Lakhoni twisted and punched out with both hands, aiming for her descending arm. His blows drove her strike wide. Lakhoni lunged and slid his dagger into the soft flesh just under her armpit. He jerked up once and the woman’s arm went limp. Her face went slack with pain and she crumpled.
A shout rang out. Simra’s voice! Lakhoni spun, doing his best to avoid the squirming, groaning people he had dropped. His breath caught. Cold sweat broke out on his neck. One of the attackers held Simra, a burly arm across her throat and a weapon pointed outward. The man yelled, “Drop yer metal or I knife ‘er!”
Lamorun felled another of the screaming attackers with a giant blow across his shoulders. Hilana was engaged with two of them, doing her best to keep their longer weapons away from her. She was using her katte and her dagger to deflect and try to score wounds across their arms and shoulders. She had no mark on her yet, but that wouldn’t last if they didn’t end this swiftly. Alronna, with the sword that she had not yet mastered, struggled to keep one woman with a jagged, pointed spear at bay. An attacker from the village clutched at his side, on his knees, next to Alronna. Lakhoni was alone to save the woman he loved. He calculated the distance between him and the man who had Simra. The man shouted gutturally again. “I said drop yer weapons or she dies!”
Lakhoni tensed every muscle in his legs and envisioned precisely each movement that he would make in the next second. He extended his hands, his dagger leading. He allowed the point to drop and adopted a defeated, scared expression.
He met the burly man’s gaze. “All right. Don’t hurt her, please.” He met Simra’s gaze for a brief moment, willing her to understand what he had planned. “We’ll put our weapons down.” Lakhoni pitched his voice so that only the man could hear, not his companions. The man grunted in satisfaction, and in that moment, his blade dipped slightly.
Lakhoni burst into motion, faster than the man could react. He dove at the man, snapping a kick at him and spinning. As he had expected, the man’s instinctive reaction was one of defense. The man stepped slightly backward, one of his feet catching on the uneven, grassy tuft behind him. The man’s sword lowered more and Lakhoni slammed into the man’s arm, shoving it wide. Lakhoni punched upward, shoving off the ground with a mighty jump and slamming the heel of his empty hand into the man’s face.
The man’s nose crumpled. His grip on Simra loosened. Lakhoni tore her free even as she stomped on the man’s foot hard. Lakhoni forced the man’s sword arm down and across Lakhoni’s knee. The arm cracked and went limp as the man’s shout pitched higher. Simra threw a punch into the man’s throat. Then another. Lakhoni wrenched the man’s sword free and lined a kick up, but Simra was already finishing him. She grabbed the back of the man’s head and slammed him face first onto her rising knee.
The man dropped soundlessly to the verdant earth.
Lakhoni spared a glance for Simra and handed her the man’s sword. “Stay safe.” He dashed toward Alronna, who now had two attackers pressing her backward. Clangs of steel on steel, heavy weapons on flesh, and shouts of pain and anger bounced off the dark stone. Sweat and blood and fear filled the air with a sour smell. Lakhoni barreled into one of the attackers—a leathery, bare-chested man swinging a heavy hammer at Alronna. He hooked a foot around the man’s ankle and twisted him, throwing him to the earth. Before the man could react, Lakhoni slashed his dagger across the back of the man’s knee. The man fell, screaming.
Lakhoni kept moving. His breath came evenly. His heart beat steadily. He was at one with every muscle, every limb, every breath. The hills and rocks and grass, the flailing attackers, the smoke from multiple fires—it all stood out crisp and clear. Lamorun gave a mighty growl and threw himself at the woman jabbing at him with a spear. Her spear snapped and Lamorun bear-hugged her, his arm muscles popping out of his forearm and biceps. She squeaked, Lamorun squeezed, and then he dropped her.
Lakhoni flashed back into movement, putting his back to Alronna’s. “Back to back!” He yelled and saw Hilana pair up with Lamorun in the same manner. Lakhoni scanned the area quickly. Four more attackers approached him and Alronna. Simra had her back to a hill and was holding her own against a wiry man with no hair at all on his head or face. Lamorun and Hilana held their weapons out and ready for the three people with barbed spears that poked at them. One was the shaggy man, Lombizo, who seemed to be the leader.
