Page 25 of Heart of Defiance

How very complacent they’ve gotten. So sure every Veldunian is too beaten down to stand against them.

I’m looking forward to proving how wrong they are.

The gate creaks open. I tap the horse forward. The cart’s wheels crunch over the pebbles embedded in the dirt.

When we’re as far inside as we can get while still blocking the gate from shutting, I tug the stallion to an abrupt stop. My pulse thunders, but I manage to say the words loud and clear.

“I almost forgot something.”

I yank my doctored weapon out from under the blanket and spring to my feet. In the few seconds it’ll have taken for the women to light their first rags, I’ve aimed the morphedcrossbow at the guards by the gate and shot three arrows with one press of the trigger.

One of the men was already starting to duck. The arrow pierces the center of his forehead. The second flies wild, but the third strikes the other guard in the chest.

Then the women erupt from the casks, and flames streak through the air.

Amid the shattering of glass on the hardened earth, shouts ring out all through the fort. I jump into the shelter of the cart and jam three more arrows into my bow.

More bottles careen through the air. Flames roar up from the splotches of spilled lantern oil. The tangy smoke prickles in my lungs.

The second the women duck into their casks again, I fire off another round of arrows toward the men rushing from the fort’s main doorway.

All three hit their mark this time, though two are hardly fatal injuries. More soldiers are hurtling toward us.

I draw my sword instead and vault over the side of the cart.

Another round of bottles with burning rags smash to the ground, one setting a soldier’s pantleg on fire. I swing my sword across another man’s throat before he can get close enough to stab at Signy.

The woman who brought her bow hurls one last bottle and scrambles out to retrieve her weapon. She bobs in and out of shelter, firing at the approaching soldiers.

My sword clangs against a longer one. I shove my attacker backward with a kick to the gut.

And Jostein barrels through the gate with a thunder of hoofbeats, his own sword flashing through the air.

He cuts down two Darium soldiers in quick succession. Otmar gallops in right behind him, shooting from his single but totally acceptable crossbow.

At the corner of my eye, Signy clambers out of her cask and leaps right over the front of the cart.

With a lurch of my pulse, I spin around. She’s already darting between the patches of flames, two more burning bottles in her hands.

She ducks under the sweep of a soldier’s dagger and flings her cargo through the open door of the fort.

Toward the wooden floors.

Fire roars up within the building. Within seconds, the shouts take on a frantic edge.

I spring forward and grab Signy’s arm, throwing myself between her and an attacker. As our blades clash, she whips out her hunting knife and rams it into the Darium soldier’s gut.

When she steps back, it’s not just exhilaration but pride shining in her face.

The fort is falling into ruin around us, and it’s all because of her. Sheshouldbe fucking proud.

Gods know I’m proud to have been here with her, making the triumph she envisioned real.

Jostein lets out a menacing yell and topples another foe. His stance radiates power and passion—all that fire our superiors have liked to claim he lacks.

Maybe my friend needed this rebellion just as much as Signy did.

With a barrage of thudding feet, the last of our number charges into the fort. Knives flash, and the older man adds his crossbow arrows to the projectiles soaring through the air.

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