It took three days to bait out one of New Dawn’s ambushes.

  Tensions in the city were rising as people came to their own conclusions about why the Order had erected its magical barrier, and it felt like every passing day the stares on their backs got heavier. People stopped asking for explanations. Instead, they began to hasten away whenever a skycloak came into view. Everyone knew something was coming, they just didn’t know what form it would take.

  After discussions between the relevant Masters, they’d apparently deemed it most prudent to keep up the appearance that nothing had changed. If their activity started shifting, people would catch on, and then the intelligence they’d gathered could end up being worthless. Unable to stomach that idea, Lucas had assented.

  Still, while they couldn’t change the routes, they could change out the people patrolling them with much less issue. The Order generally didn’t keep a strict schedule of who took what shift out in the city for security reasons. The Watch was there for low-level policing and community outreach, while the Order’s purposes in the city were generally more targeted, going after more serious issues and ensuring no beasts or their ilk managed to sneak into the city. Unlikely as that seemed, it wasn’t impossible. Demons had been known to pull off improbably feats, and so the risks had to be mitigated. The Order’s patrols were really more to be seen than anything, make their presence known.

  So there was little cause for suspicion among the masses when Lucas, Valerie, and Florence teamed up with a Shieldmaiden named Cherry and a Bowmaster called Symar to make the rounds of an area Nial had mentioned as gathering a lot of attention from New Dawn. It was an odd composition for a party, with two Swords and no Wand, but it was the best they could do on short notice. Cherry and Symar were well-regarded, at least. Not elites, but competent enough that Valerie voiced no complaint.

  Most of all, they were both Mornish born and bred, so they wouldn’t hear a different language coming out of Lucas’ mouth. Which was good in theory, but he found himself tongue-tied anyway, for the most part.

  Lucas didn’t remember a time he’d ever been so tense as that first day of patrol. They didn’t make it look like a patrol, per se, instead going with the cover story that they were investigating some unmentioned serious crime and thus needed to poke around and ask questions. Every time they’d diverted from one of the main roads, he’d been awaiting an attack. The shadows turned sinister in his mind. Surely, the next one would hide an assassin wielding a poisoned dagger. Undoubtedly, an evil Wand with a flesh-decaying spell would be waiting around the next corner. And so on. He’d barely been able to speak. By the time Valerie had made the call to return to the Moontower at just past midnight, his whole body ached from stress.

  But nothing happened that first day or night, letting him approach the next with a little more confidence. That slither of bravery lasted until barely an hour into their excursion, when Florence pointed out, quite calmly:

  “We have a tail.”

  Every instinct in Lucas’ body demanded he look over his shoulder to check, but he resisted through force of will. How she’d noticed without looking, he didn’t know. His mana sense was pushed to its limit, but understanding the plants for fifty metres around him in the middle of a city wasn’t particularly useful at that moment. He resolved to work on something.

  None of his other comrades reacted. Symar continued chatting quietly to Cherry as if nothing had happened, his blonde hair poking out from under his hood. When Lucas looked at the Bowmaster, the man gave him a wink and plucked his bowstring like it was a musical instrument. It made a chime-like twang.

  Their unseen follower stalked them all through the area known as the Corner. It was a neighbourhood of dizzyingly tall residential buildings, their bottom floors almost entirely devoted to market-like shopfronts selling everything one could think of. Oddly, none of the buildings were attached together, and they weren’t planned out in a neat grid, making for a chaotic labyrinth of back alleys. The perfect place for an ambush.

  But one never came that day. The crowds shot them a mixture of curious, concerned, and condemning looks, and Lucas struggled to gauge the overall mood of the place, compared to other areas where reports were coming in of increasing unrest. They were out from noon until just shy of midnight, and though there were eyes endlessly on them, they weren’t attacked.

  Once they were back in Valerie’s quarters with just the three of them, Valerie looked him in the eyes and told him:

  “If it’s going to happen, it’ll be tomorrow.”

  Lucas nodded slowly. “You think the ones following us today were some kind of scouts? I never actually caught sight of them.”

  “I’m good at that sort of thing,” Florence said.

  “Can you teach me?” he asked.

