Von hurled the black clover knife at the dome. The blade went through, and the amber bead flared. An electrical pulse rippled through the air and the dome vanished. His knife clattered to the courtyard below.
Gods. It worked.
The watchtower guards immediately spotted Von. A guard’s shout cut off as an arrow severed his gullet. In rapid succession, Len took out the guard in the left tower with an arrow straight through the eye. Then she targeted the right tower. The arrows zipped, taking them out one by one, sending their bodies tumbling over the ledge. The remaining guards fell before they realized what was happening.
Von hung a roll of rope on his shoulder and armed himself with two more knives from the many others strapped to the bandolier on his chest. “Cover me.”
He moved to the far end of the roof, then he sprinted and dove off the edge for the prison. Gravity clawed at him as he fell. He swung his arms with all his might, and his knives pierced the prison building as his body smacked against the cold stone with a grunt. The trajectory had landed him on the second floor. Tightening his grip on the knives, Von climbed. According to Novo, Bouvier was on the third floor, the fourth window from the left.
Von reached it and peered through the bars. “Bouvier?”
From the shadows, a form moved. “Commander?”
“Aye.”
“Thank the gods.” Bouvier’s tanned face slipped out of the dark. The moonlight fell over the silvery strands of his short hair, and his mustache curled with a smile. “I expected to be left for dead.”
“Don’t thank them yet.” Taking hold of the bars, Von handed Bouvier his weapons. He unhooked a small wooden container off his belt provided by Tarn’s arsenal. “A littlehuyaofrom Xián Jing. Carefully dump it on the windowsill and back up as far as you can. Quickly now.”
Bouvier popped open the lid and piled the black powder on the stone ledge. He moved to the furthest corner of the room, fading into the darkness. Von climbed to the roof and signaled at Len. She lit another fire arrow. He ran to the far edge and ducked. An explosion shook the entire building, rattling his skull with a deafeningboom. Even the King of Azure must have heard that. The guards most certainly did.
Von rapidly tied two lines of rope to a tower post and rappelled down the side of the prison. The third floor now had a gaping hole, as if a giant had punched through it. Hacking a cough, Bouvier rose from the rubble, his face covered in soot.
Von grinned and tossed him a line of rope. “Now you can thank them.”
Bouvier dove outside as two guards burst in through the cell door. They rapidly scaled the wall to the courtyard, only to find a group of armed Azure Guards waiting. Their rapiers gleamed in the firelight.
“Halt,” one ordered. “Or we will cut you down.”
Von glanced at Bouvier, and they shared a dark smile. Without hesitation, they ran to meet them.
Von darted, evading the swipe of a blade whizzing past his head. He parried the guard’s next swing and slashed through his chest. The fallen guard’s rapier skittered across the ground to Bouvier. With a flick of his foot, he kicked it up and caught the hilt. He moved with a graceful swiftness, gliding like water between opponents in an elegant dance only known in the Misty Isles. Blood spurted as his blade lacerated through flesh.
Five Azure Guards charged at Von. With a flick of his hand, he let his knives fly. They found their targets and impaled them through their hearts. Two bodies hit the ground. He faced the other three. An arrow pierced left guard through the neck, and another went through the right guard’s eye.
The third guard wildly searched the dark roofs. “Archer!” he shouted in warning to the others.
Von shot forward and swept his knife through his neck. Red sprayed the air. They fought their way through the courtyard, and the clang of steel merged with the cries of those they killed. Arrows flew past them as Len took out Azure Guards from her perch. As a team, they cut their way through the unit one by one. Blood pooled in the cobblestone beneath the bodies they left behind.
Bouvier plunged his sword through the stomach of the last guard standing. The fall of his body revealed two men watching them from a short distance. Von immediately knew they were not part of the Azure Guard. They were dressed in long, dark blue coats, with the bottom halves of their faces covered in black masks. The fire glinted over the metal plates of the pauldron on their shoulders, and on their bracers and greaves. The steel emblem of a bird’s skull was pinned to the baldrics strapped to their chests.
Von drew in a ragged breath and forced himself to slow his heart. Unless more Skelling Mercenaries were coming, these might be the only two sent to investigate before the others arrived in Urn—or so he hoped. But two was more than enough.
“The Skulls,” Von warned under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Bouvier stiffened and muttered a curse.
The mercenaries prowled forward and sound of their footsteps echoed through the quiet courtyard. They split, each picking a target. The slightly taller of the two chose Von. Firelight haloed the waves of his blond hair in orange, the flames flickering in his cold blue eyes.
The other had dark brown hair with an eyepatch over his left eye. His good eye, a piercing gray, remained fixed on Bouvier. He reached in his coat, and his gloved hand came out with a series of throwing stars tucked between his fingers. The other mercenary reached for the crossed sheaths on his back and withdrew two short swords. The blue pommels were shaped like grinning skulls, the curved edges flaring with two serrated points.
They weren’t bothering to call out orders of surrender. Bouvier’s warrant was for dead or alive.
So was Von’s.
He flipped two knives in his hands and said to Bouvier, “Should you fall?”
“March through the Gates,” the blue-eyed mercenary replied in a brogue accent, his gaze taunting.
