Coreene Callahan - Knight Avenged

A scream shredded the silence.

Fear sliced through her, making her stomach clench. Cosmina dodged right, taking cover behind a pile of timber beams. A shout went up. Unearthly growls accompanied the rapid hammer of footfalls. As sound funneled through the empty streets, Cosmina slid into a crouch, held her breath, and waited. Another earsplitting scream ripped through White Temple. Cosmina squeezed her eyes shut. Oh gods. Oh nay. She knew what that awful cry meant. She wasn’t the only woman inside the city. Not anymore. A member of the Blessed, one of her sisters, had heeded the call, returned to the temple . . .

And walked straight into the Druinguari’s trap.

“Great goddess of the shadow and light,” she whispered, falling into habit, reciting the prayer by heart as she turned back in the direction she’d come. No other choice. She refused to leave a member of the Blessed to die. Couldn’t stand the screams, never mind the thought of abandoning one of her own. Following the gut-wrenching cries for help, Cosmina sprinted down one alley after another, heart pounding, fear rising, murmuring more of the prayer as she ran toward danger instead of away. “Grant me courage. Give me strength and allay my fears. Fill my heart with purpose and my mind with knowledge, shine your light upon me so that I might not only serve you well but succeed in the doing.”

Old words taken from an ancient text.

Ones she hadn’t recited in years. Yet in the moment, the prayer felt right, granting her what she needed most—know-how and enough nerve to move forward without fear.

Slowing her pace, Cosmina tracked the voices. She frowned and, creeping around the next building corner, stopped to pinpoint their location. Eyes narrowed, she followed the sound of a scuffle. A horrible crack echoed, the sound of bone striking bone. The bastards were hitting her sister and—

Another scream echoed through the city.

Her attention snapped to the left. Her feet followed, directing her toward the next intersection. Slipping in behind the milliner’s shop, she took cover behind a half wall and, without making a sound, crept along its length. Her dagger tip glinted in the sunlight. The golden dome of High Temple rose above the rooftops. She peeked over the wall and . . . understanding struck. Goddess be with her. Double-damned beasts. The Druinguari were dragging her sister toward the courtyard outside the temple’s main entrance. The location made sense . . . in a sick, twisted sort of way. A place of worship and ceremony, the quadrangle sat at the heart of the city, the perfect location to kill a member of the Blessed. Doing so amounted to the highest form of sacrilege—blood on the stones, shame upon the house of the Blessed and White Temple.

Revulsion rolled through her.

Cosmina shoved it aside and, using the wall for cover, slid to a stop at the edge of the piazza. Forever the same, the large rectangular courtyard projected power, anchoring High Temple, standing strong at the base of wide stairs that rose to meet an imposing row of doors. Sunlight fell over the frieze carved in marble above the entrance, depicting the history and the importance of the Order of Orm, cementing her purpose. And yet she waited . . .

A man strode into view, entering the courtyard from the street opposite her.

Cosmina’s heart stalled mid-thump. Oh goddess. Not good. Armed to the teeth with twin swords strapped to his back, the lead Druinguari wore brutality like a scent. One hand clenched in the woman’s hair, he dragged her behind him while she fought him every step of the way. Clenching her teeth, she suppressed the urge to yell “good for you . . . fight hard” at her sister and assessed the situation, searching for an opening.

None presented itself.

She was in big, big trouble. Smack-dab in the middle of an untenable situation with few options and no way out.

With a vicious yank, the Druinguari tossed his captive to the cobblestones. Long blond hair matted with blood—face bruised, clothes ripped, and hands bound—she hit the ground hard and rolled across stone. Coming to a stop in the center of the mosaic medallion, the woman pushed onto her knees. Raising her head, she leveled her chin, defying at the beast standing less than five feet away.

Cosmina drew a shuttered breath. Blast and damn. Nairobi.

She would know her face anywhere. Close in age, she and Nairobi had grown up together and been friends until Cosmina’s imprisonment inside the north tower . . . and eventual expulsion from White Temple. Cosmina hadn’t seen her since, but old friendships died hard and loyalty lasted forever.

“Make your peace, Blessed,” the Druinguari said, voice almost melodic as he drew his sword. Steel scraped against leather, echoing through the stillness. A smile on his face, he rotated the weapon, twirling it in a circle. Light arched from the blade and sunlight winked, flashing across cobblestone. “You go to meet the devil.”

The five assassins, arranged in a semicircle behind the leader, growled in agreement.

Still on her knees, Nairobi squared her shoulders. “What is your name?”

The Druinguari hesitated, blade stalling mid-twirl. “Why?”

“’Tis only right I know who sends me to my death.”

“Valmont.”

“Know this, Valmont.” Tipping her head back, Nairobi looked him in the eye. “You will pay for spilling my blood. The goddess will avenge me.”

He bared his teeth. “A plague upon your goddess.”

“You have just sealed your fate,” her friend said.

Indeed. Without a doubt.

If the bastard so much as twitched. Made another move. Just one more, Cosmina would let fly and bury Henrik’s dagger hilt deep in his chest. ’Twould be easy enough to do. Despite being outnumbered, she held the advantage, the element of surprise along with a prime position.

An ugly expression on his face, Valmont double-fisted his sword hilt.

Shifting right along the wall, Cosmina improved her vantage point. With a quick flip, she rotated the knife in her palm. Blade poised between her fingertips, she tensed and got ready to throw hard and move fast. Stepping in close, the bastard took aim at Nairobi’s throat. Muscles tightened along Cosmina’s spine. Skill drew her arm back. Premonition flexed, then flared, telling her to aim for the right side of his chest. Confidence steadied her hand and—

Cosmina unleashed, launching the dagger.

Steel flashed. Its sharp tip spun over the weighted hilt. Time stretched, thinning perception, making her breath slow and her heart pause mid-beat. The Druinguari’s gaze snapped toward her. But it was too late. She’d thrown hard and aimed well. Orange eyes widened in disbelief a moment before her dagger struck home. Steel pierced muscle and bone to reach the vulnerable flesh beneath. A sickening crack echoed. Black blood spilled down his chest a second before—

Valmont disintegrated with a sickening pop.

Sludge sloshed on the cobblestones next to Nairobi. Snarls of fury rolled across the courtyard. Already up and over the half wall, Cosmina unsheathed another dagger, drawing it from inside her boot mid-leap. Focusing on the five remaining Druinguari, she sprinted toward her friend. “Nairobi . . .”

Wide eyes met hers. Nairobi’s mouth fell open. “Cosmina?”

“Run!”

Her command rang out. Her friend didn’t hesitate.

Hands bound, Nairobi scrambled backward as the enemy came to life in front of her. Moving in unison, each pulled identical swords free from matching scabbards. Baring her teeth, Cosmina chose the Druinguari nearest her, took aim, and threw her knife. Just like the other, the dagger hurtled end over end to reach its target. With a flick of his sword, the beast deflected the weapon in flight. The blade hit the ground, clattering across ice and snow. As she watched it spin, terror hit full force. Gods, it was futile. She was doomed. Worse than dead the second the enemy got ahold of her.