Chapter Eighteen

Sky grabbed for the knife sheathed at her waist, her eyes fixated on the thin blade in Ahala’s hand. It seemed to have no more substance than a flash of light and it was coming at her just as fast.

“Ceti! Help! Killer!”

She’d never get her knife out in time to stop the attack, but at least Ceti had warning.

Unexpectedly, Ahala stumbled. Sky launched herself at him, leading with her shoulder. The impact sent both of them tumbling to the floor. She landed on top of Ahala. That thin knife flashed at her again.

She rolled onto the floor, away from Ahala, toward Tabor, drawing her knife as she moved.

Yet she doubted her blade would be enough. Ahala had longer arms and she knew he was stronger because of how he’d held her down last night. And she was no warrior.

I need a better weapon.

She curled her hand around the sawdust collected on the floor, tossed it in her attacker’s eyes, and gained the time she needed to get to her feet.

Ahala coughed and took a moment to wipe the dust out of his eyes. She lunged at him, her knife held out tip forward for a quick jab to the heart. He evaded her attempt easily, a slight grin on his face. The light from the lantern caught the surface of his strange little knife once more, now in his left hand.

She backed up to gain space between them and draw Ahala further away from Tabor, but her hip hit the edge of the table, trapping her. Ahala rushed her. She swept her knife in front of her, not expecting to hit him but hoping to delay the killing blow.

He evaded her move with one sidestep, grinning wider now.

She blindly patted the table with her empty hand. Tabor had used Ceti’s hammer to hold down the map. It should be on there still.

Ahala closed in on her, only three steps away. She finally marked that he was dressed all in black, like a shadow.

She stabbed at his stomach, not really expecting to hit him but hoping to push him back. He grabbed her wrist and twisted before she could react. A sharp pain shot up her arm and she lost hold of her knife.

Again, a flash of light came at her.

“I promised your death to you,” Ahala said.

She felt his breath on her face, the sharp pain caused by the corner of the table jammed into her hip, and wished she could have flown once before she died.

“Sky!”

It was a cry of anguish. Ceti rushed toward them, sword drawn, but he had to go around the edge of the center table to reach them. Ahala still had time to kill her.

But Ahala stalled his killing stroke and turned to face the new assault. He kept hold of her wrist, twisting it sideways, doubling her pain.

He clearly regarded her as little threat.

I am She Who Was Born Under Fire in the Sky, slime.

Her seeking fingers finally curled around the handle of the hammer. It was heavy. No wonder it had felled the centurion in one blow.

She had to twist her body to tighten her grip. The pressure on her captive wrist increased. This time, the jolt of pain went all the way to her shoulder. She took a deep breath, and swung the hammer at Ahala’s head with all the strength she had.

May the storm gods encase you in darkness forever, Ahala.

She screamed, a battle cry mixed with the near-intolerable pain in on her wrist.

The flat head of the hammer connected with Ahala’s shoulder. A loud snap echoed through the room. Ahala stumbled sideways with a muffled scream and let go of Sky’s wrist.

I wanted his head. She hadn’t had enough control of the hammer. She raised it to try again.

Ceti swung the Roman short sword at Ahala in a sweeping overhand motion, clearly hoping to split open Ahala’s head and finish what she’d started. But even with his arm limp at his side and his face twisted in pain, Ahala avoided the blow as easily as he’d avoided her knife thrusts.

This time, though, instead of pressing the attack, Ahala turned and fled for the door near the bedroom entrance, the one they’d used to enter Ceti’s home.

She and Ceti rushed after Ahala, but when they reached the doorway, she saw no sign of him or his passage in the grounds outside.

Beside her, Ceti swore.

A squad of Roman soldiers rushed in from the main workshop entrance.

Ceti brandished his sword and pointed to where Ahala had gone, shouting in Latin at the soldiers. The men scrambled to obey his commands. Half the group ran in the direction that Ahala had gone.

She should do the same, catch Ahala, but…

Tabor.

She turned and saw the medicus who had been treating Laughing Dog was already kneeling next to Tabor. A folded cloth, quickly turning red, had been pushed over the gut wound to staunch the bleeding.

Sky forced herself to breathe normally. Her wrist ached and the weight of the hammer in her hand pulled at her shoulder. She dropped to her knees beside the medicus, praying Tabor was not already dead.

Ahala had stumbled when first attacking her. She realized why now, as a movement she’d seen only out of the corner of her eye became clear.

Tabor had reached out and grabbed Ahala’s feet, causing the stumble. The Roman commander had saved her life.

His eyes fluttered.

He lives.

She should speak, say something, but her throat was swollen shut. She’d lied to this man. He knew it. Still, he’d used his last bit of strength to help her.

The medicus called out and one of the soldiers dropped to the floor on the other side of Tabor.

“Move.” Ceti put his hand on her shoulder. “The medicus needs room to work, Sky.”

She nodded, and tried to stand, but had to accept Ceti’s help to get to her feet. Her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by a heavy stone. She grabbed the center workbench for balance. Her limp fingers finally dropped the hammer and it fell to the wood floor with a thunk.

“Sky!” Ceti put his hands on her shoulders and peered at her intently. “Did he cut you? Are you hurt?”

“He didn’t cut me, thanks to you and Tabor.” Tears started to run down her cheeks. Her wrist hurt, but the pain was already dulling.

She was uninjured physically.

But she hurt, deep inside, nonetheless.

This is my responsibility. I set into motion the events that led to this.