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Darjin stretched the long daggers like extensions of her hands. She had learned to respect iron, to admire the way it split the layers of reality and transformed them into something new.

Before a lunge, the world had one face.

Later it had another. Made of blood.

The man in charge showed determination. But in the hasty tone of his orders, Darjin read a note of pure uncertainty. It was barely detectable. Little more than a drop lost in a sea of anger. But it was enough for her.

One drop was all it took, just like the first step, the first stab.

Four men slipped from the protection of the colonnade and ran at her. Two of them wielded curved swords, two others long chains that ended in hooks. They looked like sharp horns on the foreheads of mythological snakes. The swords hissed and cleaved the air as they tried to strike her, the chains swirled around the bodies of their opponents, forming deadly parabolas and ready to project at Darjin.

She pirouetted around the blow from the man on the right, then bent sharply to avoid the one on the left. She was about to get to her feet when she heard the groan of one of the chains, very close to her ankles. With a sudden leap, she avoided the iron links aimed to pin her legs. A deep pain, similar to the sting of a poisonous insect, stabbed her arm.

Darjin turned in time to block another lunge. She crossed her blades over and under her opponent's sword until the three hafts touched. She found herself very close to the man who tried to overpower her in strength and agility; she read a blind determination in his eyes, a rage unleashed from all restraint. There was bloodlust in that look.

He had simply underestimated her.

Darjin gave her wrists a violent twist and pulled her opponent's blade between her own, ripping it from his hands and sending it flying.

The man's expression changed from anger to astonishment to pain as Darjin shifted the full weight of her body onto her left leg and spun in the opposite direction.

As she turned, she snapped her right leg toward the enemy.

In a split second, she planted the heel of one boot under the warrior's chin and watched as he spat out breath and blood. He began to fall, like a tree cut clean through, unable to resist the pull of the ground.

Staying to contemplate the image would have been satisfying, but it would leave Darjin's shoulders exposed for too long. With three men ready to pounce and others watching from behind the colonnade, it was not a good idea.

So she grabbed the shoulders of the man she had just hit and let his fall drag her down. She was glad she had followed her instincts, for she heard the whine of one of the clawed chains again. This time it almost hit her in the head.

Darjin hit the ground and rolled over the unconscious soldier she’d used as a shield. She leapt to her feet, turning just in time to catch the flight of the other chain, aimed at her throat, out of the corner of her eye.

She barely dodged it, but acted reflexively and dropped the blades. She grabbed the chain of death with both hands, right at the joint between the claw and the links.

Caught off guard, the attacker could not resist Darjin's strong tug and lost his balance as she spread her elbows and used them to coil the chain, reducing its length in a few steps. In a few heartbeats, Darjin found herself with the claw in her hands and the man's forehead in front of her tip.

All she needed was a firm push. The claw found its way into the man's face and he collapsed to the ground, groaning.

Darjin wrapped her arms around her body and let go of the chain. Without a foothold, the links slid over her like heavy garments. Had she known how to wield the chain, she could have defended herself and struck back. But even an experienced Dagger had to accept some limitations.

Unarmed, Darjin ran back to the blades she had left behind, but her right leg gave out from the pain. A fireball exploded just above her knee. She knew immediately that it must have been the other clawed chain. The satisfied laughter of the two men left in the arena of blood confirmed it.

Darjin fell to her knees, feeling the warmth of the blood staining her trousers and the pain increasing as the fighter drew the claw back to her. The blade protruded from her leg, tearing and widening the wound.

Darjin's eyes went wide. The thought of the amount of blood she was about to spill made her head spin.

Gritting her teeth, she crawled backwards, her eyes scanning the ground around her, searching for a weapon. Her blades were too far away, but the first men she had killed had left a multitude of swords behind. One was very close. She reached for the hilt and almost had it in her hands when the blow caught her in the left shoulder.

Darjin screamed as the sword sliced through her flesh. The pain took her breath away and turned her screams into an angry babble.

The man towered over her, grinning. He drew his weapon from her shoulder and prepared for another blow. The fatal one, no doubt.

