Fear's Union

Chapter Three

—Anejo—

Anejo watched on from the edge of the square. Hidden away. Like a coward. Then again, these were rather exceptional circumstances.

The dragons dominated, making frequent attacks upon the town, but they were also being drawn regularly north. It was there, against the dark stone of a cliff, that Kato and his pupil could just about be made out. They were climbing. To what ends she had no idea, but they were climbing nonetheless. And they drew the attention of the beasts. The arrogance of the move was bewildering.

Faculty Blasetté, her chaperone, touched her shoulder. She turned to him and nodded. Why did she need to be monitored? It annoyed her, but she could do little about it. And Faculty Blasetté was actually a very senior mandahoi, so it was part privilege she supposed. But Blasetté was obedient to Keles today. This was Keles's day, his command, and it had all gone badly wrong. The dragons screamed and she smiled. Yes, this had been a very bad day for her commander. Perhaps it was Keles who needed the chaperone?

To his credit, Keles remained in the open, defying the dragons and working his sword-craft on an enemy still huddled around the fountain. The forays were generally unsuccessful since they were safely stowed behind a collective shell of shields, but such obstacles did not dilute Keles's enthusiasm. He was determined to show his use.

Urgency flashed, intuition dragging at her gut. She was drawn to a group of five mercenaries erupting from a dark street, but Keles hadn't seen them. He was the target and she must intervene. So she did. It was as simple as that.

She moved quickly, and Blasetté called after her, calling for her to stop. She wouldn't stop for anyone. She accelerated across the square, soaked afresh by the light rain, even if the downpour was easing. The five men did not notice initially, but she shouted out and Keles turned. At that, two of the five were alerted, and turned to her. She grinned behind her mask.

Arrows darted past, carving their way through the sodden air with a subtle patter. She was conscious of the missiles and of how close they were, but she couldn't worry about that. She lofted her beautiful sword, ready to make more death, and was pleased when one arrow thumped into a mercenary's torso. It did enough, and the man fell mechanically to the ground, clutching his stomach. He wouldn't be getting up again soon.

It was one on one. It would be easy. The training of the Grey was notorious, and it produced unrivalled killers. And she was good, too. Her opponent by contrast wielded his sword like an axe, using its weight as much as anything. It was almost unfair. Almost. She stepped into the fray.

Her perfect straight-edge swept up, just nudging the axe a few degrees off, and the change in momentum took the poor sap. She smiled and swept past her opponent, like a dancer. And then she stuck the point in him, in the armpit. It sunk in easy, and she shouted. There was no fight without emotion; at least there wasn't for her. Master Keles would surely tell her off, but her opponent buckled and fell to the sodden cobbles. Her blade was already free, and she wiped it on the leg of her uniform. The defeated man looked at her, pleadingly. She should probably kill him, but the emotion was deflated and it all seemed suddenly harder. She sighed and lifted her weapon. This was her job.

And then something struck her. It was like she'd fallen off a cliff.

She was flung through the air, but held onto her weapon like it was a child. It had been given to her when she was a child. She slid to a halt, her side screaming with pain, but despite this she rolled deftly onto her back, challenging whoever had assaulted her. But anger morphed seamlessly into terror because it wasn't a someone. It was a something. A sendeté landed over her and the wind from its wings pinned her to the cobbles. She stared up at death itself.