Orphans - Kevin Killiany [34]
In due course the sounds of bathing became the thrashing splash of a large person wading toward shore. Kairn crouched, steeling himself for battle, and waited for the first silent step on land. He was keenly aware this was not a sporting event, not a skirmish under orders. This was solo combat. He brushed aside doubt, focusing on the sounds of his enemy, straining to judge the moment of attack.
But it was his heart, not his mind or judgment, that chose. Almost before he realized he was moving, Kairn was around the jut of rock, the best battle cry of his career ripping from his throat as he closed on the enemy.
The native woman had four breasts.
Kairn’s charge faltered a fateful heartbeat as the discovery registered. He had just processed that even the lower pair were above eye level when an open-handed blow shattered his right eardrum and sent him cartwheeling toward the water.
Left-handed, the tactical portion of his brain noted. The native confirmed his assessment by hefting a sword the size of Kairn’s leg in her left hand and stalking toward him.
Scrambling to his feet, Kairn shifted his grip on his dagger and considered his options.
A pool of uncertain depth behind him, a massive stone barrier to his right, a steep slope with thorn-bushes to his left, and a truly enormous woman with a sword she clearly knew how to use closing rapidly from in front. Even if he managed to parry with his dagger, the sword looked massive enough to break either its blade or his grip with the first blow. Death by dismemberment seemed likely.
Then the size of the native woman registered. She wasn’t just huge, she was fat; her advance was more lumber than charge. If he cut to his left, her right, he would be on her weak side. He could probably elude her first swing. If he made it up the hill as far as the first thornbushes, he could be around her and free.
Truly, he was no warrior, but in his heart he knew there was no honor in a useless death. Given a choice between dying at the hands of a madwoman and saving the lives of his comrades, even a high-born warrior of the most noble House scramble over that hill and run.
He feinted right, then dashed left. Even as he made the move, he saw she’d anticipated him. As her sword whistled, he threw himself flat, rolling beneath its arc. Only his size saved him; she simply didn’t adjust quickly enough to so small an opponent.
Coming out of the roll at the run, he felt the loose gravel at the base of the slope slip beneath his boots as he clawed at the bushes to pull himself up. The thorns ripping his flesh only spurred him on. Something heavy fanned the air behind him, snagging his mane. A step, a kick, and a heave and he was above the first stand of thornbushes. He turned right, parallel to the slope, and ran as fast as the slipping soil would let him.
Behind him, farther than he expected, the native woman bellowed in frustration and pain.
Pain?
Despite himself, Kairn pulled up, his feet slipping slightly as he straightened, and looked back.
The native woman had fallen to her knees and was leaning on her sword, holding the hilt in both hands as she moaned in evident agony. Her legs and the ground around her knees were wet with what looked like water and a rusty liquid he realized must be blood. The woman struggled to rise, but her sword tip slid in the dust and she fell forward, barely catching herself with her hands. A sob racked her body.
Comprehension dawned.
“ QI’yaH,” Kairn swore.
He had no idea what Kahless would have done in this situation, but his own honor gave him only one choice. Sheathing his dagger, he scrambled back down the hill.
CHAPTER
19
Day two of the Quest
Pattie would have laughed if her survival hadn’t depended on silence.
Three deadfall traps, set with only minimal concealment, were ranged along the side of the stream. The hunters clearly did not expect bugs to be observant.
They were also not clear on what sort of bug they were dealing with, she saw. One of the traps was baited with a mound of flowers, another