Page 32 of The Wind Dancer
I sped up, weaving through the alleys, forcing them to stretch their formation. The clay walls pressed in from all sides, the sparse lanterns cast eerie shadows, and the smell of rotten fish and rancid oil irritated my nose. I knew this maze, but they were about to be lost in it.
A step... one more... It was time!
I darted to the left, disappearing into the shadows. The footsteps stopped, and they became more alert. The air was filled with tension. One of them made the mistake of edging closer, peering into the dark alley.
I moved at lightning speed. My dagger sliced open his throat, splattering blood on the wall. He didn’t even have time to make a sound. I covered his mouth as life drained from his body.
The others only heard the thud of a body falling.
“What the...?”
“Stay sharp!” One of them barked.
But it was too late. I threw a second dagger, and it sank in just under the man’s collarbone. He screamed, but before he could move, I closed in. A punch to the gut — then I ripped the dagger free and slashed his throat. He wheezed and collapsed to his knees.
The three remaining men charged at me.
The narrow alley didn’t give them much room to maneuver. I slid to the side, avoiding a lunge, and then sliced the nearest man’s tendons. He howled in pain and collapsed onto the cobbles. I somersaulted over him, ending his life with a single strike.
A sword cut through the air right in front of my face as I flipped. I landed, slamming my dagger into the swordsman’s thigh and grabbing his wrist.
There was a crunch, followed by a scream.
The sword fell to the ground. I picked it up and drove it into its owner’s stomach. I was already moving as he collapsed.
The last man was faster. He stepped back, pulling out a pair of curved daggers, and took a defensive stance.
“You’re not escaping,” he hissed.
I smiled.
“I’m already gone.”
I jumped, pushed off the wall, and spun in the air, landing behind him. A moment later, my hands were around his throat. With a sharp twist, his vertebrae crunched, and he fell to the ground, dead.
Silence.
I looked around. The narrow alleys were empty, save for the blood that flowed between the stones, soaking into the ground of this cursed city.
A wave of strange exhilaration went through me. I didn’t care who came after me. These streets were my home, and they couldn’t beat me here. Let them try.
I stood over the swordman, listening to his ragged breathing. It would take hours for him to die from a wound like that. I had left him alive for questioning.
I sat down next to him, watching his face as fear and pain filled his eyes. He knew he was dying. And he knew that if he spoke, death would come quicker and less painfully.
“Who sent you?” I asked quietly, gliding my dagger across his cheek, leaving a thin mark. It was very shallow, so it hurt more that way and got my message across quicker.
He clenched his teeth, but for a moment I saw weakness in his eyes. He wasn’t some fanatic, just a well-trained dog following orders. And that type knew fear.
“Fuck you... I’m going to die anyway...”
I leaned in closer so that he could feel my breath on his face. I spoke quietly, but each word was like a strike.
“You’re right, youaregoing to die. But this kind of death isn’t instant. It’s a whole process. First, you will feel the pain growing, as if someone lit a fire inside you. Your intestines are damaged, and with every breath you take, you’ll feel them spill into your body.”
He tried to turn away, but I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into my eyes. His gaze was full of horror, and I knew that he was already imagining everything I was describing.
“You’ll start sweating, your body shaking as a fever grips you, but that’s just the beginning. Then the pain will become unbearable, and you’ll scream and beg for death. But no one will come. You’ll lie here, feeling your insides rot away for hours, maybe even days.”
