David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

Her Movers were gone.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a cluster of movement. In a flash she had her second sword drawn and twirled around, raising both swords just in time to parry two blows from onrushing attackers. Steel clanged off steel, numbing her arms, and she tucked her head between her knees, rolling between two more pairs of cloth-wrapped legs. She quickly shot to her feet, hunched over, and watched as her two assailants whirled to face her. She could only see the Sisters’ eyes; the rest of their faces were hidden beneath their wrappings. One held a curved saber and the other, a dirk.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. You knew the priests had demanded the Sisters be confiscated from the merchants. What else would they be used for? She also realized that although there were many men engaged in the fight, a good number of them were women dressed as men, wearing heavy leather armor and chipped and rusted helms. Her confusion rose so greatly that she almost didn’t react in time when the two Sisters charged her, graceful and deadly at the same time. Moira lashed out, batting away their blows as she backed up. She was more adept with her right hand than her left, which meant the Sister attacking on her left side was able to press much too close. The Sister slashed upward with her saber, aiming for Moira’s midsection. Moira couldn’t drop her left sword quickly enough; the only thing that saved her was another pair of combatants, who tumbled in front of her just as the blade was about to pierce her side. A man howled in pain. Given a momentary reprieve, Moira hacked mercilessly at the lone Sister now before her, beating her back. The wrapped woman’s eyes widened with each violent hew, and Moira finally landed a solid blow to the Sister’s wrist. The sword dropped to the cobbles, knocked aside by blindly shuffling feet, and the Sister grasped her leaking wrist. Moira thrust with both blades, but the woman spun away as quickly as Moira had before, disappearing into the throng. Moira’s sword cut through the empty air.

She heard hooves, but was not quick enough to react. Hands were on her then, snatching her from behind and yanking her from her feet. She was thrown aside, just as a press of at least a dozen Sisters-some fully wrapped, some not-charged. She landed on her hip, startled, and lost grip on one of her swords. She looked up to see her four Movers, still on horseback, battle the Sisters back. Gull led the way, brutal and efficient with each looping arc of his longsword. In a matter of moments, the twelve Sisters were either dead or had fled, but more moved in to take their place. Moira scrambled to her feet, snatched up her second sword, and charged into the fray.

Suddenly, a roar split the night, and though a few individual scuffles continued, most of the discord ceased. A second roar thundered through the square, from the opposite direction as the first, gravelly and high pitched at the same time. Moira glanced up at her sellswords, then at the mob. Everyone appeared nervous, even the Sisters. A few of the wrapped women disappeared inside one of the many buildings.

“We will not back down!” shouted a feminine voice. “You Sisters still enslaved to the priest and his Judges. . there is still time for you to see the light. We are the people of the city, and we will not back down! Karak has abandoned us, and he has abandoned you. Join us! Throw aside your wrappings and be free!”

Heads turned, gazing up at a point above Moira’s head. As if in a trance, Moira backed up toward the center of the square, following their gazes. There was a young woman standing on the rooftop of the two-story building behind her, her form silhouetted by the sliver of sun that now poked over the horizon. She was striking, this woman, with a head of flowing auburn hair and stately features. She wore a masculine getup, with slacks and a heavy jerkin, but the power of her youth and confidence made it seem as if such clothes were the most natural things for a woman to wear. Her shoulders were thrown back, and the group of men standing around her, purple sashes fluttering in the breeze, seemed to regard her with reverence.

“Now go!” the woman proclaimed to the formerly embattled crowd. “Seek shelter before they arrive! We must live to fight another day!”

With that, she offered a knowing smirk and disappeared over the other side of the building. Once more the square descended into madness. The Sisters, both clothed in wrappings and not, tore through the throng, heading for the squat brick homes lining the square. The men and disguised women scurried left and right, darting down the various alleys. It was then that Moira noticed a handful of men sporting the same purple sashes as those on the roof, and others who wore helms painted with gold stripes-symbols of the Palace Guard and City Watch, respectively.

Another roar resounded off the stone buildings.

The square was still emptying out when men and women screamed from the darkness of the alleys. Moira’s heart leapt and she took a few jogging steps forward, leaving behind the safety of her sellswords. A wave of people flew back out of the alley as Moira approached, re-entering the square, their faces frozen in terror as they dashed along the wall of homes and shops, searching for another way out. Moira inched even closer, her mind awash with turmoil. She looked on in wonder as a body came soaring out of the darkness, arms and legs flailing as it spun, until it landed with a splat on the cobbles not ten feet in front of her. The corpse’s flesh was shredded, its face a mess of pulpy gore. Entrails formed a red path behind it, disappearing back into the alley. Moira thought of Erznia, of the horror that had happened there, and hunkered down, holding out her swords.

Just as the sun disappeared over the western horizon, bathing the city with a reddish hue, a lion stepped out of the darkness of the alley. It was a female, six feet tall, her eyes shining with a golden light. Moira’s arms dropped ever so slightly, the tips of her swords dipping, as she stared at the beast.

“Lilah?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder and childlike fear.

She hadn’t seen Soleh Mori’s pets in ages, and as far as she knew they had been kept locked beneath the Castle of the Lion for more than forty years. She recalled her younger days, when Vulfram would wrestle with Kayne while Oris and Ulric cheered him on, and the girls of the house would groom the lioness. The lions had been huge even then, but nothing compared to what she now saw. This was no childhood pet or even a beast of the wild.

What stood before her was the personification of Karak’s rage.

Lilah swiped at those trying to flee, scoring the back of one man and knocking a woman into the air, splitting her ill-fitting helm. A ragged collection of men and women in armor then began inching along the walls, approaching the beast. The lioness’s glowing eyes glanced toward them and then locked on Moira. The lioness froze. Lilah sniffed the air, a guttural rumble vibrating her throat. Her tongue, nearly the size of Moira’s arm, licked the blood off her maw.

“Moira,” the lioness spoke. “Blasphemer.”

Moira stood slack-jawed, knowing she should run but convinced that the moment she did, the lioness would leap.

“You know what to do,” Gull shouted from behind her.

Lilah dipped her head and charged. The sight of those gleaming claws in the burgeoning darkness broke the spell upon her. She spun to the side just as the lioness leapt. A single claw dug into her leathers, gouging her forearm as the beast sailed past. Moira ground her teeth against the pain and rolled.

Despite her massive size, Lilah touched back down with barely a sound and whipped her body around. Moira was back on her feet, frantically considering her next action. Although Corton had taught her how to fight men much larger than her, she doubted such maneuvers worked well against a thousand-pound lion. As if to mock her, she heard another roar, and more screams, erupt from behind her. She chanced a look over her shoulder, spotting Kayne, the male lion, as he bounded into the square from the opposing alley. The beast had a man dangling from his jaws, and when he jerked his massive neck, the body ripped loose from the neck. The corpse splattered against the side of one of the buildings while the lion bit down on the head in his mouth. The crunch that followed nearly turned Moira’s stomach.