Wrath of the White Tigress

Chapter 2

A single tear of blood streaked down her face as a swelling of agony grew in her mind. Her limbs trembled and ached. Chills ran beneath a sheen of sweat. And yet, with her voice still strong and clear, Zyrella held herself together, even though the powers she summoned ravaged her body and soul.

She could hold on because she knew she was winning. 

For the first time in all these years, she held the advantage. She could feel Salahn's presence, battling back against her, but he was confused by her counter-spell. There was no way he could have anticipated the trick the White Tigress had devised, using the newly awakened link between herself and Zyrella to channel the counter-spell over a distance of more than three hundred leagues. And Salahn's binding spell was complex. He was fatigued after months of sorcery. From time to time, the strength of his spell would wane.

Suddenly Zyrella convulsed. Her heart raced. A scream threatened to break her chants, but she held it in check, locking down her primal fear with all the willpower she could muster.

The Slayer had entered the shrine. 

His spirit burned with the heat of a bonfire. In the deepest part of her being, she felt an unreasoning desire to throw herself into that flame. But she maintained focus on her ritual. To do otherwise would invite disaster and assure failure. Zyrella could only trust that Ohzikar—her poor, outmatched champion—would delay Bavadi long enough.

~~~

Jaska stepped into the sanctuary. As he rolled his weight onto his lead foot, he sensed danger. He sprang back and a tulwar chopped through the space he had occupied. 

A large templar captain barreled into the hallway. It said much for the man's mental fortitude that Jaska hadn't sensed his presence. Knowing mind control probably wouldn't work on such an opponent, Jaska withdrew to the courtyard. There, he went on the offensive, using the open space to his advantage.

Jaska dropped beneath a sword slash and jabbed upward with his bagh nakh. The steel claws tore through the templar's burnoose and raked across the chainmail protecting his chest. Jaska followed with a kick to the stomach and a downward slash that the templar barely blocked with his shield. 

Another series of dazzling attacks resulted in a shallow cut across the templar's sword hand, a rip in his leather greaves, and a crack in his shield. Forced back into the entranceway, the templar gathered himself and lunged. Jaska ducked under the warrior's sword, caught him by the arm, and threw him over his shoulder. 

Ohzikar landed hard. He surged to his feet and found the assassin sprinting toward the shrine. He slipped his arm free of his shield, twisted, and flung the disc. The Slayer sensed the attack and ducked soon enough to avoid a crippling blow, but not soon enough to avoid a hit. 

The shield glanced off the top of the Slayer's head. Bavadi stumbled and nearly fell. Ohzikar charged and Bavadi recovered and dodged again, but with slower reflexes this time. Ohzikar hoped that would even the odds. Otherwise, he wasn't going to last much longer.

Bavadi's eyes narrowed as he backed into the shrine. 

Not more than twenty feet away, Zyrella continued her ritual, seemingly undaunted. Ohzikar wished he knew how much time he needed to buy her. His comrades were fighting beyond the wall. He called for them to return and regroup, shouting as loud as he could.

Jaska considered rushing the priestess but felt certain the templar, despite his lesser speed, would strike him down before he reached her. The templar kicked a toe under his shield, flipped it up, and caught it deftly. 

"You will perish tonight," Jaska said.

"Perhaps," replied the templar as he lunged with his sword. "But not before our work is done."