Blood of the Underworld(100)

“I know you can’t move,” she said, kneeling down beside him. From within the folds of her dress she pulled out a knife, its sharp edge reflecting the starlight. “You might think you won’t feel it, but I assure you, you will. You’ll...”

A gray shape descended upon her, and she let out a cry as a heel slammed against her chest. Her momentum carried her until she hit a wall, just beside the door to a lightless home. Victor felt hope stir in his chest.

The Watcher loomed over him, sabers drawn.

“I’ve found you,” he said to the Widow. “About damn time.”

Instead of showing fear, the woman started laughing, the sound of it chilling.

“No, Watcher,” she said. “I’ve found you.”

The door blasted open, and out rushed a man in a long red coat. He had short dark hair, and he wielded an ornate blade in one hand. He crashed into the Watcher, his sword a blur. Their combat continued behind Victor’s head, and he could not watch, only hear the shockingly loud clash of steel. From where he lay, he saw two more on the rooftop of the home, both wearing similar red coats. One leapt to the ground, just a wiry thing that barely filled out his coat. The air pulled the coat open in the fall, and Victor saw dozens of small throwing knives. The man threw several as he fell, a vicious barrage. Victor heard them clink and ping against the wall and ground. He could only hope none hit flesh.

Still, outnumbered and surprised, could the Watcher fight off so many?

It appeared he could, at least for the moment, as their fight returned to his line of sight. The Watcher was a twisting confusion of cloak and blade, his sabers fending off the advance of the man with the sword. He kept flinging side to side, his motions nearly impossible to predict, as was evident by the daggers thrown by the other man in chase. Each one missed by inches.

Amid the chaos, Victor watched the Widow flee deeper into the alley, wanting no part of the chaos. Victor wanted to scream out his fury at seeing her escape, but he could do nothing, not even lift his fingers.

As if the two on the ground were not enough, the third up top suddenly clapped her hands, and just like that, the alley filled with fire. It burst along the walls, feeding on nothing. Victor’s eyes watered, for he could not squint against the sudden barrage of light and heat. The Watcher went on the offensive, crashing into close quarters with the swordsman. The man with the daggers closed as well, wielding them instead of throwing them. The skill on display took Victor’s breath away. He’d thought himself capable. He’d thought he could handle any foe. But what he saw wasn’t human. More fire burst around the alley, roping the Watcher in. So far none had scored a solid hit, but Victor could sense the Watcher’s desperation.

Ice lashed across the fire, and white light bathed the woman upon the rooftops, eliciting a shriek of pain. Victor’s hope increased tenfold.

The Eschaton had arrived.

Victor tried to follow, but so much was going on, and he couldn’t shift, couldn’t look. The dagger thrower turned on Brug, who came barreling in decked out in his thick plate. Daggers flew, and they bounced off, unable to penetrate. The Watcher upped his intensity, his sabers twirling as they battled outside his line of vision. Meanwhile spells flew through the air, ice and lightning crashing together as Delysia and Tarlak exchanged attacks with the woman on the rooftop. The sound was deafening, magic shook the walls of the homes, and amidst it all, Victor felt so helpless, so insignificant.

The battle split, traveling both deeper into the alley as well as back out into the main street. Victor had no idea who was on the offensive, and who was in flight. He could only lie there, waiting, and hoping, as he found himself suddenly alone.

When he felt the touch of a woman’s hand against his face, he feared it the Widow, but then he looked up into Delysia’s beautiful green eyes. Blood matted her red hair to her face, but the wound looked superficial.

“Can you not move?” she asked.

He looked left to right with his eyes as a way of answer.

“I will see what I can do.”

She reached down and pulled free the bolt from his side. The pain was intense, but did not last long. Her hand touched the wound, and he heard a soft ringing in his ears, slowly growing stronger, as she whispered words to a prayer he could not understand. When it faded, he felt a fire flood through his veins, followed by the tingling sensation of a waking limb. With it all across his body, he grimaced, nearly overwhelmed.

A soft flutter of cloaks signaled the arrival of the Watcher.

“Two fled, but it might be a feint to try to isolate Tarlak,” he said. “How is he?”

“I’m fine,” Victor said, his tongue feeling thick.