Alara Unbroken - Doug Beyer [90]
The man waggled his sword at Rafiq. “Begone, demons!” he said.
“We’re not demons,” said Rafiq. “Listen, there isn’t much time. Come with us. We’re human, like you.”
“Demons wear the faces of friends, and speak their words,” said the man. “Or you might be necromancers—our wards attacked you. I warn you, if you take another step, I’ll run you through.”
Behind him, the woman was sucking in breaths through her mouth.
“We have to go,” said Rafiq. “I am from another land, a world called Bant. We came here to rescue you from your … demons. I do not know this word ‘necromancer,’ but I assure you I’m not one to fear. Your ward-spells probably didn’t recognize me as one of your own, but I am an honest man, one whom you can trust. Come, now.”
The woman moaned and clutched her swollen belly.
“My wife is heavy with child,” said the man.
Rafiq considered. “Are these protection wards still active?”
“No. They are spent now. A mage would have to reactivate them before another attack.”
Rafiq wondered how they had survived for so long.
“Then I’m sorry,” he said, “but we’ll have to move. We’re heading out of here, and you’re coming with us.”
“My wife will not be able to travel!” protested the man.
“Yes, I will, Levac,” said the woman. “Help me up.”
Rafiq nodded at her respectfully. “I’ll bring the cart around. When I give you the signal, you run to the vehicle drawn by the large lions.”
The man and the woman exchanged a glance. Then the man spoke. “Before we go, I have … one small request.”
JUND
Ajani looked over the fallen form of Kresh, and Kresh’s warriors, and back to Rakka. She would give him exactly what he needed—the location of her master, the one who ruled the darkened world on the other side of Alara, and the key to who killed Jazal—but only at the cost of the humans.
But that’s all they were, right? thought Ajani. Some humans? They were the same bloodthirsty species that had chased him down and almost killed him, just for being a cat that matched some shaky prophecy. He owed them for that. Ajani felt heat in the veins behind his eyes. His heart churned with lava.
Rakka was beaming. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find the fire in you. It’s gratifying to see.” Her face darkened. “Now let’s see you let it out.”
Ajani turned and looked into the face of one of Kresh’s warriors. She was a young woman, sinewy and agile, with ceremonial stripes of yellow and jade stained into her muscular arms and thighs. She met his gaze and held her spear steady.
“You won’t live through this,” Ajani heard himself say.
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said.
There was a sanguine haze over Ajani’s vision. He saw blood dripping down her forehead and down her hands. Humans: useless vermin who only brought death. His fist constricted around the handle of his double-headed axe, as if it were trying to squeeze a delicate throat.
No, he thought. It was wrong.
But if he didn’t do it, he would never avenge Jazal. His spirit would coil forever in agony.
But that wasn’t her fault, he thought. Not that one woman standing there.
“We don’t have to do it this way,” Ajani said. “You’re allowed to run.”
“Never,” the woman scoffed.
“But I … I have to do it. It’s my only way out. It’s for my brother.”
She held her ground. “Do what you have to do, white cat. I’m not leaving until my Tol there is fully alive—and she is fully dead.” She cocked her head toward Rakka.
Rakka chortled.
“But I can’t get through you,” the warrior continued. “So it’s your move.”
Ajani stepped evenly over to the woman. The other warriors watched him carefully, but didn’t advance on him. He put his hand up under her jaw, so that the points of his claws curved around to just touch her cheeks on either side.
He glanced at Rakka. She was smiling. She nodded.
It would be so easy just to squeeze, Ajani thought. One squeeze, and he could end his torment and Jazal’s. One squeeze, and he could channel all his rage, and crush his troubles inside of a fist.
With his claw, he turned the