by Lena August
Chapter 6
A knife comes flying through the air, I dive to avoid it, but Calder is not so lucky. It embeds itself deeply in his neck; I can see the tip of the blade poking out the other side. Deliriously, he grabs the handle and yanks it free. Immediately, blood spurts forth like a fountain. There is nothing I can do for him now so I turn away, but I can still hear him choking on his own blood. I sense someone coming at me from behind and I spin around, slashing with my blade.
My attacker is huge, easily over six feet. He avoids my strike without difficulty and retaliates. I manage to deflect his blow off the blade of my knife, but the strength of the attack sends a jolt up my shoulder, nearly dislocating it. With strength and size against me, I know I have to be quick to make up for it. I hear a girl scream in pain. Is it Tegan? Kyla? Whoever, it is, I cannot help them now. My assailant comes at me again, this time aiming high. I hit the ground to avoid him and, ignoring the pain that has reignited in my side, roll toward his feet. I manage to slash at his lower leg, severing his Achilles’ Tendon. His leg gives out and he falls to the ground. My hand trembling, I stab downward towards his heart.
Before I can stand back up, someone grabs me, forcing me to the ground and pins me down with his foot. I don’t even have my knife; it is still lodged in the body, far out of reach so I am completely unarmed. He grins as he drives his blade toward my heart. Before it can connect, Eaton stumbles into him while deep in combat. The knife misses my heart. Instead, it engraves a deep cut in my stomach, but at least I am alive…for now. Using his momentary distraction against him, I kick my opponent hard in the ribs. He doubles over and drops his knife. I dive for it at the same time he does. We struggle for a moment until I swing my elbow back, hitting him in the stomach. I grab the knife and bring it swiftly across his neck. Hot blood gushes over my hands and I force myself not to gag.
I spring to my feet, noticing that Eaton is still struggling to defend himself and sprint over to help him. Before I can get there, his challenger ends Eaton’s life with a single deadly thrust and then turns toward me, casually wiping his blade on his pants. I grip my knife tighter to keep my hands from shaking as I jump over a body to meet him. I try to dodge his first strike, but I am exhausted, my reflexes slower, and my ribs and stomach ache in protest to any movement. His blow connects at my arm, but the cut seems shallow enough. I try to strike back, but he jumps out of range as I lunge toward him.
My side bursts with pain as I overextend myself so I am forced to stumble a few steps back. He comes at me again, but this time I am ready. As he slashes his knife toward me, I bring mine down onto his forearm. I doubt I did much damage, but he screams in pain, the weapon falling from his hand. Before I can react, he punches me in the stomach. When his fist hits my gash, white lights explode in my vision. He responds with another blow to the head. I stumble around, disoriented. I hear laughter, and realize it must be coming from his surviving companions.
A hand grasps around my throat, closing off my airway. I struggle for breath, but already my vision has a black tinge around it. My resistance becomes weaker and weaker, and I know I am about to die. Then I hear a surprised yell and the hand falls away from my throat. I fall on to the ground, retching and massaging my neck. My vision clears and I see my attacker lying nearby, his eyes are glassy, a knife lodged in his back.
A tall, dark haired boy retrieves the dagger and turns to face the survivors. To my pain-clouded brain, it looks as if they are nervous, which seems pretty stupid since there are about five of them and only one of him. My rescuer advances on them slowly, a knife held in each hand. When he is only a few feet from them he launches into action, taking one down within seconds. He fights with a fierce yet elegant grace, slashing and stabbing, the daggers acting like deadly extensions to his hands.
When the last body falls to the ground, he wipes the sweat from his brow and cleans the blood off his knife, casually, as if he has done it many times. As he turns toward me, I try to sit up. However, now that the adrenalin has worn off, the pain from my stomach and ribs won’t allow it, so I lie back. My skin feels cold and clammy, I know I have lost a lot of blood and the gash on my stomach is still bleeding freely.
As the stranger approaches, I wish I had my knife, or something to defend myself with. However, after watching him easily dispatch five heavily armed Murderers, I know that no number of knives would protect me if he decided to kill me. Once he gets within five steps of me, I force my aching body into the sitting position, ignoring the stabbing pain from my stomach. If I am going to die, I will not die lying down. The boy regards me coldly.
“Don’t try and move, and don’t even think about running away. Not that you would get very far,” he warns. His voice is deep and dangerous.
He turns away from me and bends down next to the body of a girl, stirring feebly. I recognize her as Kyla. When he straightens up he calls to someone I can’t see.
“Heath! Get over here; I’m going to need help carrying them.”
A younger blonde boy comes out from the bushes and strides over to the other one.
“You take the smaller one,” the dark haired boy orders and I assume he means me.
Heath, the blonde, gives a resigned sigh, “This is too dangerous, if Marek finds out about them, he’ll kill us both.”
The dark haired one scoffs, “He can’t afford to kill me, who else would he get to fight his fights for him.”
“Well, do you really think he will let you live once he finds out about your little plan?”
“Just shut up and do as you’re told, let me worry about Marek.”
I hear Heath grumbling, but I cannot make out his words. Then he heads over to me. He glances at my deep cut, still spilling out blood.
“I take it you can’t walk?” He asks.
I just shake my head. The boy holds out his hand and I take it, scrambling to my feet. The effort creates a wave of nausea and I lean on a tree to keep myself from falling. The boy stares at me skeptically before calling to the other.
“Flynn, is this really worth it? The Scorch will be all over us once they find out you killed clan members, and carrying two Innocents will only slow us down.”
Flynn curses, he already has Kyla slung over his shoulder. “I can handle the Scorch. Just help me get these two back to camp and then you can just forget about the whole thing.”
“How did I ever get the misfortune of getting stuck with you as a patrols partner?” Heath asks.
Flynn gives him a crooked half smile, “The numbers of times I’ve saved your life out here, you should be thankful I’m your partner.”
Heath just shakes his head and heaves me up, lifting me in a fireman’s carry. The pain is so severe that I allow myself to give in a drift into unconsciousness.
