Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2) (21 page)

They moved through the streets like a pair of hunting cats, with only the slightest noises coming from their general area. Even an Elf would likely have caught nothing of their passage with all of the chaos going on around them. The sounds of fighting echoed off of the buildings as they moved closer to the center of town. Only a few minutes had passed before they came to the street where the two men who had been moving back to back had been taken down. Since she had witnessed that scene, two more bodies had joined the pile. Placing her hand on Dalton’s shoulder, she pulled him back around the corner before he would be in view from the alleyway.

Placing her hand upon the building, she sent her consciousness racing towards the alley, creating a lens above the area where she thought the assassin might be hiding. She saw him there, but on the opposite end of the alley. Creating an oculus on that end of the alley as well, she noticed that there were two more dead people on the next street over. Before she began to motion for Dalton to move in on the man, she noticed movement down the street from where the assassin stood hidden.

A young child—she couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl—was trying their best to sneak their way along the street towards the area where the fighting was going on. Ash, blood, and dirt covered the child from head to toe. Tyrdra couldn’t hear it from where she was, but she was sure that the child was crying even as they moved forward towards potential safety. The assassin pulled one of his long thin throwing knives out of his vest as the child neared. Rage tore through her at that point, and she sent more of her will into the building.

It only took her a moment to find something that she could use. The corner of the building had dozens of nails in it, and she used the wood to push them into places where they would do the most damage. Next, she turned the flat ends of the nails into points that began to poke out of the paint. Building up pressure behind the nails, the nails blasted out of their holes a heartbeat later, the only sound heard was that of the nails hitting the building across the alley in a short but violent staccato.

Moving around the corner with Dalton in tow, they found the assassin’s body hanging on the wall, his hand still clutching his deadly blade. The reptilian eyes were blank, and small drops of blood dripped from a dozen holes, most centered on the assassin’s chest. Dalton looked from the Dracairei back to Tyrdra and grinned like an idiot.

“Nails? Really? I mean I’ve heard of it being done before, but never from that far away from what you are manipulating. You are really on another level from the Shapers at the Academy, aren’t you?”

“Oh, calm down,” Tyrdra said as she went to work dissipating the body of the assassin. “It was just a little trick. Anyone with any talent would have felt that coming as soon as I started working it.”

“Well, this guy certainly didn’t see it coming,” Dalton said as he peered around the corner. “Kid, huh? Still have those momma dragon instincts, I see.”

“You children have no idea. If I was a momma dragon, the entire building would have fit nicely up that man’s posterior.”

Dalton laughed for a moment before he realized that she wasn’t. She raised an eyebrow, and he paled momentarily.

“You know, you are kind of scary sometimes,” Dalton said, “but I’ll be damned if you are not extremely hot right now…” He seemed to realize what he had just said as she raised her eyebrow even further. “I mean, uh, if you weren’t all ancient, and technically related to me.”

She took another moment to enjoy his uncomfortable demeanor before she decided to let it go. Besides, when he started looking unsure of himself she couldn’t help but see Alexander Dalton once again standing before her.

“Enough, this is a serious situation. Keep your mind on the business at hand.” Her voice held nothing but authority, yet as he nodded and turned to survey the street, she couldn’t help but pinch his bottom. The look of incredulity that he shot her a moment later was almost worth all of this chaos.

They took down two more assassins quietly before they arrived at the brutal scene in front of the church of Cypheria. The building was overflowing with people, a half circle of defenders guarding those that would not fit inside. As they watched, several bolts flew at the church from the rooftops around the square. Each bolt was covered in cloth and set afire. When the bolts hit the church, they began to smolder. It was only heartbeats away from starting a conflagration, when suddenly each fire went out. They were in luck—someone inside the church was a Shaper.

From the rooftop above them they heard a hiss of disappointment. A shadow passed over their heads. Looking up, Tyrdra locked eyes with the assassin. This one was not like the others that they had seen today. His face was more reptilian, and he was obviously of an older generation than the ones that they had taken care of earlier. When he landed on the other roof, she heard him cry out “Protectorate,” in the draconic tongue.

Cursing their luck, she moved Dalton into the doorway of the building that the Dracairei had leapt to. Looking into his eyes, she saw a cold fury simmering inside of him. He had just run through an entire town where atrocity after atrocity had taken place, and now he had seen these killers try to burn down a church full of women and children. She could feel the rage emanating from him, as his draconic nature began to take hold.

“Dalton,” Tyrdra said, trying to get his attention.

With his eyes unfocused, he breathed deeply while staring at the rooftops, her voice simply background noise to the rage building inside of him.

“Dalton!” she yelled, slapping him on the face.

His cold eyes registered surprise momentarily before he looked at her.

“You cannot lose control here. Fight it. I know that little voice inside your head is incensed right now and that it wants nothing more than to slay every one of them for their sins, but we cannot lose focus here. Protecting these people is what is important. We do not know how many of the Dracairei are left, and running off on some quest to end their lives would more than likely end up with you dead, shortly followed by me and all of the people in that building.”

“You slapped me,” Dalton said, his eyes losing some of their rage as his rational mind once again began assuming control.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you deserved it for something. I promise I’ll make it up to you later, but right now we need to focus. I think there are three possibilities right now. First, they will retreat, having sown their chaos and unable to finish the job, although that is unlikely. Second, they will continue to throw fire at the building using whatever means available to them in order to tire whoever is inside until the place goes up in flames.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Third, they will try to find a way into the church and kill as many people as they can before the defenders out front realize what is going on.”

