“For Lythan blood!” another planted resistance member screamed from a nearby window. A barrage of arrows fired from all directions, but the arrows shattered as the magistrate dropped to his knees and lifted his arms. An invisible shield formed about him as the power of the God-Incarnate flowed from his glowing palms. All part of the plan. Cyrus needed the magistrate focused on defending himself so he might kill unabated.

Soldiers rushed Cyrus, determined to fling their bodies between him and the magistrate. Time slowed. While others in Thorda’s elite would participate, they were stationed strategically throughout the city. The initial attack would be his alone, the spark others would witness and remember. This was his moment, his first step in banishing the empire that had stolen his nation and slaughtered his people. Years of effort and training now came to this. His nerves faded. His uncertainty vanished. Beneath that grinning skull mask, he felt reborn. Thorda Ahlai had molded him mercilessly, and it was time to prove it.

The soldiers thought to surround and overwhelm him, but he would allow no such simple tactic to succeed. He flung himself at the nearest soldier, his shortsword shoving aside a clumsy thrust. The defenders thought they had numbers, and therefore the offensive. Cyrus robbed them of that delusion. His shortsword shifted an overeager thrust aside, his body twisted sideways, and the two collided into each other. Cyrus’s other sword cut above the shield, and its curved tip punched through the chain and sank into his foe’s lung. Instead of losing momentum, Cyrus rebounded off the shield, body twirling, his dark cloak masking his movements. He sank the shortsword into a man’s neck, batted aside a panicked thrust, and then rammed his sword straight through another soldier’s mouth.

Blood splashed across his blades as he cut down a foe too slow to block in time. The crimson gifted Cyrus with confidence. These soldiers, they moved so slowly, and they spent so much time reacting instead of controlling the flow of battle. They paled compared to Thorda’s speed. They lacked Rayan’s strength. They could not touch Stasia’s ferocity. Coordination was their only hope, but the surprise of the attack denied them that.

Another volley of arrows thudded into the carriage’s side, and two found purchase in the driver’s side.