The sun is going down, and I don’t want to be out on these broken streets when darkness falls. I’m overcome by a sense of dread in this place; it’s definitely haunted by its dead. I breathe in, and the faint smell of smoke mingling with dust tinges the air. I’m guessing someone must be here somewhere. I’m just not sure I want to meet them, at least not in the dark.
As night slides over the city, shadows form, filling the narrow side streets.
There’s a rushing sound from the left. I come to an abrupt standstill. Then I whirl around. Something’s coming from down one of the side streets. Fast. Khaosti slides the sword from the scabbard on his saddle—God, I hope he knows how to use it—and positions himself in front of me, protecting me from whatever it is that’s speeding toward us.
“Stay back,” he growls, just as a pack of huge dog-like creatures appears out of the shadows. They’re almost as tall as a man, with coarse black fur, bloodshot eyes, and huge dribbling teeth. Zayne grabs my hand and drags me backward. I pull Stella with me, so we’re pressed against the wall. I wish I had a sword, not that I could do anything with one if I had it, but I feel so helpless. I search around me for anything I can use as a weapon.
“Rocks,” I say. There are enough of those around in the piles of rubble. I grab one and hurl it at the closest of the beasts. It hits the creature on its ugly snout but doesn’t slow it down.
Khaosti whirls his sword around like an expert. The first one is almost on him, and he swings the blade, slicing the head from the body, and dark blood gushes from the neck. Ugh. But there are more coming. He stabs the next one through its huge chest as it leaps toward him.
“Oh God, we’re going to die,” I mutter, hurling another rock. I’m not sure my rocks are doing anything except maybe distracting them but at least flinging them is keeping me from collapsing into a gibbering mess.
“We’renotgoing to die,” Zayne replies, hurling a continuous blast of rocks.
“Oh, yes, we are. There are too many.” As soon as Khaosti cuts one down, another takes its place.
Suddenly, Khaosti is not alone. Another man appears as if from nowhere. He’s tall like Khaosti. That’s all I can make out because he’s moving so fast. They stand back-to-back, both swinging their swords. I drop my rock—I don’t think it’s needed—and watch in awe. It’s like some sort of blood-drenched dance. Swing and slice and stab. Until finally, there’s nothing left to kill.
I turn my attention to the newcomer.
Whoa. Heishuge. About the same height as Khaosti, but he’s broader at the shoulders and dressed in lots of leather: leather pants tucked into long black boots and a long leather coat. He has a sword scabbard over his shoulder and a knife at his waist.
He stares at me with dark blue eyes, an arrested expression on his face. A beard covers the lower half of his face, tawny in color to match his tawny hair. He’s astonishingly handsome under all that hair.
Something nudges me in the side, and I wince and turn to scowl at Zayne. There’s a disgusted expression on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re staring.”
Was I? I guess so. But he’s well worth staring at. I look back to find him still regarding me, a slow smile curving his lips. I find an answering smile curving my own, and I’m about to step forward and introduce myself when Khaosti shoves himself between us. There’s a scowl on his face as well—I’m beginning to think he and Zayne might be related. He’s covered in a lot of blood, and the sword still hangs from his hand. Maybe now is not the time to piss him off. However tempting that might be.
“Thanks,” I say instead. “Good job.” I take a step to the side and peer around him at the newcomer. “Thank you as well. That was very…” I trail off as he stares at me blankly. He opens his mouth, and words come out. At first, they make no sense, and I realize he’s speaking a different language. Then my brain clicks in and translates for me. I know this language. I must have lived here before. He just said, “You’re welcome.” I frown because he’s still looking at me, like maybe he knows me. But I’m sure I’d remember him, except for the little fact of my amnesia. So maybe he does know me. “Have we met?” I ask in what I presume is Valandrian.
“No.”
Beside me, I hear Zayne mutter, “What the fuck.” I’m guessing he doesn’t understand.
The newcomer raises one brow. “Are you the one?” he asks.
“The one?”
“That Khendril spoke of. He said I would know you by the token you carry with you always.”
My hand automatically goes to the amber pendant at my neck. I slowly pull it out, and it seems to glow in the dim light. I hear the hiss of his indrawn breath.
“You are the one.” His tone is almost reverent, and I wonder what this Khendril told him about me. It sort of makes me feel like a fraud. I slip the pendant back beneath my t-shirt.
“You’re Thanouq?” Khaosti says. Unlike Zayne, he clearly understands the language. “What did Khendril tell you?”
“Later,” he replies. “Now we need to get off the streets. It’s not good to be out after dark.” He waves a hand at the dead beasts. “There are worse predators than darkmaws within these walls.”
Sounds like a plan. I glance at Khaosti; he’s still scowling, but then he gives a short nod. He turns back and wipes his sword on the matted fur of one of the dog-like creatures, then looks around for his horse. The animal is not far away, and he sheaths his sword and leads it back to our little group.
“My thanks as well,” he says. “That was well-timed.”
Thanouq shrugs. “I got a report that strangers had been sighted approaching the city and thought I would come and see what brings you here. We don’t get many visitors.”