Darjin felt much of her strength and resolve leave her along with the blade. The blood that gushed from the wound seemed to laugh at her, at her arrogance and her belief that she could defeat so many men.

How many more were there, waiting to rip her throat out? Two stood above her, five or six more beyond the colonnade. And then what? There was no telling how many of them lurked in the corridors of this underground tower.

Her mission was a suicide.

But had she really been free to choose? No. No, her oath was the only thing that meant anything. Her loyalty to the Jan Hura family, to Shadi, would never waver. Not even in the face of death.

At that moment, she heard the click. As it regenerated, the Shield Band emitted a faint ticking, little more than a vibration that only she could feel.

It had stopped. It was ready at last.

That sound, so subtle, separated what had been from what was to come. It was the difference between certain death and faint hope.

Just as the man lowered his sword with great fury and thrust it at her chest, Darjin snapped the band against the blade. When it caught it, the roar and glare were unbearable. It was as if the instrument had concentrated all its energy at the point where the sword would touch its invisible barrier.

Darjin covered her eyes with her free hand, groaning at the noise that was butchering her ears. When she opened them again, the sword seemed to be suspended in thin air, less than a palm's breadth above the band.

Everyone gasped in amazement.

Then a jolt shook the sword. It happened again and again.

As if driven by a wave of rage, the iron it was forged from turned into a cloud of mad splinters. The shards mowed down the man who had held the weapon, as well as the warrior behind him, still holding the clawed chain.

They collapsed, killed instantly by a weapon Darjin did not understand, but had come to deeply revere, capable of pulverizing iron and turning it into the most deadly swarm of fragments.

Darjin dragged herself to her feet, watching the carnage around her. She smelled the insane fear that petrified all the other warriors, those who had taken shelter behind the columns and their unmoving despair.

She decided to ride that wave.

She had never been very good at lying, but the show she had just put on would help her be convincing. She searched for the man who spoke earlier and found his dark face, eyes bloodshot with terror.

Darjin raised the Shield Band towards him. "I can do it again," she taunted him, " I want to do it again . And I won't stop. Oh yes, yes. The future you talk about ends today. Right now. You can stab me. You can plunge your swords into my belly again and again. But I will take you down with me, one by one. If the glory of my people has reached your ears, then you know what they say about the way we face death."

"Every time a Dagger dies, a thousand of its enemies turn to dust," the man recited.

Darjin nodded.

The silence between her and the warriors was slipperier than the blood on the floor.

Had she managed to frighten them enough?

The man in charge stared at his dead companions. Finally, he met Darjin's gaze and spoke in a hollow, monotonous voice. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you have succeeded in preventing us from carrying out our mission. But if we can't get what we want from your young lady and all those like her, then no one can," he said as he nodded to his men, who one by one began to turn on their heels and run toward the dark corridors. "The blood you have shed is but a drop compared to the raging sea that will come upon all who stand in our way."

"Empty words. Spoken by a man with no name and no honor. Your comrades ran away with their tails between their legs." Darjin growled.

The man's face was split in two by an animalistic smile, smug beyond all logic. "You don't know how wrong you are, Dagger. My men are not running. They race to carry out their orders. They carry the weight of destiny on their shoulders."

Darjin was about to reply when she heard a roar. The next cut her breath from her throat.

The man did not stop smiling as he allowed the shadows to engulf him. "You will die here, Dagger. This tower will be your grave as well as that of your lady. Go and embrace her. Go and look into her eyes as the rock buries her," he told her. Then he made his escape.

For a few moments, Darjin considered following him, to restrain him and force him to answer the avalanche of questions that threatened to suffocate her. But the explosions were followed by a jolt, then another. Their force shook the ground beneath her feet, the colonnade and the lights scattered to dimly illuminate the long tunnel she had fallen through.

The hill was about to collapse; it was lucky to be standing at all. Wounded, bloodied and tired, the world crumbling around her, Darjin cursed herself for not having found Shadi yet. What had this massacre been for? And was that her end, bloodied, bruised and defeated?

No.

Maybe Shadi really was on the other side of that corridor, locked up somewhere.

