Chapter 40
Garden of the Taj
“Again with the whore-calling!” Atisheh grunted, bringing her blade down on the short bastard’s back just as he started his charge. The powerful, if clumsy, blow severed several ribs where they joined the spine. The man fell face down at her feet, writhing in silent agony.
For her part, Atisheh stumbled to a halt, blood loss and pain drawing the color from the world.
She blinked stupidly, saw his companions turn to face her.
“Good,” she mumbled. Raising her blade one more time.
The blonde ferenghi reacted with admirable speed, charging one man from behind, finger-thick branch in hand.
Atisheh staggered toward the other man.
Their blades rang together.
Exhaustion drained her sword arm of strength, made her slow to counter. His second blow cut across her lowered guard and into her chest, shattering mail links and biting flesh beneath.
Dropping her sword, Atisheh closed hands around his wrist.
Yanking him off balance, she bit at him.
Mouth full of beard instead of the flesh she desired, she fell, dragging him with her.
“Bitch!” he grunted, struggling to get his hand free and keep on top of her.
She held on.
The face that appeared over his shoulder made Atisheh smile.
The blood of her enemies spattered her face, a warm and welcome rain.
Garden of the Taj
“Lying, filthy-minded whore!” someone shouted off to Salim’s right. He ran in that direction.
A few ragged breaths later Salim broke from cover to see a beauty in silks straddling a man’s back. Her left hand was in his hair, pulling his head back. Beneath them both lay the still, bloody form of another.
A few steps away, a blonde woman and another, possibly up-timer woman, were attacking another assassin with sticks.
“Die, filth!” the beauty screamed. Salim looked back in time to see her cut the man’s throat.
Legs leaden, he moved to join the assault on the last assassin. He made it all of two steps when someone to his right bellowed: “Down!”
Salim threw himself flat.