Kun Nakia launched herself from the high limestone ledge, dropping through thirty paces of empty night air without a sound.
She was good. Even N'varu had to give her that.
She dragged the flat of her curved blade along a vertical rock fissure, throwing bright orange sparks into the dark as she arrested her descent.
Kicking off a narrow stone outcrop, she vaulted over the shattered remains of a ballista carriage and landed soundlessly in the pulverized shale.
The white dust swallowed her landing softly, like a hunting cat. Now that N'varu was watching her movements, the woman was moving like a cat.
Graceful and deadly
Around the basin, the surviving Tsanka spearmen held their breath, their bruised hands gripping the dirt as their supreme leader entered the killing zone alone.
The small red-headed viper around her neck hissed against the cold mountain wind, flattening its scaled head against her leather collar as it sensed the looming shadow.