Darjin took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. She bent down to pick up the blades Leoben Jan Hura had given her, weapons that symbolized the bond between a Dagger and a Lugalen. On them she had sworn to protect the girl.

She could still breathe, crawl, search. She owed it to herself. She owed it to Shadi.

Limping, she made her way down the hall.

The view was breathtaking. Beyond the threshold of the large window that rose from the floor to almost touch the ceiling, Shadi found a set of steps leading to a small balcony, not unlike the ones she had walked on a thousand times at home.

All normal, almost familiar, were it not for the two stone walls that flanked the balcony for dozens of paces, embracing each other at the top. At the end of the vast stone corridor was the light. It was clear, almost blinding after the darkness that had surrounded her.

Uncertain, she descended the stairs and walked along the cold, damp, moss-covered stone until she reached the edge of the balcony. Her hands resting on the stone parapet, she leaned out to get a better view of her surroundings. The balcony hung very high above the ground, inside a large cave.

Below it, semi-darkness shrouded what appeared to be tangled brambles struggling to reach the little light that filtered through the distant opening.

She almost felt dizzy as the stone beneath her feet shook. It was a violent shudder, soon followed by a similar one.

She moaned and clung to the parapet, then the cave itself groaned. Shadi told herself that giants, if they ever existed, would have voices like that. She prayed she would never meet one angry enough to scream like that. Small pieces of rock and dust fell on her head, on her hands. She rushed to dust them off and retreated into the room, her heart in her throat. Was she about to meet death? Right there, crushed by a shower of boulders?

She froze in horror as she heard a thud on the door at the end of the room. How long had it been since she had first set foot there? Why did her mind seem to prevent her from remembering what had happened?

A second thud. This time more violent.

Someone was trying to force the door open.

But who?

Perhaps there was dissent among her captors? Perhaps someone had decided to get rid of her for good. Someone unwilling to wait and strong enough to unhinge the door. A thousand ways, all horribly imaginative, in which her captors could have disposed of her flashed through Shadi's mind.

At the third blow, as the wood cracked and large splinters began to sprout from its surface, Shadi ran to hide behind one of the curtains that covered the blind windows. She held her breath, flattened herself against the wall and closed her eyes, as if this sequence of movements could make her invisible.

Another thud turned into a small explosion of collapsing wood.

Shadi heard agitated but uncertain footsteps and then a sound she did not recognize at first. Something, someone, seemed to have fallen.

The clumsiest henchman ever, she said to herself, biting her tongue.

How much time did she have? How many heartbeats before he was back on his feet? The man would search the room, torn the curtains until he found her. She had no chance. Then she heard the moan. A muffled groan. And the call.

"My lady?"

Shadi opened her eyes wide and covered her mouth. Was she dreaming? Was her mind, even more sadistic than the men who had taken her, mocking her with all the viciousness of an enemy?

"My lady, where are you?"

It was really Darjin, not a figment of her imagination. A new terror crawled through Shadi's veins. She had never heard her guardian's voice burdened with such a tone.

She rushed from her hiding place and almost screamed when she saw Darjin on her knees, right in front of the remains of the door she had smashed. And she was covered in blood, breathing heavily, smiling weakly at her and clutching one leg with both hands.

Shadi felt angry tears streaming down her cheeks. "What have they done to you? Who?" she asked as she ran to her and knelt at her side.

A new tremor rippled through the room. Stronger and deeper than the previous ones, it threatened to knock them off balance.

Shadi struggled not to fall and held Darjin in her arms.

"You're killing me, my lady," the Dagger moaned. And she coughed blood, cried tears too red.

Shadi laughed, wracked with fear, relief and anger at the thought of what Darjin had gone through to be there. To save her. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. How did you find me?"

"Not now, my lady. We need to get out of here. This place is about to collapse," Darjin cut her off as she stood up, barely holding back moans of pain.

Shadi watched her gaze sweep the room. As her eyes settled on the large window and the balcony beyond the threshold, a flash of hope brightened them.

Darjin took her by the elbow and began to drag her towards that glimmer of salvation.

Shadi wanted to run away, but a name burned her heart, along with the knowledge of what was about to happen.

