Damien stared him straight in the throat. Man, he was big. Maybe he had some ogre in his bloodline.

“We ain’t interested in you,” Bonzo said. He had a deep, gravelly voice and breath that suggested he brushed his teeth with the contents of his chamber pot. “But the girl’s got to pay for insulting me. You can have her back when me and the boys are through.”

“That’s a generous offer, but unfortunately I’m her bodyguard and I’m afraid handing her over to you wouldn’t do her body any good. How about you guys get out of here? I don’t want any trouble.”

Bonzo laughed. Behind him the rest of the thugs tensed and raised their weapons. That was all the chance Damien intended to give them. He conjured a pair of swords and drove them through both Bonzo’s lungs.

Blood gushed out of Bonzo’s mouth and he fell to his knees, the giant ax clattering to the ground. Damien stepped back, ripped his blades free, and cross slashed.

Bonzo’s head plopped to the ground.

Before the other thugs recovered from the surprise of their leader’s death, Damien hurled his blades at them. He accelerated their rotation until they looked like steel disks and guided them into the assembled thugs.

Human flesh didn’t stand up well to soul force blades sharper than a razor and harder than steel. In three seconds all eight thugs lay in perhaps twenty pieces. One of them moaned in pain. He’d lost both legs above the knee and would bleed out in a hurry.

Damien held out his hands and the blades flew back to him. He reabsorbed the energy, tugged his gloves off, and walked back to rejoin Lane.

She stared at him, mutely handing him his reins when he reached for them. Perhaps she’d never seen real combat and its aftermath. It wasn’t pretty.

Damien swung up onto his mare. “You know how they say don’t look down when you’re somewhere high? You might want to follow that advice until we reach the gate. It doesn’t look any prettier up close."

She clenched her teeth and stared over the top of the wall. They rode toward the gate which the two guards hastened to open. Damien stayed close to Lane in case her horse shied away when they went through the bodies. A minute later they were out the gate and on the road again.