I pointed again at the Horrad wielding the dagger, then at myself, and slashed at my own neck. “You kill me,” I requested.
Several heads drew back, the leader’s included, as if the mere suggestion was insulting. My eyes narrowed as an idea formed.
They didn’t want me dead. So maybe…
“Without them to protect me,” I indicated the four men and sliced at my neck, “I die,” I pointed at myself before slicing my throat again.
A curious tilt of a burlap-covered head was all I got. Frustration hummed in my throat.
Come on.
I searched the ground, spotting what I needed. Swiping the crooked stick, I knelt on the dirt and began drawing.
Leaning on crude stick figures, I drew myself with two squiggles of hair, followed by Harthon, Stefano, Joris, and Aric. I circled their figures with the stick before pointing at their actual bodies.
The gesture was answered with a head nod.
Okay then. Now for the hard part.
I drew a crowd of circles and sticks—bodies—around my figure, and threw in a few swords for good measure. Then I once again circled the four men, dragged a line to my “attackers,” and slashed through them. Just in case my words did mean something, I repeated, “Without them to protect me, I die.”
I glanced up to see the leader step forward while vehemently shaking their head. They stuck a thumb in their own chest, knelt next to the “attackers,” and slashed through them with their finger.
The Horradswould protect me.
I shook my head furiously. “You can’t.”
The Horrad repeated their gesture, like it might make me change my mind.
Again, I shook my head vigorously.
This time, the Horrad’s body lurched as they jammed their thumb into their chest. I was angering them.
Lifting my chin in defiance, I jerked my head from side to side.
The leader’s shoulders settled back, spine growing taller beneath those rags, and I wondered if I’d pushed too far. Maybe I’d assumed too much about my place here.
With stiff movements, they yanked two wooden daggers from a belt at their hip.
Oh, no.
But they didn’t try to stab me. They waved the butt of one dagger toward their people and the pointed end toward my companions, and knocked the blades together.
My brows came together as I traced those gestures. “I think they want to—”
The Horrad waved their blades in agitation, cutting me off—as though I wasn’t allowed to speak, even though it hadn’t been a problem just minutes ago. Maybe they wanted me to make this decision myself.
“I—” I tried again. This time, there was an explosion of movement as a dagger was shoved up under Stefano’s neck. His blue eyes flared.
My own eyes going wide, I shut my mouth. It was the clearest message they’d sent in this entire exchange.
When I stayed silent, the blade dropped away from Stefano’s neck. The Horrad leader repeated their “we fight them” signal.
My lungs filled on an anxious inhale, because I was fairly certain they wanted to battle my companions to prove who could protect me best. There were maybe a hundred Horrads in this camp. One hundred to four were impossible odds for any fighter, no matter their skill.
I shook my head, but the Horrad performed those gestures again, and I knew they weren’t going to back down.
They wanted to battle.
