Blood of the Underworld(23)

“My name is Ezra,” the woman said, adopting a similar crouch as Zusa. Her body was thinner, and shorter. By her voice and the hint of features she could see through the cloth mask, Zusa guessed her to be young, and very beautiful. “And I am the first of the new. The order has been remade, and it is my honor to deliver you to Karak so we might wash away your sins with blood.”

“My sins?” Zusa asked, grinning. “Which ones?”

“You show your face,” said Ezra. “You are a disgrace. A weakling. My faith will bring you low!”

Ezra’s lithe body uncoiled, leaping out like a viper, her daggers twin fangs. Zusa fell back, surprised by the speed. Twisting to one side, she avoided a stab, then batted away the other. Planting her feet, she ducked low and cut. Ezra blocked with both her daggers, then tried to kick. A foolish move. Zusa spun again, her feet dancing. When she leapt forward, Ezra was out of position, the snap-kick having put her balance at risk. Her daggers flashed in, and found flesh. Ezra screamed, but instead of countering, she tried to retreat.

Zusa gave her no chance. Her grim smile remained. Ezra was younger, faster, but she was clearly new to the order, and could not hope to match the sheer skill Zusa had developed over many long years. She’d fought the Watcher to a standstill. This little whelp of a woman was nothing compared to that. A feint pulled Ezra’s weapons out of position, and then she stepped close, leg sweeping. Ezra hit the ground with a cry of pain. Blood spilled across the rooftop. Zusa fell atop her, knees pressing against her shoulders, locking them in place. With one hand Zusa clutched Ezra’s wrists together, the other pressing a dagger against the woman’s throat.

“You think your faith means anything?” Zusa asked, breathing the question into her ear. “You think it gives you the strength to challenge me? You are a fool, Ezra, as is whomever brought back our order.”

“Kill me,” Ezra said. “I am not afraid.”

Zusa’s eyes narrowed. She shifted her weight, tightening with her thighs so that she squeezed against the two stab wounds she’d given Ezra in her stomach. They weren’t deep enough to be fatal, but they certainly hurt like the Abyss. Ezra clenched her teeth, but Zusa squeezed tighter until she finally let out a scream.

“You should be afraid of me,” Zusa said, pressing the dagger hard enough to draw a drop of blood. It ran down the edge of her dagger, then dripped from the hilt to the dark wrappings. “I can do more than hurt you.”

She picked up Ezra’s wrists, then slammed them down to make her drop her weapons. With her unarmed, she then took her dagger from her throat and began to cut, quick, calculated strikes. She knew where. She’d only wrapped herself in a similar manner for over a decade. The wrappings about Ezra’s face fell to the roof, exposing her small nose, cream-colored skin, and short brown hair. Her hazel eyes stared up at Zusa with a mixture of horror and fury.

“How dare you?” Ezra asked through clenched teeth.

“They hide your beauty to mask their own shame, not so you might earn penance in Karak’s eyes.”

“I will not listen to your blasphemy.”

“You don’t need to.” Zusa put the tip of her dagger against Ezra’s left eye. “Tell me the name of the man who brought back our order, or I will scar your face so terribly you will have a reason to keep it hidden.”

Ezra swallowed and looked away. Zusa could see her trying to be brave, to hold fast to her loyalty to Karak. She shook her head, annoyed. Leaning even closer, she let her cheek brush against Ezra’s, let her lips touch her ear.

“Just a name,” she breathed. “All I ask is a name. Who created you, gave you your lessons, your rules, your training? Do not make me mar your beauty. You suffer enough. Trust me, I know it well, know your loathing, your anger, your frustration that the man you fucked suffered only whipping and a banishment to a new temple while you must spend every waking moment as an outcast, humbled and cowering in hopes of forgiveness by our dear, beloved Karak...”

“You would have me condemn my soul to fire.”

“I would have you speak a name, you stupid girl. Now tell me, or bid goodbye to your eye.”

Ezra breathed in deep, let it out. Zusa sensed the defeat in it, and sighed in relief herself. That relief fled the moment she heard the name.

“Daverik,” the woman said. “Come from Mordeina with the highest blessings of the priesthood.”

Daverik...

“You lie,” Zusa said. “You must lie!”

Ezra tilted her head back as the knife pressed against her eye, and she let out a cry as the tip dipped in and out of the white of her eyeball. Blood pooled, and a red tear slid down her face.