The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(58)

Although it appeared she had run out of arrows.

The large basket of fish came sailing out of nowhere, hitting Quint square in the chest and knocking him to the ground. It was followed close behind by a second basket that plummeted out of the sky as if flung by a catapult and headed directly for me, but my swords were already in motion. My right blade deflected the basket, and my left took the head clean off a nice-sized sea bream that tumbled clumsily through the air.

I had a moment to relish the excellence of my reflexes, before I realized that my momentum had carried me to the very edge of the path—which crumbled away beneath my feet as I dropped my swords and flailed wildly, grabbing at handfuls of nothing as I tried to keep my balance. I heard Cai shout in alarm as I toppled over the precipice, my own cry strangled in my throat, and then there was a sharp, painful yank on my arm that almost pulled my shoulder from its socket.

I dangled in midair, looking up into Elka’s grimly determined face.

“I’ve got this one!” she snapped over her shoulder. “You lot go after the fish-lobber so she doesn’t raise a bloody alarm!”

I heard the sound of running feet fading up the path.

“Men,” Elka muttered through clenched teeth as she strained to haul me back up. “They hinder more than they help, ja? Thalassa, Nephele—get over here and grab my legs! Hold tight . . .”

Her two-handed grip on my wrist was excruciating, but I couldn’t help but gasp a laugh as I dug my feet into the cliff face and reached up with my free hand. “Aye, men,” I grunted, struggling to climb. “Of course . . . I remember . . . a time when you yourself . . . would have hacked off . . . my foot . . . rather than help . . .”

“That . . . was before . . . we knew each other . . .”

One last heave and I was up and rolling onto my back on the dirt track. The other girls fell back on their haunches as Elka and I lay there, gulping for breath for a moment. She rolled her head and grinned at me.

“But,” she continued, “the strength of my character saved you.”

“I’ll give the credit this time to the strength of your arms,” I said and climbed shakily to standing. “Come on.”

I held out a hand to her and then, together, we turned to help the other girls to their feet. Elka stood, pushing the sweat-damp hair back from her face with her forearm, and then we all took off running, scrabbling up a near-vertical incline to squeeze through a narrow break in a rock wall. I heard Cai shouting what sounded like orders to Quint, and by the time I was through to the other side, I saw the two of them had the fishergirl down on the ground, held there by Quint’s hand on her throat. His other arm was lifted, weapon poised and about to descend.

“Quintus!” I shouted. “Hold!”

I strode forward, ignoring the fact that I was still gasping for breath. At a glance from me, Cai pulled Quint away from our assailant. Close up, I was startled to see she was barely more than a child. A dangerous child, perhaps, but she couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. Maybe younger. Younger than the girls who’d just helped Elka haul me back up that cliff. Except the look in this girl’s eyes was anything but childish. She lay there, stone still and glaring poisonously up at me, and I drew my double blades, leaning down to cross them in front of her throat.

“Thalestris,” I said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. I saw no reason not to be direct, under the circumstances.

The girl’s eyes narrowed.

“You know her?”

She didn’t answer.

Quint stepped back up beside me and gazed down at the girl. “Just occurred to me—she might not speak Latin,” he said. “Let me try something else.”

I kept my swords at the ready as he crouched down in front of her. He spoke to her in Greek—I recognized the sound of the language if not the meaning of the actual words—and after a few moments, she answered him. Her replies were brief but seemed to satisfy Quint. He stood and turned to face me.

“She’s there,” he said. “Thalestris. She’s at the oppidum—the settlement gathering place—and she has your sister. Sorcha is still alive. Thalestris is planning on sacrificing her this very night at moonrise to their Amazon goddess, Cybele. This girl was catching fish for the celebration rites to take place after. But she will take us around and show us a rear approach to the oppidum. She says they won’t be expecting any kind of attack from that direction.”

“And why will she do that, exactly?” Elka asked, wary as always.

“Because I told her if she didn’t”—Quint grinned coldly—“that Fallon would carve her up into pieces too small to use even as fish bait.”

“But you could have told me that yourself,” the girl said to me in accented, but perfectly understandable, Latin. “Instead of having to defer to this . . . man.” The derision positively dripped from her lips, lifted in a sneer at Quint.

“You speak Latin?” I asked, trying not to show my surprise.

“I speak your tongue well enough.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

“It’s not my tongue,” I said, crouching down in front of her. “And if you understand it well enough, you should also understand when I tell you that I defer to no man. But this one speaks the truth. I am not cruel, but I am not merciful. Not this day. Not when my sister’s life is in danger. Help us and all will be well. Hinder us and you will die.”