Qaansoole launched a kick at the tall bandit’s face. He moved Sabit’s spear to block her foot, but the kick was merely a feint. Striking low, the lithe archer landed a solid punch in the man’s gut. Doubled over in pain, the bandit lost his grip on the spear. A moment later, Qaansoole grabbed the falling spear before it could touch the ground. Swinging the butt-end in a high arc, she brought it across the back of the bandit’s skull. He collapsed to the ground in a heap.
Nearby, Allamu jabbed an antler toward the shorter bandit. Parrying it with his crossbow, the bandit leaped forward, tackling the man from Urom. Allamu landed hard on his back, the breath driven from his body. As the world spun before Allamu’s eyes, he felt fingers wrapping tight around his throat. In a fit of rage and panic, he pushed upward, his hands finding the bandit’s chest, then his neck. As darkness gnawed at the edge of his vision, Allamu pushed and squeezed with every ounce of strength he could muster. The pressure on his own throat slackened. He kept squeezing.
Qaansoole’s voice cut through the fury and fear that gripped Allamu’s heart. “Easy, friend.”
Releasing his grip, he let the short bandit’s body slump to the side. He didn’t care to check if the man still lived.
“Allamu,” Qaansoole seized his attention. “Go up the hill and find Sabit. I think she went over the side.” The archer pushed the knife that the bandit had taken from him into Allamu’s palm and turned toward the narrow gap between the rocks where they had ascended.
“Where are you going?” Allamu asked.
Qaansoole did not pause a single step as she spoke over her shoulder. “Qays is missing.”
Wayfarings of Sabit: Pursuit is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/