  “Somewhat. Some of my ability comes from my bonded weapon, giving me hints of my enemies’ intents in battle. With practice, I’ve come to learn how to interpret the information it gathers to a greater degree, and I suppose that can translate to something learnable even without my weapon.”

  “It’s not a priority at present,” Valerie said. “Combat capability takes precedence.”

  Lucas knew what she was going to say next. “Do you think I should stay out of it?”

  She seemed to consider her words. “You need to gain real-world combat experience with deadly stakes. There’s only so much that can be learned from sparring, even with elite combatants such as myself or Florence. Some lessons can only be taught by exposure to reality.”

  “That was a bit evasive,” Lucas said.

  “I am conflicted,” Valerie said. “The unfortunate reality of this situation is there are rarely perfect choices available to us. In an ideal world, you should gain practical experience only in completely controlled circumstances. But that is not viable. Not with the resources we have easy access to.”

  “For one thing,” Florence said with gravity in her voice, “you're going to have to know what it means to keep your composure in a real fight to the death.”

  “I’ve been in mortal peril plenty of times already,” Lucas said with a frown. “Or that's how it feels to me anyway.”

  “Would you say you kept your composure?”

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  Lucas was forced to lift his hand and tilt it from side to side in a so-so gesture. But as long as the answer wasn’t yes, her point was valid.

  “Killing other human beings is no simple thing. It’s rarely as easy as sticking a man through the heart with no chance of him fighting back.” She glanced at Valerie. “There are few people in this city who can pose enough of a danger to the two of us together that they would present a harm to you while we’re there, and none of them are going to be ganging up to ambush skycloaks in dark alleyways. This is probably the most controlled environment we're gonna get.”

  Valerie nodded. “We may want to take prisoners to gather more information on this dissident group. But safety is the priority.”

  They spent the next few hours discussing possible scenarios they'd face before turning in for bed. Lucas ended up struggling to sleep. Ser Nial’s face was etched into his mind, and he couldn't stop thinking about the blood on the end of Valerie’s blade. What would the red ichor look like on the short sword they had been having him carry on their patrols? He couldn't imagine it. But he figured he probably wouldn't need to for much longer.

  The next morning started like any other. They woke late after the late night, had a filling breakfast of meat and potatoes and the strangely salty stew served in one of the Moontower’s many cafeterias, then dressed in their clothes, armour, and cloaks. There was no difference between that day and the past two days when they walked through the atrium, meeting up with Cherry and Symar.

  Cherry was a short woman who kept her hair red-hair cropped close to her head, not a single strand allowed to grow out more than a centimetre. There was little sweet about her apart from her name, instead sporting a sour expression as if daring anyone to make any puns. With her flinty grey eyes and perpetually thinned lips, she looked markedly unfriendly.

  But in reality she was polite enough. She was neither hostile nor friendly. Just a professional doing her job. She greeted them with a nod and fell into stride with them without small talk.

  Symar was a taller man with honey-coloured hair that flowed down to his shoulders and a square jawline that framed a face that seemed perpetually set to a cheeky smile accompanied by a sharp gaze. He was thin and lithe, making Lucas wonder if that was a typical Bow trait; Rena and Aly had both been slight, and equally graceful in their movements, though the latter was bonded to an arrow rather than a bow, he recalled.

  He typically waited for them at the gateway to the city, chatting amicably away with the guards on duty. Upon spotting them, he waved a cheerful goodbye to his comrades and took the lead in their party, his bow strapped diagonally over his chest.

  They took the same route as they had the last few days, navigating down the Road of the Star all the way to the second ring, then forging out through smaller, winding roads until they reached the Corner, which squatted at the south-eastern point of the second ring’s wall.

  Proceedings went as they usually did, for the first few hours. It had been about noon when they set out, and they went about their typical business of making it look like they were conducting an investigation of some kind, while being cagey on just what it was they were looking into, implying there’d been unusual murders or some such and the trail had led them here.

  It happened when the sun was starting to set, burning the sky red and orange. Darkness hadn’t fallen, but the buildings and walls of Dawnguard were so tall that long shadows cast much of the city into gloom long before the sun truly dipped below the horizon.

