The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [119]
“Ah, the woman,” Nasim murmured. He drew his sword. “And where is the grail?”
“Here.” She pulled the cup from beneath her cloak. The chalice blazed in the sunlight. “Do you want it, Nasim?”
His eyes fixed on the grail. “Yes, I want it.”
“Then come and get it.” She moved in the direction of the cliff edge. “Or I’ll throw it over. It’s several hundred feet down, and there must be thousands of crevices. You might find it if you look for a few years.”
Nasim gazed warily at Kadar before stepping toward her. “You wouldn’t throw such a treasure away.”
“It’s no treasure to me. Sometimes I wish I’d never heard of it.” She met his gaze. “Look at me. Am I telling the truth?”
“You’re mad.” He glanced at the camp. “My men are stirring. I told them to attack at the first sign of anything unusual. They’ll be here in a moment.”
“If they get here before you come to me, the grail will be gone. I won’t die and let you have what you want.”
“Stupid woman. Do you know what you—stand back.” His sword was again pointed at Kadar.
“I haven’t moved,” Kadar said.
“You were readying.”
“Come and get it,” Selene repeated. She whirled and ran toward the edge of the cliff, her feet flying over the rough ground.
Nasim cursed and started after her.
Kadar couldn’t wait any longer. He pounced and ducked to the left at the same time.
The flat of Nasim’s sword crashed into the side of his head.
Darkness.
He was gaining on her.
Selene ran faster.
Her breath was coming hard, painfully, as her lungs labored.
She could hear the pound of hoofbeats.
Nasim’s men were tearing toward them from the camp.
Faster. She had to go faster.
Where was Kadar?
She risked a glance over her shoulder but saw only Nasim.
Kadar . . .
Only a little farther. She had to reach the edge—
Nasim’s hand fell on her shoulder.
She jerked away.
So close, and he had the sword.
Terror rained through her.
If her pace slowed, she would die.
“Stop,” Nasim muttered.
If she stumbled, she would die.
Wear him out. Make him unsteady.
“Why are you trying to catch me? You’re an old man. You’re weak. You’ll die soon. You’ll never have the grail.”
She heard an explosion of rage behind her.
All right. It was time.
Her pace slowed. The point of the sword touched her back as he lunged.
She fell to the ground and rolled toward him.
He grunted as he tripped and stumbled over her body.
She heard him scream as he tottered over the edge of the cliff.
He tried to step back.
“No!” She launched herself forward at his knees.
He went over the cliff, his hands clawing, clutching. They closed on her hair. Agony tore through her as strands were ripped from her head.
He fell through space.
And she saw the twisted terror on his face.
“Quick.” Kadar was lifting her to her feet. “They’re coming!”
The assassins.
He dragged her toward the boulders.
Hooves pounding.
Close. Too close.
They darted across the plateau.
But the sound of hooves wasn’t behind them any longer.
It was ahead, then all around them.
Vaden.
Relief poured through her.
Kadar jerked her to one side as the stream of riders thundered past him toward the oncoming horde of assassins.
“Get behind the boulders,” Kadar said curtly. “You don’t want to see this.”
She was already seeing it. She shuddered as she saw Vaden’s sword decapitate one of the leaders in the charge. She hurriedly looked away and let Kadar lead her toward the boulders where she had hidden and waited.
Death there too.
Balkir.
Kadar dragged her behind the boulders.
She leaned back against the rock and closed her eyes.
“Are you satisfied?” Kadar asked roughly. “He almost killed you.”
No one knew that better than she. She had been terrified on that frantic run to the edge of the cliff. She whispered, “I started this. It was my responsibility. He was mine.”
“And you couldn’t leave it to me.”
“No.”
“How did you get here? Did you follow me?”
She shook her head. “If the assassins couldn’t follow you without you knowing, I knew I couldn