Lombizo tried to skewer Hilana with a fast thrust of his spear. Lamorun’s mighty arm simply punched the man’s spear down, burying its point in the dirt. Lamorun roared again and fell upon the hairy man.
Saylora, the woman who had pretended to go looking for a place for Lakhoni and his companions to rest, jabbed at Lakhoni. Lakhoni slapped her weapon out wide. He stepped inside her reach and drew blood from her weapon arm with a lightning fast slash. She countered quickly, cutting downward toward Lakhoni’s side. He rammed her backward with a powerful shoulder, then spun away from her and snapped a kick at her wrist. Her short blade fell from limp fingers and her high-pitched scream joined the chorus rising from the other attackers.
Lamorun and Hilana were rotating, trading partners every few strikes. Blood trailed down Hilana’s arms where someone had scored some hits. But she fought on, teeth bared in a grimace of anger.
Finding that nobody still faced him, Lakhoni spun and helped Alronna. As she deflected a spear’s slash wide, Lakhoni dropped low. He swept the attacker’s feet out from under her. He caught sight of Lombizo again. The shaggy man had retreated from the fight, one of his arms hanging lifelessly at his side. Lakhoni shouted at the man. “Nobody else has to die.”
Alronna chopped her attacker’s spear into two pieces, then kicked the man between his legs.
Lakhoni stomped down on a man trying to rise, pushing his face back into the rich mountain grass and earth. “Enough blood. Call off your people!”
The man snarled and shouted, but not to call off his people. “Finish them for our lord!” Lombizo’s grin was a rictus of madness. “For our Red Prince!” The last few attackers surged and more villagers came running.
His breathing still steady, fueled by frustrated and betrayed fury, Lakhoni burst into motion. He smoothly twisted to let a blade go by. He finished that attacker with a slash to the stomach. He called out to his companions. “Finish them off!”
Lakhoni dove for Lombizo. If he could finish their leader off, this might end quicker.
Movement from his left, somewhere above, caught Lakhoni’s eye. Lakhoni’s shoulder slammed into Lombizo’s chest, and Lakhoni bore the man to the ground.
A voice sliced through the furious battle, crisp and loud. “Feel the gods’ power!” A small, dark shape flew through the air toward where Lakhoni’s family fought.
Heart suddenly in his chest at the familiar voice, Lakhoni shoved off Lombizo’s body on the earth. “Get away!”
The shape was a pouch, no bigger than two fists clenched together. It trailed a string.
And the string was on fire.
Lakhoni flung himself toward Simra, who was backing from an attacker, fending him off with her blade. Lakhoni’s outstretched hands got hold of Simra. As the shape in the corner of Lakhoni’s eye hit the ground, the world went white. A noise the sound of a mountain slamming into the earth exploded. An invisible hand, as if from a god, slapped into Lakhoni’s back and side and lifted him off his feet.
Simra slipped from his grasp as he was thrown. The sound was physical, squeezing Lakhoni’s head. Flame erupted from where the pouch had hit. Rock and dirt scattered everywhere, bouncing off Lakhoni’s throbbing back. Shouts of pain filled the air, muffled by the ringing in Lakhoni’s ears.
Lakhoni’s vision darkened as he hit the ground. Consciousness wavered. Screams and cries blasted through the high-pitched ringing. He pulled himself away from the dark and got his hands under him, jamming his fingers into the rich loam. That figure. That voice.
A flash of memory. The same voice, in a circle in a huge cavern, grumping about snores.
G
adnar.
Hot fury filled Lakhoni. He pushed himself to his knees, hands still in the dirt and grass. His head swam and felt as if it were about to fall off his neck. Lakhoni took a slow, controlled breath, seeking his center. The ringing in his ears was already fading. The invisible hands wrapped around his head were loosening.
Gadnar had thrown black powder at them. He’d convinced the villagers to attack, then he’d tried to kill them all.
Just like the king’s raiders more than a year ago. Gadnar had failed. Lakhoni lived. What of the others?
Simra! Lakhoni forced his eyes to open, fighting the temptation to shake his head to clear the haze. Keeping his breath slow and controlled, he shifted backward, upright on his knees.
