Her rescue nearly ended before it began. As she passed through the entryway, every nerve in her body fired off warning. Reacting on instinct, she plummeted to one knee, ducked, and flung her daggers up in a desperate defense. From above the entrance fell an elf, and his sword connected with the daggers with a loud clang. Zusa rolled, knowing he would try to finish her before she might regain her footing. Sure enough, she heard the sound of blades scraping against the stone floor, failed slashes mere inches behind her.
Reaching a wall, she spun, putting her back to it. The elf lunged, his thrust aimed for her chest. She batted the thrust aside with both daggers. Before she could react further, he continued in with his charge, despite his sword clanging against the wall beside her. His foot connected with her abdomen, and when she swung, he twirled to one side, his fist striking her across the face. Nose bleeding, her stomach cramping, Zusa lifted her daggers and tried to smile.
“Come on,” she said. “You can do better.”
The elf’s face was painted in a smoothly blended mix of blacks and grays, making his brown eyes shine in the contrast. He grinned, his white teeth vibrant compared to the black of his lips.
“A skilled human,” the elf said. “Still, nothing compared to us.”
He looped his sword through an intricate display designed to confuse her, but she did not watch the blade, only the movements of his arms and the positioning of his legs. When he tensed, ready to lunge, she fell backward through the shadows of the wall, reappearing on the other side of the entryway. As his sword hit the wall hard enough to create sparks, she leapt at him. Her knees rammed his back, her daggers puncturing his soft leather armor.
“If you say so,” she hissed into his ear as she twisted the blades.
Zusa let him go, and as the body collapsed, she fought a wave of dizziness. Traveling through shadows would not be something she could rely on, not with how drained it left her afterward. She wiped her wrist beneath her nose, and it came back sticky with blood.
One elf down. Six more to go.
Seeing their skill, and hearing the contempt in the dead elf’s voice, convinced her the rest would expect no attack from the entrance. Surprise was her best weapon, perhaps her only real chance against them. She ran through the dungeon, and at the very first intersection, she saw dead guards leading every direction.
There were three main wings to the dungeon, and Alyssa might be down any of them. She was certain the elves had broken up to investigate all three, which left her with no time to think, only react.
She ran straight ahead, hoping they’d placed Alyssa in the same cell they’d placed Haern. All around her, the prisoners let out a ruckus, most seeming amused by the slaughter of the guards they’d witnessed.
“You’re dead, girl!” one cried as she passed, and her heart leapt into her throat, for before her were the two elves hurrying along, each one checking the cells on their side for Alyssa. The cry didn’t grab their attention, and with all her fury she crashed into the pair, her daggers slashing like the claws of a wild beast. She focused on just one, knowing if she got greedy and failed to kill both at once, it’d leave her outnumbered, and therefore dead. Blood spilled across her hands, and she kicked the corpse away so she could fight.
The remaining elf was a woman, her hair pulled behind her and tightly braided. Blood ran from her forehead, the lone cut Zusa had managed to score after killing the other. The elf wielded a long, curved blade in one hand and a dagger in the other, the two weaving through the air in perfect tandem. Zusa refused to back down, nor be intimidated by their speed. Compared to Haern, the elf was actually slower, and unlike Haern, her blades did not both have a longer reach.
Zusa fell into a rhythm, blocking and parrying for a good ten seconds. She saw the other woman grow confused, as if baffled Zusa could even stand toe to toe with her. Zusa chose that moment to strike, slipping between a dual-thrust that she’d parried wide to either side of her. But the elf fell back, and her swords sliced back in, so Zusa did the only attack that would still hit: a snap-kick to her face. The blow momentarily stole her balance, and Zusa dropped to one knee and swept out the elf’s feet from underneath her.
Instead of landing hard, perhaps knocking the wind out of her lungs, the elf woman was already rolling. Zusa’s daggers missed flesh, only hitting stone. Swearing, she chased after. The elf pulled out of the roll, landed softly on her feet, and met her charge. Four blades danced, parrying and blocking in a blur creatable only by the best. But Zusa would be better. She had to be. In her heart, she thought of Alyssa, and what the elves might do. The fury gave her strength, and when she stole the offensive, she hammered away at the elf’s blades as if they were mere playthings in her way. The elf tried to flee, but Zusa would not let her. Sensing her hesitation, she feinted, then took out her knee with a solid blow from her heel. As the elf fell, Zusa cross-cut, tearing open her throat.
Elven blood poured across the cold stone.
“Alyssa?” Zusa called out as she staggered toward the end of the hall. She came upon the same dark cell Haern had been in, and in the thin sliver of light, she saw it empty. Her heart sank. She had guessed wrong. Running back toward the entrance, she prayed that somehow she would make it in time. She didn’t care if Karak heard, or Ashhur answered. It didn’t matter. Alyssa mattered. The cell doors flashed by, the jeers and catcalls only distant groans of insects to her.
Back at the initial intersection, she saw them, four elves hurrying in tandem. Slung across one of their shoulders, bound and gagged, was Alyssa. Their backs were to her, but they must have noticed the other elves’ absence, and were on alert. One turned, his painted face glaring as he readied his long blade. The other three shouted something in elvish and ran toward the exit.
“Did you kill Celias and Treyarch?” he asked in the human tongue as she slowed and readied her daggers.
“Don’t forget whoever was at the door,” she said, flashing him a smile that felt born of mania and desperation. His eyes sparkled in the nearby torchlight.
“I’ll make sure your death is painful.”
He lashed out, an upward swipe that passed an inch away from her face, cutting strands of her hair. This elf was faster, and she felt slower, her adrenaline fading. Zusa retreated, but the elf matched her step for step. Her daggers batted left to right, blocking his smoothly connected strikes. His sword was a blur, and she had to fight to keep herself focused. No time for this, she thought, but already defeat clawed at her mind. The elves would escape, and Alyssa with them. She’d failed.
The elf backed her into a corner, and she felt the heat of a torch burning beside her head.
“You ended lives that walked this land for hundreds of years,” he said. “No greater sin poisons this world than that of your kind.”
His sword danced, and she was a poor partner. Without room, her dodges were limited, and his speed incredible. Any time she countered, he’d leap back, slap the weapon aside, and then lunge, relying on his greater reach. With every passing moment, her exhaustion ebbed away at her reflexes. He scored cut after cut, and at least once she saw him purposefully twist the blade to the side so it did not embed into her flesh.
The elf was mocking her, covering her body with a dozen gashes. The insult was too much. She weakly slumped against the wall, tears in her eyes.
“Just end it,” said Zusa.
The elf frowned, obviously disappointed. He closed in, the tip of his blade aiming for her throat. No comment this time, no biting words. The muscles in his body were tense, and death was in his eyes.
When he thrust, Zusa parried it to the left, letting out a cry as the tip slashed across her cheek. Her other hand reached out, and he moved to dodge, but she wasn’t stabbing with it. She was throwing. The dagger hurled true, piercing his side. It wasn’t fatal, but the delay was enough. She yanked the torch from the wall and swung. He blocked, but the fire was in his eyes. She swung again, and again, always toward his face. At last she let it drop, and she could see his pupils dilating. In that brief moment as the torch fell, when his vision would be all spots and shapes, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her free arm around him as if in an embrace. Her other rammed the blade of her dagger through his ribs and into his heart.
She let him drop, then spat on his corpse.
“Never talk to me of sin,” she said.
Zusa looked to the exit, to where the starlight shone on an empty walkway. Guards would be there soon, but
