Before Xenia even knew what was happening, the first bodies hit the ground – or if not the whole bodies, then just bleeding parts of it, leaving their original owners to cry out in agony, before being cut down themselves.
The platform of the Sky Port erupted into screaming, bloody chaos, where axes, swords, fists, and teeth clashed. About thirty soldiers faced about the same number of masked attackers, not as unprepared as they might have been without Lord Askar and Velora, but still visibly nervous. Xenia couldn't judge the mentality of the raiders, as their faces were obscured by fabric masks.
Oilrats? she wondered suddenly.
Who else wore such attire? Or were they merely pretending to be them, in order to put the blame onto the lower part of the city? Could they be infiltrators of House Sheshir? Of the Sky King himself? But why? Or were they really just reckless undercity marauders?
All her questions evaporated as her stomach churned violently.
Xenia stared in shock as a soldier impaled one of the masked attackers with his spear. A fountain of dark blood gushed from one wound, then the other. The man's face twisted into a bloodied mask just as an arrow pierced the soldier's forehead. Life drained from his eyes, and both bodies fell limply onto the cold, lifeless metal.
It was nothing less than a bloodbath. Battle cries dissolved into screams of pain as steel clashed against steel.
Amidst the carnage stood Xenia's sister.
Velora dispatched a foe with deadly precision, spinning to raise her longsword and parry an axe. Though she was of slender frame, her battle style had always resembled that of the giant Knight Sir Baraton. Both fought with unwavering will.
Her shoulder slammed into her attacker, and half a second later, her steel struck. In the flickering torchlight, her heavy armor made her resemble a merciless angel of war.
Xenia shook herself free from her trance.
"Father!" she called, hoping he, as head of the house, would intervene.
But her heart sank and shattered when her father turned to her briefly. For a moment, his gaze seemed concerned – but then it reverted to the focused, unyielding expression of Lord Askar, who valued his mission above all else. He turned and stepped onto the airship.
"Where are you going? We have to help Velora!"
At the mention of his daughter's name, he hesitated for the first time, but his answer was cold: "I am no sorcerer."
Xenia wanted to yell at him, but he wasn't finished. He nodded to her and said, "But you are. Don't linger too long. I need you on the ship."
And with that, he disappeared onto the main deck.
Argh, to hell with it all!
Xenia's soul surged with renewed purpose as the shimmering one-and-a-half-handed sword manifested in her grasp. With superhuman strength, she charged across the platform. Few could stand their ground before her, and soon, the fierce bastard daughter of House Jarakan was in the thick of the fight.
The Soulweapon descended, claiming the life of the first masked attacker unlucky enough to cross her path. He didn't even mutter a sound as the blade cut off his head.
Xenia was suddenly glad she hadn't eaten before they went. Although her strike had been confident, the sight now made her stomach churn with nausea. For a brief moment, her attention faltered and all she wanted to do was to go home and lay in bed.
But her sister was fighting three attackers alone – Xenia would not falter now.
The world shifted again as she activated the Eye of the Stranger. The unfamiliar chaos of the battlefield transformed into a well-known pattern of another kind of chaos.
She darted through falling axes and swords, now mixed with the threads of all of connection, finding herself moments later in front of her sister.
Velora had just deflected a blow, sending one of her three opponents stumbling back. But the opening left her side exposed. The man's blade was already descending when Xenia let her sword cut, severing the thread of focus.
The Soulweapon sliced through effortlessly, almost too easily, so that Xenia had to change the trajectory midair in order not to cut another fragile thread, this one unknown to her.
But the intended effect took place as the attacker suddenly forgot what he had been aiming for, giving Velora enough time to leap aside – and Xenia enough time to thrust her blade through the man's heart.
As she pulled it out, warm blood splattered across her armor and cheeks. A shiver ran through her, but there was no time for hesitation. The other two had already recovered.
Velora and Xenia exchanged a single glance before launching themselves back into the fight. They were only half-sisters, but they had grown up together, fighting and forgiving each other like true siblings would.
Fighting together was in their blood.
Xenia dared not cut another thread in the chaos, fearing she might sever something vital for herself or her sister. The consequences could be disastrous.
Luckily, she didn't need to. She was simply the better swordsman, as was Velora. The two masked assailants fell within seconds, adding another couple of bodies to the already blood-soaked metal platform.
Shortly afterward, Velora and Xenia found themselves standing back-to-back. The sisters were breathing heavily, but the hellish battle raging around them was far more relentless.
"Father is on the ship," Xenia informed Velora during this brief, deceptive moment of calm.
"Where else would he be?" Velora replied.
Xenia clenched her teeth. Velora meant it literally – she saw nothing wrong with their father staying away from the fight. Of course, he was the city's steward, not a Sorcerer or even a soldier, but his two daughters were out here, fighting for their lives...
"You should be there too," Velora added, her voice even and unyielding.
"And leave you here alone?" Xenia countered.
"We're winning. Whoever they are, they underestimated us."
Xenia had little to argue against that. It did seem as though the soldiers were slowly gaining the upper hand. But only just. Each victory was hard-won, and the enemy, despite their miscalculation, fought with a ferocity that made every step forward perilous.
Xenia didn't want Velora out here any longer. She hated seeing her sister wade through such danger, no matter how capable she was. But Xenia also knew that Velora wouldn't retreat, not after Father had given his orders. So, she took a different approach.
"Prepare the men for a retreat," Xenia said, ducking as an arrow zipped past her, close enough to brush her hair. "We'll finish them all in one strike!"
"How?" Velora demanded.
"I'll go back to the ship and ready the great artillery cannon. Once I give the signal, you pull back as fast as you can. Got it?"
"And if you hit the soldiers?"
"I'll aim carefully."
Velora hesitated for several tense seconds, doubt evident in her furrowed brow and the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Finally, she nodded, though her reluctance was palpable.
"Be quick," she urged.
Xenia managed a small, tight-lipped smile. She spun around, grabbing Velora's shoulder and pulling her into a brief embrace. Standing on her toes, she planted a kiss on her sister's forehead.
"Don't you dare die."
Velora allowed herself a faint smile in return, then hefted her sword once more, stepping back into the fray without another word.
Xenia watched her for a moment, her heart weighed down with a grim mixture of pride and dread. Then, with fierce determination, she turned and sprinted toward the airship.
The path back was no less dangerous than the battlefield she had just left. The clamor of steel echoed in her ears as she weaved through the chaos, her boots pounding against the blood-slicked metal of the platform.
She narrowly avoided another arrow and almost stumbled when a blade glanced off the edge of her armor. Each step closer to the airship felt like an eternity, but she forced herself to push forward.
Reaching the ramp, Xenia cast one last glance over her shoulder. Velora was still fighting, her golden hair streaked with blood and sweat, her movements precise and unyielding. The sight sent a pang through Xenia's chest.
Don't die, she repeated silently.
Gritting her teeth, she charged up the ramp and onto the ship, her resolve hardening with each step.
And while she quickened her steps, she swore that, whoever it was that sent the signal from the brigde, she would make sure to give them the welcome they deserve.