Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [18]
An orc’s axe toss drew sparks from the stone next to her head. She returned the favor; in a single practiced motion she drew one of the daggers sheathed in her clothing and threw. Her aim proved more accurate. Another orc went down, that one grasping vainly at a dagger protruding from his eye.
Riltana tested the air, and found it unwilling to bear her again so soon. “Bugger!” The temperamental nature of the wind really pissed her off sometimes.
The sellswords rushed her, spreading out in a rough curved line to prevent her from slipping around them.
She braced herself, knees bent and sword tip weaving, ready to slip past a loose defense and stab whoever proved stupid enough to reach her first.
Predictably, it was the tiefling.
Riltana caught the angled cut of the woman’s long sword on her blade, shuffling away from the angle of attack as she did so. Then she spun in place, kicking out with the back of her left foot, and smashed the idiot grin from her foe’s face with her lashing heel. The tiefling collapsed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. That was three down.
“Hold!” thundered a voice from above.
The earthsoul and remaining orcs paused to look up at their employer.
Had her client lied when he said he didn’t really want the scarf? Maybe he was having second thoughts about trying to take it instead of paying her. She’d been lucky so far, and maybe he worried her luck would hold long enough for her to dispatch the remaining three.
Her gut urged her to run while the others were distracted, but the promise of that fat coin purse made her linger.
“You’re a poor substitute for real muscle,” the hooded man said, even as he backed out of sight.
“We’re just warming up!” the earthsoul yelled up at the gap.
“I doubt it,” came the reply, muffled by the intervening rock lip. “At this rate, she’ll kill you before I reveal my surprise.”
Surprise? That was enough for Riltana. She bolted, trying to dash past the largest gap in the skirmish line her enemies formed, between the earthsoul and a remaining orc.
But the orc stepped into her path, forcing her to pause to defend against a whistling axe strike.
The sound of metal on metal screeched from above.
The rumble of the Akanawater suddenly redoubled.
The earthsoul’s eyes went wide. He screamed, “Run!” He dropped his hammer as he dashed full out toward the far wall. The orcs looked confused but chased after their leader.
Riltana gasped, “Shit, shit, shit …” as she dashed after the earthsoul in turn.
A moist wind preceded the foaming wave that smashed into the chamber from one of the other openings. It caught the earthsoul and orcs in a twinkling, knocking them from their feet, and dragging them down a circular hole in the floor. Their screams were lost in the water’s roar.
Riltana hurdled the wave front, and this time the wind suffered to catch her before she dropped back into the surge. “Yes!”
She glided higher, and the flood’s white-water face followed; the room was swiftly filling.
She made for her client’s spy hole, which was empty. Maybe she could flash up and through before he realized she had escaped the initial surge, and before the air’s brief attention and grip faded.
Her client’s silhouette lurched into view. Riltana saw the hint of sharp white teeth flashing in the concealing darkness of his hood, just before an iron cover slammed down over the hole. The sound of a steel rod sliding into place scratched at her ears.
She would have screamed, but the rising water caught her feet. She sucked in a breath, a heartbeat before a violent current yanked her into the water.
Riltana was pulled under and flushed down the drowned cavity in the floor.
CHAPTER FIVE
AIRSPUR
THE YEAR OF THE AGELESS ONE (1479 DR)
THE SPECTACLE OF DEMASCUS’S STOLEN SCARF DREW THE attention of nearby eyes only for a moment before people drifted back to their own concerns. As some shops shuttered, others opened for the night crowd, including a few smaller eateries and theaters. Their windows were haloed with vapor and