Page 44 of The Last One
Jadon has recovered, and he swings and blocks desperately, though the giant shows no sign of fatigue.
Just hold him off a little longer, I think at Jadon as I creep toward the Otaan. I focus on that band of exposed skin, on the smooth spaces between those balls of bone along his spine.
Jadon’s attention flashes at me, as though he, too, can read my thoughts. He nods and renews his attack, keeping the Otaan distracted.
Closer…The sound of metal, the heat of striking blades, the growl of a monster.Closer…Strain and fatigue slow Jadon’s motion. He catches my eye again.“There. Go, Kai! Now!”
I close the distance, sword ready and—
The Otaan howls as my blade finds its mark in the center of his spine.
Jadon whirls away from the startled warrior and jams his own blade in the space above mine. Together, we push in our swords. Jadon’s blade jammed near the titan’s head, my sword in his lower back.
“They destroy us,” the Otaan screams as he falls to his knees. “You let them!”
The sound of the giant’s agony hurts my heart, and I shout, “Surrender!”
The Otaan growls, “I curse your name—”
I jam my sword in the base of his skull.
Jadon kicks him, and the giant tips forward and into the bloody soil.
Unable to remove the blade, I stumble back, bloodied and exhausted.
Jadon, bent over and breathing hard, keeps his eye on the giant just in case he’s not as dead as he seems.
But heisas dead as he seems.
I crouch, my body weak now that all stores of adrenaline have been spent. Every injury from the fight is now making itself known, including the cuts down my arm from Narder’s flail.
They destroy us.
You let them.
Who is “them”? Who is “us”?
I curse your name.
Who did the Otaan think I was?
And was he right?
Eventually, Jadon stoops before the fallen Otaan and wrests away the giant’s great sword. He staggers over to me and presents the weapon. Even though it’s covered in gore and mud, the blade’s engravings twinkle in the torchlight.
I peer at the markings running along the blade and make out a repeated image of a beast resembling a wolf or lion, encircled with stars linking the circles together. Letters unfamiliar to me have been inscribed on the cross-guard.
“It’s yours,” Jadon says, his voice hoarse.
I stand, taking this gift. The sword is heavy but…notheavy.A rush of icy-warm power sluices through me. Clearly, I know my way around weapons—both those forged for the purpose of battle and those crafted to till land. I’m a soldier. That’s undeniable now. Maybe this is why I’m here. To protect this village. To protect people like Jadon.
But if Iama soldier, where is my army? Now, though, I mutter, “Wow.” Even in torchlight, I can clearly see the mess in the town square, including dead soldiers and dead villagers. But there are survivors. A handful of people are leaving the shelter of their cottages and barns. They find each other in the darkness, hold each other tight, peck foreheads with teary kisses.
“Maford lives to see another day,” I say, finding Jamart’s shop in the dim light. Still standing. Unblemished.
Jadon grins. “Thanks to you. That wasincredible!” He tilts his head back and howls, “Yes!” to the sky.
“I know I’m good, but how about you?” Awed, I shove him and say, “I saw how you slipped your blade under that guy’s breastplate—”
