Page 58 of A Tribute of Fire

He slowed down to a walk, his eyes darting as if he expected someone else to jump out. He was cautious, but hopefully not cautious enough.

“Come on, come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath. I needed him to hurry up.

When he was finally within reach, I grabbed my sword and plunged it into his thigh. His eyes went wide. He didn’t make a sound and just fell backward. He must not have been a soldier—if he had been, he would have taken my head off with that axe before he’d collapsed.

“On your feet!” I told Quynh.

We made it back to the entrance of the dead-end passage and went right. The buildings I’d spotted had looked as if they’d been constructed from expensive materials. Maybe the temple was there.

Then I was being yanked off my feet as an armored man grabbed me by the shoulders, slammed me into a wall, and knocked the breath from my lungs. I pulled up both of my feet and kicked as hard as I could against his chest, getting him to release me.

A wooden pole hit me across my back and I turned to see Quynh, her mouth wide open. “I’m so sorry! I was trying to hit him!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, the man picked me up under my armpits, as if he intended to toss me into the stone wall headfirst.

Instead of resisting or fighting back, I remembered what I had done during my last training session in Locris and went completely limp. It surprised him, as I’d thought it might.

He let go, and when I hit the ground, I rolled myself behind him. I cut the backs of his calves, the closest and most exposed part of him.

The man swore and tried to reach for me, but Quynh finally connected and swung her pole into his head, hard.

He twirled in a complete circle before collapsing, and she and I stood there for a moment staring at each other. Quynh began to laugh.

I joined in, until a man bigger than a horse wrenched my sword from my hand and punched me in the face.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Demaratus was swearing at me in my head for not paying closer attention, for not checking to see if the first man had been alone before I’d prematurely celebrated my victory. My head throbbed and I turned over onto my back, intending to crawl for my sword.

I saw Quynh attempting to hit the man, but he took the pole from her while shoving her away. Her head hit the wall and she went completely still.

“Quynh!” I screamed, now trying to get to her side.

The man snapped her pole in half over his knee, like it was a child’s toy, and then tossed it aside. I took out my throwing knives and heaved one at him, but it went wide. He ran over and kicked the other one out of my hand.

He yanked me up and slammed me into the stone wall. I leaned forward so that my head wouldn’t hit. I couldn’t lose consciousness.

“That is my brother!” the man hollered at me as his hands closed around my throat, inclining his head toward the armored man currently on the ground, bleeding out.

My attacker was so strong. His fingers pressed in and I clawed at his hands as he began to crush my windpipe. I tried to lash out with my feet, but he was tall enough that he could keep clear.

“I’m not going to use my knife on you,” he growled at me, baring his teeth. “I want to squeeze the life out of you with my bare hands. Every Locrian deserves a painful death.”

His grip tightened and panic tore up my deprived lungs as I hit the man’s hands, trying to make him let go. Nothing was working. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and the edges of my vision had started to turn black.

This was it.

It was over.

As the world began to go dark, I saw Quynh, standing off to my right, holding my sword, offering it to me.

I reached out and took it, bringing it up swiftly to stab the man in the neck. Blood spurted out, covering my weapon as his hands fell away from my throat. I collapsed to my knees, gasping and drawing in deep breaths, feeling as if I’d never have enough air again.

“Lia! Are you all right?” Quynh got on the ground next to me, her fingers gently pressing on my neck, checking.

“I’m about as good as can be expected,” I finally said, my voice sounding rough. “You didn’t have to give me the sword. You could have stabbed him.”

“I was afraid I’d hit you again.”

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