Of Love and Valor

67: Among Us

In an instant, I've leapt onto the platform where our leaders are gathered, all in one place. Foolish, foolish. Whose dumb idea was this?! We have to get the Yrivvior and the Yrivvilon, at the very least, to safety immediately.

"Forgive me, Your Imperial Highness," I say brusquely as I grab the Yrivvilon's arm and pull him after me, towards the back of the platform, towards the palace.

"And where do you think you're going?" Anzarij demands, a sickening smile stretching across his face as he bars my path. An Erivim blade is in his hands. Bile fills my mouth and I swallow it hard as I bring a knife down forcefully on his dominant wrist, splitting flesh to the bone. Anzarij shrieks. Behind me, the Yrivvilon yelps in surprise.

"The business of the Viorzhanim does not concern you. Traitor," I hiss. Then Zelphinon is beside me, his katana crashing into the backs of Anzarij's knees. Our former teammate crumples to the ground, sputtering curses.

"Let's go," he tells me. Alderon and the Yrivvior are with him. Beyond them, everything is chaos. Everyone is shouting, blades are flashing—pandemonium. Through the madness I hear Krethzirae scream.

"You'll pay for that," Thariyae growls behind me, and I turn just in time to see her kick a traitor in the head, then skewer him on her katana. Blood is pouring from a gash in her face.

"Thariyae...." Alderon whispers, somehow audible under all the confusion. His expression is agonized, torn between going to her and fulfilling our duty.

"She'll be fine," Zelphinon assures him. "We have to—"

"You're not going anywhere," Kokudon interrupts with a voice like fire. "Is this any way to treat a teammate?"

With a curved, serrated blade in hand, he gestures to Anzarij, who's still on the ground, bleeding and crying. Two more traitors, fighters I don't recognize, are with them, moving towards us with their Erivim blades drawn. The Yrivvior and the Yrivvilon are side by side, between Zelphinon and Alderon and me, tense with fear.

"Fine words from an oath-breaker," Zelphinon glowers.

"We want no more bloodshed, only those two," one of the others cajoles, pointing at our country's ruler and his son with the serrated blade.

"Over my dead body," I snap.

"That can be arranged," Kokudon shrugs and lunges for me. Suddenly Alderon is between us, and there's a deafening screech of metal on metal as the blade connects with his prosthetic hand.

"Not a chance," Alderon answers coolly, and then no more words are necessary. His katana, although wielded in his left hand, cuts deeply into Kokudon's unguarded side as Zelphinon and I deal with his accomplices. With any luck, at least this one will live long enough to be interrogated, I hope as I sever my opponent's hamstrings and leave a deep wound in his shoulder.

"Get them out of here!" Firoguee yells, gesturing to the Yrivvior and Yrivvilon.

"We'll cover you," Nevinrul adds. To my surprise, they're both wielding blades rather than bows, but now is not the time to question such things.

"Right. Zelphinon, cut us a path and then go back to help the injured," Alderon directs. "Azerai, take rear."

The Yrivvior or Yrivvilon might have said something, but it's lost in the pandemonium all around us. Blades clashing together, tearing through flesh. Screams and smoke and blood all around us. Every move I make is instinctual, meant to defend rather than to kill. So far, it seems to be enough. Those who would threaten our leaders fall to the ground around us as our blades flash and our feet move inexorably towards the palace doors. Heavens above, ancestors great and small, please carry me through this. Memories of Andelxiao and Kennakara threaten to overwhelm me. Here and now, Azerai. You have to be here and now.