“They belong to that merchant. The one I sold the explosives to.”
The bandit leader whistled. “A sharp eye. A shame you chose to spend it on petty crimes.”
“Says the highwayman robbing innocent people.”
Doran wanted to punch Ash. He never knew when to shut up.
The leader laughed. “I wouldn’t call you innocent, exactly. What did you do? You blew up a family, including the baby. That’s right, isn’t it? I’d kill you right here, but our boss wants you alive.” Ash opened his mouth—to object, like the stupid idiot he was—when the bandit leader tutted. “He wants you alive. He didn’t say anything about your friends. Archers!” All around him, bow strings tensed. “Our boss wants this one, here. Kill the others.”
But I digress. I want to stress again that I don't condone or excuse what Ceallach did. I'm against war and have never embraced its bloody finality like my sister did. I didn't want this. I don't think he did, either. But I admire the passion that first drove him, even if it was his undoing.
Even though it was our undoing.
Chapter 43
Ash
Arrows rained down around them. All Ash could do was watch as they got closer at terrifying speed. There was no point in running. The arrows seemed to come from all directions at once.
That, and Naavah Ora had gripped his arm to stop him from running away.
He’d been a coward the night before and so many times before that. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Or a hundred times. Or more than that, come to think of it.
Ash flinched and squeezed his eyes shut when the arrows were about to pierce his body—but the pain didn’t come. Dull thuds sounded all around him, and he opened his eyes.
The ground was littered with arrows.
Ash laughed when he remembered Naavah Ora’s protection spell. The one I asked her to use. Not ten minutes ago. He never had been very good at life-or-death situations.
The bandit leader growled and drew his sword. “He has a magic protector! Archers, stand down! Men, charge!”
Doran and Levi drew their weapons, and Naavah Ora raised her staff. The men charging from the right froze—actually froze, like a pond in winter, skin turned white and blue and cold forever—and Doran and Levi met the men from their left head on.
Which left him with the leader, who now looked like he had a personal grudge against Ash.
“By Mengha.”
The leader grinned at him. Ash had lost. He’d never been a strong fighter like Doran. Doran could use a dagger as well as his fists, and Levi looked as comfortable on the battlefield with those two knives as Ash had felt back in Kwenjande between two girls eating grapes. And Naavah Ora was terrifying in any situation.
But Ash? He was clumsy and had only won the few fights he’d been in because he had fought dirty. He doubted the same tricks would get him out of this one.
The leader, a tall man with more muscles than any one man could possibly need, swung his sword in an arc, grinning like this was the best day of his life.
It probably was too, if what he’d said about his payment was true.
He jumped down and within the fraction of a breath, he stood before Ash. “Come now, Ashwin, don’t make this too easy.”
“You can’t kill me!” He hoped his opponent wasn’t one of those people who forgot all reason once they’d smelled blood. “Kult wants me alive!”
The leader pouted, like Ash had hurt his pride. Paired with his muscles and scars, it looked ridiculous. “And he’ll get you alive. He never said he wanted you in one piece, though. I’m sure he won’t mind if you’re missing an arm or a leg.”
He swung. Ash dodged just in time and rolled to the side.
“And I was worried you wouldn’t make this fun.”
Kult’s lackey drew his weapon back and brought it down with more force than Ash had ever mustered for anything.
Ash rolled to the side just in time, but he still felt the impact when the heavy weapon came down next to him.
He shot to his feet. There had to be something he could do. The bandit leader was toying with him, nothing more. Ash didn’t doubt what he’d said—Kult needed him alive, but wouldn’t care if Ash was missing a hand.
He was light on his feet and flexible. It had served him well many times, but he hated that running away was all he was good at.
“You can’t outrun me, Ashwin. Your friends can’t hold my men back. Come now, and I’ll call them off.”
Ash knew better than to fall for that. With more courage than he’d ever felt, he spat in the man’s face.
The leader grinned, exposing his teeth like a starving wolf.
“So, you’ve found a bit of bravery after all. That was a mistake, Ashwin. I’ll take your tongue for that.”
He lunged at Ash. Ash tried to roll away, but the larger man caught his legs and threw him to the ground. He tried to wriggle away, but he couldn’t move. His opponent’s grip on his legs was too firm.
“I don’t have to start with your tongue. I can take a foot instead. It’s all the same to me.”
Shuffling free was made harder by the straps of his backpack, which dug into his shoulders. He should have left his chemicals to rot in his basement. He could have bought new ones. Or maybe—
He had an idea. It wasn’t easy since the bandit was still pinning him down, but he managed to take off his backpack. He propped himself up on his arms and spun around. The sudden movement threw the bandit off balance, and Ash kicked him in the face. He stumbled and cursed, but Ash didn’t have time to kick again. Ash jumped to his feet and grabbed the first thing his hand found inside his backpack. He only hoped it was enough; a simple herb wouldn’t do.
Ash’s opponent wiped the blood from his face. “You’ve broken my nose! You little—”
With as much force as he could muster, Ash slammed the glass phial into the man’s face. It shattered. A foul-smelling liquid ooze ran over his face.
“What the—”
Thank Mengha, it’s the right one.
The bandit leader felt his face, his eyes wide. If he’d swallowed only a little it would immobilise him, and Ash could help the others. It was a paralysing poison he used for his stun bombs, but concentrated like this it would render him immobile for a while.
The bandit leader began to panic and wiped at his face. “What did you do to me!”
Ash scoffed. “I must say, I thought you were braver than this. Don’t worry, it won’t—”
His skin began to smoke. Ash noticed with horror that the man’s face was melting. Where the liquid had touched fabric, it burnt through.
It hadn’t been the liquid he’d hoped for after all. He hadn’t even remembered that he’d packed this one.
Ash took a step back. The man fell to the ground, grabbing at his throat and clawing at his face. He started to scream, but the sound died in a gurgle of coughed-up blood.
He collapsed into a bloody heap on the ground and stopped moving.
Ash looked at his own hands. The gloves he wore had protected his skin from damage, but they were useless to him now. The acid had worn them too thin.
He drew his dagger, ready to join the others, but thought of a better idea.
“Find cover!”