A Girl From Nowhere (The Firewall Trilogy #1) - James Maxwell Page 0,138
into her head.
“Grab her.” The Protector’s voice sounded muffled. “Arren is dead. Leave him.”
The prisoners rushed forward. More than twice their number of soldiers charged. The two groups collided.
Taimin tried to get to Galen but a soldier with broad shoulders attacked and he found himself engaged, parrying until he saw an opening and took his opponent down. Nearby, Vance roared and dispatched a scar-faced soldier with a feint and thrust. Bax smashed into the men who had slaughtered their friends and families. Lars swung a wicked-looking axe into a crimson-clad soldier’s chest.
As Taimin tried to cut a path through to Galen, he reminded himself of the refugees on the plain, and the things the bax had told him. In his peripheral vision he saw bax hack and grunt as they battled their enemies. Fighters on both sides cried out in pain when blows struck home. Soldiers tripped on the uneven sand. Prisoners gasped as swords entered their chests.
Taimin defeated another opponent but after just a short time the superior number of soldiers began to tell. Around him his companions were being pushed back. Vance was under pressure, up against two soldiers at once. The bax fought together at the front, in a cluster that grew ever smaller. One bax fell, then another. Soon there was only one bax fighting. A sword plunged into his torso, and he fell too.
Then everything changed.
Taimin had forgotten the rebels.
People from the crowd reached the battle and immediately enveloped the soldiers. The prisoners took heart and renewed their efforts; soon it was the uniformed soldiers who were giving ground. The newcomers were a range of ages and their weapons were improvised. But they had numbers.
Taimin caught sight of Galen.
A patch of ground cleared between them. Everything else diminished in Taimin’s perception. Galen thrust his sword into a youth’s chest. He then turned and his eyes narrowed when he saw Taimin.
Taimin gripped the hilt of his hardwood sword in both hands. The point of Galen’s steel blade went up.
Taimin reflected on his constant practice with Abi. She had drilled the moves into him over and over again. She taught him how to move in deft, unpredictable ways, despite his impediment.
He attacked.
He slashed with his sword. Galen’s sword followed his movement, and the two weapons collided. The sharp steel bit into the wood but Taimin’s blade held. The two men soon stood chest to chest, teeth gritted, eyes glaring.
Taimin put his weight onto his bad leg. The pain was excruciating, but he knew how to bear it. He freed up his other leg and smashed his boot into Galen’s ankle. Galen gave a cry of pain but was too experienced to shift his posture. Instead, Galen pushed back in an attempt to throw Taimin from their locked position.
Taimin was expecting it. He rolled with the motion, but rather than fall back he dropped. Galen’s sword arced down over his head, but Taimin was still moving and the steel blade struck the sand.
With the older man overextended, Taimin was now inside Galen’s reach.
Taimin gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands and brought the point up as he straightened. The blade entered his enemy’s chest, penetrated the leather armor, and continued. Abi had always taught Taimin to never falter, to stay committed until his enemy was down. Taimin kept pushing, and his sword slid through to emerge on the other side of Galen’s body.
Galen gasped and staggered. The sword dropped out of his hands. He looked down at his chest and the blade buried in his body.
Taimin held fast. Galen took another step backward. As the hardwood blade left his body, he pressed his hands against the gaping wound in his chest.
Galen collapsed.
Taimin took a deep breath as he stared at the commander’s lifeless body. His enemy was dead.
He swiftly took stock of his surroundings. Fighters surged back and forth. Bodies lay scattered across the sand. A final pocket of resistance held out, but it was clear that soon the last of the soldiers would fall. Now the most experienced arena fighters threw themselves at the last members of the city guard standing. Lars barreled into a stocky soldier and knocked him down before finishing him off with the axe. The big skinner stood with his chest heaving.
There was no one left to fight.
The two groups had now merged. Prisoners and rebels mingled together as they slowly lowered their weapons. Everyone exchanged glances, shaken by the experience.