Her grin spread.
At full speed she leapt feet first toward the door of the temple. The entranceway was dark, with nothing but the stars to give it light. Eyes closed, she focused, thought of the inner chambers. They’d be lit with torches, but not the door, deep in the entryway. Her feet did not touch wood, but passed right on through. She emerged on the other side, and her daggers lashed out, cutting the necks of two guards positioned on the interior. As they fell behind her, she landed on the soft carpet and tucked into a roll to preserve her momentum. Pulling out, she raced between the pews, toward the great statue of Karak at the end of the gathering hall. Before, it had been the altar they’d bled Daverik upon. She felt an impulse to kneel before the imposing statue that towered so greatly above her, but fought it down. That wasn’t her god anymore.
To the left was a door into the greater complex, where the priests slept. It was there she’d find Daverik’s room, and with any luck, she’d get the answers she needed through the work of her daggers. Upon reaching the door she slammed into it with her shoulders, blasting it inward. Entering a hallway, she lunged, extending her body to its fullest, as a priest turned from his seat beneath a flickering torch, an old tome in his lap. The words of a spell were on his lips as the tip of her dagger pierced his throat, silencing him. Her shoulder absorbed the impact of her landing, and then she rolled past, pulling her dagger free along the way. Blood gushed across the carpet.
So far, so good, but Zusa knew she’d been lucky. The slightest cry of warning, and everything would become much, much harder.
Still running, she passed silently through the hall, her cloak a ghost of cloth following after. She tried to think of where Daverik might be staying. There had been no man teaching them last time; instead, a fellow member, Eliora, had been the trainer and spiritual leader of the Faceless. That meant Daverik would have no official room prepared for him, such as there was for the high priest.
At a cross section, she peered around the corner, looking left and right. She caught a man changing candles as he moved down the hall. She waited until his back was to her before approaching. Her left arm pressed against his mouth, the other shoving a dagger through his back and into his heart. As he shuddered, she let him drop, then glanced about. Too many rooms. She couldn’t just open them at random. Where would Daverik be?
He was new there, she realized, little more than a guest. And guests had a specific place they were given, the rooms far more ornate, the intricate paintings exaggerating the power and importance of the priesthood. Urging herself on, she glanced back, wondering how long until someone found a body. Not long. She had to move faster.
At the guest’s room she stopped and pressed her ear to the door. She heard no movement, no sign of life within. But it was dark, and Daverik would most likely be asleep. Gently she grabbed the doorknob and started to twist.
The door flung open with explosive force, knocking her backward. As she hit the opposite wall, she rolled, narrowly avoiding a kick from a Faceless Woman. Zusa’s daggers flashed out, parrying stabs, and then she was running down the hall, back toward the entrance. Curses screamed in her mind. When another Faceless stepped in her way, shadows curling off her body like smoke, Zusa knew it for what it was.
A trap laid out just for her.
“You won’t stop me!” she cried, leaping at her foe. They collided in a mess of limbs and daggers, lashing and stabbing, neither able to score a solid blow. Pulling herself free, Zusa dropped to her back, ducking beneath a hurled dagger from the other. Hoping to gain some distance, she ran again, but doors started opening, and she heard the deep thrumming of a bell located in the bowels of the temple, alerting all to her presence. One man tried to jump in her way, but she slammed right into him, her knees blasting him to the ground, her daggers ending the spell he’d tried to cast. Another, this one a priestess, remained in her doorway, and at her passing she hurled a bolt of red lightning. The power arced through Zusa’s body, and she screamed her agony away.
The spell slowed her movement, and a foot swept beneath her. Falling, she raised her daggers, just barely blocking Ezra’s downward strike. Pushing her away, she rolled to her knees. A bolt of shadow flung from another priest rushing to join them from further ahead. She dodged it, along with his follow-up, but then the priestess caught her with a shadow bolt of her own. It slammed into her body, bruising flesh and sapping at her strength. This time Zusa gave no scream, unable to muster the strength.
The two Faceless Women surrounded her, each blocking an entrance, as more and more priests and priestesses gathered. Zusa kept weaving side to side, struggling to breathe through the pain. She saw no way out, but it didn’t matter. She’d die fighting, and would not die alone.