A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(21)

“How do you know how to fight a Giant?” Kato looks impressed.

Satisfaction swells in my chest. I can’t help it. I like impressing people twice my size. I shrug. “Maybe I’m lying so you’ll all get killed.”

There’s no reaction, not even a raised eyebrow. How come they never get riled up? It’s not normal.

Kato turns back to Beta Sinta. “How much time do we have?”

“A few hours,” he answers. “At most.”

“So do we ride and make them chase us, or do we wait for them to come?” Carver’s hand is still twitching near his sword. He’s like me with my knives, and I feel a surprising surge of kinship.

What’s wrong with me? I must be coming down with something, like empathy. Gah!

“We wait. We’ll be fresher that way, and there’s a cave just to the north. We can hide the horses and gear in there.” Beta Sinta jerks his head toward me. “And Cat.”

“You are not tying me up in a cave!”

Flinty eyes swing my way. “I can’t have you attached to me while I fight.”

“Untie me, then!”

He snorts, and I roll my eyes.

“Two hours, then the cave,” Beta Sinta says. “Enjoy the sunlight.”

“I can fight. Help even the odds.”

He shakes his head. “You’ll turn on us.”

“You don’t even know if they’re enemies!”

Sternness overcomes his features, startling me with how different it makes his face. “Everyone’s an enemy.”

“Learn that from me?” My frosty, snide tone shocks even me, turning my voice disturbingly like Mother’s. I swallow the panic rising in my throat. What if the olive really doesn’t fall far from the tree?

Beta Sinta levels his hard look at me. “I don’t need a petulant soothsayer to teach me what every conqueror already knows.”

*

Frustrated beyond belief, I’m tied to a big, fat rock in a stuffy cave that smells like horse dung. At least I have four feet of rope.

Shouts and clashing metal eventually disturb the murky silence. I hate not knowing what’s going on. I could help, especially if the Tarvans have magic. Not that I want to help, but I can put a dagger into a Giant’s eye from forty feet away, and I doubt any of the Sintans can do that.

Restless, I pluck at the frayed edge of my boot. They’re fighting a Giant, a creature from the Ice Plains. A monster. I’ve seen one in its prime. It was colossal, and as ugly as ugly gets.

Mother glances down the hill, the chill wind tossing her hair and slapping pink across her cheeks. “It’ll either rape you or eat you. Possibly both, so I suggest finding a way to kill it quickly.”

Icy snow stings my face and hands. Looking down the frozen slope into the gaping hole of the Giant’s lair, I shake even though I’m not terribly cold. “Any other advice?”

She arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, imperious.

“Do you have any other advice, Mother?” I correct.

A thin, hard smile curves her lips before she grabs my shoulders and shoves.

At least she left me my knives. I blinded the Giant on instinct, paralyzed it with a well-placed jab, and then sawed its head off with a throwing knife. I was eleven, and there was nothing quick about it. At least all the gore kept me warm. And Mother got what she wanted. She tested me, and she covered me in blood.

The knowledge of what to do came out of nowhere that day, guiding me. The Sintans won’t have that. It’s not written in their bones.

Anxious, I force my hands to my sides before I tear my boot apart.

Outside, something stomps hard enough to shake the ground. Dirt and pebbles cascade from the cave’s dark ceiling, and I duck, covering my head with my arms.

Did they listen to me about the Giant? I was telling the truth.

My gut churns as I pull on the knot Beta Sinta tied, blind to the battle outside, listening to deep bellows, clashing metal, and growls, and snorts, and pounding. Anything could be happening out there. A victory. A massacre. This could mean my escape. And why that thought makes me feel like there’s blood on my hands is anyone’s guess.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore, and I wrap the rope around both hands and pull on the rock with all my might. It slides a few inches across the dirt. I pull again, and again, slowly moving toward the mouth of the cave until I’m panting and sweating and quietly cursing up a storm.

At last, I can lean far enough out to see the battle. With practiced efficiency, I count heads. Auburn. Blond. Two dark as midnight. Three Tarvans are left.

Then there’s the Giant. It’s hard to miss.

Breathing heavily, I swing my gaze back to Beta Sinta. He’s locked in combat with two of the remaining Tarvans. Carver is taking on the other while Kato and Flynn dodge the Giant’s club, trying to get close enough to blind it. Flynn throws a knife at its head, but his aim is off. Kato shouts something and tosses another knife to Flynn, who’s closer. Flynn tries again just as Kato moves in and distracts the creature with a hard strike to its lumpy calf. They’re coordinated and working together as a team, but they won’t get far if they can’t blind the Giant and bring it to its knees. Its skin is just too tough.

As if drawn by an irresistible force, my eyes find Beta Sinta again, taking in every powerful sweep of his sword, agile step, and cunning feint. He’s impressive, to say the least. So are the Tarvans. These are no ordinary bandits. They have the kind of skills that only come with years of training and real-life practice. Just looking at their weapons and the way they fight, I know a spectacular amount of gold went into buying their services and sending them after Beta Sinta and his men.