Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(36)

In the next instant Sanders was running, nearly falling down the steps. He barely paused to get a message carried to the Captain by the first man he ran into. Then he was running again, pushing people out of his way, trying to get to Shanti and Lucius.

As he ran through the waiting men, shifting their weight in antsy anticipation, they surged forward, wanting to be in the fight. Wanting to do what they could. Sanders led them like an arrow straight at the surging Mugdock. Without slowing, crazy-eyed with a fanatical smile, he slammed into a wall of them. He stabbed the first man through the stomach and pushed him out of the way, growling. He grabbed another with one hand and yanked him closer, sticking his sword through the swine’s chest.

“Get in there and drag out that girl. Get the Lieutenant. Get them out!” Sanders hollered.

He cleared the shocked faces in front of him and launched himself at two more, both topping his size, and bigger around. He didn’t care. He stabbed one through the eye. He pulled the other’s hair and sliced his neck, hands everywhere. Battle rage taking over. The glory of battle!

He shoved forward, slicing and killing. Bashing and ripping off whatever he could get his hands on. Some rotten pig got too close, trying to grapple. Sword arm hanging uselessly at his side. Sanders threw him a head butt and the pig’s nose cracked before Sanders’ knife lodged in his face.

“Get in there!” Sanders hollered, trying to push forward. He could barely see Lucius, struggling against the tide. There were just so many. He’d barely be able to make it to Lucius.

“Someone help the girl!” Sanders screamed.

Chapter 18

Leilius waited behind the wall, deep in a pocket of shadow. The echoes of screaming, of men dying, rolled through the alley like tumbleweeds. He could almost see the blood splashing against the ground. His hands trembled as he held his knife, trying to block out the battle and focus on his circle. That’s what Miss Shanti always said, right? Focus only on what he was doing. Focus on his circle.

A dribble of sweat quivered down his nose. He wiped it away silently, hearing the sound again.

He squeezed his eyes shut and remembered to breathe. He was always supposed to breathe. That’s what Miss Shanti said. Breathe slowly. Deeply. He was doing that.

Why were his hands shaking so hard?

The scrape of a soft sole echoed against the walls, louder than someone screaming right next to his face. Louder than the banging of the battering ram. Louder than the gurgling death at the gates. The enemy was creeping toward the shadow, a quiet step at a time.

He was hiding in the shadow. Waiting. Knowing the enemy would stay to the dark places. That’s what he always did when he got in trouble and was trying to hide—he knew where they’d go.

He wiped the sweat out of his eyes. His breath trembled like a leaf as it crept out of his mouth.

Another footfall. So close. A shoe scrape against the cobblestone. He wouldn’t even hear the footfall if it hadn’t been for Shanti. She always snuck around and hid from him—he hated when she scared him. It shocked his system when she jumped out of nowhere.

This was like that. Just like that. Except he had to jump out.

He wasn’t afraid. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t.

So why was he shaking?

Another step. Two more and Leilius would jump out and stab. He would do it. He had to. Shanti said so. For his family. To protect everyone.

He’d never killed anyone before.

Focus on the circle. Focus on what you can control, Leilius.

His breath thundered in his ears.

He closed his eyes, listening. His hand gripped the knife blade, the sweat from his palm soaking into the leather. A tear of sweat dripped down his face. A line of moisture soaked through the crease between his shoulder blades, down his back. Focus on the circle.

Another footfall.

Leilius burst out from behind the wall. With one hand he gripped a thin, brown shoulder. With the other hand he brought his knife down with all his might. Sharp, hard metal slid into a soft, wet eye socket. A strangled scream cut off at its zenith as the knife pierced the enemy’s brain. Lights out.

Leilius stood trembling over the slight body crumpled at his feet. Adrenaline grabbed hold of all his organs and shook. But at least he was still alive. No one would have to know about that.

He stared down at what he’d done. Dazed. Two things flapped at his thoughts. The first was all the blood. There was so much. It was oozing in thick red rivers, leaking over the ruined eye socket and pooling in the cobblestone around the enemy’s head. Gross and fascinated, Leilius stared, transfixed, until the second thing shoved in and demanded attention.

It wasn’t a Mugdock. Thin, shorter than him, and wiry. The man looked like he had muscle, but it wasn’t defined. He had a wicked sword, too. It was curved and very wide toward the end. The hilt had a weird yellow and gold rope hanging off of it. Plus, this man wasn’t dirty. His brown jump suit was clean except for the blood and some light scrapes, probably from climbing the wall, and it was a little lighter than the normal Mugdock color.

He was an enemy, though.

Leilius quickly grabbed the hilt of his blade and yanked. He let out a formless “huh” sound at the suction of knife leaving eye socket. He wiped off the blade immediately.

Focus on the circle. Keep your family safe!

He would. He would make Shanti proud. Focus on the circle. Only what he could control.

Limbs quaking, stomach queasy, he drifted back into the shadows to wait.