My breath caught at Nash's question. At the same time, a Flatlander stumbled back from a hit she'd deflected several feet away and spun around to face me. I ripped my dagger from my side and planted it against Nash's right kidney between our backs, all while I slashed for the woman in front of me.
Nash didn't turn, but I heard his breathing slow.
Keeping my blade on him, I kicked the warrior in her gut when she clumsily attacked. Her body slammed back into the blade of her first opponent.
I gritted my teeth. "I warned you–"
"I couldn't tell you with so many listening. The Prophet wants the head of any captive who falls in battle to prove you didn't flee. Be smart."
I withdrew my knife from his back. How did he know what I planned to do? It was a desperate, obvious plan, wasn't it? One that I couldn't chance now that Nash suspected it. I'd have to find another way.
Two Flatlanders wearing helmets with black feathers pushed through their comrades for us. Another with a red feather approached from further back. We’d been noticed. Must have been commanders coming to deal with us.
"You're warning me?" I asked.
The closest officer sprinted for us, sword raised above her head.
"I'm not who you think I am." Nash ripped his blades up.
"We'll see."
I dropped my weapon and shield.
Whipped out my bow and notched an arrow in one fluid motion.
The commander reared back for a long, full stab of her blade. But I trusted Nash’s blades and I aimed my arrow for the Flatlander charging right behind the commander.
Nash slammed both his swords down against hers and knocked her weapon free of her grip. My arrow shot through the open mouth of the unsuspecting man. As Nash wrenched his swords back up, I’d already notched another arrow, and we followed-through at the same time.
Nash's blades thrust through the officer's diaphragm.
My arrow pierced a Flatlander's throat.
Nash defended against the Flatlanders closest to us, while I shot for those who had turned toward us. Though I'd lost my power, I'd worked to salvage the inklings of it that could come as instinct. I unleashed two arrows at once, guiding them with my will as much as my aim.
Someone behind me. I threw myself to the ground, rolled off my shoulder, and rose back up with my shield, ducked entirely behind it. Even with my whole body propping up my defense, the whack of the sword drove me onto my ass. I rolled with the momentum and came up on my feet, batting away another hit with my shield.
Nash rushed for my attacker, but I’d grabbed my sword, and I deflected the next hit, leaving the man open. We both stabbed him at the same time.
The red-feathered commander pushed a young warrior aside and hefted his battle ax, eyes shifting between Nash and me. With his other hand, he lifted a large spear, and threw it through the air.
Nash slashed it in half and pivoted for the last commander. I shifted onto my toes. Two Flatlanders sprinted from behind him and drove their blades for Nash.
The ax flashed in a glint of the sun. I ducked and jumped backward.
More Flatlanders surrounded us. The fear of it only sharpened my senses as I dodged another blow.
“Max!” Wren burst out in front of me and swung for one of the Flatlanders nearby, protecting me so I could focus on this opponent. Leif was close behind, taking down Flatlanders on his way to us.
No time to check on Nash. Had to hope he was holding up okay.
I parried a hit, but just barely. This man was good.
The red-feathered commander drilled into my eyes with a glare. "You're Denstar."
"Yeah, and you're fucked." I swung with both hands on my blade for the extra muscle and knocked his ax down an inch.
An amused smirk twisted his face. "What coward fights for Eskel the Ruthless?"
Heat flushed my cheeks. My gut. "Can't pass up the chance to kill Flatlanders." I feigned a slash and slid on my knees, catching his thigh with the tip of my sword when he dodged.
"Die a coward's death," the commander cried. He bore down with both hands on his ax.
I didn't dodge. Didn't block. Stuck my blade through his elbow, twisted, and sent the ax barreling into the ground beside me. The handle grazed my shoulder.
My heart pounded as I jumped to my feet and sliced his head clean from his shoulders. Blood pooled around the red feather. I caught my breath and checked on Wren and Leif as they fought three Flatlanders. More of my people had pushed in to form a perimeter around us. Gasping to catch my breath, I twisted further, searching for Nash. There he was, outside of the area my people had cleared, taking on two at once. Nash’s blades danced so elegantly that his fighting looked choreographed.
I pushed past Beast and ran for him.
Nash thrust his blade behind his head and caught an attack. He struck the hilt of the other's sword with his right sword. Swiftly, he lunged forward, twisted his wrist to lock his sword against the warrior's handle and threw his weight against it, breaking the man’s guard. He’d already swung his other blade back up to deflect another hit from the woman behind him.
