Ionae moved through the streets at a pace that had Vash struggling to keep up. She hadn’t bothered to pick up her robe after the fight at the Mermaid’s Regret, so the two of them dashed through the streets with weapons and armor on full display.

“Ionae!” Vash hissed, coming up close before they entered a busy square. “Do we really want to go running through the city like this?” He gestured to himself, meaning to point out that they were heavily armed, then noticing the blood that coated his hands and had splashed against his dark leathers. Splatters covered Ionae’s face and hands as well, though she had avoided the worst of the sprays. “We have to be discreet, right?”

The rage in Ionae’s eyes tempered to something more controlled. “You’re right, damn foolish to go running off like that. I know better.”

“Should we go back for the robes?” Vash asked.

“If they managed to escape the blood I’d be surprised.” Ionae shook her head. “Besides that courtyard likely has a half dozen folk there stripping the bodies of anything valuable. Speaking of which, I didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“Neither did I.” Vash shuddered. “Everything I did…they just ended up dead.”

Ionae gave him a long look, then took a deep breath. “We’ll talk about it later. How do you feel? Strong enough for more Shadow-Walking?”

“I think so.” Vash nodded.

“We’ll use it until we get out of the Lake District. Silver Mane Stables is in Drover’s Court, and that’s home turf.” Ionae said, the feral gleam returning to her eye. “The shadows won’t cover you entirely in well-lit areas, but they will make you less noticeable.”

Vash nodded, swallowing hard, the night was not going as expected. He struggled to form the schima in his mind, Ionae waiting and watching as he struggled. Finally the form clicked into place and he felt the cold power flow through him. The shadows leeched color from everything around him, leaving him in a strangely gray landscape. After a moment Ionae shifted from that neutral gray to her normal color. She nodded at him and beckoned to follow her.

Shadow-Walking also leeched sound, giving the raucous streets a strangely hollow feel. Voices and noises felt far away, muffled like they were beneath a thick blanket. The few people they saw moved with that odd slowness. Ionae was moving at a brisk pace, faster than a walk, but not quite a run. Vash took a breath to ask why and she whirled, holding a finger to her lips. Vash swallowed and nodded. Ionae shook her head in irritation and continued.

They passed through the main thoroughfare, stepping past people moving with agonizing slowness. As they neared the light of torches or lanterns some of the color would bloom nearby, then fade just as quickly as they passed out of the range of the light. Every now and then a head would turn towards them, curiously, but no one stopped them. They were like shadows flowing across the night. Shadows with a purpose.

Reaching Drover’s Court Ionae came to a halt and motioned for Vash to do the same. After a moment she melded out of the shadow and back into the light. Vash also let go of the shadows and felt warmth and color surge back into his world.

“We need to make haste now.” Ionae explained, turning to jog down the side-street. “Bad things happen when you Shadow-Walk and make too much noise or move too quickly.”

Vash quickened his pace to match hers. “More people notice you?”

“People and other things.” Ionae said. “The book explains it better.”

Vash bit back a curse, learning to read was hard enough, learning to read another language with a structure completely different from the Common Tongue was proving maddening. He decided not to press, there would be another time.

“We won’t attract attention now.” Ionae said, lengthening her stride. “And I want to catch these bastards in the act.”

Vash kept pace, noticing how dark the side streets of Drover’s Court got after the day’s business concluded. Ionae moved like the shadows themselves, quick and sure. She set a fast pace, but one that would leave them with strength upon arriving at their destination. They had to run across the entirety of the district, finally coming close to the entrance of the Wood itself.

Ionae came to a halt and took cover behind a stack of crates at the mouth of the alleyway. Vash pressed himself against the wall behind her and peered out. A few lights could be seen in the stable across the street. Horses seemed to be being readied, and figures moved in front of the lights now and again.

“Ruel is home to his wife and brats by this time, usually.” Ionae said with a dark and dangerous tone. “He was always so…I never suspected him.”

“Maybe someone is just using his name?” Vash whispered, hoping that Dannil was mistaken. “Or he’s being pressured? Dannil said a full-blood was involved.”

“Maybe.” Ionae muttered then looked up at the alley walls around them. “I need to know what’s going on in there. Keep up if you can, I might need back-up.” She said, then reached out and grabbed a drain spout. With quick, dexterous movements she climbed the spout in a matter of seconds.

Vash licked his lips and attempted to follow, doing so at a much slower pace, but getting the hang of it as he crawled out onto the warehouse roof. Ionae was crouched on the corner of the roof out of direct line of sight from the stables across the road. She motioned for him to follow then took a running leap, disappearing over the edge.

Hurriedly, Vash dashed across the roof, looking over and spying Ionae on a wooden span that jutted out from the opposite building. She balanced there, then darted across to the ledge that ran around the outside of the stable.

