The Triumphant (The Valiant #3)(55)
Nothing but the rider’s blade, thrust to the hilt between Vorya’s ribs.
“No!” I screamed out in denial as her eyes went wide and the rider wrenched his bloody sword from her flesh. “Vorya!”
She fell in a kind of graceful arc, like a dancer, and then hit the ground with such violence that her body bounced and contorted, tumbling beneath the hooves of another attacker’s horse. Nephele, who’d been beside her in the cart, lunged for the man who’d killed Vorya and, with a cry of pure rage, thrust her dagger straight through his eye. The man screamed and fell, arms and legs bent and twisting, and Ceto and Lysa—the two newest girls from the ludus, who’d only just taken the oath a month earlier—leaped forward to grab Nephele before her momentum tumbled her from the wagon too.
Choking on rage and road dust, I heard the whine of another arrow. It arced just above Lysa’s head as the girls slammed themselves flat to the floor of the careening cart. Up front on the bench seat, Gratia hunched her shoulders up around her ears and bent low over the reins, driving with grim determination as another shot grazed the rump of one of her horses. We needed to be able to return arrow fire or Tanis would just pick us off one by one, but Ajani had packed her longbow for travel and stowed it in the forward cart, with some of the other gear. It might as well have been left back at the ludus for all the good it did there.
I hauled hard on the reins of my horse and veered sharply toward the last wagon, shouting, “Ajani—to me! I’ll get you to your other bow!”
Ajani scrambled and clambered over the other girls in the wagon bed to get to me, and I maneuvered in as tightly as I could between the spinning wheels of the cart. Without hesitation, she threw herself over the side boards and onto the back of my mount, wrapping her arms around my waist and holding tight. We peeled away at a sharp angle as Kore and Thalassa lurched over Ceto and Lysa, howling war cries. There were two more attackers climbing up the back of the wagon, and the pair of Cretan gladiatrices fell upon them with raw ferocity.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw the rest of the Dis riders closing the gap on our band. Three of them broke left and thundered past our last wagon, angling to overtake the lead one. But they abruptly changed tack when Acheron appeared across from me, galloping madly.
“Protect the queen!” he shouted frantically, gesturing to where she was hunkered down in the middle wagon, hidden from sight by a circle of six Amazons laden with weapons. “Protect Cleopatra!”
I immediately wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
If the Dis riders had believed it was just a pack of Caesar’s worthless gladiatrices they were after, there might have been a slim chance they would have given up the chase if we’d made things too hard on them. That was no longer even a remote possibility. Not when the great Aegyptian whore rode in a wagon just within their grasp.
I didn’t have time to explain that to Acheron.
I had to get Ajani her bow.
And the Dis riders had plainly gotten his unintended message anyway.
They tried to surround Cleopatra’s cart as Damya, up on the driver’s bench, shouted curses. Up ahead, the hills had begun to encroach again. We were heading toward another steep-sided valley. I lashed my horse faster and pulled up beside the lead cart, and Ajani flung herself aboard, grasping at Devana’s and Anat’s hands for help. Neferet was already digging in one of the travel trunks for Ajani’s bow and quiver, with Antonia—her scythe blade strapped to her arm—there to watch her back. Neferet found the longbow, and I left them to it, dropping back to help Cai and Quint protect the middle wagon with its precious royal occupant.
Kallista and her Amazon sisters stuck to the queen like bees on honey, shielding her from all angles with their own flesh, but that left only Elka—up on her knees on the driver’s bench beside Damya—to fend off the attackers. As I came abreast of one of the Dis riders, Elka brought the shaft of her spear crashing down on his helmeted head. The rider dropped sideways off his mount, and the horse veered into mine, nearly throwing me.
An arrow sang past my ear.
And then another. The second one punched through the large muscle of Damya’s upper right arm, drawing a bright arc of blood and a full-throated roar of pain. Quint saw the hit and pulled his horse alongside the driver’s bench.
“Move over!” he shouted to Damya.
She slid out of the way, handing him the reins with her left hand.
“Ajani!” I called. “We need cover fire! Any day now!”
She ignored me, concentrating on stringing her weapon and setting her quiver. When one of the cart’s wheels hit a stone and sent her arrows clattering, Devana and Anat scrambled to gather them for her.
And then suddenly, she was up on her feet, legs braced wide . . .
Firing in rapid succession . . .
Cries of pain announced that we suddenly had a bit of breathing space. The hills in front of us folded sharply upward, and the road would soon be restricted to the width of a single wagon. I shot another glance over my shoulder and saw Tanis angle off, racing toward a steep path that led up into the hills instead of through the narrow valley. I waved an arm at Hestia, who pulled hard on her reins and sent her mount galloping after her.
“Acheron!” I shouted. “Follow Hestia—and stop those arrows!”
If Tanis were to achieve a high vantage from which to shoot, we were in a lot of trouble. A lot more trouble. But for the moment, we had Ajani. She pegged another two riders and sent them flying off the backs of their horses . . . but there was one who still managed to slip through. The rider put a whip and his heels to his horse and shot past me, angling toward the lead wagon, overtaking it and pulling abreast of the horses. Slashing at the beasts with his sword from the back of his own mount did little good, though—he couldn’t get close enough to inflict more than superficial wounds, and the animals knew enough to know that they were under attack, and they would run full out until they were either mortally wounded or dropped from exhaustion. So he turned his attention, instead, to their reins.