Restless Soul - Alex Archer [49]
Annja crept around the next corner of the building.
“Where is the woman? You lie! She is not in the jungle. She is here. Send her out.”
“Here!” Annja hollered as she spun around the last edge, brought the pistol up and fired at the closest man. “I’m right here.” She struck him in the hand, her intended target, and he dropped the machine gun and fell to his knees, clutching his bloody fingers and cursing in Vietnamese. The next two charged her, firing, the fourth staying put, crouching to make himself a small target and shooting at something she couldn’t see.
I should have gone after them, she thought. Should have left Luartaro and Zakkarat on the trail and gone after the men. Shouldn’t have risked them finding us. Shouldn’t have risked drawing them to the village.
Then she shoved her second thoughts to the back of her mind and managed to squeeze off two more shots before the pistol jammed. One of the two men pitched forward, grabbing at his chest, where she’d hit him. The other grinned wildly and ran at her, sweeping his gun in a tight arc and firing. Bullets chewed into the corner of the building, splintering the bamboo. Annja ducked back around, tossed the pistol and called for the sword. Before it had fully formed the man fired at her again, ripping up more of the building. Someone inside screamed, and needle-fine pieces of bamboo flew into Annja’s arms and legs. She gripped the sword and raised it back over her shoulder and whipped it to the side as he fired again.
She felt blood running down her arm, hotter and thicker than the rain. The wind gusted at that moment, rustling the leaves and rattling the building and providing just enough distraction. The man squinted in the force of the rain that was coming sideways at him. Annja closed in, and as he fired again she brought the sword down, aiming for the machine gun and striking it and his right forearm. He screamed in agony, blood spurting and bone protruding. She reached out and grabbed the gun as it fell, tossing it wide and bringing up her leg, kicking him in the gut and sending him on his back, muddy water splashing up around him. He writhed, grabbing at his arm as she raced past him and rounded the corner of the building to face the fourth gunman.
“Dear God, no!” Annja’s throat constricted as she spotted Luartaro facedown in the mud, the final gunman standing over him, head canted back and yelling to the villagers. The one whose hand she’d shot was struggling to his feet and reaching for a small holster at his side. She knocked him over, kicking him in the jaw as she headed toward the last man standing with a gun.
“It’s me you want!” she spat. “Me, you thief! Murderer!”
He fired as he turned, and she dropped and somersaulted as she closed the distance. Annja was slick with mud, globs of it flying off her as she rose and brought the sword around with as much strength as she could summon.
Who had Joan of Arc fought with it?
How much blood had she drawn?
And how many lives had she ended before she met her own end in a pyre remembered for all time?
Had someone wielded the sword before Joan?
And who would have it after Annja was dust?
The tip of blade caught the end of the machine gun and turned it, bullets still spitting and striking the school building again and chewing into an empty bench out front.
Annja pulled the blade back again and brought it down and around, powered by the fading strength in her burning arms. The impossibly sharp edge struck the machine gun once more and the gunman’s fingers, slicing a few of them off. He didn’t holler in pain as she’d expected. Instead, he screamed in anger and tried to bring the gun up again, pulling the trigger with his thumb.
Annja was furious with herself that she’d not gone after these men earlier, thinking they might not follow them to this village…furious that he and his fellows would jeopardize all these innocent people…and livid to the point that heat surged up her neck into her face, burning her like a fever.
Her arms felt on fire as she swept the sword forward, rain pinging off the blade. She’d