Page 21 of Red Dragon
Searching for the booby traps, Syla gingerly patted around the orb, its power tingling against her palms. She willed Jhiton and his men to run out to face her soldiers. That might be a death sentence for the Kingdom men, but she had to be willing to sacrifice people to keep the shielders safe. Just as she was willing to sacrifice herself to do so.
Unfortunately, Jhiton and one of his riders rushedintothe chamber. With a few swift sword slashes, they drove Fel back. His mace clanked as he managed to parry the blows, but, pressed by superior numbers, he had to give ground. Soon, his back was to the ancient sarcophagus in the center of the chamber, a few feet in front of the shielder.
As footsteps thundered in the tunnel outside, Syla’s fingers brushed over one of the camouflaged traps. She tugged it away from the curving surface of the orb and lifted it to throw, but Fel blocked her view as he tried to keep Jhiton from reaching her. Syla stepped to the side, hoping to line up a safe throw.
Vorik ran into the chamber.
“Let the door close,” he said to one of the riders who’d paused to put his back against it to keep it open.
The stormer released it and ran inside with Vorik, but the Kingdom troops, a mix of Royal Protectors from the castle and black-uniformed Royal Fleet men, reached the passageway and charged inside before the door ground to a close.
Jhiton knocked Fel’s mace out of his hand and hurled him into a wall, but he then had to turn to face the new threat. Syla’s heart lifted as her troops rushed in. A dozen of them?Twodozen?
“Yes,” she cried, feeling they might be enough to defeat even the enhanced riders. “Protect the shielder. And get the general!”
As the cacophonous clamor of swords clashing against swords rang out, Syla realized her men would targeteveryonein black leathers, Vorik included, but she couldn’t bring herself to yell at them to leave him be. Not when he’d moved to stand side-by-side with his brother, their backs to the wall as they faced the greater numbers. Vorik was fighting her people. He was an enemy. She couldn’t let herself forget that.
Vorik’s and Jhiton's faces remained calm as they defended against soldiers swarming into the chamber—so many that Syla worried her people would strike each other in the confined space. But they switched their styles from swinging slashes to thrusts, trying to slip in side-by-side to reach the riders. All four of the stormers drew opponents, but the greatest concentration of soldiers targeted Vorik and Jhiton. That was fortunate because Jhiton kept glancing at the active shielder nestled within its mount.
Fel and Syla stood in front of it, so he would have to go through them to reach it, but she had no doubt that the general would do that. Jhiton’s face was a cool mask as he breathed through his nose, as if whipping his swords about, defending against so many, took no effort, but Syla could read the determination in his eyes. It was almost like the religious zeal of the godders prostrating themselves at their temples and making offerings, certain their actions would result in the return of the deities.
A man cried out. One of the soldiers. He tumbled back, dropping his sword and clutching his chest, blood from a stab wound washing his fingers.
Healer’s instincts calling her, Syla stepped in that direction. But Fel gripped her arm to keep her back. She couldn’t have reached the soldier even if she’d believed it wise. Another had replaced him as a comrade pulled him back so he wouldn’t be trampled by all the boots. It didn’t look like a mortal wound,and she could attend to him later, but as another man cursed, stumbling back at a blow to his hip, she was reminded that the riders might very well overcome the greater numbers. Especially in the confining chamber where only so many soldiers could attack them at once.
“Get out of here if you spot an opportunity.” Fel released Syla without looking away from the fighting. “You can heal the survivors afterward. From the safety of the castle.”
As strange as it seemed with more than twenty men fighting in the chamber, nobody was attacking them at the moment. The riders were too busy defending against superior numbers.
“Of course,” Syla said, but she wouldn’t leave while the shielders were in danger. It was bad enough that fighting went on all around the broken one—the invaders had succeeded in pushing it halfway to the exit.
And what of Teyla? Syla couldn’t abandon her cousin. Though they had tried to tuck her against the wall behind a sarcophagus, she was in danger of being trampled.
Syla tightened her grip around the explosive. She had to do something.
Vorik lunged to the side, away from the general as he cut off two soldiers trying to slip in by the wall to get behind them.
Syla took that moment to throw the device at Jhiton's opposite shoulder. Shewantedto throw it square at his chest—or maybe between his eyes—but she didn’t want to hurt Vorik. Enemy or not, he meant something to her. Too much.
Despite defending against eight attacks simultaneously, Jhiton saw the flat square explosive sailing toward him. It had blended in with the silver of the orb but stood out as it arched through the air. The faintest hint of confusion made one of his eyebrows twitch, but his sword came up, batting it aside.
Upon impact, it exploded scant feet from Jhiton's head. The force of the shockwave hurled him against the wall.
Even from halfway across the chamber, Syla felt it, her hair blown back, sooty smoke and intense heat blasting over her. It was as if she’d opened the oven door of the gods. Soldiers who had been near Jhiton stumbled, two falling to the ground.
The flash and smoke hid Syla’s view of Vorik, and she held her breath, afraid she’d hurt him as well as the general.
She’dbetterhave hurt the general. Somehow, Jhiton remained on his feet and hadn’t dropped his weapon. Neither had Vorik. And, as the smoke cleared, she could see them again, faces blackened, clothes torn, and burns blistering their skin, especially Jhiton's. But they remained in the battle. If anything, their faces grew more determined, their sword strikes faster, deadlier.
Another soldier went down. All around the chamber, people coughed, the smoke distracting them. It made Syla’s eyes water and her throat itch as well. She couldn’tbelieveshe hadn’t taken down the general.
Fel looked at her in exasperation, and Syla expected him to berate her for not following his instructions.
“Next time you do that,” he said, “at least use the opportunity to escape.”
“We can’t abandon the shielder.” Syla glanced toward the passageway where a soldier held the door open.
“Wewon’t.” Fel thumped his chest. “But you need to get out of here. You never should have come down.” His expression turned aggrieved as he no doubt regretted not forcibly keeping her in the castle.
