still lay unconscious all around her. Ashidi and Minta were away in the distance, struggling with a second grappling hook in the pouring rain. No one responded to her cry. She whipped her dagger from its sheath and attacked the rope just below where it met with the parapet. It may as well have been steel. She pressed down and sawed as if she was cutting into bone. A few strands frayed and gave, followed by a few more, but then a shadow fell over her. She looked up just in time to see the ragged figure of a man clambering onto the parapet above her.

She backed away with the dagger in her left hand. He leapt down, and she stepped backwards over the bodies of still-unconscious warriors as she kept her eyes trained on the rusty sickle that he wielded. Its faded wooden handle was stained with blood, as was the c...

Please subscribe to keep reading.