Chapter Thirty-Five—Swords and Fists

Shiro rolled out of the way as the Scopion Guard’s scimitar cut into the rug where he had been.

Razul turned, screamed and with a flurry of fists, sent the climbing Scorpions falling backward out of the window.

Shiro summersaulted to his feet as Razul turned swiftly and struck their first attacker in the face. The force of the blow caused a cracking sound to come out of the guard’s neck as he twirled and thumped across the rug like a hewn tree.

The samurai, being accustomed to having a blade in his hand, wasted no time and reached down to grasp the weapon by the hilt just as the door crashed in and fell, nearly flattening him.

Shai’na, screamed and backed away.

The guards in the doorway shouted as they dropped their battering ram and rushed into the room with their scimitars.

One turned immediately toward Shai’na, who, still backing away as fast as she could, wasn’t fast enough.

“No!” Kanu hissed and moved in to protect her, pushing her aside. Shiro lunged forward to save him, but he was cut down in a spray of blood.

Even so, he struck off the attacker’s hand while more of his allies poured into the chamber. He screamed, spraying blood across the carpets as he fell into his allies.

Ali jumped back, screaming and grasping for anything he could throw. He tossed a heavy vase into the Scorpions, further stunning them. This gave Razul the split second he needed to shoulder his way into the group of guards, striking one in the face and cracking the sword arm of another with nothing more than a top-tier adventurer’s powerful fists.

A large guard with a thick scimitar came into the doorway and swiped his blade across the open air where Raz had been standing, but the adventurer was too quick, and jumped back.

As he moved back, the guards moved forward, slashing forward furiously with their shimmering blades in the lamplight. Amidst their shouting and snarling, Shiro realized they were taking no prisoners.

The big guard came directly for Shiro, slicing the air several times and closing the distance fast. The isekai brought up his own scimitar and blocked the last blow, the impact of which jarred his wrists.

Almost losing the sword, Shiro struck back, the polished metal of his blade flashing through the air as he pressed forward like a razor leaf blown on a powerful wind.

Surprisingly the swordsman was agile for his size. He shrunk back, then came in with a quick thrust, receded quickly and slicing defensively.

Everything was a whirlwind of confusion, of screaming and flashing swords. Shiro snarled, as Ali shouted curses, and Razul actually laughed, moved in, but was pushed back. Even with his top-tier status, a sharp blade could sheer him in two.

The big Scorpion pressed his advantage again, pushing Shiro back with bellows of anger and fast sword strikes. Every time Shiro moved in to attack, the Scoprion shrunk back.

These black-clad warriors knew their trade.

Coming forward again with a horizontally attack that might have cracked Shiro’s wrists, he crouched below his attackers strike just in time for the heavy furniture behind him to take the blow. The wood cracked and chipped, bits falling over his shoulders.

Ali scream and slammed a chair over the sword wielder’s head and he fell. Waisting no time, Ali turned to face the other guards piling into the chamber, which was quickly filling and making it hard to maneuver in.

Even so, Shiro, Ali and Raz were a formidable foe, even for so many Scoprions. Razul was at the window making a ruckus, probably pushing the climbing Scorpion Guards back.

Shai’na cried out as she backed away across the floor, retreating to the back rooms with Kanu in her grasp and her cheeks slick with tears.

Keeping the other attackers at bay, Shiro snarled, swinging his razor-sharp blade in quick arcs about him. The Scoprions jumped back, then came forward, their blades arching through Shiro’s space as he desperately defended himself and Ali from their attacks.

Razul twirled between the other guards, cracking wrists and slamming his palms into their faces.

As Shiro cut down another man in a spray of blood and death cries, Shiro flicked his eyes up to get a glance at Razul. He was doing well to hold his own, but the hallways outside Shai’na’s chambers were packed with guards in black silk.

The men in front of Shiro cried out and charged him all at once.

Ali hit one in the face with his chair, but was taken down when another attacker slammed the hilt of his scimitar into his shoulder hard enough to make him spin around and lose his balance.

“Ali!” Razul shouted, and moved in, taking the Scoprion by the wrist. He pulled the man forward and brought his elbow into the man’s nose. A gush of blood came forth amidst the crack of bone.

“Agh!” Shiro snarled, swinging his blade as fast as he could, the staccato sounds of metallic clashes filling his ears along with the shouts of twenty angry men made the moment a cacophony of confusion and blood.

The Scorpion Guards pressed him, their blades slicing, jabbing and chopping in his direction as Shiro pushed himself against the heavy furniture to put more space between himself and them, but failed.

As he was swarmed, something touched his shoulder, causing a cold pinching pain across his arms as screaming men rushed him, their hands and fists and elbows pummeling him into submission.

First he was thrust to his knees, his eyes landing on Ali momentarily who was only moving somewhat, his face pressed into the rugs.

The samurai screamed.

Shiro’s heart thundered in his chest as he cried out wordlessly in frustration, anger and fear—fear for Ali and his other companions.

And then his body was shunted to the floor, his face coming into contact with the rug hard enough to feel like a padded fist to his face. He cried out as his hand was twisted around over his back, forcing him to remain still.

“Shiro!” Ali muttered.

Someone cried out loudly along with several others as thumping and clashing of blades sounded past the sea of upturned shoes and legs before Shiro’s eyes.

“Ali!” Shiro called again.

“In there!” one of the guards cried and feet thundered into the bath chamber.

Shai’na screamed, her cry echoing across the tiles in the other chamber. “What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?!”

“You are traitors to our glorious sultan and to the Abassir Empire!” a man snarled. “You will be punished for this!”

“We did nothing wrong!”

“Tell it to the sultan,” he bellowed.

“What?!”

“You dogs killed my man servant!”

Shai’na suddenly screamed, a short, high-pitched yelp of pain, but her cries were drowned out as Razul snarled wordlessly, his body completely obscured by the press of guards holding him down with many more blades angled toward the floor.

“You sheep lovers!” he screamed.

Shiro wanted to sigh, but was too agitated to worry about Razul’s further verbal resistance. “You camel humping, shit eating—gah!”

“Shut your mouth, you vile swine!”

“Get up!” the guard above Shiro commanded, and he was hauled to his feet by no less than four men.

Legs buckling at first, Shiro then took a knee to the stomach. All the wind was forced out of his lungs as he bowled over from the force of the blow and the involuntary reaction of his muscles. Pain enveloped his stomach and the air stopped for a moment more.

“Move!”

He kicked his feet, sucking in hair as fast as he could amidst the pain.

“What of the other one? Is he dead?”

“No!” Ali screamed, but then he too was hit in the stomach with an arching fist from their captors. “Hnngah!” he coughed.

As the swarm of Scopion Guards thinned, Shiro and Ali were marched out of the chamber. He tried to turn his head to see if he could get a glimpse of Razul or Shai’na, but he saw nothing.

“One dead,” a guard said, “one wounded. The others are fine.”

In the corridors, guests looked on with startled curiosity.

How did they know?

It must have been Kalina…

She was the only one who could have told the sultan’s men of their plans and whereabouts.

Suddenly Shiro felt something. It wasn’t physical. It was a conveyance… once of alarm, but weather it was from Jessamine or not, he couldn’t say.

“Where are you taking us?” Shiro demanded, risking another beating as he glanced about wildly for something—or someone—who wasn’t there.

“Quiet!”

He didn’t need to ask—not really. It was clear what direction they were headed in. They wear being marched to the throne chamber

But why there? Why now?