“From what I’ve learned at the Academy, it is likely to be a combination of choices two and three.” Dalton turned his gaze back towards the rooftops as he spoke, keeping watch for the slightest movement.

“Alright, so I think what we need to do is get inside that church. If we can take out whoever they send inside, we have a better chance of finding and killing the ones with the crossbows trying to set the place aflame. Follow me, and keep sharp.”

“To the end of the world, m’lady,” Dalton grinned.

“Rogue,” she muttered loud enough for him to hear as they moved towards the church.

Walking at a quick pace, they approached the church from the front so as not to alarm the guards by their presence. The line of men tensed for a moment when they walked into the torchlight, before their apprehension was replaced with confusion.

“Lady Tyrdra?” a tall balding man said from behind the row of Defenders.

“Ah, Mayor Browning, it has been awhile. I’m sorry that we had to meet again under such circumstances.” Tyrda stopped several feet away from the haggard men, feeling safe with Dalton at her back. “Have we a guess at how many Dracairei there are?”

The men in front of the church looked between the Mayor and Tyrdra, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. No doubt a beautiful woman casually strolling up to them in the middle of a battle zone was disconcerting. Dalton at her back stood looking towards the buildings around the square, keeping alert for any danger.

“We are guessing at least ten, but that is all conjecture, based upon reports from those coming in from different parts of town,” Mayor Browning said.

“Alright,” Tyrdra said, looking around at those assembled in front of the church. The first few rows were made up of men in their prime. Some of them had a few minor wounds, but most looked in good condition. Behind them, there was a mix of men too young to yet be fighting, and older men, too old to be of much use beyond holding a shield in this kind of situation. “We took four out on our way in.” Several of the men muttered at this.

“We believe that our men were able to kill one as well, so there are more than likely at least five left out there,” the Mayor said, eyeing the rooftops. “We…”

She heard the telltale sound of several quarrels being fired from crossbows, and a moment later Dalton was a blur of action. He raised the tip of his sword to her head level, deflecting the first bolt. While the top of his sword was in motion, he moved the hilt closer to her body, allowing the blade to cover a large portion of her frame, deflecting two others. He grunted as one of the bolts hit his shoulder. The material would be strong enough to take several shots like that before breaking through, but she knew that he would have quite the welt there shortly.

“Well, I guess that means there are definitely at least four left.” Tyrdra sighed. “Nice reflexes, Dalton.”

The guards in front of the building suddenly had a new level of respect for the young swordsman behind her. They had just seen a display of speed and skill that was well beyond any of them. She saw several of the younger men looking at Dalton with awe, and a few more with looks of jealousy, but looking at the defenders, she saw something else that hadn’t been there moments before.
Hope.

“What is your plan, m'lady?” Mayor Browning asked, his eyes wide.

“Is there any other way into the church?”

“There is a backdoor, but it has been barricaded, nothing short of a Cradium lizard is breaking through there.” He scratched his head, the few hairs that remained swaying in the breeze. “I suppose there is also the cellar, but the tunnels have been…” As he finished his thought inside his own head, he began to push towards the church. “Let them through!” He yelled back towards the guards as he approached the steps to the church.

She and Dalton began moving through the throng of people. It took some work, as everyone was pressed in tightly. A few minutes later, they were at a trapdoor leading down into the cellar. On their way through the church, they had heard several bolts striking the side of the building, Tyrdra tried to look around and see who the Shaper was extinguishing the flames, but there were just too many people and she couldn’t make out who it was.

              An old stone stairway greeted them as they managed to move enough people to make the trap door rise. One wall of the cellar was lined with wine racks, bottles filling many of the slots. On the back wall there were shelves full of various roots and vegetables wrapped up for storage. There were also several pieces of old furniture down there as well, most covered in dirt and cobwebs. The Mayor moved to one of the wine racks, sticking his hand into the fourth level of bottles. Before he was able to accomplish whatever he was trying to do, they heard the sounds of metal grating against stone directly behind the rack he was standing at; the Mayor froze in place.

              Tyrdra motioned for him to move away from the wine racks, and he slowly withdrew his arm to comply. He tiptoed towards them, each motion exaggerated to the point of being ridiculous. She grabbed his arm and pushed him up the stairs, whispering “Shut the door,” into his ear.

              When the trap door was shut, they were left alone in complete darkness. The only sounds were those of the throng of people above them, and the slight sound of metal scraping stone.

              Leaning close to Dalton, Tyrdra whispered, “Hold completely still, and control your breathing.” She moved them up against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and built a shield with the air around them, it would absorb any stray light that headed their direction, leaving them engulfed in shadow. Because the shield also prevented the light from the other side of it reaching their eyes, it would normally also leave them blind. However, she had learned long ago how to project the absorbed light on the inside of the shield allowing them to see an image of what was going on in the rest of the room.

              It took several minutes, but light began to seep through the cracks of the wine rack as more of the mortar was removed from the wall behind it. Shortly thereafter, they began to hear stone scraping against stone as the wall behind the rack was pulled back on ancient hinges. A moment later, the wine rack silently opened, revealing the hidden doorway and the Dracairei. Four of them moved into the room, one holding a short stick with a glowing stone attached to its tip. They looked around the room and sniffed in disgust. Two of them moved up the stairs to the trap door.

              “I think someone is standing on it,” one of them whispered back to his companions in the draconic tongue.

              One of the assassins in back stepped forward, and in the light Tyrdra recognized him as the older Dracairei that she had seen on the roof outside the church. His voice was cold as he spoke.