War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,98
horseman—fighting against God Himself, apparently. This is about the time that people pray. Instead, I’m trying to sabotage War’s efforts. I don’t know where that puts me on the scale from good to evil. I always assumed good was synonymous with God. I don’t know now. But this feels right. I have to assume that’s worth something.
I miraculously manage to get two more birds out with messages before a phobos rider hops through the window.
Our eyes lock and a bolt of recognition shoots through me.
Uzair, the man who caught me spying on War and who caught me killing another phobos rider.
“You,” he says. He stalks towards me.
My bow is resting over my shoulder and my dagger is still holstered. Before I can reach for either, Uzair grabs me by the hair and yanks me forward. I stumble, yelping when a clump of hair rips free. My hands go to my head, my eyes pricking at the blinding pressure on my scalp.
“What are you doing?” I demand. But I already know.
This is about the phobos rider I killed back in Arish. It might also be about the second rider that War killed, the one who challenged the horseman when he removed me from the lineup of traitors.
Without answering me, Uzair drags me outside, where smoke from several burning buildings now obscures the morning light.
I knew I had a rocky relationship with War’s phobos riders, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. They are, after all, relentlessly devoted to their leader.
I guess that devotion doesn’t extend to me.
Hussain had warned me to watch my back. I just hadn’t listened carefully enough.
Uzair throws me into the street. As I hit the ground, I hear an ominous wooden crack come from one of my weapons.
Please let that be one of my arrows. Anything but the bow.
“Get up, you filthy bitch,” Uzair demands.
Gritting my teeth, I push myself to my feet.
“Eating our food, sleeping in our camp,” he says, prowling towards me. “Sucking the warlord’s cock.”
He closes in on me and, pulling a fist back, he swings. I stumble out of the way, just barely managing to avoid the hit.
“Just because War won’t let you suck it himself doesn’t mean you have to get jealous.” I’m goading him. I don’t care.
The phobos rider comes at me again. Swinging once, twice, three times. I evade the hits—each by a hair’s breadth.
“I was hoping I’d come across you,” he says. “I thought you’d be smart enough to stay away from the fighting. It’s so easy to die out here.”
His meaning is clear: it’s so easy to make you disappear.
And it really is. People don’t pay that much attention. Everyone else is busy killing or saving themselves. It was sheer bad luck that this man caught me killing his comrade during the last battle.
I grab War’s dagger and unsheathe it.
Uzair smirks at the sight. He pulls his own sword out, which is much bigger and longer.
Fuck me.
In fighting as in sex, bigger tends to be better.
Never going to win this way.
My eyes sweep over the street—over the combatants and the carnage. Far in the distance, I see War. He’s hard to miss on his red steed. But this far away he can’t possibly recognize me in my black pants and dusty shirt. I’m just another civilian about to die.
My attention returns to Uzair, who’s closing in on me again.
Screw it.
I turn on my heel and take off in the opposite direction.
“Fucking coward!” I hear him shout, followed by the sound of him sheathing his sword. “Come back!”
It’s too good to hope that Uzair will just let me go. I mean, I do hope it, but I’m not surprised when I hear the pound of his heavy footfalls behind me.
If he gets ahold of me, it’s game over. He’s a better fighter and he has a better weapon and a longer striking range. And he’s undoubtedly had much more practice than me at killing.
I pump my arms and legs, running towards War, even though he’s far away. Too far away.
To my right are several burning buildings. Making a quick decision, I dart for the nearest one, dashing through the gaping doorway.
Inside, the air is hazy with smoke, but I catch sight of stairs just as I hear Uzair closing in behind me. I sprint for the staircase, coughing as I breathe in lungfuls of smoke.
“You’re not getting away!” Uzair calls after me. “Not today. Our warlord can’t save you out here!”