In Which Theo Loses a Perfectly Good Rapier

The drizzle could cost him his life. It was a thought that angered Theo as he staggered in the dirt. No matter what karmic balance he might have racked up, if he died from the drizzle, he was going to feel quite unfairly treated.

'No you won't,' said a voice in his head sardonically. 'You'll be dead.'

Something pressed hard into the back of his thighs. Broken bricks, he realised as they scraped painfully into his flesh. Not paying attention, damnit. They'd caught him completely off-guard. His head had been somewhere else entirely. Now he was fighting to retain his focus as the three assailants savaged him. Well, two now. He'd layed a nasty slice between the legs of one with his blade upturned. He was still sat howling in a truly impressive pool of blood at the mouth of the dirty little alley.

The largest man, a genuinely muscled heavy who barely opened his mouth even to grunt, bore down on him. He hadn't got a proper weapon, just a heavy length of iron bar. As far as Theo was concerned, though, it was very much a proper weapon.

The heavy bulled into him with the length of his right forearm, driving him back over the tumbled chunk of bricks. Theo's legs went from under him and he fell. Driving himself to keep thinking, he tucked his chin in hard and held it there as his back slammed into the dust and drove his breath from him. The heavy was coming over the low scrub of debris, now, getting right over him before dropping vertically onto his chest. He'd probably crush Theo's lungs. At best, his ribs would be shattered.

Fighting the swimming pain in his head with everything he had, Theo channeled the momentum of his fall up and over his head. His legs swung up and he tried to keep them together, but wavered in spite of himself. He felt the wind of the heavy as his arm swept the empty air an inch from his legs. Now Theo was stood on his shoulders and neck, his body pointed straight up above him. He sprawled in the position, unable to balance properly, but he'd held it long enough. The heavy gave the slightest of snarls as his drop found no target, and he clumsily rose to strike out.

Theo dropped his legs, spreading them and rocking his head off the ground. His weight fell along the length of his body and slammed into the heavy's shoulders as he rose. In one smooth movement his legs locked around the thug's arms and his body curled over the man's head, so that he found himself perching on his shoulders in reverse. He made sure to sag slighty in his seat so as to keep his valuables out of biting reach of the man. He clamped his left hand onto the bald pate of the man's head and drove his thumb hard into the eye. In spite of himself he coughed a mouthful of vomit across the heavy's back when the wet flesh popped beneath his thumb. He felt his unwilling steed twist and stagger beneath him and quickly leapt from the man's back as he tumbled and crashed to the ground. Now, finally, the man made a noise, a huge, bellowing roar of pain, as he thrashed in the scree.

The third man had had time to get the perfect angle on him though, and was waiting. A skinny, angular man in a rough leather waistcoat, shorter than Theo but much less fatigued, he came at him with a vicious shortblade. Theo had just enough time to parry with the rapier in his right hand before he would have been run through. Endlessly thankful he hadn't lost his sword in his fall, Theo fought desperately for position. The skinny man was coming on at him with quick, hissing slashes, and Theo's legs were tangling beneath him. He slipped in a rivulet of the first attacker's blood, and almost closed his eyes as time slowed down and he became detached from himself with the sureness that it was all over. His assailant slammed into him hard trapping him against the wall. The man's left hand cut across his neck and right wrist. The rapier fell and Theo thought his throat had collapsed. Blue dots burst across his vision. He couldn't move. The weight of the attacker held him hard. His left hand had been pinned at his side and his stomach was being crushed painfully. The edge of the man's blade hovered beneath his chin, but didn't move. He realised the man wasn't going to kill him yet. He had a feeling it was certainly on the cards for later, however.

In spite of his situation, an inappropriate imp at the back of Theo's mind was curious as to what the man wanted. He waited for him to speak. A few feet from the pair was a stained sewer grate. The attacker kicked his rapier into it. It vanished with a gently grinding of steel on grit.

"You know who we are?" asked the skinny man. Theo shook his head a fraction. The man looked up and met his gaze, then. Theo felt a chill. The hate in the man's eyes told him that he had nothing but death in mind. Theo didn't wait for more answers. The hand at his waist twisted fast beneath the pinned wrist. His finger tips caught the pommel of a knife. A nasty little street weapon. It fell into his palm as his hand was already moving upwards, and he drove it under the little man's ribs.

The assassin sprang back in shock. The blade caught in his chest and wrenched free of Theo's numb hand. Theo had half a second. He took it. Slamming himself forward, saving nothing to regain his stance, he threw himself at the man. If this didn't work, keeping his posture wouldn't save him. The killer brought the blade up but not in time. Theo caught the blade painfully and slid his hand over the attacker's, forcing it down. As they staggered and fell, Theo wrenched his dagger free, and as they hung in the air he lashed viciously. The first strike cut the killer across the face in one long line, splitting his top lip, opening his left nostril top to bottom and letting the blood from his brow. The second strike buried it in his throat.

Theo blinked sweat and tears from his eyes, gasping for breath as blood ran from his hand and a hundred other cuts. He returned to his feet shakily and looked dumbly back up to the mouth of the alley. By now his other attackers had fallen silent, or were doing no more than gurgling gently. He could hear shouts and a whistle in the not too far distance. Damnit. The guard would be coming. They'd waited long enough to make sure that most of the threat would be over and now they were coming to show their faces so they could claim their paychecks.

Theo looked down. His cloak had been split across the breadth, and gaped open. Underneath his gold-and-scarlet performing clothes were clearly visible. Damnit. He'd have to take to wearing less identifiable garb. He grabbed the ugly horsehair cloak off the biggest of the trio. It was far too large for Theo's medium stature, but it would have to do. He pulled it around himself and ran for home.

He was a couple of streets away when his brain started working again through the blood haze. He'd entered that alley to stop a mugging. Some scrawny urchin was being defenselessly beaten by an alley rat for coin he clearly didn't have. Theo stepped in to wave his rapier and scare the scum away, as he had from time to time. Things had got confusing then. The urchin seemed to recover instantly from his beating and was miraculously on his feet, with a heavy one-handed club in his grip. The alley rat now held a shortsword and a look of cold malice that was a far cry from the half-scared cruelty of the bottomfeeders. And then a shadow had indicated that a big, heavy, third man had appeared behind him. His brain had just about processed these facts when he was hit in the back of the head.

Now his thoughts were moving. His mind had caught up. That attack had been planned. Theo quickened his pace and pulled the cloak hard around him. Somebody wanted him dead.