And some WIP for you all:
Flipping my knife around, I struck him hard at the base of the skull with my fist, using the handle to armor the blow. He collapsed, while the other brother shrieked, then cursed in a language I did not know.
The Rectifier roared, something shattered, and there was more cursing.
I bent to cut this one's throat when I heard the pardine shout out, "Do not kill them, Green. Leave with me now."
Point against skin, I stopped. Did I trust him or not? These men were dangerous, hideously dangerous, but the Rectifier knew something, or he would not have spoken so.
Leaving behind a single ruby drop beading against the twin's leathery neck as my calling card, I raced swiftly toward the door and followed the Rectifier out into the late afternoon's snow flurries.
|Originally published at jlake.com.|