The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom, #1)(42)

The soldier who’d given him the weapon tightened up the slack on the cable and knotted it off. Then, with seemingly no fear, he pulled on a heavy glove, attached a hook over the cable, and swung out into the open air. Lara watched in amazement as the man shot along the wire over the open sea, going faster and faster until he was over land, and then reached up with the glove and slowed himself, dropping like a cat into the brush beneath the tree.

The rest of the soldiers followed swiftly, but as Lara glanced over her shoulder, she determined Aren wasn’t paying them the slightest bit of attention. Instead, he was mixing powders into a small bladder. As she watched, he added water to the mixture, then, very carefully, attached the device to an arrow with a bit of twine. He lifted it to his bow and shot it at the ship anchored below.

Seconds later, an explosion shook the air, the ship visible through the mist as flames climbed the rigging. “That ought to keep them busy.”

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, he removed a hook and glove like the others had used. “I’m going to need you to hold onto me.”

Wordlessly, Lara wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Heat rushed through her as he pulled her tight against him with his free hand.

“Don’t scream.” He flipped the hook over the line and jumped.

Lara barely contained her shriek, clinging to him as they dropped, soaring downward at incredible speed. Below, the surf broke against the island cliffs, and she could make out the longboats retreating from a small cove to the burning ship to assist their comrades. Wind roared in her ears, and then they were above green jungle.

“Hold on tight,” he said into her ear, then he let go of her, reaching up with a gloved hand to grip the cable, checking their speed until they hung safely above the others.

Lara let go, landing among them, and she purposely wobbled and fell on her ass even as Aren landed with predatory grace next to her. In a practiced move, he extracted a leather mask identical to those all the guards were now wearing and pulled it over his face.

“Stay here,” he whispered. “Keep out of sight and watch out for snakes.”

Then they were gone.

Lara waited until the count of fifty, then went after them, knives in hand. She moved carefully, trusting that their passage would have sent any snakes racing away. It wasn’t difficult to determine the direction they’d gone; she only had to follow the screams.

A battle waged in a village, the interiors of the stone houses ablaze, countless dead and dying lying on the paths running between them. Some had been armed, most had not. Families. Children. All cut down by the Amaridian soldiers fighting Aren and his guards. Keeping behind a tree, Lara watched the King of Ithicana hurl himself against the other men, machete in one hand, dagger in the other, leaving only corpses in his wake. He fought like he’d been born to it, fearless, but clever, and she found herself unable to look away.

Until shouts from the beach caught her attention. Abandoning her position, Lara retreated in that direction, her stomach tightening as she caught sight of the Amaridian soldiers moving up the trail toward the village. The ship was fully engulfed with fire, which meant these were desperate men with no avenue for escape. And Aren and his bodyguard were outnumbered three to one. Unless she wanted Amarid to be the kingdom taking control of the bridge, she needed to even the odds.

Lara picked a point just around the corner from a gap in a towering pair of rocks through which the soldiers would have to pass.

Two soldiers rounded the bend, starting in surprise at the sight of her standing in their path. “It’s her. The Maridrinian girl.”

She waited for them to rush her, these men as much Maridrina’s enemy as they were Ithicana’s, but they stood their ground, gaping at her as if uncertain what to do next. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Lara shrugged. “Your bad luck, I suppose.” Then she threw her knives in rapid succession. The soldiers dropped, blades in their throats. Three more came, and Lara snatched up one of the dead men’s swords and launched herself forward, slashing one man’s gut even as she dove under the blade of another, hamstringing him as she rolled. His comrade swung at her and she parried, then kicked him in the knee, burying her blade in his chest as he fell.

Taking up his weapon as she rose, Lara attacked the third, driving him back before slicing off his hand at the wrist. The soldier screamed, his blood splattering her in the face even as he collided with the soldiers who’d come up from behind.

It was screaming and chaos. Men tripping over the bodies of their companions as they tried to squeeze through the narrow pass, Lara killing them when convenient, maiming them when it wasn’t, her goal to keep them from joining the battle and from overwhelming Aren and his soldiers.

But when a pair of arrows whistled over her head, she threw herself into the jungle, hiding in the underbrush as the rest of the Amaridian soldiers rushed past. Once they were gone, she retrieved her throwing knives and sheathed them in favor of using one of the Amaridians’ heavier weapons. Slicing throats as she went, Lara ran up the trail to the village.

There was blood everywhere. Bodies everywhere. Several of the honor guard had fallen, and Lara’s stomach plunged as she searched those remaining for Aren.

She found him fighting an enormous man wielding a chain. Aren’s clothes were bloody, his once sharp movements now sluggish and sloppy. The Amaridian warrior swung his chain hard, and Lara hissed as it caught Aren in the ribs, doubling him over. She instinctively took several steps in their direction, knife in hand, ready to intervene, but Aren came up swinging, catching the big man in the face with his fist, then plunging a knife into his gut. They both went down in a heap.