killing Tinjtol. But as leader, he had to think of what was best for all, and that did not include leaving them under the leadership of his brother. “Are you afraid of me?”
The taunt seemed to infuriate Tinjtol. With an angry snarl, he raced forward again. Damon jerked to the side at the last moment and brought his leg out to hook it behind Tinjtol’s with a hard kick. His brother lost his balance and stumbled forward, nearly knocking over one of the torches.
Damon moved in the moment he fell and pressed a knee into the man’s back. He slid his knife to his throat and held it pressed there, solid, unmoving. “End this, bother. Without death. Surrender and leave.”
“No.” The denial came with a strangled roar of anger.
Damon pressed harder. His mind raced and the blood ran cold in his veins. “Tinjtol, beg off. Now, or you will force me to kill you.”
Tinjtol dropped flat to his belly. The motion threw Damon off balance. He toppled forward, catching himself before he slammed into the ground. When he spun on his knee, Tinjtol was ready to slice at him again.
“Stop!”
Tinjtol jerked slightly at the high-pitched yell.
“This must stop now.” Michelle pushed her way through the crowd. “The white woman is gone, Tinjtol. Ask Damon, he understands now. He disposed of the woman. She is no longer a threat to any of us.”
Damon’s heart sank. Disposed of? What had she done? “Mother, explain yourself.” He swept the crowd, looking for Seiret.
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched enough barbarism from this tribe to last me a lifetime. I do not want to see more.” She looked at Tinjtol before her eyes met Damon’s again. “Neither of you should have to die because of that woman.”
Tinjtol growled, and his eyes shifted to Damon. “Does she tell the truth?”
He had no idea. Had his mother truly gotten rid of her? If she had…how? Fear lanced through him, tightening his chest. Surely her hatred had not crossed the bounds to madness. Whatever her reasons, he believed Myla was no longer within the tribe.
He spoke to Tinjtol. “Yes. She is gone.”
Tinjtol straightened and walked to the center of the circle. “I claim the right of bajluk .”
The crowd around them remained fixated on the spectacle they presented. There were nods of agreement, though they were heavily outweighed by the members who supported their current bajluk . It gave him hope.
Damon shook his head. “You will lead our people to certain death as bajluk . I cannot let you do that.”
“Then we finish.”
The color drained from his mother’s face. “No.”
He looked away from her. He needed to end this and find out what she had done to Myla. He turned to Tinjtol. “Come brother. We finish this now.”
Tinjtol flew forward in a flurry of slashing arcs, moving with deadly precision. His knife sliced across Damon’s chest. Damon leaned back, deflecting most of the blow. He followed his brother’s motion around, and as he passed, Damon wrapped an arm around Tinjtol’s neck. With a harsh tug, Damon drew him back, locking his wrist to press tight against his brother’s throat.
The offensive move stalled Tinjtol’s forward motion and jerked him to a sharp halt. His legs sprawled out before him as Damon dropped to the ground, increasing the pressure of the hold. Tinjtol flipped his knife around and brought it back sharply where it sank deep in the muscle of Damon’s thigh.
Pain radiated up from the wound, but Damon clenched his arm more, bearing down on Tinjtol’s windpipe until he wheezed for breath. Damon squeezed, hating the gurgle of desperation as veins bulged at Tinjtol’s temple. “I have no wish to kill my own brother.” He looked around at the people watching. “Let Tinjtol leave us with his life.”
Tinjtol shook his head, his words a raspy growl of anger. “Finish this, Maglayo. You will not shame me this way.”
Damon closed his eyes. There was no honor in this death. “No. I will not
The taunt seemed to infuriate Tinjtol. With an angry snarl, he raced forward again. Damon jerked to the side at the last moment and brought his leg out to hook it behind Tinjtol’s with a hard kick. His brother lost his balance and stumbled forward, nearly knocking over one of the torches.
Damon moved in the moment he fell and pressed a knee into the man’s back. He slid his knife to his throat and held it pressed there, solid, unmoving. “End this, bother. Without death. Surrender and leave.”
“No.” The denial came with a strangled roar of anger.
Damon pressed harder. His mind raced and the blood ran cold in his veins. “Tinjtol, beg off. Now, or you will force me to kill you.”
Tinjtol dropped flat to his belly. The motion threw Damon off balance. He toppled forward, catching himself before he slammed into the ground. When he spun on his knee, Tinjtol was ready to slice at him again.
“Stop!”
Tinjtol jerked slightly at the high-pitched yell.
“This must stop now.” Michelle pushed her way through the crowd. “The white woman is gone, Tinjtol. Ask Damon, he understands now. He disposed of the woman. She is no longer a threat to any of us.”
Damon’s heart sank. Disposed of? What had she done? “Mother, explain yourself.” He swept the crowd, looking for Seiret.
She planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve watched enough barbarism from this tribe to last me a lifetime. I do not want to see more.” She looked at Tinjtol before her eyes met Damon’s again. “Neither of you should have to die because of that woman.”
Tinjtol growled, and his eyes shifted to Damon. “Does she tell the truth?”
He had no idea. Had his mother truly gotten rid of her? If she had…how? Fear lanced through him, tightening his chest. Surely her hatred had not crossed the bounds to madness. Whatever her reasons, he believed Myla was no longer within the tribe.
He spoke to Tinjtol. “Yes. She is gone.”
Tinjtol straightened and walked to the center of the circle. “I claim the right of bajluk .”
The crowd around them remained fixated on the spectacle they presented. There were nods of agreement, though they were heavily outweighed by the members who supported their current bajluk . It gave him hope.
Damon shook his head. “You will lead our people to certain death as bajluk . I cannot let you do that.”
“Then we finish.”
The color drained from his mother’s face. “No.”
He looked away from her. He needed to end this and find out what she had done to Myla. He turned to Tinjtol. “Come brother. We finish this now.”
Tinjtol flew forward in a flurry of slashing arcs, moving with deadly precision. His knife sliced across Damon’s chest. Damon leaned back, deflecting most of the blow. He followed his brother’s motion around, and as he passed, Damon wrapped an arm around Tinjtol’s neck. With a harsh tug, Damon drew him back, locking his wrist to press tight against his brother’s throat.
The offensive move stalled Tinjtol’s forward motion and jerked him to a sharp halt. His legs sprawled out before him as Damon dropped to the ground, increasing the pressure of the hold. Tinjtol flipped his knife around and brought it back sharply where it sank deep in the muscle of Damon’s thigh.
Pain radiated up from the wound, but Damon clenched his arm more, bearing down on Tinjtol’s windpipe until he wheezed for breath. Damon squeezed, hating the gurgle of desperation as veins bulged at Tinjtol’s temple. “I have no wish to kill my own brother.” He looked around at the people watching. “Let Tinjtol leave us with his life.”
Tinjtol shook his head, his words a raspy growl of anger. “Finish this, Maglayo. You will not shame me this way.”
Damon closed his eyes. There was no honor in this death. “No. I will not
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