“She’s going to get us killed.” Vash muttered, judging the distance for himself. Making a quick prayer to the Lord of Hunts and Hunters he ran and jumped off the edge of the building. His foot made contact with the span, but he didn’t hit with his whole foot. The boot slipped off the span and Vash felt himself falling. Quickly he lashed out with an arm, catching the span and leaving himself dangling a good fifteen feet above the street. Ionae looked back, brows knotted in either concern or annoyance, he couldn’t tell at this distance.

Struggling to keep silent, Vash pulled himself up onto the span and crawled over to the ledge. Regaining his feet, he padded silently after Ionae, who had reached the hayloft of the Silver Mane stables by this time. Ionae silently slipped into the hayloft, moving amongst the darkened bales of fodder like a shadow herself. Below there were a few voices and even fewer lights, just enough to see by apparently. Vash moved slowly, trying to emulate the silence of his partner. Within moments they were both at the edge of the hayloft, looking down into the stables. Ruel and another part-elf could be seen, they were preparing a wagon, in the back were long cloth-wrapped bundles, something like carpets or bolts of cloth.

Vash looked up at Ionae quizzically, but she shook her head, scanning the stables below.

“This isn’t good Ruel.” The other part-elf was saying, nervous, his voice shaking as he lifted another long bundle and let it fall across his shoulders. “Messing with the Eth Mitaan, it’s not good. Byar’s been far more stable since he built the temple. But killing Ionae, and the new boy? It’ll go back to the bad times.”

“Careful, Dom!” Ruel hissed. “You know how he is about damages.”

“Don’t remind me.” Dom spat back. “And you’re trusting a full-blood? What the hell has gotten into you?”

Ruel helped load the bundle into the wagon and glared at Dom. “You talked to the river lads lately? The ones bringing the shipments down from Fenril?”

“Heard something about him sending Radivir up that way, start a new temple. Good riddance, I say, him and that crew.” Dom shuddered.

“Yeah, the bad times.” Ruel said, stabbing a finger at Dom. “And they’re digging things up out on the Barrow Moors, sending them down with the river lads for sweet uncle Byar to collect.”

“I thought there was a break, after Radivir—”

“Apparently they mended things, and Byar is back to his old tricks.” Ruel grumbled, grabbing hold of one end of a bundle. The bundle suddenly thrashed and muffled cries came from within. Ruel struggled to hold on. “Dammit, Dom, I gave you instructions on how to do this!”

Dom hurried over and grabbed the other end of the bundle. “It doesn’t always work for the whole time! It’s not my fault.”

“Va dorimir aegora.” A voice said from below where Vash was standing. The tones rang like a silver bell and a soft blue glow briefly enveloped the thrashing bundle. Instantly the thrashing stopped. “Your blood is so muddled it’s impossible to know the correct dosage.” An accented voice said with a trace of contempt. “My kind has a natural resistance to soporifics, so the closer your blood is to your Vanan ancestor, the less effective the drug will be.”

Vash stiffened, he recognized the voice. Kelsoran vo’Nadris stepped into the light, placing his feet carefully as though he were afraid of stepping in something at any moment. Ruel sighed heavily and moved to lift the bundle, now that that captive within was again unconscious. “I wish you had told us that, we would have gone after second or third generation. This one is a full half, first generation.”

“It’s something you would have known if you needed to know it.” Kelsoran said, inspecting the bundles in the cart. He wrinkled his nose in disgust but appeared satisfied. “How many in this shipment?”

“We got six.” Ruel said, closing his eyes briefly. Vash thought he saw shame there. The missing part elves. Vash thought. He’s been kidnapping them, but why?

“Not good enough.” Kelsoran’s voice went flinty. “We need far more than that.”

“It’s getting dangerous.” Ruel said. “The river crews are already getting wise and mooring away from the Lake District. We can’t grab anyone in Riverside or the Wood.”

“And why not?” Kelsoran asked. “Because of the cultists?”

“The Eth Mitaan are dangerous—”

Kelsoran whirled, pointing a warning finger at Ruel. “Don’t use that name. I don’t even know how these pash’sodla learned about the Masked Ones, but that name shouldn’t be coming out of their mouths or yours. Is that clear?”

Ruel looked angry, but he glanced over Kelsoran’s shoulder and saw something towards the doorway of the stables, and he calmed himself. “Yes, sir.”

“Yes, what?” Kelsoran pressed, stepping closer. Vash could see that the Vanan noble had his hand resting on the dagger he had pulled on Vash those weeks ago.

“Yes, my lord.” Ruel said, bitterly.

Kelsoran barked a laugh, turning to the door he spoke quickly in Vanan. The words were too fast and spoken in that lilting accent for Vash to follow. Moments later four other full-bloods, all in dark-green lacquered armor with the Vanan-style curved blades strapped to their backs, emerged from the shadows to take possession of the cart.

