the head bigger than Samuel’s skull. He took a quick step back just as she turned, swinging her weapon up at the same time.
The metal head slammed into a sword, and the tall, massively built man holding the weapon stared down at her through a mass of thick dark hair.
“That hammer is ridiculous,” the man said.
“I love my hammer,” the woman replied. “I made it myself.” She pulled her weapon away from his sword. “You’re Amichai. Aren’t you?”
Which explained to Samuel the mighty mane of hair and the leather kilt.
“Perhaps introductions later,” the Amichai replied. “You should be more worried about what’s behind you.” He moved his gaze to Samuel. “Down, boy.”
It was barely an order, muttered low, but Samuel immediately followed, dropping to his knees. Just as he did, something whipped past his head. He heard a grunt and a snapping sound. A body fell down beside him and Samuel cringed. He couldn’t help it because the woman’s hammer slammed on a soldier’s face, crashing into it. Blood, skin, bone, and brain exploded out, briefly blinding Samuel.
A hand gripped his upper arm and hauled him to his feet again.
“Behind me, boy,” his female rescuer said, pushing him back until he hit a tree trunk.
Samuel wiped the gore from his eyes in time to witness one of the soldiers swing his sword at the woman’s head. She jerked to the side and used her hammer to parry the blow, then followed up with a punch to the head that sent the man stumbling to his knees. Not that Samuel was surprised. The shoulders on that woman. By the gods!
The Amichai who had stepped in to help now fought other soldiers. But he was not alone. Like most people from his part of the world, he traveled with others. Two men and a woman. Also tall, also powerfully built, and all of them heavily armed. Based on that description alone, they could have been from anywhere, but the leather kilts, tattoos of their tribes, and what his father always called “their mighty manes of hair” made it clear they were from the Amichai Mountains. The expanse of mountainous territories ruled over by powerful, unfriendly tribes. The Old King’s territory butted right up against the base of the Amichai range but he’d never dared challenge the tribes head-on. No one had. They were considered brutal barbarians. Mad killers who ate their own and sacrificed babies to their dead and their demon gods.
Samuel didn’t know if all that was true, but at the moment he dearly hoped not. Because they and the big-shouldered woman were the only things keeping him alive.
Reaching for his own sword, Samuel abruptly remembered that it had been snatched from him before the soldiers had strung him up.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked, battering the soldier on the ground with her hammer. His face caved in; his chest cracked open.
“Ssss . . . Sssss . . .” He shook his head; tried again. “Samuel.”
“I’m Keeley,” she replied, stopping to give him a little smile before another soldier came running at her. She spun the hammer around and rammed it forward, the head battering the soldier in the gut. She quickly raised the weapon, bringing the soldier with it.
Samuel watched her lift the man up and over her head. The muscles in her arms and shoulders rippled with the effort before smashing him back to the ground, the head of her hammer now buried inside the soldier’s body.
When she yanked the hammer out, blood and gore spattered Samuel again, but he raised his arm to block his eyes this time.
Samuel had to admit . . . he was tired of getting hit with men’s insides.
Lowering his now gore-covered arm, Samuel watched as the people who’d taken it upon themselves to rescue him battled the brutal soldiers. Thankfully—for their own sakes more than his—they were all skilled at close-in battle and had handily taken down the soldiers in due course.
Samuel had just let out a relieved breath when Keeley’s head snapped up and she looked toward the nearby road. Just as she did, the Amichai woman crouched down and pressed her hand to the ground.
“More coming!” she called out.
“We should get the boy to safety,” one of the tribal males said.
“No time.” Keeley stalked across the forest toward the road. “I need an axe,” she ordered. “Now!”
Another Amichai pulled out a beautiful weapon. An axe that seemed to be one long piece of steel. Keeley held out her hand and he