The Moon Dwellers (50 page)

Although I do
n’t want to look away from
him, or leave his embrace, I see
something
moving behind him and I know it i
s impo
rtant.
Glancing past him, I see
Rivet let loose an arrow.
Cole let
s out a roar as it pierces
his shoulder, the sharp tip exiting th
rough his back.
Blood spatters
from the
wound.
His entire body torques
hard to the left,
forcing his head around toward
me.

Those eyes.
Dark, serious,
strong
.
I know what he’
s going to do.

Despite the
excruciating
pain he must
b
e in, Cole turns and charges Rivet.
This is it.
All his pent
-
up emotions
: first and foremost, sadness; then anger; misery, loneliness, and desperation follow; all sprinkled with a lust for revenge, hidden well by sarcasm and joviality in stressful situations.

It is suicide—I have
to stop him.

I push away from Tristan and race
after Cole.
Riv
et’s next arrow zips
past us, narrowly missing Cole’s legs, my stomach, and Tristan’s sprawled
-
out form.

I brush
past Tristan’s friend, who
se
mouth i
s opening and closing like
a fish out of water.
He looks
shocked by the whole situation, unable to
cope with what is happening.
I am
probably in shock
,
too, but I do
n’t have time to think about it.

So I won’t slip, I avoid
stepping directly on the t
rail of blood that Cole leaves
in his wake.
Cole i
s faster than me, reaching
Rivet twenty feet ahead
.
Lifting his bow, Rivet tries
to get o
ff another shot, but Cole plows
into him, sending the arrow twanging end over
end into the air.
The bow flies
ou
t of Rivet’s hands and clatters
harmlessly to the stone.

On top of Rivet, Cole i
s in a rage, pummeling him with iro
n fists.
Five other men charge
out of the thinning smoke, aim
ing to help their leader.
I am ten feet away when I hear
Rivet yell, “Get the girl!” in between taking punches from Cole.

His men stop
just short of hi
m, hesitate, and then follow
his ord
er, rushing past him and toward me.
I am running so hard it i
s
difficult to stop, but I manage
to plant one of my feet, only skidding slightly on the stone
before stopping.

They a
re already right on top of me.
The first one has a sword in his belt, but leaves
it hanging, probably in the mood for some hand-to-hand fun against a helpless girl.

Not so helpless.

I duck
under his haymaker punch, kneeing him in the groin and then cracking him in the back of the head with my
elbow as he flies
past.
He crump
les
to the ground.
Seeing what I did
to the f
irst guy, the other four decide
against the id
ea of fighting fair, and whip out their swords.
They a
re
too close for me to run.
I have
to try to dodge their swords and somehow manage to
win.
I have
to do it for Elsey, for my father in
Camp
Blood
and Stone.
For
my mother wherever she is
.
For myself, too.

One of the guys swipe
s
at my arm and I move away from it hard.
He wasn’t really
going for
me
,
though.
It was a fake, a feint, a trick maneuver to get me moving i
n the direction he really wants
.
A highly
trained swordfighter’s move.
Mid-swing, he
reverses
his blade
and sends
it slicing
in the opposite d
irection, right into where I am
moving.
T
here is no way he can
miss.

I close
my eyes.

* * *

Tristan

I’m
impressed by the big guy.
He’s
ma
nhandling
Rivet like a bear mauling a cam
per.
Then the other guys show
up and
go straight for Adele.
I sprint so hard that I do
n’t really see
how she ta
k
es
t
he first guy down, but it looks
quick…and impressive.
The other
s
pull
out their swords.

Adrenaline is a weird thi
ng.
I’ve heard of miners who a
re able to lift massive boulders off
of their friends who’ve
been trapped by a cave-
in.
Bo
ulders they have
no business lifting and w
hich, after the fact, they ca
n’t budge even an
inch.
Well, the adrenaline mak
e
s
me run faster
than I’
ve ever run before.
There a
re
a few steps where I swear I do
n’t feel my fe
et touch the ground, as if I’m
running on air alone.