What had been a battleground was now shattered earth. Attackers whom Lakhoni and his companions had wounded to remove them from the fray lay dead, broken by the powerful explosion. A sharp, thick smell filled Lakhoni’s nostrils, making his eyes itch. Groans and cries filled the air, mixing with a thick cloud of dust. “Simra!” Lakhoni’s voice felt like it had to claw its way out. “Alronna!” Tears leaked from his eyes, reacting to the dirt and smell.
“Here,” Alronna answered. She was on one knee, using the Sword of Nubal to try and lever herself to her feet. Blood dripped from her nose.
“Where’s Simra?”
“Lakhoni?” Her voice was quiet. Where was she? Movement came from near a rocky mound.
Lakhoni scrubbed the tears and dirt from his eyes. “Simra!” He lurched to his feet, catching sight of his dagger and grabbing it as he rose. Dirt and small pieces of rock cascaded off Simra as she pushed to her hands and knees. Lakhoni dropped next to her, his head spinning. He was still having trouble seeing.
Simra’s face was screwed up in pain. “My back.” She made a weak effort to reach over her shoulder, but her arm fell. She winced and gasped.
Lakhoni steadied Simra and moved slightly to see her back. Her tunic was torn and blood seeped from several scrapes. He gingerly parted the tunic at a tear to get a better look. A bruise was already forming right between her shoulder blades. “Something hit you. It’s a bruise. Some scrapes too.”
Simra said nothing, but met Lakhoni’s gaze as he moved back to her front. The pain in her eyes stoked the fury burning in his core to a roaring heat. Though it made his head swim, he scanned the village nearby. Where had the murderer gone? There was no sign of him.
“Brother!” Lamorun’s voice thundered through the slowly clearing air. “Where are you!”
“Over here,” Lakhoni answered. He turned his attention back to Simra. “Can you move?”
“It hurts to breathe,” Simra said. Her voice was weak and hoarse. Like it had been after he’d pulled her out of the river.
Lakhoni’s heart skipped. His breath caught in his throat. Not again. He would not lose her again. “How bad is it?”
“Hurts,” Simra said. “But could be worse.”
Her voice sounded a little better. He helped her sit all the way up and maneuver so she could lean against the stone doorway of a home built into one of the hills. Lakhoni scanned the area again. More people moved in the area where the black powder exploded. Alronna had gotten to her feet and was limping around. She appeared to be looking for something, although she was using her sword as a cane. Lamorun was on the other side of the broken ground. He bent toward a figure on the ground, then straightened, moving on.
“I don’t see him,” Lakhoni said, turning back to Simra. He clenched his jaw, instantly regretting the strange, spinning sensation that caused in his skull. “He got away again.”
“Was that Gadnar?” Simra put her hands on the ground and pushed herself up straighter, her head cocking and eyes focusing on something right behind Lakhoni.
“Yes.” Lakhoni spat dirt and blood into the grass. “He was here. Hiding probably. Hoping these poor people would kill us.” His throat tightened. How many was Gadnar going to kill? No. Lakhoni shoved that question away, answering it silently. Not one more. He was not getting away this time. Lakhoni carefully pushed to his feet, noticing a new pain in his left calf. He must have twisted it when the explosion threw him.
“And he threw black powder…” she trailed off.
Lakhoni turned at her sudden silence, wincing at the pains all over his body. What had he done to his calf? “What is it?”
“Lakhoni,” Simra leaned forward. Her voice had already grown stronger. “Does your leg hurt?”
Lakhoni furrowed his brows. “Yes. Is it cut?” Simra reached out and did something and the ache in his leg transformed into a spear of fire that sliced all up and down his leg. “Ancestors.” He gasped and forced the pain away. “What did you do?”
Simra looked up at him, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes were soft with worry. “You should be able to see it.”
“See what?” He looked down and held his leg forward. Something strange moved with his leg. “Oh. You mean that jagged knife of rock?”
“The one that’s stuck in your calf? Yes.” Simra shook her head and groaned, the color leaving her face. “Oh, remind me not to move my head ever again.” She swallowed and reached for her pouches. “We need to take that out.”
Lakhoni met her gaze. “Probably a good i—”
“She is gone!” Lamorun’s bellow thundered through the hill village. “Hilana is gone!”
“No,” Simra gasped.