  They were cutting through an abandoned alleyway as they’d taken to doing every few hours. Symar was in the lead, with Florence and Cherry a step behind each shoulder. Lucas was in between them, with Valerie somewhere behind him. Even now, his eyes were constantly on a swivel, searching the darkness for any hidden enemies. His mana was roaring through his channels, allowing him to push his mana sense to its absolute maximum range, covering enough distance around him at this point that it was difficult to even put a number to it. He could feel a flower shop that was four blocks over from them, not that that meant much in this chaotic jumble of buildings.

  Their enemies didn’t come from the shadows. A large group of men stepped into view at the end of the alley, silhouetted by the waning light. Even disadvantaged by the position of the sun, Lucas could see they all held weapons; bludgeons, blades, and more. He was sure there was even a bow in there. Looking behind, he saw more goons stepping into view at the other end of the alley. New Dawn had waited until they were halfway to the end, undoubtedly seeking to complicate their choice.

  No words were exchanged. The enemy bowman lifted his bow and drew an arrow in one motion, but Symar was faster. His bow was in his hands in a blink, and a second later the enemy bowman was spinning away with a choked gurgle. Before he managed to get around the corner, Lucas spied an arrow sticking out from his throat.

  The rest of the New Dawn goons charged. No war cries. No taunts or shouts or commands. These were men who’d already been over their plan, and knew what they needed to do, what was expected of them, and they were ready to lay down their lives.

  Lucas pivoted, leaving Florence, Symar, and Cherry to handle their half of the ambush while he backed up Valerie. There, he froze.

  Six of the goons who’d flanked them were already dead, and the others seemed well on the way there already. In the shadows, he could just about make out six bodies already on the floor, unmoving, and Valerie was charging into the midst of the rest of them. For whatever reason, she bypassed the front lines of the group, going for a man at the back.

  To their credit, the violent and immediate death of six comrades didn’t faze them. They had the wherewithal to immediately identify Valerie as the most dangerous enemy, because the bulk of the dozen or so enemies remaining focused on trying to overwhelm her. Only three went for Lucas, and he readied his shortsword as they charged.

  Time seemed to slow. The world tunnelled, placing him at one end and his three enemies at the other. Sound faded away. His heart hammered in his ears. They ate up the ground between them. Ten paces away. Then eight. Five. Three. Two. One.

  Then they were on him, and his sword lashed out to parry a blow from the first attacker.

  He wasn’t expecting how easy it was.

  One wielded a cudgel, and he aimed overhead slash at Lucas’ head. Pivoting out of the way was child’s play. Compared to Valerie or Florence, the man might as well have been moving in slow motion.

  The next had a staff, and he thrust it out at Lucas’mid-section. His dodge came as easy as breathing, merely angling his body to the side so the blow passed him by. He used the momentum of his movement to aim a backhand slash at the man’s torso and…

  That was it. It was easy as that. The blade sliced right through the New Dawn goon’s chest like it was nothing. Blood spurted. The man fell.

  The third attacker arrived just as the first was readying for a second attack, both of them trying to take advantage of his momentary distraction. If their abilities had been more equal, it might have spelled Lucas’ end.

  But a moment later, his sword was thrust pointy end through the third man’s neck. He hadn’t even had time to identify the man’s weapon. It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, he was too slow with it. Lucas pulled his blade out with a sickening squelch.

  The guy with the cudgel didn’t give up, going in for another attack. Lucas readied himself, holding his sword in a default stance Valerie had drilled into him, prepared to counter whatever the man tried.

  Then there was an arrow through the man’s eye, and his cudgel dropped from nerveless fingers. It hit the ground with an almost comical bonk.

  Lucas spun on the spot, scanning the scene. He found the aftermath of carnage. Bodies littered the alleyway. Dark stains spattered the walls, mingled with the dirt, and covered the unmoving shapes on the ground. Florence had two men pressed up against the wall, the haft of her glaive pinning them in place. Symar and Cherry had a goon each trussed up. All were quietly whimpering and sobbing.

  Turning again, Lucas saw much the same scene where Valerie had been fighting. She had the man she’d gone for in a chokehold, much like she had done with Ser Nial. The rest of her enemies were scattered across the dirt, little black lumps in the darkness.

  Lucas bent down and vomited up his lunch.

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  When demon-spewing portals appear and plunge the world into chaos, John Woods is granted the worst possible ability for a socially anxious loner: in order to gain the power he needs to survive, he must make people think he's cool.