Fire and blood

As Alexis drove her elbow into the archers face, to his credit the surprise did not last very long, a few heartbeats at the most. These men were hunting and ready for confrontation. They expected their targets to put up a fight.

Dropping his bow as he reeled back, the man suddenly twisted on his left leg bending his torso under his waist, sending his robes twirling, as his right leg shot out from under him, lightning fast, to connect with a kick against her stomach, putting some distant between himself and his attacker. Blinking tears of pain at his broken nose, he pulled two serrated knives from his belt facing his opponent.

The man was nimble on his feet, like a dancer or a pugilist and she saw the grim determination on his face. If he was to die he would sell his life dearly. She had seen men like these before. Zealots.

The smell of smoke and burning wood wafted through the night air. More intensely than a camp fire. Up ahead past a run down hovels and warehouse's, a bright glow was starting to cast flickering shadows across the area.

The man lifted his face to the sky and a piercing, ondulating scream left his lips, announcing to his people they were not alone.

Alexis heard footsteps echoing in the night nearby, against the wooden planks of the piers. She had stumbled upon a much larger party than she had anticipated. As she heard the sound of rushing feet behind her, she was the wounded man circle around the surviving archer...