As Heguir dove forward, Sabit lifted her spear. She had promised the flesh merchant that his blood would flow for betrayal. Sabit always kept her word. The billowing cloud of purple-grey vapor enveloped Sabit as she thrust forward, plunging her senses into darkness. She felt her spear taste flesh, but there was no answering cry of pain, just the sound of her own beating heart, echoing in her ears like thunder.
Pulling back the spear took a long time. Too long. A month? A year? A lifetime? Then the scream came, but from behind her. Sabit turned, her body moving too slowly. Verdandi lay bleeding on billowing clouds of purple-grey smoke, cut down by Heguir’s vengeful bodyguard in the tent. Had Sabit left her friend in danger?
Laughter came from all around. Spinning, she saw Heguir pull a bloody knife from the heart of the woman Sabit had come to rescue. “She died because you came for her,” Hegui said, his words in the language of Sabit’s homeland, and the wheedling, belittling voice of Sabit’s long-dead mother. “You killed her, Sabit. You kill everyone you try to save.”
Should she run? Should she stand and fight? Wouldn’t that leave her friends open to attack? Wouldn’t that draw the notice of Kehnan and his army? Which way was safe? Forward? back? Up? Down?
Down.
The warm mudbrick struck Sabit’s head as its siblings cradled her body. Even the pain of the blow seemed far away, as if some other Sabit had struck her head. But that distance did not keep the blow from plunging Sabit into dark oblivion.
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Photo by Luděk Maděryč from Pexels: https://www.pexels.com/photo/metal-chain-in-grayscale-and-closeup-photo-86733/
Wayfarings of Sabit: Chains is copyright (c) 2018 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every Thursday (and the occasional Monday). You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller Find more sword and sorcery fiction at http://ipressgames.com/fiction/.