David Dalglish - Blood of the Underworld

Demanding the power, whether it be from Karak or herself, she focused on a corner of the room she’d just leapt from, where the shadows were deepest. Shadows were but doorways to her, if she was strong enough, and instead of hitting the ground, she and her opponent fell right through. They reappeared in the room, falling from the corner. Zusa twisted so she landed on top, her daggers piercing the Faceless through the breast and throat. Abandoning the blades so she could continue moving without slowing, she swept the feet out from Ezra, who had turned on John following her departure.

John, as surprised as he looked, was still no fool. His sword stabbed down, but Ezra was too fast, spinning on her back. The stab missed, and with impressive strength, she pushed off in a backward somersault. Zusa kneed and kicked her, felt bones break, but still the woman made it past, crumpling at the door to the room.

And at that door appeared two more Faceless, shadows rolling off them like water.

Zusa looked to her daggers, still embedded in the corpse.

“You will not win tonight,” she said, shifting so she stood beside John, the two of them protecting Alyssa and her family.

“Karak has decreed you an enemy of the faith,” Ezra said, standing with the help of the other two. Her hazel eyes glared with a feverish intensity. “Your fate is already sealed. Without your faith, you are nothing.”

“Strange for a god of order to ally with thieves and rioters,” Alyssa said. “What have I done to earn your ire?”

They received no answer. The three Faceless fanned out, forcing the group tighter against the window. Zusa reached out a hand to John, her eyes never leaving her foes.

“Cut my palm,” she said.

John did so, though he clearly did not understand why. As the blood poured across her hand, Zusa clutched her cloak. Her body ached from the blows they’d exchanged, but despite it, she grinned.

“You think I am nothing?” she asked as her gray cloak turned the color of blood, it spreading like dye in a glass of water. “You think I must beg Karak for strength? Come, Faceless. Come, slaves. I will show you what power I have.”

In unison the three attacked, and Zusa met them head on. Clutching an edge of her cloak, she twisted and spun, weaving through their thrusts and slashes so that none could cut her deep. Her cloak itself billowed and curled, as if it were a sentient thing. Its edges hardened like steel whenever touched by the women’s daggers. Zusa kicked to her left, spun low, then slammed both her fists against Ezra’s chest. The others tried to trap her, but she vaulted high, landing by the corpse of the one she’d killed. Yanking free her daggers, she leapt fully into the offensive. Her cloak was just another weapon, and it cut into their skin like razor wire. The Faceless retreated, parried and dodged. Their blood covered the floor.

They all forgot John Gandrem, all but Zusa, who forced one of the Faceless into a retreat his way. His sword pierced her back, punched out the other side. The woman convulsed on the blade, and then died. Only two left, and they were in full retreat now, fleeing to the door. Zusa let them, for she felt her strength ebbing, and a headache growing deep in her forehead. With their absence, Zusa’s cloak returned to its dull gray color, and she limped over to Alyssa. A dozen shallow cuts bled all across her body.

“You’re safe,” Zusa said, and she smiled. Alyssa caught her when she leaned forward, and Zusa accepted the embrace.

The sound of combat continued unabated, despite the emptiness of the room. Looking out the window, Zusa saw the house guards completely overwhelmed, only a small force holding fast at the crowded entryway before the mansion door. The rest were dead or had retreated all the way into the building. Windows smashed in from all directions, and nothing could be done to stop the rioters from pouring in, and looters rushing out with treasures in hand.

“The castle guard will arrive soon,” John said, wiping blood from his sword. “Surely they will not allow…”

“The city is like it is because the city guard has allowed it,” Melody said, stepping away so she, too, could watch from the window.

Zusa pulled free of Alyssa’s embrace, kissed her forehead.

“Shut and bar the door,” she said to John. Without waiting for a response, she leapt once more from the window. The many below were just unarmed men, angry, confused, whipped into a fury by the thief guilds. Despite this, she had no pity for them as she descended, a whirling tornado of blades. They trespassed upon land not theirs, seeking to take what never belonged to them and snuff out the life of those she loved. Let them die. Let them bleed out upon the grass. And that is what they did, those that did not scatter in time. Life after life she ended, losing herself in the flow of combat.

At first most fled from her, unable to overwhelm her with numbers and unable to defeat her with their simple weaponry. Zusa cut a bloody swathe toward the guards at the door, who, despite their many wounds, held firm.

“Go within!” she screamed at them. “Protect those inside. I will hold the door!”

None looked happy with the command, but they knew her closeness to Alyssa, and the danger her daggers possessed. Retreating inside, only Zusa remained in the yard. Turning about, she stared down the rioters. Many had begun to flee, overwhelmed by the carnage strewn about the place. The house guards had done their work well. Men and women still rushed the mansion, but most avoided her, choosing to crawl through the glass of broken windows than challenge her blades. Zusa shook her head, almost disappointed, but at least the mansion would be safe. The remaining house guards could handle a few looters and…

“This city is in the throes of a new birth!” boomed a deep voice outside the complex. Zusa looked, saw a large man dressed in clothes outside the norms of Veldaren, a triangular hat on his head. His left ear glittered with many rings running up and down the cartilage. “That there is blood and pain should not only be expected, but welcome! Our slavery ends tonight. The Watcher is dead, and the false peace of this land breaks. Destroy those who once pretended to be your lords.”

As he spoke, men of all guilds gathered around him, having hidden in alleys and homes to watch the carnage, while letting the hungry, frustrated, and destitute do their work for them. They were at least two hundred, perhaps more, and they brandished crossbows and daggers laced with poison. Zusa stood before them, her whole body trembling with every tired breath. Whoever the strange man was, Zusa marked him, let his face burn into her memory. It would be him that she hunted down, even if she must return from the dead to seek her vengeance.

“Those who pass through those gates die,” Zusa cried back, pointing a dagger. Her voice seemed miniscule compared to the giant that led them. “Come, then, if you are so eager to enter the Abyss.”

With so many against her, and the city guard nowhere in sight, they were not afraid. They rushed in, all but their leader, who remained back to watch. Zusa flung open the door and pressed her back against it, using it as a shield as the crossbow bolts came flying. They thudded like a heavy rain. Zusa closed her eyes, felt tears in them. Damn it, not like this. What they’d do to Alyssa, to Nathaniel…

When the footsteps were almost near, she kicked the door back open and charged, willing to bleed, to die, to keep them safe for just a minute more. But to her surprise, she was not alone. Landing before the door, his body shrouded in gray cloaks, was a man that should not have been able to leave his bed, let alone tear into the forces assembled against them.

“Haern?” Zusa asked, in her brief pause before she rushed to join him. They were terribly outnumbered, but they moved through their ranks with blinding speed, taking advantage of the sudden doubt and terror the Watcher’s presence inspired. He should have been dead. This was their night to celebrate his execution. To have him appear, sabers hungry, suddenly put every plan of theirs in doubt.