moment. Which said a lot about my life.
When Kerrick stopped pacing and crouched to place his palms on the ground, my concern increased.
“We won’t make it to the ravine in time,” Kerrick said to the others. “We can’t outrun them and they outnumber us, so we’ll have to outsmart them.” He issued orders.
We packed our belongings and headed north toward the ravine. After an hour or so, Kerrick stopped. When he let go of my wrist, I about fainted. He spoke with Belen in a low whisper and then thumped him on the back.
With a strange sense of doom, I watched Kerrick, Loren, Quain and Flea continue north, leaving Belen and me behind. Belen held out his arm. I hooked my hand around his elbow. We walked east.
Stopping hours later, Belen found a dent in a rocky hillside. I couldn’t call it a cave as it wasn’t deep enough, but it cut in just enough to protect both of us from rain or wind. However, it failed to protect us from mercenaries.
According to Belen, the plan had been for Kerrick and the others to lead the mercs north to the ravine. They could travel faster without dragging me along. Belen and I would go west and wait for them to loop back after losing the mercs.
Not a stellar plan, but one that had worked for them before. Belen filled me in on the details as we rested in the shallow shelter. It didn’t take long for the mercs to find us. A noise alerted Belen. He stood, pulled his sword and stepped in front of me, blocking me from view.
I peeked around him. Six men fanned out in front of him. All armed. The seventh hung back, and the way he crinkled his nose when he met my gaze told me why this time Kerrick’s plan hadn’t worked.
The mercs had a magic sniffer—a person who had no magic of his own, but could smell it in others. The stronger ones could track the scent, sometimes hours after, and these could also distinguish the types of magic by the aroma. Before the plague, magic sniffers had been employed to find children with magical powers.
There were eleven different types of magicians in the Fifteen Realms, and all but one of them were born with power. Young children and magic were a dangerous combination. The sooner a child started training, the better. Healing powers were the exception. It could lay dormant for years, undetectable by the sniffers. Mine hid until right after I had turned fifteen. My sister, Noelle, had cut her hand and this urge bloomed in my chest, tugging me to her as if I had been hooked by a fishing line. My mother had started searching for a teacher for me that day.
Belen waited for the mercs to make the first move. Even though they outnumbered him, they hesitated. Not surprising, considering he was a foot taller and two feet wider than their biggest man.
“Look,” the man with the red beard said to Belen. “Just give us the girl and we’ll be on our way.”
“No.”
I touched Belen’s elbow. “Take the offer. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
When he didn’t move, I stepped around him to give myself up. But Belen stopped me with his arm.
“Stay behind me,” he growled.
No arguing with him. As my heart did flips in my chest, I thought fast.
“She’s smarter than you,” Red Beard said. “Last chance.”
Belen tightened his grip on his broad sword—a two-handed weapon that he held easily with one hand.
“I don’t suppose you have a trio of knives hidden somewhere?” I asked him.
“It’s a little late for a distraction,” he said.
“Juggling isn’t the only thing I’ve learned to do with knives.”
He yanked his dagger from his belt, handed it to me, then pulled another from his boot. “That’s all I have.”
Better than none.
“I guess that’s your answer,” Red Beard said. “Don’t kill the girl,” he ordered his men.
Red Beard stepped forward to engage Belen. Two others also joined the fight. Because Belen kept me and the rocky hillside behind him, there wasn’t room for the other three, and they couldn’t grab me, either.
The fierce intensity and the speed of the fight surprised me. Belen’s calm demeanor remained, and for the first minute, it appeared he had the upper hand. Then the men switched places in one smooth move and now Belen faced three fresh opponents.
That was how they wore him down, by taking turns. I waited for an opportunity to throw my knives, thinking I’d hit their arm or shoulder, but no one would stand still long enough. I had always practiced with a stationary target. No reason not to; I’d never imagined I’d be in this situation in my lifetime.
When Belen’s swings slowed, I knew I had to help him. Even if it was accidental, killing a person went against my nature, so I aimed low and hoped for the best. My first knife pierced one man’s thigh. He yelled and staggered away from the fight. Beginner’s luck didn’t last as the second dagger sailed right by another man.
Then all I could do was watch as they harried Belen, tiring him out. I offered to surrender again, but he just growled.
Red Beard entered the fray again. He feinted left and dipped his thinner blade under Belen’s and straight into his stomach. Belen grunted as I yelled. But he kept swinging. Red Beard continued to snake past his defenses and stab his blade’s tip into Belen’s gut. Eventually, Belen collapsed.
With a cry, I knelt next to him.
Blood soaked his tunic. He thrust his sword into my hands. “Don’t give up.”
I staggered to my feet, holding the heavy blade. The men smirked until I charged, letting my fury over Belen’s injuries fuel my attack.
CHAPTER 6
The men sidestepped, avoiding the tip of Belen’s sword. I turned to charge again, but this time Red Beard knocked the heavy blade aside with his, redirecting my momentum. Belen’s weapon dragged me to the side. Red Beard moved in close and yanked the hilt from my hands.
Then he grabbed my upper arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
I resisted. “I have to heal—”
“No time. He …” Red Beard squeezed my biceps as he scanned the area.
I copied him. Glancing around, I counted five. The magic sniffer had disappeared.
“Where’s Conner?” Red Beard asked his men.
At first they exchanged confused glances, but then they realized the danger. Red Beard pulled me to where Belen lay, keeping his back to the rocks and me in front of him like a shield. His men fanned out in front of us, facing toward the woods. Red Beard sheathed his sword and drew a knife. He pressed it against my throat. Without thought, I grabbed his wrist, trying to pull the weapon away from my neck, but he rumbled a warning. Stopping my efforts, I left my hand on his arm.
“I have your girl. Come out now or I’ll slit her throat,” Red Beard called.
Nothing.
