Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) by Terry C. Simpson, D Kai Wilson-Viola, Gonzalo Ordonez Arias Read Free Book Online Page B

leather matching the color of the forest, their faces covered in war paint, they circled Sakari. As one, the assassins attacked him from opposite flanks, darting in faster than any other of their clan Ryne had ever faced.
    The three men twisted and turned. Their steps synchronized as if they danced to a tune only they could hear.
    Sakari was ever on the defensive, dodging and parrying stroke after stroke. His face remained impassive even when the Alzari’s black blades scoured his armor and licked at his flesh. Bright red trickles decorated his armor from his many cuts.
    With a snarl, Ryne joined the fray, his battle energy surging to a torrent.
    The closest Alzari twisted away to meet Ryne’s attack. Silversteel swished through empty air where the assassin once stood.
    Unlike his partner, Ryne’s opponent dodged his strikes instead of making any attempt to parry. Ryne attacked with the basics as he tested the man’s defenses. The Alzari ducked, dodged, leaped, and spun, his movements an elusive glide.
    Sweat marred the assassin’s painted face. His eyes narrowed as Ryne’s attack paused. In that lull, the Alzari struck.
    His daggers spun in his palms. A complicated pattern of slices followed. The attack flew up, down, left, right, into circular motions then to feints and lunges.
    Ryne recognized the Style at once—Amuni’s Hand, the God’s Way—but the assassin’s speed was so surprising he couldn’t dodge every strike as the leafy carpet under his feet caused him to move slower than he would have preferred. Nor could he raise his greatsword in time to parry despite its feathery weight. His armor parted with a soft hiss at the shoulder and chest followed by his own pained grunt. A burning sensation followed as did a trickle of warm blood. Ryne frowned. No normal steel could cut through his leathers. The Alzari’s weapons were imbued. Where could these men have found divya?
    Ryne’s Scripts roiled across his body and armor. The voices surged into his head. They begged him to release his bloodlust, but he gritted his teeth against the feeling.
    With Ryne’s recognition of the Styles came understanding. He considered each Stance the man would use before attacking with a Style. After parrying a few blows, Ryne adjusted to compensate for speed, a smile playing across his face. The Alzari’s brow puckered in concentration as he continued his onslaught.
    Ryne faced Earthtouch—the Alzari shifting his feet, daggers pointed down, then bending slightly forward to dig deeper and connect with the Forms of the earth—with Voidwalk. In the Stance, Ryne became many times lighter, like a wisp upon the wind. Not even the dry leaves below him showed any effect from his great size. Ryne waited, relying on his Stance’s weightless air essences to counter whatever Styles the Alzari attempted when he attacked with the strength of earth essences behind his blows.
    As if part of the rock and soil, the assassin sank knee deep into the earth and flew forward, leaves and dirt spurting into the air with the path he made. His blades sliced at Ryne’s lower extremities before they rose up, and the man soared from the hole he’d created. Ryne sprung backward in a massive leap, floating on currents of air to avoid the strikes. Face drowned in sweat, the assassin’s feet touched the ground, feather soft, before he rushed forward, his breathing labored as he strived to reach Ryne.
    A sense of calm passed over Ryne. He already knew the man’s next attack. Almost every enemy he ever faced overestimated his size and strength and underestimated his speed and agility. This assassin was no different.
    As the Alzari swept forward and up, his blades stabbing one above the other in a Style called Climbing the Mountain, Ryne leaned back into Bending with the Wind—his body folding back on itself with effortless grace until the back of his head almost touched his thighs. Ryne kept his sword held out from his chest as his body curved away, the