Page 55 of Black Sea

“Run!” I screamed.

We sprinted toward the shields, the rattle of hooves and the sound of wheels thundering behind us. Closer and closer.

I tried to maintain the same pace as Amlach’s so that the chain connecting us wouldn’t hinder us, but his legs were longer than mine. Several times, I noticed him glaring at our handcuffs. It was clear that I was slowing him down. If he hadn’t been tethered to me, he would have reached the shields by now.

I cursed my human weakness and commanded myself to run even faster, despite the pain in my calves and the awful twinges just below the left rib cage.

The darts began to whistle just a breath away from my ears, forcing me to bend over or tilt my head to avoid being hit.

Finally a few steps away from the shields, Amlach and I fell in skidding motion to catch them, protecting ourselves from the arrows flying at us. The points pierced the low-quality wood, threatening to injure the arm holding the shield.

The chariots suddenly turned to avoid crashing into the arena’s walls and the gate behind us, kicking up a cloud of sand that made me shut my eyes.

When I reopened them, I set my determined gaze on Amlach. “I need one of those crossbows.”

“Got it,” he nodded.

While our opponents were frolicking around the field to gain public acclaim, emitting howl-like cries, we regained the center and assessed the individual chariots to determine which to attack.

“The one with the horse with the high sock on the right front leg,” I said, letting go of my useless sword to grab the shield with my free hand.

“All right,” Amlach replied, swapping his sword in his left hand and the shield in his right.

In the next moment, we rushed to our chosen chariot. The darts began to slice through the hot air once more, forcing us to slow our race either to shield ourselves or to sharply veer off to avoid being overwhelmed by the chariots that, instead of turning, crossed the field in dangerous diagonals, aiming to make us lose our way.

“There!” Amlach shouted when he finally spotted the horse we were interested in again.

I parried an arrow at the last second, preventing it from stabbing me in the eye. “Come!”

We took off in pursuit. Once he realized we had targeted his chariot, the charioteer tried to break away from his companions, steering the horses toward the back of the battlefield.

But it was too late.

With the shield held up before my face to deflect the dart the enemy shot at me from point-blank range, I leaped onto the chariot with Amlach, who made sure to block the arrows coming from the other chariots with his own shield.

The desert-dweller dropped his crossbow—now useless at such close range—onto the base of the chariot and began to draw one of the daggers from the sheaths on his chest. I hit him with all my weight, and using the shield and kicking him behind the ankle, I bounced him off the chariot.

In the meantime, Amlach drove his sword into the back of the charioteer and threw him down, placing his weapon and shield beside the quiver full of arrows to take the reins of the two sorrel horses.

I set the shield down near his and brandished the crossbow. “I’m ready!”

Amlach turned the chariot, and I pulled the trigger before the human on one of the other two chariots approaching us could shoot his dart.

But he was not my target.

It was his charioteer. I hit him on the shoulder, forcing him to control the horses with one hand.

“Has your aim always sucked so bad?” Amlach mocked me, bending to one side to dodge the arrow coming from the other chariot.

“I don’t want to kill them,” I said, crouching down behind him to reload the crossbow.

“It’s them or us, Elf. Remember this, before they kill us.”

As soon as the three chariots crossed in the center of the arena, I pulled myself up and fired a dart at the other charioteer, piercing him in the biceps. I crouched down again to grab another arrow, confident that our opponents would continue to gallop to the end of the field and then reverse course to join us at the center, just as we had done.

Instead, the two chariots quickly changed direction and began to chase us.

“ Damn it,” I cursed in my language.