I whispered, “Skalei.”
In an instant, a blade appeared in my hand—Skalei, the dagger given to me by the Shadow Lords when I’d first received my commission as assassin. I remembered how Barthol had comforted me, holding my hand as the Lords carved runes into my flesh to bind the blade to me. All I had to do was say its name, and it would appear in my grasp.
“Don’t move!” The elf’s melodious voice floated across the hallway, angelic and forbidding.
The air near my cheek hissed as a spell whipped past my head, narrowly missing me. The High Elf wasn’t messing around, but I wasn’t about to obey his command. I took a step forward, dagger in my hand.
His golden eyes pierced me from the other end of the hall as I stalked closer, every one of my muscles tense and ready.
“Stay where you are!” he called.
I wasn’t following his instructions. For one thing, it’d take him a few seconds to recharge his wand. And for another, if he caught me, I’d be as good as dead.
So, I threw the blade. It sank into his chest, and he fell to the ground, clutching his heart.
I muttered, “Skalei,” again, and the dagger returned to my hand, now slick with his blood. It was a good thing I had it back, too, because I could already hear more High Elves heading my way.
I stepped over the High Elf’s body and rushed closer to the manager’s office with the broken window. At the edge of my vision, I saw another High Elf round the corner behind me, blond hair streaming off his shoulders.
He raised a wand. Magic buzzed in the air, and a burning pain shot up my leg. I had no idea what kind of spell that was, but I was sure I’d find out soon enough.
My leg felt like it’d been dipped in boiling water, but I made it back into the banker’s room, slamming and locking the door behind me. I cursed when I realized I’d left my crossbow and the knapsack I’d been filling with relics in the vault.
My heart was a wild beast. So far, the robbery had turned into a complete disaster.
With a boom, the door shook. The High Elf outside was battering it so hard that I thought it might break.
I shoved my hand into my pocket, grinning when I felt a sharp chunk of stone. At least I still had the vergr crystal.
I hurried to the shattered window, reared back, and threw the crystal across the street. It soared over the road and landed on the snowy roof where I’d been hiding before.
A High Elf’s fist slammed through the wooden door. It was time for me to get the Helheim out.
I shouted, “Fara!” And magic whipped over my body.
I reappeared on the roof, crouching to peer at the flashing lights beneath me. Silfarson’s Bank, it seemed, did not mess around when it came to apprehending thieves. High Elves swept through the air, mounted on moths as big as horses. At any moment, I’d be spotted.
I needed help, and I needed it fast. I pulled on my headset. “Barthol, are you there?”
“Ali!” he whispered sharply. “What’s going on?”
“Can you help me get out of here?”
“Are you okay? What happened—” A strange, strangled sound cut him off.
“What? Barthol?”
“Run! Run!” he shouted frantically, before cutting off again. My headset filled with the hiss of static.
I whirled and sprinted over the rooftop even as I tried to work out what was going on.
Then I heard a noise that explained everything.
“Ghhhroooooarrgh!”
My blood turned to ice, and I froze where I was. There was no mistaking the hunting cry of a troll. Born in the hearts of mountains and made of living rock, trolls were the size of maple trees and virtually indestructible.
The troll pounded the snowy street just below me. The building on which I stood shuddered as the creature barreled through the exterior wall. The whole structure began to shake, and I wondered if it would collapse.
Shit. Only sunlight could stop a troll, turning them to solid rock. But by my calculation, dawn was at least four hours off, and this thing was tearing through the building fast. Screams pierced the air, residents shrieking as the troll tore through the lower floor.
How did it know where to find me? It was at this point that it occurred to me what had hit my leg earlier—a tracking spell. The troll would know exactly where to find me, wherever I went.
Quickly, I scanned my surroundings. A building of similar height stood across the street to my left, and it looked like the best escape route. I started to run, but the roof juddered beneath me, and I sprawled flat.
Like a cannonball punching through the side of a ship, the troll burst through the shingles behind me. It was a deep, speckled gray, and it glared at me with tiny eyes that glowed like lava.
“Bllllrooooooahhh!” As it howled, molten saliva spewed from its mouth.
Covering my face with my arms, I knew then that I was one hundred percent, completely and utterly fucked.
Still, I flew to my feet, sprinting toward the rooftop to my left. As I neared the edge of the roof I was on, I threw my crystal across the gap between the buildings, then teleported myself in a flash of magic. I snatched the crystal off the icy surface.
The troll leapt after me, howling. With a splintering crash, it landed about ten feet away. The creature must have weighed at least a ton, because its bottom half instantly disappeared under the shingles. Trolls were big and strong, but not good for chasing people over roofs.
Unfortunately, the moth-mounted elves had no such limitations, and I soon heard the hiss of hexes whizzing past my head. I ran as fast as I could, darting under water tanks and behind chimneys as I tried to stay out of range.
But the next roof was… not there. I skidded to a halt before a three-story drop to a white expanse of snow, speckled with a few barren trees—the frozen remains of Boston Common. I’d be totally exposed if I went down there.
My knuckles were white over the crystal. Stuffing it into my pocket, I began to turn back, but the troll was closing in on me. The bricks were crumbling beneath its weight, but not before a stony hand shot out and snatched me around my waist.
As its other hand reached for me, the roof finally gave way.
There wasn’t time to contemplate the disappointment, the failure to save my people. Already, we were crashing through wood and plaster, screams erupting around us. Something cracked the side of my head, and pain shot through my skull.
Four stories and three seconds later, we landed with a deafening crash. Pain rocketed through my body and I tasted blood in my mouth.
Fuck. This job had meant everything. This job would have meant freedom for my people, finally.
I tried to stand, but the troll was already pulling me through the building’s wreckage. As an elf, I was sturdier than a human, but I was still in rough shape, and I hung limply in the troll’s grasp. It began to drag me into the center of Beacon Street even as dizziness bloomed in my mind.
My body slid and scraped over the freezing pavement. I scrambled to remember what I needed to do next.
“Goott herrrr,” the troll growled. Its molten spittle hissed on the icy street.
You got me. But you’re not taking me alive.
“Skalei!” The dagger appeared instantly in my hand, its blade black and lethal. I might have failed my people, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. I swung hard at the troll’s forearm, but my dagger barely chipped his skin.