“And what of the other thing we spoke of?” Kelsoran asked.

“It’s being dealt with.” Ruel said bitterly.

“How?”

“Paid off a group of pirates to take care of the boy. They’ll likely have to kill a friend of mine too, but it will get done.” Ruel said.

Ionae looked up at Vash, brow furrowed. Vash could only shrug in reply. The Vanan noble had apparently taken their spat personally and held a grudge.

“It’s likely to cause trouble for a lot of us. Byar does not take the killing of his own lightly.” Ruel added.

Kelsoran waved away Ruel’s concerns. “It will just give you an opportunity to fill your quota. I have people that can deal with real Masked Ones, this little cult shouldn’t prove a challenge.”

“You don’t know him well enough—”

The Vanan lord held up a hand, turning and looking around. “Who else is here?”

“Just me and Dom.” Ruel said, confused.

“Six captives, the two of you, my men, myself…two too many heartbeats.” Kelsoran said, lifting his eyes to the hayloft. Those blue eyes glowed in the dim light, intensifying as he searched the shadows. They settled on Vash and the elf’s lip curled into a snarl. “Can’t trust you to do anything right!”

The full-blood snapped something in Vanan and all four of his men turned and looked directly at Vash. With effortless grace they drew their swords: long, curved, single-edged weapons. They moved with a smooth grace that told Vash that these were no drunken pirates, these were professional killers. He turned and looked at Ionae who was freeing her own blades. She met his eyes. “Run!”

Her words snapped the world into motion. Vash turned and began to move. Behind him two of the Vanan warriors leapt the ten feet straight up into the hayloft, landing softly, blades at the ready. He felt the shadows reaching out for him, not realizing that he had formed the schima in his mind until it was already done. Color leeched from the world, except from the glowing eyes of the full-bloods.

“Mae’r toca par Somda!” One of them called. Something about touching shadows, again Vash cursed that his Vanan studies hadn’t gone far enough to understand what the full-bloods were saying, it might help him escape, especially since they didn’t seem to have the sluggish, slow movements that others had. One warrior turned to face Ionae, while the other sped after Vash, his movements precise making Vash feel sluggish and awkward as he bolted for the window.

He almost lost his balance as he turned onto the ledge that ran around the Silver Mane stables, managing to turn his skid into a turn and begin running towards the neighboring building. If he could build up enough speed he could jump across and pull himself up onto the neighboring roof. Soft footsteps sounded behind him, close, too close!

Vash risked a glance over his shoulder. The full-blood was nearly on top of him, his body in faded colors but his eyes gleaming a vibrant blue in the grey toned world of shadow-walking. Vash sped up, preparing to make the leap. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the full-blood jump onto the wall, using the windowsill that Vash was passing as a springboard to execute a flip and land in front of him, sword levelled, face impassive.

“Voca na egir Somda’toc!” The warrior spat.

“I’ve no clue what you’re saying.” Vash said, panting. As if the sound burst a bubble, color and sound came flooding back causing Vash to flinch back from the sensation. The warrior’s sword whisked through the air where his head had been a moment before. Vash backpedaled, drawing his blades, and trying not to get them caught in the straps of his leathers.

The warrior grunted in annoyance and lunged. Vash sidestepped like Ionae had taught him, but he stepped the wrong way, into empty air, his other foot slipping out from under him Vash reached out in desperation as he fell, grabbing for warrior’s sleeve.

Vash’s movement was arrested immediately and he locked eyes with the warrior. The elf gave Vash a very puzzled look and they both glanced down. Vash had reached for the warrior’s sleeve, or where it had been, when the warrior had lunged his arms had extended. The hand that Vash had reached out with still held his dagger, which had been buried into the armpit of the warrior elf. A place where there was no armor, a place where the warrior was supremely vulnerable. The dagger was buried deep and Vash’s weight had jerked it upwards. The warrior blinked, the strange blue glow fading and leaving his eyes a strange pale, milky color.

As the warrior toppled off the ledge Vash scrambled back up onto it. He watched in horror as the warrior smashed into the cobblestones below, head leaving a splatter of dark blood as he landed.

There was a crash and shriek, Vash doubted that the elves would make that sort of sound. Ionae! He ran back towards the window. In the hayloft he saw the other warrior dead on the ground, but Kelsoran himself had joined his men. The full-blood noble had Ionae by the neck, lifting her off the floorboards. Ionae looked up at him, desperation and fear in her eyes as her mouth worked like a fish pulled onto land.

Kelsoran turned his head enough to look at Vash, contempt oozed from his expression. Again he whispered soft, liquid words. Ionae went slack, her eyes closed. Kelsoran dropped her and turned lazily. “Well, boy, are you going to do what she said?”

Vash stared at him, fear and fury at war in his heart.

Kelsoran smiled, it was not a pleasant expression.

“Run.”