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Authors: Joshua P. Simon
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museum.”
“Where’s his partner?” asked the other.
Rondel glanced over his shoulder, anxious. Good question.
“Who cares? Just kill him. His body will fetch a nice reward back in Zafar.”
Crap. You better be doing something productive, Andrasta.
They dropped Shadya and the woman scooted backward across the rock. The two men each drew twin scimitars.
Rondel gulped. I didn’t expect that.
They separated, coming at him from the left and right. Not a mark of fear shone on their faces.
Four swords against one. Now what? What does Andrasta always tell me when I fight? “Quit thinking. Just act.”
You’re doing it again. “Act!” Andrasta’s voice screamed in his head.
He took two quick steps, parried a hasty swipe, and lunged, sword piercing the man’s gut to his right. He withdrew it quickly. Scimitars fell to the rock with a clatter. The man crumpled.
Rondel spun. Dancing blades and hurried curses met him.
His opponent’s right arm swept high. Rondel ducked. The man’s left arm swept low. Rondel jumped. He landed as the two blades came at him in a crisscross pattern, weaving in and out of a figure eight. Rondel managed to bring his sword up several times as he backed away from the spinning scimitars, but each time it was cast aside with ease. He drew his sword back lest he lose fingers on his right hand as well.
He dove to his right and rolled to his knees, unsheathing his dagger. His opponent followed quickly. Rondel threw the dagger with his damaged hand. The uneven throw worked to his advantage, wobbling in the air so the man could not deflect it. The blade bit into the man’s thigh.
About time something good came out of that hand.
The man howled. He dropped one of the scimitars to yank the dagger free. Rondel charged. The man turned aside Rondel’s thrust, causing him to lose his balance. He used his momentum and latched onto his opponent, taking them both to the ground.
They grappled, twisting and turning, hands clawing at each other’s face and throat. A fist struck Rondel in the jaw. He saw stars. Half in a daze, he was thrown on his back and mounted.
The man reached for his sword. Rondel blinked away the stars and jammed his thumb into the man’s open thigh wound. His scream echoed off the stone alcove of the pool. Rondel pushed harder with his thumb, twisting knuckle deep into the warm flesh until the howl grew into a childlike whine. The man arced backward in agony. Rondel pushed him off, snatched up the man’s scimitar, and thrust it into his chest. He shuddered and went still.
Somewhere above, a wet hack sounded. Andrasta’s muttered curses followed.
There’s where she went. She found others.
In the resulting quiet, Shadya sobbed. Back against the rock face, she sat with knees drawn up to her chest. Dark, wet hair streamed down the side of her round face. Eyes red with tears stared with fear.
Rondel hurried over to her. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
She looked up as if seeing him for the first time. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Rondel reciprocated the hug. She trembled in the cool evening air.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
She pulled back and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. A sniffle followed. “It was awful. I tried to run away but I fell into the pool.”
“Their voices seemed familiar.”
She nodded. “The guards at the gate of Zafar. They assumed I would come here. They expected to have their fun with me since they thought I’d be traveling alone.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, they said there were others waiting by horses.”
“Not anymore.” Andrasta looked over the two Rondel had killed as she approached. Her head bobbed in what appeared to be approval. “Is she hurt?”
“I’m fine,” said Shadya.
“Why didn’t you use your sorcery? Andrasta asked.
“It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just raise a hand and point whenever I want. I would have had to create a ward and I didn’t
“Where’s his partner?” asked the other.
Rondel glanced over his shoulder, anxious. Good question.
“Who cares? Just kill him. His body will fetch a nice reward back in Zafar.”
Crap. You better be doing something productive, Andrasta.
They dropped Shadya and the woman scooted backward across the rock. The two men each drew twin scimitars.
Rondel gulped. I didn’t expect that.
They separated, coming at him from the left and right. Not a mark of fear shone on their faces.
Four swords against one. Now what? What does Andrasta always tell me when I fight? “Quit thinking. Just act.”
You’re doing it again. “Act!” Andrasta’s voice screamed in his head.
He took two quick steps, parried a hasty swipe, and lunged, sword piercing the man’s gut to his right. He withdrew it quickly. Scimitars fell to the rock with a clatter. The man crumpled.
Rondel spun. Dancing blades and hurried curses met him.
His opponent’s right arm swept high. Rondel ducked. The man’s left arm swept low. Rondel jumped. He landed as the two blades came at him in a crisscross pattern, weaving in and out of a figure eight. Rondel managed to bring his sword up several times as he backed away from the spinning scimitars, but each time it was cast aside with ease. He drew his sword back lest he lose fingers on his right hand as well.
He dove to his right and rolled to his knees, unsheathing his dagger. His opponent followed quickly. Rondel threw the dagger with his damaged hand. The uneven throw worked to his advantage, wobbling in the air so the man could not deflect it. The blade bit into the man’s thigh.
About time something good came out of that hand.
The man howled. He dropped one of the scimitars to yank the dagger free. Rondel charged. The man turned aside Rondel’s thrust, causing him to lose his balance. He used his momentum and latched onto his opponent, taking them both to the ground.
They grappled, twisting and turning, hands clawing at each other’s face and throat. A fist struck Rondel in the jaw. He saw stars. Half in a daze, he was thrown on his back and mounted.
The man reached for his sword. Rondel blinked away the stars and jammed his thumb into the man’s open thigh wound. His scream echoed off the stone alcove of the pool. Rondel pushed harder with his thumb, twisting knuckle deep into the warm flesh until the howl grew into a childlike whine. The man arced backward in agony. Rondel pushed him off, snatched up the man’s scimitar, and thrust it into his chest. He shuddered and went still.
Somewhere above, a wet hack sounded. Andrasta’s muttered curses followed.
There’s where she went. She found others.
In the resulting quiet, Shadya sobbed. Back against the rock face, she sat with knees drawn up to her chest. Dark, wet hair streamed down the side of her round face. Eyes red with tears stared with fear.
Rondel hurried over to her. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
She looked up as if seeing him for the first time. She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Rondel reciprocated the hug. She trembled in the cool evening air.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
She pulled back and wiped the tears away from her cheeks. A sniffle followed. “It was awful. I tried to run away but I fell into the pool.”
“Their voices seemed familiar.”
She nodded. “The guards at the gate of Zafar. They assumed I would come here. They expected to have their fun with me since they thought I’d be traveling alone.” Her eyes widened. “Wait, they said there were others waiting by horses.”
“Not anymore.” Andrasta looked over the two Rondel had killed as she approached. Her head bobbed in what appeared to be approval. “Is she hurt?”
“I’m fine,” said Shadya.
“Why didn’t you use your sorcery? Andrasta asked.
“It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just raise a hand and point whenever I want. I would have had to create a ward and I didn’t
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