Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,78
waterfall washing over her soul. She ran, leapt, kicked off the wall to one side, braced both hands on a startled guardsman's shoulders as she arced overhead. Her feet struck the floor between the massed soldiers at one end of the hallway, the clumped thieves at the other, and went airborne again just as rapidly. Tucked into a tight ball, one flip over—then a trio of rolls below—either side's line of fire. She shot upright from the final tumble, one last dive over the heads of the first of the Finders, landing on her hands in the midst of the group until she finally sprung into a standing crouch once more, rapier in hand.
Pity nobody actually saw any of that.
“Here, boys,” she taunted—and then spun.
Twisting, lunging, sidestepping, ducking, never because she saw the danger coming, but because Olgun guided her every move, a faint but unmistakable pressure on her limbs to which she reacted faster than thought. She leaned back at the waist and knees, almost horizontal, as a pair of blades flashed through the space she'd just occupied, and then struck out with two lightning-quick ripostes of her own. Cries of pain, the clatter of metal on the floor, followed by the thump of bodies. Moaning bodies; Olgun knew that she'd prefer to avoid killing if she could help it.
Just as he knew she'd not hesitate if she couldn't help it.
The shouts from all around were wild, panicked. The Finders had no idea who, even what, had plummeted into their midst; they knew only that it wasn't hindered as they were. Through the haze, dancing this way and that with the currents in the hall, they must have caught a flash of steel here, a blur of gray there, always gone before stinging, tearing eyes could make sense of it.
The click of hammers punctuated Olgun's warning, and Shins only smiled. Sparks snapped and sizzled before those hammers fell, a trio of flintlocks spat balls of lead, and three of the Finders fell screaming in pain, shot by their own confused and horrified allies.
Step, pivot, parry across, parry high. The clash of steel was swift as the patter of rain, as though the storm outside had elected to join the assault. Shins lunged, felt her rapier punch through something soft and whimpering; dropped into a low crouch beneath another thief's thrust and spun, kicking the ankles out from beneath the woman who'd just tried to stab her. The heavy thunk against the floor suggested this particular enemy wouldn't be getting up again anytime soon, but Shins stabbed her through one leg, just to be sure.
Finally, dispersed as much by the wind of Shins's own movements as anything else, the haze began to clear. Small patches of stone wall grew visible to either side. The blood oozing across the floor glistened in the lanternlight, and only then did Shins become aware of the faint and rather disturbing squelch of every step.
Still, she thought with a shudder, at least I'm not lying in it.
The seven Finders scattered around her, sprawled across the floor and all sporting various holes that neither nature nor the gods had granted them, weren't so lucky.
Well, maybe one of the gods granted them, sort of…
The eighth thief, still standing only by virtue of the fact that he'd been farthest to the back when all hell broke loose, hung limp as an under-stuffed scarecrow. His lip quivered, tears actually ran down his face, and the trembling that was only faint in his arms had, by the time it traversed the length of his sword, become violent enough to make the tip little more than a metallic blur.
Shins smiled. He squeaked, dropped his rapier, and sank to his knees, hands clasped on his head.
“Good call,” she told him. “You're going to grow to be a wise old man.” And just like that she was sprinting down the corridor, heading ever deeper into the complex and leaving the cleanup to the guards who followed.
Face drenched in sweat, Renard plunged into a chamber in the lower passages of the Guild, sliding to a halt behind a small cadre of Finders. Most were clad in casual clothes, even sleepwear, but the guns and blades they carried were well kept and ready to go.
They'd been, the lot of them, watching the room's other entrance, having piled up tables and chairs to form makeshift cover. All of which made sense, since the direction they faced led out into the halls, from where any invader would