***
The metal door exploded off its hinges, and Rook instinctively ducked behind the rectangular crate he was using as cover. Several shards of metal lodged into it, and a second later a torrent of crossbow bolts followed. Once the first wave impacted he flipped up and fired a shot of his own, though it didn’t seem to hit anything.
The Faceless led the charge, their shields held protectively forward. A pair of human soldiers rushed in quickly behind them, and two crossbowmen and the mage brought up the rear. It wasn’t a particularly tactical entrance, but sadly they had every reason to be overconfident. Rook frantically reloaded his pistol even as he heard Rynne loosing bolts from the other side of the room…
By the time he leaned up again both Faceless were nearly to him. One of the human soldiers had taken up a protective position at the door to shield his mage, while the other charged at Van and Rynne. The crossbowmen had dropped to a knee and were firing indiscriminatingly. Van let out a feral roar and lunged from cover, driving hard into the soldier charging his side of the room.
But none of that mattered. Rook could see the mage’s hands crackling with a spell that would obliterate them all—
And then, in a single smooth motion, a pair of hands wrapped around the mage’s head and snapped his neck. The man didn’t even scream as his body crumpled, and Tiel was now standing over the corpse. Before anyone else could react, the monk drove a foot into the closest crossbowmen, knocking him over, then slid to the ground and deftly swept the legs out from the other one.
In two blurry seconds, Tiel had given them all a chance. Rook started to bark out orders, but then the first Faceless was upon him. He threw himself backwards as the armored man hacked down at the crate, nearly splitting it in half with a single swing. Rook fired from the ground, and the bullet drove straight through the creature’s breastplate. With shattered leg armor and a half dozen arrows already sticking out of it, it had no business still being alive, but the shot still didn’t finish it. It did, however, collapse backwards to the ground as it struggled to move.
Unfortunately, it had a friend.
Rook leapt to his feet and drew his sword just in time to parry away a wicked, cross-body slash. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to kill this thing alone, but if he could just survive long enough for the others to help…
It attacked again, chopping straight down at him. He parried and used the momentum to spin to the side and slash across its armor. Sparks flashed as steel met steel, but the black plating easily withstood the blow. The Faceless continued its brutal attacks, and it was all Rook could do to fight them off. These things weren’t clever or subtle swordsmen, but they had the strength of three men and the durability of a brick wall. Eventually he would tire and then this would all be over.
It came even faster than he expected. As he deflected another downward chop, the creature lashed out with its shield and smacked hard into Rook’s side, sending him skidding off-balance to the ground. He eventually collided with something hard and realized it was the Kirshal’s coffin. With its master dead, the Faceless probably wouldn’t discriminate between targets, and Rook knew he had to move—he simply didn’t have the time.
He dodged to the side just as a blade hissed past where his head had been. It smacked into the coffin and shattered most of the lid. Instinctively, Rook reached a hand back for leverage to pull himself up, and he brushed against the woman’s cold arm before scrambling to grab onto something else.
Rook staggered, and his hesitation was nearly fatal. He turned just in time to see a blade arcing for his head and then hastily dropped into a half crouch. Steel whistled close enough past his face to slice some of his hair, and he threw himself into a desperate roll to his left before finally popping back to his feet. From behind his attacker, Rook caught a glimpse of his companions turning to help him. Rynne fired a shot into the creature’s back, but it didn’t seem to notice.
It pressed forward, leading with a fierce slash that forced Rook to the right, before slamming its shield into him and flattening him back to the floor once again. Rook coughed as the air left his lungs and looked up to see the towering armored monster looming over him, sword swinging about for a final thrust—
And then its entire body lurched upwards from the floor, its arms and legs splaying to the side. It roared in a guttural, hollow voice, and the plates of its armor seemed to crack and buckle as the air around it violently hissed. Just behind him, standing straight up in her coffin, was the mysterious woman, now very much awake. Her hand was pressed into the Faceless’s back, and her eyes flashed with green fire.
The creature exploded. It was the only way Rook could describe it—its armor plates literally ruptured and blasted apart in all directions, as if some great force had burst forth from inside it. Rook stared up at the woman as her gaze swiveled across the room to the wounded Faceless still attempting to drag itself to its feet.
She gestured towards it almost as an afterthought. The Faceless instantly immolated in blue-white fire, its hollow voice screeching oddly as the flames consumed it. Within mere seconds all that remained of it was a pile of smoldering ash.
On the other side of the room, his other three companions stared blankly at the unheralded display of power, and Tiel, glancing up from the fresh corpse of one of the soldiers, immediately dropped to his knees.
The woman took it all in with a single glance. “Who are you?”
Rook blinked. She spoke in a stiff but perfectly understandable Darenthi accent. It caught him flat-footed, and he stood there in silence for a long moment.
“Who are you?” she demanded, energy crackling at her fingertips as she pointed towards him.
Rook dropped his sword and slowly brought himself to his feet. “My name is Nathan. We’re not here to harm you.”
She tossed a sharp glare to the others, and he raised his hands defensively.
“Put your weapons down,” Rook told them. “Now.”
Rynne tossed her crossbow aside and put her hands up almost immediately. Van, sword and shield still glimmering with fresh blood, glanced between her and Rook several times before finally dropping the blade.
“Don’t you have a speech prepared, kid?” Van asked.
The young man was visibly shaking, and he seemed unwilling to even lift his head. “Eminence…” he breathed.
The Kirshal’s cheek twitched and her muscles tensed as she studied each of them in turn. Magic still burned in her palms, and Rook noticed her tattoos were glowing faintly.
“Where am I?”
“A city called Haven,” Rook explained. “This is my…house. We found you inside that coffin a few days ago. You’ve been asleep ever since.”
“I apologize for our ignorance, Your Eminence,” Tiel breathed, finally lifting his head up to look upon her. “We were not prepared for your return.”
Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
The priest’s lip twitched. “I am Tiel Aranis, warrior-priest of the Kirshane and your humble servant.”
“I don’t know you,” she said softly. “I don’t know any of you.”
Rynne took a slow step forward. “It’s all right. We’re just trying—”
“Stay back!” the woman hissed, almost stumbling over the edge of the coffin. “All of you.”
“Everyone stay put,” Rook said. “We’re not here to hurt you, I promise.”
Her face twisted. “Then why were you with these…abominations?”
“I don’t…” He trailed off as he followed her gaze to the pile of ash. “The Faceless—you know them? They were trying to capture you.”
“Capture,” she muttered oddly, her arms starting to shake.
“Yes. Thank you for helping us, by the way. You saved my life.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered, blinking awkwardly. She stumbled backwards and placed a hand against the wall to avoid falling over. “Nothing makes sense…”
; “Just try and relax, we can take this as slowly as you want,” Rook soothed. He wanted to go help her stand but knew how terrible of an idea that was. Scared people were unpredictable enough. Scared messiahs who could kill Faceless with a glance, on the other hand…
“I don’t know you,” she repeated, her voice faltering. “I don’t know…me.”
Her grip faltered, and she collapsed. Rook dashed over to her and nearly collided with Tiel doing the same thing.
“She’s not breathing,” the monk said desperately.
“She wasn’t in the coffin, either,” Rook soothed. He didn’t mention the fact that she had been just a second ago.
Rynne shook her head. “Shakissa’s mercy, what is going on, Nate?”
Rook looked down upon the unconscious woman, then swiveled his head to the piles of ash and debris that used to be Faceless.
“I have no idea.”
The Last Goddess Page 17