While Baradaz’s Grand Temple had been desecrated under King Orest’s orders, I doubted the king even knew this shrine existed. I noted the simple attire of the men threatening the priestesses, their gaunt faces and makeshift weapons. No, this was simply the desolate taking advantage of a convenient opportunity, looking for someone to blame for their misfortune. For easy prey.
A crackling sound echoed through the street. Someone had set fire to the splintered remains of the shrine. The dry wood burned easily, the flames bright against the night sky. Not wise in this district, where a fire could rage out of control in a heartbeat, consuming houses and tents in a blazing storm of destruction.
“No!” the older priestess cried out, her long, gray-streaked hair wild around her shoulders as she tried to escape her captors and run back to the temple.
At that moment, I knew things would escalate.
“Bitch!” A forceful slap resonated through the air as the burly man at the center of the group struck the struggling priestess. The sound of fabric tearing followed, accompanied by the lewd laughter of his companions as pale skin was revealed.
My feet carried me across the street with no conscious decision. Once the first line was crossed, all inhibitions would crumble. I had witnessed it often enough. The men circled the two women like a pack of mangy dogs scenting blood. Two grabbed their arms, preventing any escape.
“That’s enough! You’ve had yourfun, boys. Now let them go.” My sharp voice sliced through the tension, drawing hesitant glances. The sight of an armed mercenary made a few pause.
“Mind your own business, merc.” The self-appointed leader of the riffraff glared at me over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “Unless you want to join.”
A sob tore from the younger priestess’s lips. Her blue eyes widened as she realized the danger they were in. Those two were faithful to not have abandoned the temple tendays ago. Faithful, but foolish.
“I believe,” I said, enunciating every word, my hand caressing the hilt of my sword, “the ladies do not appreciate your company.”
“Don’t see any ladies here.” A glob of spittle landed on the dusty road. “Only harlots pretending to be virtuous.” The leader caught the younger priestess’s chin in a rough grip, forcing her to look at him. “Why shouldn’t they be eager to have a little fun with us? Their goddess spread her legs for the Fallen One like a common whore.”
Another round of jeering laughter spurred him on as he brutally ripped the top of her dress apart.
“Oh,” I answered, my tone deceptively soft. “That was a mistake.”
The first man was dead before they even knew this was a fight, the edge of my blade a cold kiss across his throat as it slid out of its sheath in one graceful arc.
I moved before his body hit the ground. Two long strides, a strike to the left, piercing the shoulder of a thin, tall man, who clutched at the bleeding wound with a pained scream.
I parried the axe of a bearded man from the right, my booted foot coming up, sending him flying backward with a kick to the stomach. The sound of steel slicing into flesh replaced the gleeful laughter of the priestesses’ tormentors, the men’s agonized screams a sweet music in my ears as I plowed through their ranks.
A warning scream from the older priestess rang out. “Behind you!”
I spun around just in time, the blow meant to take me down grazing my temple. Shadows danced through my vision. A wild snarl left my mouth. My attacker paid for his daring with a blade to the stomach.
“Run!” I snapped at the two women. “Now!”
At least they were not so foolish as to hesitate. They vanished into an alley behind the burning temple, leaving me with the leader and two more men.
Battle possessed a unique beauty. An awareness that every moment, every move could be the last. It gave a clarity to the world that made it seemmore, somehow—full of life, full of possibilities. Was this how mortals always felt? Not that these pitiful opponents posed a challenge.
I plunged my blade into the chest of one man writhing on the ground, ending his pleas for mercy with a gurgling scream. I wasn’t surprised when the leader attempted to flee in terror after I had eliminated the remaining assailants. Men of his ilk were seldom brave when their opponents fought back.
The sound of the insolent fool’s face hitting the nearest wall was quite satisfying. Grabbing his hair, I jerked his head back.
“You shouldn’t have insulted a goddess,” I hissed, slitting his throat without hesitation.
For a fleeting, glorious moment, I burned with it all: the exhilaration of battle, the thrill of victory, the heavy scents of blood and smoke lingering in the air.
Then I noticed the stares. Even in a place like this, killing twelve men in the middle of the street attracted attention. People from every house and tent stared at me. Rabast and Amris stood in the doorway of the tavern I had left earlier, their faces ghostly pale in the flickering firelight.
Distant screams pierced the night, growing nearer. The tolling of an alarm bell filled the air. Not because of the bloodshed, but because of the fire that had begun leaping to the nearest buildings, just as I had feared. I had to vanish before the Royal Guard showed up.
“Over here!” a voice called out behind me. I whirled around to see a figure waving at me through the smoke. “Quick!”
I only noticed bright blue eyes and the gleam of dark feathers beneath a black cloak as I instinctually followed the stranger, the need to escape pounding through me. The tumult behind us faded as we hurried through the maze of narrow alleys deep within the Undercity. After a dozen turns, my guide abruptly stopped, a gnarled hand shooting out of the cloak, grabbing my arm.
“Inside.” I was pulled toward a dim tent entrance. “Better stay off the streets until things have calmed down.”
