The sharp report and snapping of wood sounded from the opposite wall. Ryl turned his head to witness the final remnants of the sparks as the arrowheads shattered against the stone. He sprang to his feet as the thrumming of heavy boots on the ground rumbled from the interior of the tunnel.
Without wasting a moment, Ryl slammed the dormant weapon into the holster on his back. With his left hand he grabbed a hold of the heavy wooden door he’d opened only moments before. A spinning gale brewed around his right arm. The footsteps from the interior of the halfway grew louder as they approached. The bloodthirsty cries of the assailants grew more vicious as they neared.
Ryl peered into the open doorway, rapidly surveying the approaching assault before ducking away again. A group of half a dozen soldiers raced down the narrow hallway, running in single file due to the cramped confines. He gauged their approach, waiting until the last moment to leap into the opening, slamming the door shut with all the might he could muster. As the door reached the terminus of its swing, he hammered it with a focused blast of wind from his right arm.
The door closed with a jarring finality as the first of the guards reached the exit to the tunnel. There was an agonized cry from the lead attacker as the heavy wooden panel smashed back into his face. The sickening slap of wood against skin was mixed with the snapping of bone and the splatter of blood. The gale that rushed from Ryl’s hand connected with the door square in the center of its planks as it impacted the helpless guard. A knife of wind, stronger than he had expected, tore the door into pieces. Jagged splinters of wood erupted into the hallway beyond. The limp body of the lead attacker was tossed helplessly into his comrades as the wind sent them careening back down the hall.
Thankfully for some, his lifeless body provided some measure of protection from the lethal shards of wood that penetrated any flesh they encountered. The hapless soldier was dead before his body hit the ground.
The wavering flame of the torch in the distance snuffed out at the assault of the wind.
The hallway plunged into darkness and chaos.
Ryl wrenched both Leaves from their holsters, igniting the translucent, burning blades. The attacking soldiers, caught off guard by the unexpected ferocity of his counter, were still reeling as he entered the tunnel. The alexen burned within his veins, yet it was the unfamiliar call for blood that whispered in his ear that held sway over his actions.
Moments later, Ryl regained full control of his senses. He was standing at the corner of the converging pathways. The Leaves in his hands still burned with a shimmering green fury that distorted the air around them with their heat. One blade was angled toward the exit to the gate, the other toward the interior of the barracks he knew waited beyond. He was panting, his chest heaving to catch his breath.
To his left, none approached from the barracks. To his right, none moved.
The scene to his right was horrific. The light of the Leaves illuminated the expanse of the confined hallway in varying hues of green. No color was needed to highlight the devastation he had wrought. The walls, ceiling and floor all glistened with a shimmering wetness from the blood sprayed across the interior. Most of the bodies that lay on the floor remained still, locked in the earliest stages of rigor. Some, however, still twitched uncontrollably as their bodies fought to cling to the last shreds of life that remained. Dismembered arms, heads and disemboweled bodies were strewn across the narrow hallway. The entire expanse was clogged with the clutter of death and blood.
He spun around as incoming footsteps drew his attention. His glowing blades leveled for an attack.
The thought raged through his mind.
Who is next to die?
Chapter 25
The panic was overwhelming as Kaep struggled to open her eyes. She sensed the world around her moving at speed, yet her vision was still black. The wind whipped the hair across her face, pulling it back to her right. She struggled to scream, yet the slick fabric wedged tightly in her jaws reduced the effort to little more than a squeak.
The fear took hold steadily.
She reached out with her mindsight, searching for the familiar signatures that had surrounded her the entirety of her young life.
The comforting, golden glowing signatures, the telltale signs of the phrenics, were nowhere to be seen.
At her side, a terrifying wisp of black remained. Not yet dark enough to signify the Horde, yet unnatural and terrifying, nonetheless.
As her senses returned to full strength, her predicament fully dawned on her. The blindfold over her eyes was coarse. She could feel the fabric chafing her skin. The gag in her mouth was slick from an extended duration of being held in place. She tried pulling it free with her hands, only to find them tied securely behind her back.
Her body was jostled rudely with every movement. It only took a moment to realize she was on horseback, though her body lay prone as it bounced along a cobblestone street. The clack of metal horseshoes on the hard stones rang in her ears as the horse moved at a steady trot.
Where was she? She could see nothing. The air was filled with a peculiar stench, one of salt and spoiled fish.
How long had she been unconscious? The pain receptors in her body seemed to fire in unison. She ached all over. Her legs, chest and stomach felt swollen and bruised from the unknown distance on horseback. Yet even through the pain, an overwhelming weakness prevailed. Her body felt drained. The alexen in her blood was sluggish,
