AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The man's face scrunched. “Eh?”
“Further is figurative. Farther is distance. Regardless, I intend to do both, so I suggest you step out of my way.”
The bandit gave no heed. “Silver-tongued nobles and your fancy words,” he snarled. “Bet your purse is really fat!”
Gil sighed. “Get the other.”
“What?” Thea squeaked. She wasn't ready to fight. She'd never fought, not really. Sparring against Gil, who meant her no harm, was nothing like dueling a thief on a swaying rope walkway above a foggy chasm!
She had no chance for further protest. Gil slipped past her, knives out and the sewing basket still on his arm, the aggression in his step so thick, it alone made the bandit ahead of them inch back.
Thea turned to see the man advancing on them from behind. He already had a knife out, but the way he moved was so unlike Gil that it gave her no taste of threat. She shifted her bags against her back and drew her borrowed dagger from its sheath. If she didn't lose it, it would be a miracle.
A thump and scrape shook the bridge. A cry from Gil's opponent followed. She dared not look back and braced instead, silently praying whatever was going on behind her would deter the bandit coming her way.
It didn't. He lurched toward her, arm drawn back to swing. Her feet were already planted when she parried the blow, but it was harder than anything Gil had thrown at her yet, and the force sent tremors down her arms that turned her muscles to jelly.
He came closer, stabbing instead of swinging, and she ducked under his lunge to jab at his stomach. The tip of her knife glanced off something hard. Armor, maybe—she didn't have enough experience to know. His arm came back hard and he struck at her head with the hilt of his knife. He missed and punched her shoulder instead. It was enough to throw her off balance and she lurched against the ropes.
Idiot,she snarled at herself. What was she doing? A few nights of practice hardly meant she knew how to fight.
The bandit lunged toward her again. She dropped to the planks to escape and slashed upward, toward his thigh instead of his stomach. The blade sliced through his breeches and bit into his skin. He screamed something, the words lost beneath her concentration and the howling winds. He staggered close and she stood fast, bringing her clenched fist up into his jaw. The dagger's hilt in her hand made her knuckles crack that much harder against his chin. He howled and reeled back against the ropes on the opposite side.
Thea gasped for breath. Her hands shook and her bones ached from the impact, but the man grabbed hold of the ropes to keep from falling and did not move on her again. She dared a glance in the direction they'd been going, half expecting to see Gil locked in battle.
He stood with his arms crossed, three men sprawled on the bridge behind him and a smirk on his face. “Good.”
She gaped. “You could have helped me!”
“Yes, but you're better served by learning to manage on your own.” He offered a hand. His knives were already put away.
Behind his fluttering cloak, one of the men reached to grab Gil's foot.
“Look out!” she cried.
Gil barely glanced his way. He stomped once, hard, and the man rolled away with a yowl.
Thea gasped and lunged forward too late to stop him.
The bandit's legs went over the edge and panic took his face.
Gil hissed something and dropped to his knees. His hand snapped out and latched onto the man's arm as his body scraped over the ends of the planks. The bandit's full weight jerked him down flat.
“Mercy!” the man screamed. He clutched Gil's wrist with his free hand, his legs flailing over the trench.
“Light-blasted fool,” Gil growled as he wrenched his other arm free of the sewing basket and strained to lift him.
Thea scrambled backwards to get out of the way and almost tripped over the man she'd punched. He snagged her by the arms and she drove an elbow back hard. It hit whatever armor he wore beneath his coat and sent pain lancing up and down her arm.
The other two men on the bridge scrambled to aid their companion. One grabbed Gil by the shoulders and the other reached down to seize his dangling friend's arm, and the three pulled back.
Terror held the man's eyes wide as he came back from the abyss. He sprawled flat on the bridge, gasping and whispering prayers of thanks more fervent than anything Thea had ever heard.
Gil stood straight. He offered them nothing, no warning or comeuppance, just took the basket from the planks and turned to extend a hand toward Thea.
The man who held her arms didn't just release her. He inched forward, aiding her in retaining her balance as she stepped over his praying friend.
Thea slid her hand into Gil's and he gave it a squeeze, then pulled her the rest of the way across the bridge. Their silence was punctuated by the soft moans of the wind and behind them, the bandits said nothing.
