isn’t in fashion this season, you know.”
The hooded figure in front of him said nothing, though, as the saber blows failed to hit more than steel, his movements grew faster and choppier, a sign of growing frustration. Good. Maldynado would turn defense to offense in a moment, but he wanted the second man out of the ring first. He continued to defend, his sword gliding from side to side, eyes ostensibly focused on the opponent to his front, until the other fellow committed himself to a charge.
Without missing a parry, Maldynado hurled the knife. The blade took the man in the chest with enough force to stop him mid-run. He pitched sideways, hands clutching his chest as he thudded to the pebbles.
The attack startled the first man, and he stumbled on a rock. Maldynado knew he had the man off-balance and didn’t bother with a feint. He batted his foe’s blade to the side and lunged in, leading with his rapier. Under other circumstances, he might have tried to subdue his foe instead of stabbing him, but Yara, enmeshed in a battle of her own, might need help. His rapier slid between ribs, and the man screamed. His saber clattered onto the pebbles.
Maldynado pulled his blade free and raced around the campfire. One of Yara’s attackers lay prone a couple feet away from her, but she was on the ground, entangled with the other. Even as Maldynado ran toward them, Yara yelped with pain, and the dark figure found his way on top. He straddled Yara, holding her down with one hand while the other raised a knife, ready to plunge it deep.
Maldynado leaped, kicking the blade as he came down beside them.
Yara’s attacker snarled and reached for another weapon on his belt, but Maldynado launched a second kick, this time into the person’s shoulder. The man tumbled sideways, helped aside by an angry thrust from Yara. She jumped to her feet, landing in a crouch, hands balled into fists. She snatched her sword up from the rocks and looked like she was going to ram it down the man’s throat.
Not certain any of the other three would live, and figuring information would be helpful, Maldynado lifted an arm to block her at the same time as he stepped on the fallen man’s shoulder to keep him from going anywhere. Yara snarled, and Maldynado wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t ram her sword down
his
throat. Saving a woman didn’t count for as much as it once had.
Maldynado grabbed the man by the shirt and pinned him to the beach. His prisoner snatched a handful of pebbles and hurled them at him. They plunked off his chest. After what Maldynado had endured in the recent train battle, the pebbles were laughable. Using both hands, he hauled the man to his feet. More than his feet. The man lacked Maldynado’s height, so his toes dragged across the pebbles. It wasn’t necessary, but Maldynado hefted him a couple more inches into the air, in case such power might impress Yara.
She said nothing, merely yanking the figure’s hood off. A young, short-haired man sneered at them.
“Who are you?” Maldynado asked. “Why’d you attack us?”
The prisoner growled.
“That’s not an acceptable answer.” Maldynado lowered one arm and curled his fingers into a ball. He wasn’t much for torturing folks, but a fist to the belly often softened a man’s resistance—or caused him to throw up on one’s shoes.
Twang!
A crossbow quarrel sped out of the darkness and sliced into the outside of Maldynado’s arm. He cursed and released his prisoner. The man sprinted for the river. During the split second Maldynado was debating whether to chase him or hurl himself to the ground and find cover—
idiot
, how had he forgotten the crossbowman?—Yara raced into the brush. Afraid she’d be shot, Maldynado charged after her.
Before he reached the undergrowth, foliage thrashed ahead of him, followed by a loud thunk.
“Awk!” came a man’s pained cry.
Leaves rattled, and the crossbow wielder darted onto the beach, dropping his weapon when it
The hooded figure in front of him said nothing, though, as the saber blows failed to hit more than steel, his movements grew faster and choppier, a sign of growing frustration. Good. Maldynado would turn defense to offense in a moment, but he wanted the second man out of the ring first. He continued to defend, his sword gliding from side to side, eyes ostensibly focused on the opponent to his front, until the other fellow committed himself to a charge.
Without missing a parry, Maldynado hurled the knife. The blade took the man in the chest with enough force to stop him mid-run. He pitched sideways, hands clutching his chest as he thudded to the pebbles.
The attack startled the first man, and he stumbled on a rock. Maldynado knew he had the man off-balance and didn’t bother with a feint. He batted his foe’s blade to the side and lunged in, leading with his rapier. Under other circumstances, he might have tried to subdue his foe instead of stabbing him, but Yara, enmeshed in a battle of her own, might need help. His rapier slid between ribs, and the man screamed. His saber clattered onto the pebbles.
Maldynado pulled his blade free and raced around the campfire. One of Yara’s attackers lay prone a couple feet away from her, but she was on the ground, entangled with the other. Even as Maldynado ran toward them, Yara yelped with pain, and the dark figure found his way on top. He straddled Yara, holding her down with one hand while the other raised a knife, ready to plunge it deep.
Maldynado leaped, kicking the blade as he came down beside them.
Yara’s attacker snarled and reached for another weapon on his belt, but Maldynado launched a second kick, this time into the person’s shoulder. The man tumbled sideways, helped aside by an angry thrust from Yara. She jumped to her feet, landing in a crouch, hands balled into fists. She snatched her sword up from the rocks and looked like she was going to ram it down the man’s throat.
Not certain any of the other three would live, and figuring information would be helpful, Maldynado lifted an arm to block her at the same time as he stepped on the fallen man’s shoulder to keep him from going anywhere. Yara snarled, and Maldynado wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t ram her sword down
his
throat. Saving a woman didn’t count for as much as it once had.
Maldynado grabbed the man by the shirt and pinned him to the beach. His prisoner snatched a handful of pebbles and hurled them at him. They plunked off his chest. After what Maldynado had endured in the recent train battle, the pebbles were laughable. Using both hands, he hauled the man to his feet. More than his feet. The man lacked Maldynado’s height, so his toes dragged across the pebbles. It wasn’t necessary, but Maldynado hefted him a couple more inches into the air, in case such power might impress Yara.
She said nothing, merely yanking the figure’s hood off. A young, short-haired man sneered at them.
“Who are you?” Maldynado asked. “Why’d you attack us?”
The prisoner growled.
“That’s not an acceptable answer.” Maldynado lowered one arm and curled his fingers into a ball. He wasn’t much for torturing folks, but a fist to the belly often softened a man’s resistance—or caused him to throw up on one’s shoes.
Twang!
A crossbow quarrel sped out of the darkness and sliced into the outside of Maldynado’s arm. He cursed and released his prisoner. The man sprinted for the river. During the split second Maldynado was debating whether to chase him or hurl himself to the ground and find cover—
idiot
, how had he forgotten the crossbowman?—Yara raced into the brush. Afraid she’d be shot, Maldynado charged after her.
Before he reached the undergrowth, foliage thrashed ahead of him, followed by a loud thunk.
“Awk!” came a man’s pained cry.
Leaves rattled, and the crossbow wielder darted onto the beach, dropping his weapon when it
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