Two of the sword-wielding assassins then took the lead and met Soren at the center of the large clearing. They tried to ready themselves for the assault, but Soren was as surprising in combat as he was quick.

Instead of attacking head on, Soren leaped into the air and propelled himself forward with his knees tucked in, landing with his shins flat against the chest of one of the sword wielders and pushing the opponent forcefully to the ground. He buried the assassin under the sheer weight and force of his attack, causing him to skid backwards. The two of them kicked up dust the entire way and caused a gasp of surprise from the onlookers.

Before they came to a stop, Soren was already pounding the assassin in the face repeatedly, with brutal roundhouse strikes that caused the man to rebound between the ground and Soren's fists. By the time they did stop skidding, the assassin was unconscious.

The second sword wielder realized he was closer to Penndarius, so he forgot about Soren and focused on the scholar. He advanced quickly and would have killed Penndarius had Soren not seen the approach.

Soren hauled the unconscious assassin onto his back and hurled him at the other sword wielder. This flying rag doll collided with his counterpart in a violent thud, and the two of them rolled along the ground in a tangle.

Soren broke into a run and arrived at the second sword wielder before he could get up. As Soren was passing him to reach Penndarius, the assassin was able to struggle to his feet and sluggishly slashed out vertically at the crimson warrior.

Soren turned with the blow and allowed it to whoosh past him and into the ground. The sword stuck in the cobblestones, and Soren used that as leverage to force his foot into the flat side of the weapon, which caused it to snap with a resounding crack.

The swordsman looked back at Soren with surprise, and Soren snapped a knee into his stomach that caused the assassin to buckle. Soren followed this with a powerful palm uppercut to the chin, and the winded swordsman rose into the air.

Soren grabbed the assassin by the neck as he ascended and reached down with his other hand to snatch the still-vibrating broken end of the blade. Soren twirled it in his hand and looked back to the bowman across from him, who had almost finished reloading his weapon. Soren tossed the broken blade like a throwing knife, and it tumbled end over end and flashed in the light of the twin suns. It seemed to slow for the briefest moment before embedding itself into the crossbow, penetrating deep into the wood of the weapon and jamming the arming mechanism, causing it not to fire.

Soren choked the second swordsman hard until he nearly passed out, then stood and dragged his body toward the remaining assassins. Whether with confidence or stupidity, and despite his opponent's obvious prowess, the spearman readied his weapon to attack Soren but was not prepared for what happened next.

With the groggy swordsman-assassin's body trailing behind him, Soren bounced forward and then jumped high into the air in an amazing display of athletic prowess that caused the crowd to gasp. The man he was holding started to struggle slightly as the affects of Soren's previous ferocious attack began to wear off.

The spearman began to run toward Soren. The crowd was struck with awe as Soren threw his semiconscious cargo into the man, with brutal results. The two bodies collided and fell in a tumbling mass of limbs and weapons.

Soren landed on his feet and propelled himself toward the lead assassin, who was frantically trying to fix his crossbow. Soren was next to him in moments, and the assassin tried to hold up his weapon defensively, but Soren simply batted it out of the way, grabbed the man's head with one hand, cocked his other arm back, and smashed his elbow into the assassin's face in a wicked slam. It was like crushing a melon between two hammers, and the assassin fell to the ground, unconscious.

The grounded swordsmen tried to get out of their tangled mess but were still too stunned to do anything spectacular.

When he was done Soren stood up and looked toward the third swordsman, who was the kirin handler. He nodded expectantly at the kirin and backed up so that he had his back to the still-tangled assassins.

The assassin obliged him by unhooking the kirin that was straining against its leash. It snapped at Soren repeatedly with its beaked mouth. As soon as the leash came off, it bounded toward Soren with great ferocity.

Soren smiled and clapped his hands together as if to say, "Come on!"

The kirin leaped at him, with its clawed front legs leading the way. The crimson warrior jumped up and met the charge with outstretched hands, and the last thing anyone saw before a large cloud of dust began to obscure the two from vision was Soren grasping the kirin, one front paw in each hand.

Every person watching gasped in horror, and some turned away. One spectator clapped Penndarius on the shoulder with sorrow, saying, "It looks like your friend is dead, boy. He was a brave soul...brave, but daft in the head."

Penndarius was not so sure, though, and he stared into the dust cloud intently. After what he had seen, he was starting to get a few suspicions of his own about his new protector.

