Sovereign by Ted Dekker Page B

the bottom from a ledge seven feet high.
    Jordin rolled to one knee and listened as Kaya dropped down beside her. A thin cry sounded ahead, from the direction of the rubble. It was possible one of the others had stayed to try to help. It no longer mattered; they were committed.
    “You good?” she whispered to Kaya.
    “Good.”
    “Stay behind me. Here.” She shoved one of the knives into the girl’s hand. “Just in case.”
    Kaya stared at the blade as if holding one for the first time. The girl could shoot a bow relatively well, but knives were not her forte by any means. For that matter, the bow wasn’t either.
    Jordin unslung her bow and notched an arrow, ready in the event that they were not alone. The first order of business was to find the body, alive or dead. If alive, they would have to kill the rider and harvest the blood. If dead, their task would be much easier.
    She ran forward in a low crouch. The sand softened their footfall.
    The first sign of rock came at fifty meters—smaller boulders that had rolled the farthest from the pile, just visible to her in the darkness ahead. She pulled up at the sound of a call from an Immortal, apparently searching for the fallen warrior.
    No reply. The first was dead or unconscious. Considering the rubble, she guessed the former. Not even an Immortal could survive such a pounding.
    So they’d left one for the rescue, which could pose a problem. Now she had to make a choice—either try to kill the living one or wait, hoping he would leave to meet the others on the cliff top when they returned.
    Each minute they waited was one less they could use to put distance between themselves and the canyon, and the Immortals would be back to retrieve their comrade soon enough. She had no intention of being anywhere near the canyon when they returned.
    She held her space, crouched low, breathing steadily through her nostrils. Only a minute, and then she would go in to test fate.
    She needed only thirty seconds. She heard the creak of horse tack and then the sound of a retreating gallop—the Immortal had gone to join the others in the hunt.
    “Hurry!”
    Jordin ran forward to the pile and quickly searched for any sign of the body. The boulders had fallen in greater number than even she had hoped for, burying both horse and man beneath a small hill of stone.
    “Move the rock—look for a limb. We don’t have to get him out, we just need enough access to drain some blood.”
    “He’s dead?” Kaya asked, her voice high.
    “He won’t feel any more pain, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dig!”
    They began to push and roll stones off the pile. The clatter would be heard easily from above, but with hope the Immortals were too far to the east to hear it. It was a chance she had to take.
    Kaya grunted and jerked back, nearly falling off the boulder she’d mounted for better access to the boulders on top. She covered her mouth, staring into a gap between two boulders.
    “I think I found something.”
    Jordin scrambled to her position, doing her best not to twist or break an ankle—that was the last thing they needed—and saw the broken bone jutting from torn flesh down in the opening. An Immortal arm, torn through a black sleeve. Next to it, the leg and hoof of the rider’s mount, battered and lifeless. She felt more for the animal than the rider.
    “That’ll do.”
    She shrugged out of her pack and pulled out an empty collection jar and the large syringe she’d brought. They used the same device for the seroconversion of Corpses.
    There was no need to puncture the skin with the thick needle; the wound was seeping plenty of blood already.
    “Keep your eye on the cliffs,” she said.
    “How much do you need?”
    “As much as will fill two small jars—it’s all I have. Hopefully he hasn’t bled out completely.”
    Jordin quickly inserted the needle into the bloody mess that hadonce been an elbow, filling the syringe three times before switching jars and repeating