Page 79 of The Lost Reliquary
Everyone goes still. The encroaching Caerula wait for instruction from their leader.
“I thought so.” A little bit of greed is still greed. “Now what?” I say to Nolan.
He sighs. “There’s only one thing we’re after.”Machias. “Looks like we’ll have to get it your way.”
That’s all I need. Nolan goes low the instant I toss the box high into the air, pulling a knife from his boot and arcing it at Ramiro. But the Caerula is quick. Not quick enough to avoid the blade entirely, but enough so that it only sinks into the meat of his arm. But Nolan’s second blade finds a chest—
Just not Ramiro’s, as the man jerks Machias in front of him at the last second.
“Shit!” The heretic crumples. I launch myself onto the stone table and draw my sickles as most of the Caerula scramble to catch the box. My blade takes one that doesn’t across the eyes, blinding them. The next strike opens a man from gut to collarbone. But we are surrounded, and this is going to get real ugly, real fast.
Nolan darts around the front of the table, brandishing a sword claimed from one of the injured men.
“Machias?” he screams as he cuts down another Caerula.
I have a clear view of the heretic, if not a good one. “Very dead.”
Rage flashes, Nolan’s next strike so brutal that it parts head from body. That’s enough to give the attacking Caerula pause, but only briefly. They’ve still got an advantage, especially if they can tighten ranks around us.
So we’re not going to let them.
I jump down beside Nolan, slashing. He deflects a blow and kicks, sending a body tumbling, giving us a chance to break free of the deadly ring and run. The cave entrance isn’t far, but not as close as I’d like. A slim figure suddenly appears alongside me. I almost strike before realizing it’s Tychus. He’s white as the salty walls around us, but miraculously unharmed. Apparently, no one considered him much of a threat.
“Help me!” he cries.
“Stay close!”
I say it even though I know he won’t. He can’t. Nolan and I are too quick. By the time we plunge back into the tunnels, Tychus is already falling behind.
“Wait, please!”
I ignore him.
And then I don’t, my feet digging into stone. I spin in time to see him catching up, half a dozen Caerula on his heels. Not my favorite odds, but the tunnel is narrow enough that they’ll bottleneck. I raise my sickles.
Tychus grins with relief. And then jerks forward, an arrow punching its way out of his throat.
“Fucking fuck.” I’m moving again before his corpse hits the ground. “Nolan! Arrows!”
He’s already well ahead of me and I don’t expect him to stop, but he falters, glancing back as if he didn’t realize I wasn’t right behind him anymore. I push to close the distance. He disappears around a turn, then reappears when I take it, flawlessly retracing our steps. The Caerula fall behind, but not far. I can still hear their pursuit. At least in the winding tunnels it’s hard to get a good shot at us.
Finally, I see night sky through the exit, framing Nolan. He waited, just long enough to make sure I was still there. It’s damn near touching. By the time I’m out of the cliffs, he’s mounted on Buttons. I bolt that final distance, sparing only a second to cut Tychus’s horse free and give his rump a good slap so he can’t be used for pursuit. Then I swing up onto Mortimer. The moment I’m seated a sharp line of pain pierces through my shoulder.
Nolan twists around as I cry out, then dodges as an arrow flies past his head.
Not from the tunnel. They’re somewhere above us on the cliffs.
“Go!” I dig my heels into Mortimer’s flanks.
Another arrow whistles by, kissing my cheek. I ignore it, ignore the pain, focus only on Nolan’s back. I sense more than hear the bolts streaking around me, and every second, I expect another one to find a kidney, a lung, the back of my skull. Then, we are away from the cliffs, swallowed by the tree line. I look back. There’s no one trailing yet, only the road, dappled in shadows. But they’ll be coming. Nolan knows it too, and instead of following the path, he turns off into a break in the trees, taking us deeper into the foliage. We keep moving for the better part of an hour, changing our path frequently, making sure that we have lost any possible pursuit.
Only when we break onto an open beach, a thin line of sand curvingaround the water like the blade of my sickles, do I reach for the arrow in my shoulder. I wrench it free and toss it aside, grunting with the fresh pain. It hurts like hell. But it’s nothing. Not to me. Not to the Chosen of Tempestra-Innara.
The wet, warm sensation of blood sheets down my side.
Well, maybe it’s a little something.
Nolan turns back. “Are you okay?”
