Page 32 of Quarter Labyrinth

I swung my axe again, blade first this time. Tall One sliced upward with his sword to meet mine, just as Blood Shirt drew his second dagger. I broke away to place Tall One between us,forcing Blood Shirt to step closer, his body nearing the window. Tall One swung again. This time it was me meeting him in the middle. Steel clanged as our weapons collided.

I had to dig my heel into the ground to keep upright. If I won this, it wouldn’t be with strength.

Blood Shirt closed the distance to swipe with his blade. I ducked, twisted my axe, and rolled as Tall One’s axe came down. Cool stone pressed against my warm skin.

At my side, Clark and Bow and Arrow had abandoned all weapons to wrestle. Clark’s dagger had been thrown against the wall, and he stood too close for the other guy to nock an arrow, so they abandoned all weapons to wrestle. They threw punches, and from a glance, I couldn’t tell who was winning.

Then Blood Shirt eyed them, and fear coursed through me. I slammed the length of my axe against Tall One to push him back, drew my dagger from my waist, and drove it into Blood Shirt’s side.

At the sight of red, Tall One paled. I thought he wasn’t a killer.

I thought I wasn’t a killer.

Blood Shirt wasn’t dead yet. He likely wouldn’t be from the wound. But the terrified yelp he gave distracted Bow and Arrow long enough that Clark’s next punch landed squarely in the cheek, and his head smacked against the hard ground.

He wasn’t dead either. But he certainly didn’t rise.

Now Tall One was practically white.

Clark stood, shaking his fist, and eyed Tall One. I lifted my bloody blade.

Tall One’s brown eyes narrowed. “Seems you Seaweeds are going to live this day.”

“Truce?” Clark suggested.

Tall One nodded. He eased himself closer to where Blood Shirt knelt on the ground, inspecting his wound.

I moved as if putting away my blade, but my eye never left Tall One. That was the only reason I saw as his own hand reached for Blood Shirt’s fallen blade just as Clark retrieved his. He flicked his wrist back.

His aim was for Clark.

Before he could let go, I threw my own.

It struck his chest. He fell, body smacking the ground, and his eyes went wide before losing their light.

My heart tattoo beat happily on, never once speeding up. Meanwhile, I thought I might vomit.

“Ren…” Clark breathed.

Whatever he might have said got cut off by Blood Shirt’s ear-shattering cry when he saw his lifeless friend on the ground, his blood already coating the floor. The metallic smell was sweeter than I’d imagined it being.

And killing was worse than I’d imagined. It gutted me, completely stripped bare of all emotion, and filled me with a horrid sense of emptiness that I hadn’t the time to dwell upon.

We still weren’t safe.

With one exchanged look, Clark read my expression, and we both sprinted for the door. We barreled downward, out the door, and across sharp rocks.

“This way,” I shouted, pointing in the direction of the sea I’d seen earlier. Clark followed with no question. We hurried off the rocks until we came to a hedge maze.

At the first break in the wall, we dove in.

Half an hour later, and after endless turns, we finally slowed.

“One was wounded, and the other unconscious. They won’t have the energy to chase us for a while,” Clark said as he caught his breath. “We should find a place to hide so you can get some sleep.”

I swallowed the pit in my throat. “I don’t think I’ll sleep for a while.”

One moment I was cold, the next Clark had wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. His hand came to nestle the back of my head, and his face dropped into my shoulder. “If you hadn’t killed him, he would have killed us.”

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