Page 5 of The King of Koraha
The man sighed then stomped on the ground. Odd. His gang stomped as well, like they were all having a temper tantrum. Was that supposed to scare them?
Sand exploded into the air and a dozen more figures stood behind the ambushers. Shyla started at their sudden appearance. She hadn’t sensed them. Did they have magic? She tried to catch one of their gazes without luck.
“What about now?” the leader asked.
Shyla picked up on his frustration, but he was determined. He’d been hired to do a job and he never failed.
“Captain?” Lota asked. This time a slight tremor shook her voice.
“My answer remains the same.”
“Shyla?”
Could she influence thirty people? Probably not. But she was curious about who had hired them and why, and that required her to spend more time with them. It appeared they wanted her alive. Plus she didn’t want Lota’s children or the caravanners to suffer. “I’ll still go.”
“No,” Rendor said. “I won’t let you.”
Well then. Shyla concentrated on the sand under the ambushers’ feet. Might as well even the odds.
“Don’t be stupid, Lota,” the leader said. “She’s willing and you’re wasting time.” He gestured to the sun.
“You’re right, we’re wasting time. Captain, make it fast.” Lota stepped back as Rendor surged forward, stabbing his sword toward the leader’s neck. The man blocked and lunged at Rendor’s stomach with his dagger.
Shyla wrenched the sand from underneath six attackers’ feet. They sank into the ground up to their chests, crying out in surprise. The other ambushers charged toward them. Two of them reached her within the blink of an eye.
Stop, she commanded with her magic.
They froze in place. Next to her, Camlo, one of Lota’s muscles, clutched a mallet to his chest, gaping at the fighting erupting all around. She tapped him on the shoulder, borrowed his weapon, and struck the frozen men on their temples. Hard. They crumpled to the ground.
She handed the mallet back to him. “Stay close to me.”
He almost trod on her heels, but he caught on quick. Shyla froze attackers, and he knocked them unconscious. They sidestepped various skirmishes, ducking blows and dodging a few sword thrusts. The air filled with the hot metallic scent of blood and sweat. Grunts and curses peppered the air as weapons clanged. The caravan’s guards knew how to fight with a sword, but they were loath to take a life. Shyla sank a few more ambushers.
Knocking everyone unconscious and leaving them to cook in the sun went against her oath to only kill in self-defense. Between her efforts and that of the other guards, half of their assailants were trapped in the sand and the other half would wake up with horrible headaches. Overall, the fight was over quickly. Only Rendor still fought with the leader.
He was holding his own and appeared to be enjoying the match. The man had some skills, but nothing compared to Rendor. As she watched, she figured out the real challenge that Rendor faced was fighting in a way that led the leader to believe he had a chance to win. Which was harder.
“Is the caravan secure?” Rendor asked. Even though sweat streaked his dark skin, he wasn’t winded from his exertions.
“Yes. You can stop playing. I’ve questions for him,” she said.
The man increased the pace of his attack. Rendor countered with ease. Then all Rendor’s flourishes and fancy feints and blocks disappeared as he went on the offensive. Quick, efficient, and intense, Rendor unarmed the mercenary and knocked him down in three moves.
Staring at Rendor in astonishment, the leader raised his hands as the point of Rendor’s sword touched his neck. Shyla yanked off his head scarf. Tight ringlets of sweat-soaked brown hair clung to his scalp. He looked to be around twenty-five to thirty circuits old.
Rendor stepped back but kept the tip of his sword aimed at the man. “Get up,” he ordered.
A kindness, since the sand was hot enough to burn skin even through clothing. The danger zone was quickly approaching. The leader moved gracefully as he stood.
When Lota joined them, Rendor asked, “Do you recognize him? He called you by name.”
“No, but I’m well known throughout Koraha. Shyla, do you know him?”
“No. But you should get your caravan moving or you’ll be cooked. We’ll catch up and report in.”
“Are you sure?” Then she noticed the state of the mercenaries. “Are you going to—”
“No. We’re not.”
