The Chronicles Of Ixia (Books 1-6). Maria V. Snyder
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read minds. In fact, no Zaltana can.”
I ignored the jab. “Can’t you at least sense who I am?”
“Physically you’re a Zaltana. But just because Irys claims you survived Mogkan’s efforts to wipe your mind doesn’t mean it’s true.” Leif pointed an accusing finger at me. “You could be a pawn, an empty vessel that has been provided with a northern host. What better way to have eyes and ears in the south?”
“Ridiculous.”
“No. It’s not. You’ve revealed yourself,” Leif said with a quiet intensity. Then his eyes dulled and turned vacant as if he peered into another world. “I taste strong loyalty and longing for Ixia emanating from you. You stink of blood and pain and death. Anger and passion and fire buzz around you like a haze.” His gaze refocused on me. “My sister would be reveling in her freedom, and wrapped with hatred for her captors. You have lost your soul to the north. You are not my sister. It would have been better if you had died than return to us tainted.”
I took a deep breath to calm the sudden fury that threatened to take control. “Wake up, Leif! What you dreamed of finding in the jungle didn’t factor in reality. I’m not that innocent six-year-old. I endured more than you can imagine and fought hard to keep my soul.” I shook my head. I was not going to explain myself to this stubborn fool. “I know who I am. Perhaps you need to reevaluate your expectations of me.”
We stood for a moment, glaring at each other. Finally, I said, “You’re walking into an ambush.”
“I’m walking to the Citadel. Are you coming?”
I weighed my options. If I used my grapple and rope to climb into the trees, I could travel through the forest canopy and move past the ambush while remaining near the trail. But what about Leif; my brother who acted like my enemy? He had his machete. Did he know how to use it in a fight?
What if he were injured in the ambush? It would be his own fault. We were brother and sister by blood alone, and I couldn’t imagine Leif and me ever being close. Still, a pang of regret touched my heart. Esau and Perl wouldn’t want to see Leif hurt. Then I realized Leif was a magician. Could he defend himself with his magic? I shook my head. I didn’t know enough about magic to even contemplate what could be done with it.
“I would have never guessed a hunting party could frighten a northerner away.” Leif laughed as he set off down the trail.
That did it. I unslung my backpack and found my switchblade. Cutting a small slit along the outer seam of my new pants, I strapped the thigh-holder to my leg. I pulled apart my single braid, and wrapped my hair up into a bun using my lock picks to hold it in place. Now dressed for a fight, I slipped my pack over one shoulder, and raced after Leif.
As I caught up with him, he gave me an amused grunt. With my five-foot bow in hand, I set my mind into my mental fighting zone. The zone was a concentration technique that allowed me to anticipate my opponent’s moves as I fought. This time, I focused on the trail ahead.
The men were poised and ready, six on each side of the road. I knew the instant they heard us, but they waited. They wanted to surround us, attacking only when we had walked into the middle of their group.
I had other plans. Just before we reached the ambush, I dropped my pack to the ground and called, “Wait up!”
Leif spun around. “What now?”
“I think I heard some—”
A shout filled the forest. Birds darted into the sky with a flurry of wings. Men exploded from the bushes with their swords in hand. But the element of surprise was mine. I knocked aside the swords of the first two men who rushed me. Slamming my bow hard against their temples, I sent them to the ground.
As a third man approached, I swept his feet out from under him. Two more men rushed me, I stepped up to engage them, but they jumped to the sides of the trail. My confusion lasted until I felt a deep rumbling through the soles of my boots. Looking up I saw a broad-chested horse charging down the path toward me. I dove out of the way just as a flash of steel bit into my upper left arm. Furious, I attacked the man closest to me, jabbing my bow into his nose. Blood gushed as he cried out in pain.
“Stop her,” the man on horseback ordered.
I searched for Leif. He stood in the middle of the road surrounded by four armed men. An astonished look creased his face, but otherwise he appeared unharmed. His machete lay at his feet.
Outnumbered, I had only seconds left. The horseman had turned his steed around, preparing for another charge. The man with the broken nose lay on the ground. I stood on his chest and threatened his neck with the end of my bow.
“Stop or I’ll crush his windpipe,” I yelled.
The young man halted his horse. But as the others backed away, staring at me in disbelief, he raised his sword into the air.
“Surrender or I’ll kill your brother,” he said.
How did he know Leif was my brother? I looked at Leif, considering. The point of a guard’s sword balanced mere inches from Leif’s heart. Fear had bleached my brother’s face. Served him right. The soldier under my feet wheezed.
I shrugged. “Seems we’re at an impasse,” I said to the horseman.
“Indeed.” He paused. “What say we stand down and discuss the situation?”
I began to agree when the rider snapped his fingers. I sensed movement, but before I could swing around, I heard a horrible thud, felt a crushing pain at the base of my skull, then nothing.
My head pulsed with pain as if someone were beating two mallets on the sides of my skull. I opened my eyes for a second, but squeezed them shut again. Bobbing brown hide filled my view, causing nausea. As I fought to keep the contents of my stomach in place, I realized I had been hung upside down and was being moved. I risked another peek and confirmed my suspicion that I had been thrown over the back of a horse. I vomited.
“She’s awake,” said a male voice.
Thank fate the horse stopped.
“Good. We’ll stop and make camp here,” said the horseman.
I felt a hard push in my side, and I dropped to the ground. A jolt shot through my body on impact. Stunned, all I could do was hope nothing had been broken.
As the sunlight faded, I heard the rustle of men working. When I tried to squirm into a more comfortable position, I started to panic. I couldn’t move very well. Then I recognized the familiar stomach clenching sound of manacles clamped on my wrists and ankles. Upon inspection I noticed a foot long chain hanging between the metal cuffs on my wrists. It took a considerable effort not to scream and flail at my restraints. A few deep breaths calmed my speeding heart and frantic mind.
I assessed the damage to my body. Aside from some bruised muscles, I couldn’t feel any broken bones, although my upper left arm burned from the sword cut. I hadn’t noticed the pain during the fight and, even now, it seemed a mere nuisance compared to the pounding in my skull. So I lay still and bided my time.
By full dark, the noises of setting up the camp had been replaced by the quiet murmur of voices. When the pain in my head died down to a dull ache, I tried to move again, and succeeded in turning onto my back. My view of the stars was soon obscured by a man’s face looking down at me. Small close-set eyes peered around a many-times-broken nose. Moonlight glinted off his sword, allowing me to see that the tip hovered above my throat.
“Make trouble and I’ll skewer you with me blade,” the man said with a sick smile. “And I’m not talking about me sword.” To prove his point, he sheathed his weapon.
I decided not to make trouble. At least not yet. The guard seemed satisfied with my silence. He crossed his thick muscled arms over his chest, staring at me. I could feel my switchblade holder on my thigh. Whether or not it still held my weapon was another matter, and I couldn’t risk checking it while under guard. Instead, I surveyed the area