To the surprise of everyone watching, assassins and Penndarius included, when the dust cleared, Soren was indeed not dead but was instead locked hand in claw with the kirin as the two of them pushed at each other in a titanic show of force. Large grooves had been dug into the road where they were fighting, as each of them struggled to gain an upper hand.

"It seems that some people are just too stupid to die," the onlooker said, clapping Penndarius on the shoulder again with glee.

“Or too skilled,” Penndarius responded.

Moments that seemed like hours went by, and then Soren did the unexpected. Rather than continue with the push, he let the kirin have its way—a bit too much of its way.

Soren flipped backwards and let the kirin push him. Then he put his foot into the kirin's stomach and threw it over his head while still holding onto its claws. The result was that, at the apex of its arc, the kirin found that it could not continue upward and instead rocketed back to the ground with resounding force, landing right on top of the two tangled assassins.

Whether Soren had planned it that way or just got lucky was up for speculation, but the results were undeniably effective.

But Soren was not finished. He used the impact and a quick pull of his arms that still held the kirin's legs to roll back over on top of the beast. He threw a quick punch into the creature's chin, followed by another and another. Each attack caused the creature to become less and less aware.

To finish, Soren reached down and grabbed the kirin by its limp jaw, though it was still conscious. One hand found the top jaw, the other the bottom jaw, and Soren steeled himself. "I am sorry," he said with just a hint of guilt, and then slammed a fist down on the beak of his opponent with deliberation, which shattered it into a thousand pieces.

The remaining assassin grabbed the empty leash and ran into the crowd, quickly disappearing from sight.

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El’eron grants only a few men and women her gift of foresight, including myself. We are permitted to see clues, riddles, and portents of the future that leak through the veil. There are many that seek our gifts for petty gain, and that drives us to the edges of the world, seeking seclusion. Sometimes El’eron calls on her true children to make a journey to view momentous events as they unfold. On those rare occasions we are witnesses to events that change the mortal realm permanently.

- Urielle Senciro, gifted seer of El’eron

፨

Standing in the second-story corridor, Aedan tapped his hand impatiently on the wooden rail of the stairs that led down to the first floor of the No Names Inn.

"All right," he asked again as he looked down at Douglas, who was sitting on a wooden chair put there for his interrogation. "How did these black-cloaked men enter your premises?"

The innkeeper waved his hands back and forth, and his beard wagged along with them. "I been telling ye, sirs," Douglas said in frustration. "They had papers...forget whose, but them be official as I ever seen."

Jadice clapped his armored hand on his smaller brother's shoulder and pulled him aside to speak in private. "That is enough," said the bulkier twin. "He has no reason to lie to us."

"You are far too trusting, little brother. Everyone has a reason to lie," Aedan said and gave

Jadice a pointed look before turning back to Douglas. "Did they do anything out of the ordinary?"

"Now that ye mention it, they seemed mighty intent to keep me boy Penn in sight," Douglas responded as he twiddled his beard thoughtfully.

Aedan cocked his head back at his brother. "Answers, and yet more questions." He turned to Douglas once again. "Who is Penn?" he asked.

The innkeeper lit up at that. "Smartest boy I ever know’d! Has a mighty reputation as one o' the best translators in the city. His full name be Penndarius Greyson. Ya do not think he is mixed up in this tussle, do ya?" Douglas asked.

"It is too early to tell, friend," Aedan replied.

"Seems we come for one and end with two," Jadice said, shifting his helmet to the other side of his waist.

"He be a good boy. Kindly treat him with respect, m’lords. Whatever this be, he is not mixed up in it by any fault o' his own," Douglas insisted.

Just then a guardsman ran through the door and saluted each twin in turn. "Your Lordships, there is a commotion on the western edge of the trade district, and it purportedly involves a man wearing a sleeveless red vest," he said respectfully.

"The chase is on!" Aedan said and slapped his twin on the shoulder, then jumped up to sit on the railing and slide down to the floor below.

Despite his heavy armor, Jadice barreled past the guardsman. "Send a squad to meet us there!" he called back.

The guardsman saluted and hurried to do as he was asked. First he blew a high-pitched tone on a whistle that hung from a cord around his neck. Then he obtained a pen from Douglas and scribbled a quick note on a piece of paper.

In response to the whistle, a hawk soon appeared in the distance and swooped in to land on the guard's proffered arm. The guardsman folded and stuffed the note into a small carrying compartment tied on the bird's leg and threw the feathered messenger back into the air.

The bird headed toward the twin suns of Deiyil, banked, and flew off to deliver the note.