Chapter 11
Eleven
Samaria
Everything in life seems to happen either very quickly, or very slowly. And at this moment, everything happens so very, very quickly.
One minute, I grasp Jarek in a hug, thankful he is alive; the next, I’m gripping my chest, terrified that I’m about to witness my mother be taken from me.
“This can be easy,” the hunter holding Agnes says. The five other hunters now surround us completely. “Let us take the Enchantresses, and you men are free to go.”
Jarek tenses behind me, his grip firm upon my shoulders, but the hunters have their weapons drawn. I glance at our weapons on the floor, but they’re just out of reach.
Think, Sam. How do we get out of this?
“What’s your name, hunter?” Sorin asks casually.
“Don’t speak.” The man’s hand tightens around Agnes’ mouth. “Hand over the other Enchantress and be on your way, or my men will?—”
“We’ll do no such thing.” Sorin crosses his arms as though he’s conversing with an old friend. “I have a better plan.” He snaps his fingers, and I don’t need to see him to know he’s smiling. Cocky bastard. “You unhand my mother before I bury that blade of yours deep in your belly.”
The hunter laughs, and it’s then I know we’re in for a very long fight. Jarek bristles behind me. Two hunters to our rear. Two to our left. One to our right, plus the one holding Agnes.
We’ve had worse odds.
“Kill them all.” The hunter dips his chin before pushing open the door and slipping out with Agnes in tow.
“No!” I lunge forward, but a fist to my jaw has me stumbling backward before falling to the ground. My teeth clash together as blood pools in my mouth. Jarek shouts something from behind me that I can’t decipher, then everything goes red.
Jarek scoops his ax from the ground, and before I can properly right myself, it’s in the air. Swinging, he clips the leg of one of the hunters to our left. Screaming, the hunter falls but, in an instant, the rest surround Jarek. Their weapons drawn.
I pull myself up, shaking off the stars still dancing behind my eyes from the punch. The hunters have Jarek surrounded, but I don’t have my bow.
Wickersham has always been our safe haven. A place I never needed to mask my eyes. Never had to worry about hunters. But now, they’ve found us.
My stomach churns. How long until they find Loxley?
Park grunts next to me as he and one of the hunters battles over his club.
I have seconds to scan the room to find any semblance of a weapon. Then, there it is. Sorin has one hunter pinned to a wall, his hands around the man’s throat.
Typical.
But I use it to my advantage. Sprinting across the room, I pull the dagger I know is hidden in my brother’s belt. Jarek shouts again, blood falling in pools to the ground. Is it his? Panic makes me question my ability, but it doesn’t last long before adrenaline replaces it.
Lining the dagger up, I take a deep inhale before releasing the blade.
Time slows.
Sounds cease.
My eyes trail the dagger, hoping to the Mother I don’t miss. Because if I miss, it’ll hit Jarek instead. Sucking in a sharp breath, I sprint back across the room right as the blade lands in the side of the hunter’s neck who had Jarek pinned.
He falls, and before he can get back up, I pull the blade out. The hunter holds his hand to his wound, but his life is over before he can muster a cry.
With one man standing, Sorin joins my side, caging me between Jarek and himself. Scuffling sounds behind me, but when I hear Park shout to Jeanette, my stomach unclenches.
No more surprises.
The hunter standing before us, merely a boy, looks around at the carnage brought forth by the three of us. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
“Go,” Sorin barks, his dark eyes flaring under the pub’s lanterns. The hunter drops his sword to the ground. His hands shake as he opens the door, but he waits until his boots hit dirt before he’s running.
Sorin sighs, glancing around at the four dead men. “We need to hurry.” He rolls his shoulders, his eyes darker than I’ve seen them before. “If they make it out of Wickersham, it’ll be more difficult to find Agnes.”
My mother’s name snaps me back to reality and the guilt I have for killing that hunter quickly dissipates.
“Let’s move. Now.” It isn’t often I see this side of Sorin. A natural born leader who isn’t afraid to shed some blood.
“You got it, boss.” Jarek wraps the wound on his arm with a rag from behind the bar. Nodding, I meet Sorin’s eye.