He was mid-twist, slinging his right sword up from a low position and his left over his head, behind himself, when both weapons embedded into flesh. The Flatlanders slid off his blades and onto the ground.
I slowed, having just reached him.
Sweat dripped down the side of his face.
“Are you hurt?” Nash asked, glancing down my form.
“No.” I nodded at his bloodied swords. “Just watching the show.”
He wiped his forehead with the crook of his arm, his amber eyes almost golden in the sun. “You put on a nice show of your own. And you had my back.” Nash pulled a cloth from his pocket and offered it to me. “I owe you.”
"Be more careful. You're good but still mortal." I took the cloth and cleaned my bow, only considering once it was too late that it might have been meant for my face. Touching my cheek, I realized I was covered in mud and splatters of blood. Nash's eyes were on me, a smile on his face, in a definite sign that he’d noticed.
My cheeks warmed. I chuckled and wiped my face next.
"I'll be marginally less conceited." He shrugged. "If you start caring for yourself as much as your bow."
I chuckled and backed away.
I needed to tell Leif and Wren about my change in plans. Mostly, I needed some distance. We had only moments before we would need to battle again.
We battled hard together, pushing through until we reached the back of the enemy forces. There I peppered the enemy with my arrows. By the time the Flatlanders figured out what we were doing, it didn't matter. We'd gained too much ground. My arms felt too heavy to even lift, and yet I fought on fiercely, until I had to search for another warrior to kill.
“It’s over.” Leif nodded at the forest where the last of the Flatlanders escaped into the trees. “We won.”
The thrill swept through me in a wave of energy. I thrust my blade in the air and roared from my depths, a cry that swelled in my stomach and my chest in pressure. Leif caught my wrist and cried out with me. We fell back, laughing as we lowered our weapons.
It wasn’t that we didn’t care about the people dead at our feet. Blood mixed with dirt into a gelatinous paste that sucked at our boots, refusing to release us from the battlefield. With each step, we broke free, and that was something to celebrate. We would live another day. Having so precious few left only made me want to roar again. The rest–the sorrow, the guilt, the questioning–could wait until later.
I gathered with my circle beyond the battlefield where the grass was still green and untrampled. The young attended to us as if we were also the Prophet’s own warriors. Leif took a basin of water from one of the boys and carried it to our group.
I wet a rag when the grass crunched behind me.
“Any injuries?” a familiar voice asked.
I turned, cleaning the blood from the nape of my neck. Nash stood before me, sweat glistening over his bare chest, dark with dirt and streaks of blood. From what I’d seen, it all belonged to the enemy.
“We’re fine,” I said and angled away to avert my eyes. “You?”
“Same.”
It was nothing to see a man without his armor or shirt. I’d spent countless days and nights after battle with the men stripping down to nothing. It was so commonplace as to not notice. So noticing now made me burn with embarrassment.
Nash turned to grab a washcloth from the basin of water and I noticed a flesh-colored tattoo weaving down the length of his spine that looked like scars. It was a script. Beautiful letters twisting and climbing up his back like vines. He turned back around before I could figure out what it said.
Leif threw his tunic on top of his armor, completely naked, as was his habit given his hatred for under shorts. He washed himself with his damp cloth, apparently without an ounce of self-consciousness in front of mixed company. Of course Nash probably didn’t think a thing about it. I wasn’t sure why I was.
“You fight like a damn demon.” Leif looked over my shoulder to Nash. “Never thought I’d say something like that to one of you, but I have to admit it.”
Nash took a cloth from the basin on the ground and cleaned his face. “If I fight like a demon then you fight like one of the gods down here among us.”
Leif grinned now and lifted his leg to wash his thigh. “And what would that make Max?"
Nash eyed me. “How is it I haven’t heard of you before?”
“Maxy takes great care not to become a legend. She’ll let everyone take credit for her.” Leif straightened and rolled his neck. “But make no mistake. She’s the best of us.”
Nash nodded at me. "Sharpshooter. Better than a god or a demon."
It was dangerous talk. This talk of demons and gods. Of things I’d tried to leave behind. Had to leave behind.
The past tugged at me in a burn at my fingertips. The Mountain of the Gods seemed to swell in size. I couldn’t slip.
“I’m just a warrior.” I threw my rag down into the water basin. “Like everyone else.”