A sinking feeling flowed through Lakhoni. Lamorun must have found Hilana’s body. Lakhoni closed his eyes. His throat tightened. He should never have taken her captive. Never have allowed her to join them. Grief and fury at Gadnar fought in him, grief winning for the moment. “Lamorun.” He caught his brother’s eye as Lamorun crossed the area to him and Simra. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Lamorun swung his cudgel, a snarl twisting his face. “Sorry doesn’t free her from his grasp. We go now.”
Alronna stood beside Lamorun. “Let’s go. He’s not going to get away from us this time.”
Lakhoni felt like his brain was frozen. “Free her?” Clarity came. “Gadnar has her?” Relief flooded into Lakhoni. At least Hilana still lived.
“She is gone from here.” Lamorun gestured back to the broken battlefield. “He must have taken her.”
“Or maybe she went after him,” Simra said. “Lakhoni, you can’t be standing when I pull this out.” Her warm hand alighted on his leg, above the throbbing pain.
“Possible,” Lamorun said. “Even so. We have to go after them. She will need help in either case.”
Lakhoni gave a careful nod. “Let’s get moving.” He took a step forward and his injured leg nearly collapsed. White fire coursed up his leg and his vision darkened for a moment.
Lamorun’s strong arms caught Lakhoni. “What is happening?”
“He has a rock in his leg,” Simra said. “We have to take it out.”
Lamorun lowered Lakhoni to the ground in front of Simra. “Take it out.”
Lakhoni heard something in his brother’s voice. “Lamorun, wait.”
“Alronna?” Lamorun turned to their sister.
She glanced at Lamorun, then to Lakhoni. “Catch up fast.” She and Lamorun took off at a clumsy run, both of them limping.
“Wait!” Lakhoni tried to push himself up, but Simra dropped both of her hands to his stomach and pushed him back down.
“You have a knife of rock stuck in your leg.” She ran her hand down his injured leg and bent his knee. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“They can’t go after him without me.” Lakhoni hissed in pain as Simra poked around his injury. “He’s too strong!” Lamorun and Simra disappeared out of sight as they passed the last hill house in the village, heading up the slope of the foothills.
“You would do no good in this state.” Simra pulled a soft leather strip from one of her pouches.
“They should have waited.” He dug his fingers into the ground as Simra used the leather for a tourniquet above the wound in his calf. Darts of fire washed up hi
s leg. He forced his leg to stay put as she worked.
“Says the boy who jumped in a raging river to save me from the exact same raging river.” Simra tightened the tourniquet with a small peg, turning it a few times to cut off blood flow. “Just hold still. This will be fast.” She unfolded a small packet, revealing several needles and some rolls of thread made from hapcha gut.
“We can’t let them fight him alone.” Lakhoni kept his eyes glued to where his brother and sister had disappeared. He strained to hear what might be happening beyond the rise, but the groans and weeping of the wounded villagers were too loud. He suppressed the urge to yell at all of them to be silent.
“You would do the same thing and you know it.” Simra dipped one of her needles into a small, clay vial of strongly fermented wine.
“I wouldn’t leave my family behind.”
“And they will not let family be hurt by that snake.” Simra threaded her needle and set it down on the unfolded packet. “You know Lamorun cares for Hilana.”
“More than he will admit.” Lakhoni met her gaze, then looked at the rock protruding from his leg. Only a little blood had seeped out from the wound.
“Don’t watch.” Simra handed him a flint and steel, along with a handful of tinder from another pouch. “Start a fire.” Her hands went to his leg and squeezed gently.
“Why?” Despite the question, Lakhoni did what she asked. He turned and leaned somewhat to try to spark the fire a little farther away from his own body.
“Need to seal the wound after I sew it up.” Simra pressed the flesh of his leg tight. This sent a wave of pain so strong that Lakhoni gasped instead of blowing on the tiny flames in the tinder. “Since we both know you’re going to jump back on your feet as if you weren’t seriously injured and act like you aren’t a human who needs to rest.”
Lakhoni fed some nearby twigs into his tiny fire. “We need more wood.” He forced what he knew was an unconvincing smile at Simra. “You know me so well.” He reached for a nearby mountain bush and broke some small branches off it. “Now get that thing out of me. I have to go after them.” He glared at one of the villagers who had pushed to his feet and glanced over at Lakhoni and Simra. “You saw what we did to your people. Stay back.”
Red Prince Page 24
