A Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes #4) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,89

or spine or both. I spin out of my crouch and swipe up my knife belt, still lying near the bonfire. When I turn, he is there, foam flecking his mouth, eyes that uncanny white.

He is too strong. I will never beat him in hand-to-hand combat. And as a Martial, I don’t bleeding care. War has rules—this monster followed none of them. Saving the people of Antium means I must choose between honor and victory. Without hesitation, I choose victory.

He sees the blade too late. I plunge it into his heart, rip it out, and plunge it in again, and again and again.

He should not be able to speak. But the ghost in him rages. “Karkaun—challenge—” he rasps. “No—steel—”

“I’m not a Karkaun.” I kick up my scim from where it rests near my feet and swing it at his neck. He blocks the attack, the ghost in him lending him strength when he should be bleeding out, and I dance away from him.

“You think—you will win,” he whispers, and now he weaves, having lost too much blood.

“This is my city. And as long as I have breath left in my body, I will fight for it.”

“Cities.” He drops to his knees. “Cities are nothing. I am nothing. You are nothing. Ik tachk mort fid iniqant fi.”

His shoulders sag, and when I whip my scim across to take off his head, he cannot stop me. Blood geysers over me as I kick his twitching body off the cliff, dig my fingers into his hair, and hold up his severed head.

“This is your leader?” I turn to his men. “This is the man you called king?”

For a seemingly unending moment, the Karkauns are silent. The city is filled with the sounds of battle, and in the distance, the lockstep thud of boots echoes. Quin!

Come on, Harper, I think. If ever there was a clearer signal than this . . .

A cry of victory goes up from the Martial prisoners still being marched through the Karkaun crowd, and all the hells break loose. It begins at the back of the Karkaun throng, but my men move quickly. Fights break out, and the Karkauns shout, grasping for their weapons, realizing that the enemy is among them.

I tear another knife from my belt and plunge into the fray. All of my hate, all of my frustration, every sleepless night during which I raged against my own inaction pours out of me.

When the Martial prisoners realize what is happening, they fight too, chains and all. Without Grímarr to lead them and without the ghosts to lend them strength, the Karkauns panic, stabbing and slashing indiscriminately. As they die at the edge of my blades, I hear the phrase Grímarr uttered. Ik tachk mort fid iniqant fi.

Within the crowd of Karkauns, a squad of my men fight their way toward me, Musa among them. I try to join them, but the Karkauns surround us. Musa disappears, his scims flying, and I remind myself to ask him who the hells trained him before I am inundated by the enemy again.

Soon enough, the sheer number of Karkauns grows overwhelming. Even with the prisoners fighting, we are heavily outnumbered.

I spot raven-black hair and brown skin. Harper appears beside me, blood-spattered and snarling, tearing into the Karkauns with a savagery that matches my own. Kill by kill, we press the barbarians back.

Until a knot of them comes between us. One of Harper’s scims goes flying. I hear the crunch of fist against bone. A Karkaun dagger flashes high and blood geysers in the air.

One second, Harper is there. The next he is not. As I fight, I wait to see him, wait for him to stand up. But he doesn’t.

My mind goes horribly blank. I scream and battle through the Karkauns closest to me, heart thundering in terror. It wasn’t his blood. He’d have blocked that attack easily. No. No. No. I should have ordered him to stay in Delphinium. I should have had him accompany Quin. I shouldn’t have tried to take back Antium, not if this was the cost.

And now—now—

Dead. This cannot be. Harper cannot be dead. For I did not say any of what I should have. I did not touch him or kiss him or tell him that without him, I never would have survived this long. Dead like Father and Mother and Hannah and Faris and all those who you love—

Suddenly, he is charging through the Karkauns and beside me once more, limping but alive. I