We rush out of the pub, and I follow Sorin’s lead. The entire incident lasted maybe minutes, but as I scan the quaint town of Wickersham, there’s no Agnes in sight. No caravan. No horses.
“Sorin…”
“Stop.” His voice is low, his predatory side fully inhabiting him now. Gone is my cheeky, pain in the arse brother. Straightening, I force my breathing to slow.
S he’s fine.
Agnes will be fine.
“There.” Sorin points toward an alley pressed between the Sherwood Inn and another decaying brick building. Sorin takes off in a sprint across the muddy streets, his feet carrying him with grace. My jaw aches and blood still pools in my mouth from the brute who hit me, but I spit it out and follow him.
Jarek is close behind, his ax glued to his hand. My heart twists, realizing we’ve left those men for Park to clean up. And I know he will. His allegiance to my father and then to Sorin has always been strong. He respects them. Respects what they’ve done for villages like Loxley and Wickersham.
Steal from the rich, even more from the richer.
He’s too good a man, Park Mahaffey, and I make a mental note to repay him somehow later.
Sorin disappears into the alley, it’s dark from the rain but there at the end of it?—
“If you take another step, I won’t save her for the king. I’ll kill her here and now.”
As we get closer, I pull the bloodied dagger from my pocket. Jarek raises his ax, taking the time to give my shoulder a quick squeeze.
The hunter who took Agnes has a blade tucked under her chin, his back facing the opposite exit of the alley. Sorin already has his blade ready, I can’t see his face, but I can tell from his energy that he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty for a second time today.
“Let her go,” Sorin says, his voice breaking. Something in his tone reminds me of defeat, and for a moment, I’m terrified. If Sorin feels defeated, we most certainly are.
Then I remember who my brother is.
The first rule of poker, Sam, is to play your opponent, not the cards.
It’s a bluff.
Perhaps he’s trying to fool the guard into thinking he’s won.
Sorin drops his weapon, making a show by kicking it dramatically to the guards feet. Agnes meets my eye. There’s no fear on her face. Only eerie calm. She even smiles, like she knows just what Sorin is doing as well.
“And your friends.” The hunter gestures to Jarek and I. We drop our weapons onto the ground, splashes of mud flying into the air and landing on my boots.
“You’ve been spared your life,” Sorin says, his voice cracking, as if he’s torn apart by the situation and not raging mad. He truly is the best player. “Now please, spare my mother’s.” I can’t see his face again, but I’d bet his smirk is replaced by false tears.
Anything to win.
The hunter’s eyes are wide as his gaze bounces between our faces. I dare another glance at Agnes, and it’s then I realize what Sorin has done. He’s kicked his dagger hard enough to not just land at the hunter’s feet, but my mother’s feet.
Slowly, her foot digs into the muddy ground. Angled just enough under the blade that all she has to do is kick her foot up and it would spring in the air.
Clever bastard.
Sorin takes a step toward the hunter and Agnes but because he’s unarmed, the hunter doesn’t balk away as he did before. He doesn’t move.
“This Enchantress is under arrest.” There’s a sense of unease in his tone now, his eyes darting between us.
All these men who have been fed falsehoods the last five years still believe what they’re doing is for the good of the country. I refrain from scoffing, not daring to move another inch. Sorin hangs his head, his shoulders drop in false defeat.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Sorin whispers. The hunter’s grip on Agnes loosens slightly, distracted by his win. Pride is a devilish thing.
Play your opponent, not the cards.
Sorin looks up abruptly, his shoulders no longer hunched. My skin raises again, knowing just what he has planned. “I really am sorry.” This time, he nods and Agnes takes her cue.
She kicks her boot, the dagger balanced on top of it flies into the air. Before the hunter can make sense of what’s happening, Sorin catches it and takes the final step forward to the man that holds my mother. The hunter drops Agnes in desperation, as if hoping to defend himself, but he’s too late. Before Agnes falls to her knees, Sorin has the blade embedded in the man’s belly, digging it into him until he’s pinned against the brick wall.
Just as he promised.
Rushing to Agnes’ side, I pull her up into my arms and lead her out of the alley, leaving Sorin and Jarek to do what needs to be done.