as he grabbed the labrys from the wagon bed. The name Justice carved into the handle nearly purred beneath his touch. His sword hissed leaving the scabbard, the sound loud and deadly. The baby was gone, hidden from sight, invisible to all but Katina’s magic gaze. He spared a moment to kneel, touching Katina’s cheek. “Don’t come out, no matter what happens, do you hear me? I need to know you’re safe before I swing.”
“The border patrol? Maybe they ca—”
“They’re coming…just not soon enough.”
A crunch deep in the woods yanked him to his feet. He put his body between the wagon and the fire, shielding Katina as best he could, and waited. Pain radiated from his sternum where his heart tried to pummel through his chest wall. The taste of envisioned death lingered in a foul paste, coating his teeth and tongue. He wished he’d worn his mail. He wished they’d pushed for home. He wished…
A solitary man walked into the firelight. Five jade rings ran up one ear. Dark beard growth highlighted the painted skull outline emblazoned across his golden face. The heavily shadowed jaw played wickedly off missing teeth when he smiled. The dirty homespun shirt did not hide the etched bones on his arms. They glistened in the orange and yellow glow. Bryton memorized the numbers on the back of his hand—4332.
“Eve’n, friend. Share your fire with a traveler?”
“No.” Bryton wasn’t playing games. “I’m not in a sharing mood. Move along.”
An evil glimmer burned in yellowy eyes. “Now, that’s impolite. Rude, even. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, boy?”
“No.” The doubleheaded axe spun loosely in his hand from long practice. “Leave.”
The topaz gaze narrowed and dropped to Bryton’s knees, to beyond him where Katina crouched behind the wooden wheel. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
Cold training buried all fear, all emotion. He could not risk missing one step, not and save his family. His mind spun with every lesson he’d ever learned. Light feet, balanced weight, peripheral check, ears alert, slow breath, note the hips to anticipate a move, dagger in left boot, curved foreign blade right hip, spiked rings on both hands.
A twig snapped to his right and Bryton twirled, sword swung high, catching a second Skullman across the face. The agonized screech split the night and Skullmen descended like locusts. Right hand swinging his sword, left cutting a path with his axe, Bryton held them back for a minute. Only a minute. Then a dagger raked across his scalp and gushing blood blinded him.
Sharp, stinging fire pierced his side. His knuckles throbbed from a swiping blade but he blindly swung the axe. A liquid gurgle and jarring force told him he struck true. The rage of war pumped hot adrenaline through him, and sweat mingled with blood. He swiped a forearm across his face and skewered another man. Wide gold eyes locked on his, the light fading. He shoved the body from his blade and leaped over the fire. He kicked the blaze’s edge, sparks and flaming bits spraying an approaching enemy. The scent of scorched flesh churned his gut. The man pawed at his face and stumbled back toward the forest, screeching in sightless pain.
Five. There were five dead men littering the ground; how many more were there?
The ground vibrated with the rolling thunder of the border patrol. Hope washed strength through Bryton. They might make it if the guards got here in time. The cry of the horses and a rumble of wheels jerked his head to the left. Two Skullmen had hitched the team and stole the wagon, but he couldn’t care less. Where was Katina?
“Jana!” Her shriek shot through his soul with an iced blade.
Sunshine hair streamed from one side of Katina’s head, the other still pinned tight above her ear. Her skirts bunched as a Skullman pawed at her legs. Her hard-soled travel boot nailed him in the balls. She drew back her palm and hit him full in the face, ramming his nose back into his
“The border patrol? Maybe they ca—”
“They’re coming…just not soon enough.”
A crunch deep in the woods yanked him to his feet. He put his body between the wagon and the fire, shielding Katina as best he could, and waited. Pain radiated from his sternum where his heart tried to pummel through his chest wall. The taste of envisioned death lingered in a foul paste, coating his teeth and tongue. He wished he’d worn his mail. He wished they’d pushed for home. He wished…
A solitary man walked into the firelight. Five jade rings ran up one ear. Dark beard growth highlighted the painted skull outline emblazoned across his golden face. The heavily shadowed jaw played wickedly off missing teeth when he smiled. The dirty homespun shirt did not hide the etched bones on his arms. They glistened in the orange and yellow glow. Bryton memorized the numbers on the back of his hand—4332.
“Eve’n, friend. Share your fire with a traveler?”
“No.” Bryton wasn’t playing games. “I’m not in a sharing mood. Move along.”
An evil glimmer burned in yellowy eyes. “Now, that’s impolite. Rude, even. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, boy?”
“No.” The doubleheaded axe spun loosely in his hand from long practice. “Leave.”
The topaz gaze narrowed and dropped to Bryton’s knees, to beyond him where Katina crouched behind the wooden wheel. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?”
Cold training buried all fear, all emotion. He could not risk missing one step, not and save his family. His mind spun with every lesson he’d ever learned. Light feet, balanced weight, peripheral check, ears alert, slow breath, note the hips to anticipate a move, dagger in left boot, curved foreign blade right hip, spiked rings on both hands.
A twig snapped to his right and Bryton twirled, sword swung high, catching a second Skullman across the face. The agonized screech split the night and Skullmen descended like locusts. Right hand swinging his sword, left cutting a path with his axe, Bryton held them back for a minute. Only a minute. Then a dagger raked across his scalp and gushing blood blinded him.
Sharp, stinging fire pierced his side. His knuckles throbbed from a swiping blade but he blindly swung the axe. A liquid gurgle and jarring force told him he struck true. The rage of war pumped hot adrenaline through him, and sweat mingled with blood. He swiped a forearm across his face and skewered another man. Wide gold eyes locked on his, the light fading. He shoved the body from his blade and leaped over the fire. He kicked the blaze’s edge, sparks and flaming bits spraying an approaching enemy. The scent of scorched flesh churned his gut. The man pawed at his face and stumbled back toward the forest, screeching in sightless pain.
Five. There were five dead men littering the ground; how many more were there?
The ground vibrated with the rolling thunder of the border patrol. Hope washed strength through Bryton. They might make it if the guards got here in time. The cry of the horses and a rumble of wheels jerked his head to the left. Two Skullmen had hitched the team and stole the wagon, but he couldn’t care less. Where was Katina?
“Jana!” Her shriek shot through his soul with an iced blade.
Sunshine hair streamed from one side of Katina’s head, the other still pinned tight above her ear. Her skirts bunched as a Skullman pawed at her legs. Her hard-soled travel boot nailed him in the balls. She drew back her palm and hit him full in the face, ramming his nose back into his
Similar Books
