Page 46 of The Endless War

Saam caught sight of the scout first and dropped low. Zarrah followed his lead, marking the figure, who moved oddly—as though he were skipping or limping. Easier to allow him to pass, but this washerplan, and Zarrah needed to see it through to success. Moving in a crouch, she lifted her spear into position to throw, only for Daria to gasp, “Zarrah, no! It’s—”

Her feet went out from under her, only training keeping her from screaming as her body was inverted.

A trap.

She’d stepped into a fucking trap and was now dangling high above Sam and Daria, the blades she’d collected having slipped from her belt to fall in a pile beneath her.

“Flay,” Daria said, completing her warning.

Zarrah’s heart chilled at the name of one of the most notorious mass killers ever condemned to Devil’s Island.

Yet Daria seemed more angry than afraid as she demanded, “Where are you, you sick little piece of shit?”

A giggle sounded from nearby, but Zarrah couldn’t see the murderer anywhere.

“Kian’s coming with reinforcements,” Saam said. “We need to get her down.”

“I’ve a knife in my boot,” Zarrah answered. “I’ll cut myself down.”

“And break your neck when you fall.” Daria made an aggrieved noise. “Saam, climb the tree and untie the rope.”

The rebel worked his way into the tree while Daria watched for Kian’s tribe. There was no mistaking the noise of dozens of warriorsracing up the hill, believing themselves repelling an incursion. If they were caught, they were dead.

Saam cursed as he made his way up the pine tree, the dense branches hindering him as he searched for where Flay had fastened the trap.

There was no time for this. She’d have to risk the fall.

Dropping her spear, Zarrah heaved herself up so that she could reach her boot, pulling free the small blade. She caught hold of the rope around her ankles, then immediately let go. “What the fuck is this rope made of?”

The only answer she got was a groan.

Twisting, she looked down and saw Daria sprawled on the ground, a shadow hunched over her. It giggled, patting Daria on the head. “Saam, help her!”

He was already leaping out of the tree. The shadow squealed and ran away in panic. Saam dropped to his knees next to Daria. “She’s all right, just knocked out.”

“Get her out of here,” Zarrah snarled at him. “Go! I’ll get myself down and hide if I have to.”

“She’ll kill me if I leave you!”

“We are all dead if you don’t go!”

Saam hesitated, then shoved all her weapons into his belt before lifting the groaning Daria into his arms. “I’ll be back with warriors. And Zarrah … just stay silent—you’re not Flay’s type.”

What that meant, Zarrah didn’t even want to know, so she focused her attention on trying to cut through the peculiar cord binding her ankles. Not one cord, but three, and her piece of scrap metal fitted to a piece of wood held a poor edge. Silently cursing, she sawed at one of the ropes, finally cutting through it.

But she was out of time.

Kian and his warriors were here.

Going still, she prayed that none would look up as the group of men passed beneath her. “Don’t pursue past the clear-cut,” Kian ordered. “Could be a trap.”

Zarrah forced herself to keep breathing, her abdomen quiveringwith the effort of holding herself upright, one hand clutching the strange ropes. They’d pursue, then retreat. She’d either cut herself down or Saam would return, and she’d get out of this with nothing more than bruised pride.

There was a commotion at the border, shouts and posturing between the two tribes, and she risked sawing at another one of the ropes, only to freeze as footsteps approached. Turning her head, she scanned the shadows, picking out two forms.

“It’s her,” a strange voice said, a man, but oddly pitched. “The one you told Flay to watch over. The one Flay must protect in exchange for faces.”

“You’ll get your faces,” Kian answered. “Now piss off, and don’t let me catch you listening in.”

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