That was Blake’s opportunity—probably her only one.
She leapt up and drove the sword into the man’s leg. He arched his back and roared through gritted teeth before swinging his shield and smashing it into Blake’s head.
The sword fell from her hand.
Her ear rang, the pitch like claws on her brain. She held her ear as she staggered sideways, determined not to fall. She watched the warrior get to his feet, despite his injury. Lifting his good leg, he lined his foot up with Harlan’s head, his face tight with pain and anger.
Blake reached into her soggy pocket and pulled her knife from its sheath. She threw it as fast and hard as she could, striking the man in the neck. His hands flew up to his throat, his foot returning to the ground.
During the exchange, Harlan had also drawn a knife. He reached one trembling hand up and sliced the back of the warrior’s knee. Blood poured freely down the leg, pooling on the sand.
Even in the throes of death, he managed to protect her.
The sea warrior’s eyes went as wide as plates. The sword and shield dropped onto the sand, and his knees gave out. Seeing that he was about to fall forwards onto Harlan, Blake ran at him, kicking the man in the chest so he tipped backwards. He slammed into the sand before going still.
Blake dropped down next to Harlan and pressed her forehead to his. ‘Stay with me. Please.’
Harlan had stopped shivering, and she had no idea if that was a good or bad sign. She wanted to scream for someone to help him, but she knew he did not have it in him to fight off any more warriors. She just hoped the number of defenders now pouring onto the beach meant it would soon be over.
‘Hide,’ Harlan whispered, turning his head closer to hers.
‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘I can’t protect you.’ His voice was barely audible.
She pressed her eyes shut. ‘I don’t need you to protect me. I just need you to live.’
The sound of boots pounding on the sand made her reach for the sword. Determination filled her. She would keep him alive, no matter the cost.
With a huge inhale, she rose to her feet again, gripping the weapon with both hands as she turned. There stood Harlan’s father and four defenders. Two of the men held a wicker stretcher. Shapur looked down at the sword in her hands.
‘I suggest you lower that weapon, merchant.’
It took her a moment to realise this was the help she had been waiting for. Exhaling, she stepped back from Harlan and dropped the sword on the ground. They laid the stretcher down and, counting to three, carefully lifted Harlan onto it.
‘Watch the one in his back,’ Blake said.
Shapur frowned in place of a response. ‘Take him straight to the infirmary,’ he instructed the men.
They carried him off up the beach. Blake ran after the stretcher, relieved to see the defenders had created a safe path all the way to the royal borough gate. As they walked, she watched him struggling to breathe and prayed they were not too late. Shapur’s eyes were on her the entire time—she could feel them—but he never told her to leave.
Her boots squelched as she jogged to keep up, stepping over dead bodies and injured men. The air was rank. Not even the ocean could disguise the smell of death. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the entire beach was painted with blood. The water lapping the sand was a vibrant shade of red.
Her head snapped forwards, and she found Harlan looking at her. His fingers twitched. She no longer cared what Shapur thought. She took his icy hand in her warm one and squeezed as much life into it as she could manage.
‘You’re so cold,’ she said.
‘You’re bleeding,’ he croaked.
Blake reached up and touched the side of her face, fingering the sticky blood that ran from her hairline to her neck. She had not even realised. At least the ringing in her ear had eased.
‘This is as far as you go,’ Shapur said when they reached the gate. ‘A defender will see you back to the borough.’
Blake nodded and looked down at Harlan, whose eyes were closed again. Bending, she said into his ear, ‘I need you to survive.’
He did not move.
She stepped back from the stretcher when they carried him off. The sooner they got him to the infirmary, the sooner they would treat him. Shapur glanced at Blake as he passed her but did not say a word.
