A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (snow like ashes series TXT) 📗

was needed; the grounds were as good as deserted. When they had gone underground, her hope of any pursuit had died. It was only out of sheer stubbornness that she had fought every inch in the tunnel where they could no longer carry her. She had thrown herself down in the filth, jammed her toes into every crack she could find, writhed like a netted serpent despite the sword-point at her back, deaf to the curses her captors spat at her. Because she knew that once outside the walls, their fate was sealed.

To her surprise, Anna fought as gamely as she did but it was exhausting work and the younger girl tired more quickly and was soon mere deadweight. They were passing her down from the effluent pipe to the rocks below when Lilla heard Erlan’s voice. She screamed, screamed with all the air left in her lungs.

Katāros lashed her face, butting her head against the stone. ‘Shut your mouth, whore,’ he snarled, then shoved her over the edge. She hit the rocks hard, skinning her shins and jarring her kidneys. Katāros leaped down after her. ‘Pick her up.’

The Arab leader, the one called Battal, barked an order and the two other men seized her. Battal, meanwhile, had a knife at Anna’s throat and was already driving her across the rocks towards the flight of steps that led into the water a hundred yards away. The harbour was deserted but for a handful of small boats bobbing up and down. ‘There it is!’ he cried.

They were covering the distance too fast. They would soon be there. And then. . . Lilla screamed again, willing the sound to carry help faster, but earning herself only a punch in the face. Battal snarled something angrily at his underling, probably chastening him for damaging valuable goods. As recompense for his reprimand the man clamped his fist even tighter over her mouth, digging long, cruel nails into her cheeks, making her eyes water with pain.

Erlan clawed his way through the slime like an animal escaping a snare, the water rushing past him. At last his fingers curled over the edge of the outlet. He saw the faint ring of sea and sky. Next moment he threw himself onto the rocks below, so intent on closing the distance that he hardly felt the blows. Behind him Aska yelped and, at last catching sight of his prey, leaped down, landing on top of Erlan.

They untangled themselves, scrambling up and over the rocks under the Boukoleon’s grim facade. Erlan’s gaze raced ahead to their quarry. The figures had already reached the landing steps. The kidnappers were separating a boat from the flotilla of launches. The women were struggling in the shallows but to no avail. The men flung them into the boat like pig carcasses at a fair.

Erlan yelled her name, running, running, but she seemed a world away. As he reached the steps one of the men turned back. Aska was beside him. Arbasdos’s blade was in his hand, his throat was dry, thirsty for blood.

The Arab struck at him but Erlan never broke stride, smashing aside the blade and driving forward. They went down in a tumble. He got a grip around the man’s throat and with a single jerk of his arm, he smashed his head against the stone, hearing the skull crack. Aska was on the crumpled body at once, fangs ripping at his throat.

The boat was just there; one of the men was frantically trying to lever them clear with an oar. There was a rope trailing on the surface. Erlan leaped for it into the water, his fingers snatched, and he had it, waist deep, winding his fist around the rope. He braced his legs and heaved on it, hard as if he had to move a mountain. The bow-post jerked round towards him, and the man with the oar fell into the water.

Lilla was in the hold, curled tight as in her mother’s womb, fighting for her last chance, wriggling and straining to squeeze the binding around her wrists past her buttocks. It was the sudden jerk that did it. Her hips were through.

Katāros was screaming above her, shrill as a gull’s cry, ‘Cut the rope! Cut us free, you imbeciles!’ but someone had fallen out.

There was still a chance. She worked her hands to her knees, twisting her legs till her joints nearly popped. Then one heel was through, now the other. There was a mooring pole in the hold. Her fingers curled around the wood, she took a deep breath and stood up.

The last Arab was struggling to fix the oars in place. Behind her, Katāros was screaming at Battal who was in the water. With no time to see more, she swung the pole into the side of the Arab’s head, stoving it in with one blow.

She heard Erlan’s voice yelling for her to jump. But she couldn’t, not without Anna. She bent down and seized the girl. Behind her, Katāros was scrambling over the thwarts. Anna had just strength in her legs to take her own weight for a second – long enough for Lilla to shove her overboard. The girl flipped over the gunwale like a piece of timber. There was a splash, Lilla felt fingers in her hair, yanking her off her feet, then a thud as her head connected with a thwart. For a second she was stunned, a knife was at her throat. But she refused to be beaten. She drove with her legs, slamming her head upwards before Katāros had a chance to secure her. She felt her skull crunch into his nose and his head whip back. He fell backwards, tripping over another thwart but somehow catching a fold of her dress as he fell, pulling her on top of him. His hair came loose, a black mane everywhere, his hand was still on the blade, his nose streaming blood. She punched him double-fisted in the face, felt