One of the guys fakes a move and then attacks in the other direction.
It is a professional move, but he is so focused on her that he does
n’t see me coming.
Clang!
I barely ge
t my sword in front of the stroke before it cut
s
Adele in half.

I shove her out of the way and jam
my sword into my surpr
ised opponent, whose eyes roll
back
into his head before he topples
to
the ground.
The other three swi
ng at me simultaneously, two getting in each other’s way and missing completely.
I par
ry the third’s stroke and slip
my sword between two of his ribs, thrusting upw
ards for good measure.
As he fa
ll
s, blood bubbles
from his lips.

The other two improve
their communication in a hurry, circling to opposite sides of me and closing in.
O
ne goes
f
or my head while the other aims for my legs.
I hop
over one sword while blocking the headshot with my blade.
Using my off hand, I backhand the guy that tried
to cut off my legs, stunning him and knocking him backwards.

The guy that wants
my head on a platter continues
taking aggressive s
trokes at my neck, but I block them all, and manage
to slash his hand, causing
him to drop his sword.
He thro
w
s
his hands up in a
request for mercy, but I’m not in the mood so I stab
him in the heart.

S
earing pain rips
through
my body as the final guy slashes
me across the
back.
Attacking from behind i
s
n’t particularly fair, but I don’t blame him given what I did to his friends.
This is clearly life or death.
I am
rooting for both life and death.
Life for me; death for Rivet’s guy
s
.

I spin around and block
his next attack—a j
ab at my midsection.
My back i
s on fire and starting to spasm, making it h
ard to hold myself up.
I need to end the fight or I’m toast.
I swi
ng desperately
for the guy’s head, but I’m not
as fast as before, my ener
gy waning as the
adrenaline
burst
expires
.

He easily ducks my attempt and slashes
at my leg, splitting my thigh open and forc
ing me to the ground.
He looms
over me, his sword b
l
ack and ominous under the night sky.
Raising the
hilt above his head, he prepares
to thrust the point through my chest.

Goodb
ye
,
Adele
, I think
,
I wish I could’ve got
ten
to know you
.

* * *

Adele

My death i
s painless.
For that
I am
thankful.
The sword
mak
e
s
a weird
clanging sound when it contacts my body, like I’m made of metal.
Weird.
I feel
myself being shoved back, tripping, falling to the ground.

I feel
fine.

I open
my eyes, wan
ting to see what really happens when you die
.

I hear
the shriek of m
etal on metal so I turn my head to see what i
s happening.
Tristan!
I’m not dead.
He saved me and i
s battling my attackers, cutting them down, defea
ting them one by one.
I watch in awe until there is only one left, who ta
k
es
a cheap shot at Tri
stan’s back.
It looks bad, but Tristan reacts
well, getting back in the fight.

Then suddenly he i
s down, on the verge of death, a fish about to be sh
ot in a barrel.
“No!” I manage
to scream.

Ou
t of nowhere his friend appears
, holding a sword in front of himself awkwardly, like a jouster with a long spear.
Although the maneuver appears amateurish, it ge
t
s
the job done.
His
sword pierces
the guy through the back, causing
him
to
drop his
sword, which i
s pointed tip down, right over Tristan’s fallen body.

The sword fa
ll
s
like a guillotine.
A
t the last second Tristan roars and rolls
sharply to the side, the sword thudding dully o
n the stone.
His friend kneels
beside him, his face white.

I scramble to my feet and head for Tristan, but stop
whe
n I see
movement out of the corner of my eye.

Amidst my own battle, I forgot about Cole, who was
winn
ing against Rivet when I last saw him.
I don’t know what
happened since then, but th
e tables have
turned, and Cole i
s on his back, getting smacked around by Rivet pretty
badly.
With a roar, Cole pushes Rivet off of him and staggers to his feet.
Rivet snaps
to his feet
with a karate move
and launches
himself f
earlessly at Cole, whose nose i
s bleeding profusely over his lips.

Cole hit
s
him in midai
r, but Rivet’s forward motion i
s too powerful, knocking him to the ground.

I want
to help—
have
to help;
to freakin
g do something, anything—but I’m
fro
zen in place, shocked by what i
s happening.