"Kerina!"

Darjin looked at her in confusion.

"Kerina Rigen! She is here! And with her are other girls, all daughters of Lugalens. They have been kidnapped, and only the gods know what they have suffered here. We cannot leave without them."

"Oh yes, we can," Darjin murmured, still coughing. She squeezed her elbow harder and started walking again.

"Darjin, please, these are innocent girls. They will die. If this place really collapses, there will be no escape for them!"

This time it was Darjin who stopped. She turned to her and looked into her eyes. "I am aware of that. And I am damn sad about it. But I am here for you, my lady. I can only save you."

Shadi took a step back. Of course she knew. Darjin had sworn loyalty to her family. She was a warrior, an assassin covered in blood that was not her own. The Dagger had made her way there, unstoppable, like a perfect weapon. But Shadi couldn't accept leaving all the other girls behind.

"No, Darjin. I can't. I cannot choose for them, I cannot choose for their lives."

At that moment, as the earth shook and the whole world seemed determined to swallow everything in one gulp, Darjin did something Shadi did not believe she was capable of.

The woman approached her and took her face in her hands. "You don't have to, Shadi."

Shadi.

Darjin had never called her by her first name.

Never.

"But I do. Their blood will not be on your conscience. It already stains mine."

Shadi felt her cheeks burning with bitter tears and the bloody hands of the woman who had run to her to save her.

"I have slaughtered many men today. I took their lives in exchange for yours. But it will all have been in vain if you do not allow me to fulfill my duty."

For the first time, the Dagger embraced Shadi of her own accord. And for the first time, Shadi understood what it must have meant to be important to a woman like Darjin.

"Let me bear the burden of death. Let me save you, Shadi Jan Hura."

Shadi shook her head, wept and clung to Darjin.

Her heart was pierced, crushed and torn.

Could she do it?

Could she turn her back on Kerina and all those innocent victims?

She could not answer the question. For Darjin was dragging her to the balcony and forcing her onto the parapet. Distraught, unable to fully comprehend what was happening around her, Shadi saw Darjin join her on the stone as she fumbled with a large bracelet on her wrist.

Why hadn't she noticed it before? What was it for?

"Hold on to me, my lady. And close your eyes, please."

Shadi took one last look around the room. She saw the tapestry hanging on one of the larger walls. She told herself it was familiar, that she knew what it meant to her, to all the girls who were about to die in there, and to the rest of the people who lived in Kenjir. Words seemed to fight their way out of her memory. But they stopped there, just before they reached the surface of her consciousness. There was no room for them.

In those moments, Shadi's mind was shattered by Kerina's voice, by the sight of her eyes glowing with irony and lust for life.

Kerina.

Her and all the others that would forever turn into remorse, resentment and a dumb, blind pain.

Shadi clung to Darjin. She closed her eyes and let the strength of her loyalty carry her away from an all too real nightmare.

But she was certain: new horrors awaited her, in and out of her mind, made of memories that burned like fire and enemies forged by cruel fury.

"Fear not, my lady, fear not," Darjin whispered to her. Then she leapt from the balcony and carried her towards the light.

Eshfen hid behind the trunk of a large tree and waited. Not far away, the hill that hid the sunken tower began to tremble, as if a giant had been stabbed in the heart.

Eshfen bit his lip, aware of the enormous risk he had taken.

His fingers trembling with excitement, his breath quivering in his chest after his escape, he touched the pendant.

He studied the transparent sphere and petals of the Aimflower. Brave blood had been shed to obtain this instrument of rebellion, along with the bracelets he wore on his biceps.

But if Shadi Jan Hura had survived, all would be well.

He smiled as he heard the call of the giant bird of prey.

There it was. He looked up through the branches and saw the Silver Sparrowhawk. Just as he had hoped, it was carrying the Tamer, Shadi Jan Hura, and her Dagger.

Eshfen smiled again as the hill behind him groaned and gave way under the weight of its own exploded guts.

The beginning of the end, a symphony of death and rebirth that he himself played, an instrument of the one true God.

He left the disaster behind.