Page 10 of Between Two Barbarians

I feigned ignorance, putting my hands out to show I had nothing hidden beneath them or in my sleeves. “Is it my fault you’re all so awful at this game? I thought with the amount of money on the table that you’d be more of a challenge.”

“He tricked us,” the asshole on my right, the one with the scar on his eye, snapped. “He lost on purpose to get us to put down our guard.”

Giving him a flat look, I leaned across the table to take my winnings. “Or maybe I was just learning my opponents. Being observant isn’t cheating. It’s strategy.”

I was used to playing against opponents who knew how to take a loss. Which was why I didn’t expect it when Scarred-Eye grabbed my arm, stopping me from taking the coins on the table. The rest of the men at the table all stood, and it was then that I realized they were all armed and far more dangerous than I would’ve expected.

The alcohol in my system burned off so quickly, it left me a little dizzy. I struggled against Scarred-Eye’s grasp, trying to pull away, but he withdrew his sword while keeping my arm pinned against the table effortlessly.

“We should show this little pissant what happens to men who think they can get away with cheating us,” the man on my left with the huge gut insisted, practically salivating for blood.

I struggled harder, real fear making the breath freeze in my lungs. I wanted to shout for help, stupidly thinking if I was loud enough, my barbarians would show up to rescue me, but would they even hear me? They’d set up their camp far enough from town that they weren’t on top of it, and I’d snuck off without telling anyone where I was going. Did anyone even notice my absence? Would they care?

The leader of the group grinned at me, showing off missing teeth and a wild look in his eyes that made me think he would enjoy watching them hurt me. The same wildness I’d thought I’d enjoy from the barbarians was now focused on me in the worst way. “You won’t be able to cheat if you no longer have hands, will you? Let’s see just how cocky you are when screaming.”

The scarred man lifted his sword, all of them cackling, and the grip my fear had on my lungs disappeared, a scream ripping through me as the blade arced down toward my arm. My eyes squeezed shut, and I waited for the pain, promising to the powers that be that I’d never sneak off again if they would just spare me. I could’ve been cuddled in a barbarian’s arms if I’d just stopped being so reckless.

BRENEK

The only establishment in town that was still open was the tavern that was tucked away in the corner. Bursting in when there was no trouble might cause issues, but when I heard Jamal scream, my heart lodged itself in my throat, and I raced forward, barreling through the doors so hard, they flew off their hinges.

My entrance seemed to startle the men who were about to hurt Jamal. He was bent over a table, his arm held down by a hard-faced man two times his size, a blade held above him like the man intended to remove it. Fury burned through me, and I launched forward, but there were too many tables between me and the gorgeous man who had his eyes squeezed shut in terror and tears streaming down his face.

Torgrind recognized the problem and threw a dagger while I tossed a chair, knocking the next man closest to Jamal away from him. He scrambled to get back, but another man moved with speed I hadn’t expected, grabbing Jamal by the throat and holding him against his chest, a blade in his free hand that he pointed at me and my clan brother.

He said something threatening in his tongue too fast for me to understand. I didn’t need to know the words to understand the meaning. He would kill Jamal if we got closer.

Torgrind said something back that I only partially caught. He was trying to negotiate Jamal’s release. It was a toss up if the man would do so. Jamal had obviously done something to upset the group and unscrupulous men like that didn’t take kindly to insults, but if they did hurt him, they wouldn’t be leaving this establishment alive.

“Brenek,” Torgrind murmured while the group seemed to discuss what they wished to do next. “Use one of your tricks when he moves. I will protect Jamal.”

In any normal circumstance, I would protest the use of the word ‘trick’. But now was not the time to argue. We were raised together. Trained together. We knew each other’s strengths, even if we were loath to admit them. Only together would we be able to get Jamal out alive and unharmed.

“We need to get closer,” I mumbled, then turned to look at him. “Push me.”

His head jerked ever so slightly. “What?”

“We will argue, pretend to fight. It will distract them enough to get closer. Push me.”

“Is this another one of your tricks?” he demanded while shoving my shoulder.

“It’s not a trick, it’s a distraction. Now shut up and fight me!”

I shoved him back, causing him to stumble and bump into the table behind him. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the casaks who threatened Jamal all paused in their discussion to watch us. We shouted at each other in our tongue, our words old complaints that we’d spoken in the past. They might have struck a nerve had we been sparring, but now they glanced off of me without notice. My focus, while it looked like it was on Torgrind and arguing with him about letting Jamal get into trouble, was solely on the beautiful man who’d ensnared my attention and those who wished to cause him harm.

A particularly hard shove sent me to the ground much closer to the men than they’d expected. I knew it was coming, we’d positioned ourselves to ensure it occurred, and when they jumped back to avoid me, I twisted to cause Jamal to trip, slipping through their hands before they even realized what was happening.

Jamal squeaked as he lost his footing, his arms outstretched to catch himself. Torgrind caught him first, using his momentum to yank him forward and safely away from the thugs who looked stunned by the change. Rolling to my feet, I brandished my sword, glaring at them, while Torgrind protected my back, keeping Jamal between us where he was safe. I didn’t trust him not to run off again only to find out more of the men were waiting outside. Here with us it was safer.

“Take him and go, then,” the apparent leader of the group snarled. He’d been the one to hold Jamal by the throat and choke him. He would not be leaving this place alive.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TORGRIND

I had no intention of walking away. I could tell Brenek wouldn’t either. Neither of us wished to leave such dangerous men out in the world where they could hurt someone helpless again. Brenek stepped forward, a growl in his throat as he brandished his sword menacingly, but before either of us could take action, a barking voice made us hesitate.

“Enough!”