Page 59 of Sword of Rage
Shouts rang out behind them. Ackley glanced over his shoulder. Flames shot out of several windows, the glow illuminating a few people in the house and several running around the perimeter of it.
“Faster!” he said to Harley. They were about halfway to the wall separating Lyle’s property from the neighbor’s.
The distant whirl of an arrow flying through the air caught Ackley’s attention. Without thinking, he flung himself at Harley, knocking her to the ground. She yelped in surprise. The arrow struck the ground next to them, less than a foot away.
“Stay low,” he ordered. “Head in a zigzag pattern as you make your way to the wall.”
Harley nodded as she crouched on the ground.
“Go.” Ackley turned back to search the house, trying to find the archer. Based upon the trajectory of the arrow and how it landed, he suspected the shooter was level with him—whether that was from outside or inside the house, he didn’t know. But at least the archer wasn’t on the second floor looking down on them. If that were the case, it would make dodging arrows infinitely more difficult.
An arrow came at him, landing four feet away. He didn’t think the archer could see him now that he wasn’t moving. Hopefully the shooter wouldn’t see Harley. Making a quick decision, Ackley jumped to his feet and ran toward the wall, making sure to sprint in an erratic pattern, trying to draw attention away from Harley and to himself. Another arrow soared through the air, landing behind him.
Harley reached the wall about thirty feet away, panting.
More shouts rang out. Ackley peered over his shoulder. Flames now engulfed the roof, the entire area around the house alight from the fire. Five men were headed straight for him. He’d hoped to escape without having to kill in front of Harley. For some reason, he didn’t want to spill blood before her.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.
Facing his oncoming attackers, Ackley palmed a knife in one hand, his short sword in the other. Tilting his head to the side, he stretched his neck, preparing for battle. As he always did before a fight, he slid on his mental armor, zeroing in on his attackers. Nothing existed but those who wished to harm him. There would be nothing but killing blows if he wanted the two of them to make it out alive. Strike hard and fast.
The closest man appeared to be five foot seven inches, a hundred and seventy-five pounds. Ackley aimed his knife, counted to three, and threw. The man collapsed to the ground, the knife protruding from his neck, blood spurting out.
One down, four to go.
Not wanting to lose any more weapons, he’d have to get a bit more creative. Zeroing in on the next two, Ackley saw the one on the right lift his longsword. That was a mistake. Ackley turned, ramming his short sword into the man’s exposed stomach. As he did so, he used his momentum to kick the other one’s head, knocking him down. Withdrawing his sword, he lifted it, plunging it into the one who’d fallen to the ground.
Three down, two to go.
The last two had almost reached him. Yanking his sword free, he twisted and sliced his attacker’s neck.
Four down, one to go.
Where had the last man gone?
Ackley turned in a slow circle, searching for the last of his five attackers.
Dread filled him. He knew, before he spotted him, that the man probably had Harley. When he faced the wall, he saw a man standing there, his arms around her. In the shadows, Ackley could just make out the knife placed at her neck.
“Stay where you are,” the man said. “Drop your sword and get on the ground. Put your arms above your head so I can see your hands.”
Ackley chuckled, the sound menacing in the dark night.
“Do as I say or I’ll kill her,” the man snarled.
“What makes you think I care about the woman,” he said nonchalantly, buying himself some time. The man was a head taller than Harley making him six feet exactly, about one hundred and ninety-two pounds. Since his neck was hidden by Harley’s hair, Ackley would have to find another way to kill him.
The man took a step forward, keeping Harley in front of him as a shield.
Shouts rang out behind Ackley. More men were coming, which meant he was out of time. Sliding a dagger from his sleeve, he kept his eyes focused on the man. Once the dagger was in his palm, he flung it at him. The hilt hit his forehead, momentarily stunning him. Ackley withdrew the knife from his boot, throwing it. It struck the man’s arm holding the knife against Harley’s neck. When the man released her, she turned and rammed the dagger Ackley had given her into his stomach.
The man snarled and went to withdraw the dagger, now covered with blood. Harley dropped to the ground, giving Ackley the opening he needed. He ran at the man, grabbing hold of the hilt and twisting it. Then he shoved the man away. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air.
Seven men were running toward them, about thirty feet away and closing in fast. “Get over the wall. Now.”
Harley clamored to her feet, then crawled over the wall.
Ackley grabbed his weapons, then climbed over after her. She was already sprinting alongside the wall, headed straight toward the forest, a good forty feet away. He took off after her, wondering why she hadn’t gone for the horses. It would be easier to lose the men on horseback than running around dense foliage.
