What was happening?
As the pain probed deeper, the priestess's eyes seemed to bore into me. Doubt sprang up from somewhere so deep inside me I hadn't known it existed.
The knife in my hand wavered, down. . sideways. At first I thought it was nerves, my indecision showing. I tightened my muscles and ordered my body to obey my will. My bicep throbbed with a new pain, one I recognized from hard workouts and long battles, but I continued my struggle to stop the knife from its erratic jumping. I stared at it, unable to comprehend what was happening. The weapon was moving, but unguided by me, despite me.
Thea smiled, a calm, sweet smile, nothing menacing at all. . I doubled my effort, the blade stilled for a second, then jerked again.
Thea's smile widened. Her eyes were laughing as she glanced down at the weapon. She found my predicament amusing, found me amusing. If the knife had been free, I would have pierced her through the heart without a flicker of hesitation.
There was a swirl of movement beside me. Caught up in what was happening, I'd forgotten I wasn't alone. So, it appeared, had Thea.
Lao, the hearth-keeper who before this adventure I'd thought of as someone to fold laundry, fix a broken washer, or order weeds to be pulled in the garden, curled her hand into a fist and slugged the high priestess with a short uppercut to the chin.
Thea's head shot up and her mouth dropped open. Her eyes wide and shocked, she fell back a step.
Feeling the release as clearly as if a rope had held me in place and been cut, I staggered.
Thea lowered her chin and opened her mouth to say. . something. The words never came. The hearth-keeper balled up her fist and struck her again.
Blood leaked from the corner of Thea's mouth. The passive amusement disappeared. Her face drawn and angry, she circled her arm behind her head. The earth under my feet shifted. I knew immediately what was coming.
I shoved Lao back and covered her with my body. Rocks sprang from the ground. Thea moved again, this time making a throwing motion. Stones, sticks, and dirt pummeled into the truck behind us.
Another raise of her hand and the Amazons who had remained standing on the porch, watching, rushed forward. They dove at us, hearth-keepers, warriors, and artisans. The group seemed to have doubled since we had left.
I didn't know where they had come from or why, but it didn't matter. Innocent or fully knowledgeable of what was happening, they were all at this moment my enemy. And there were four of them for each of us.
Victory gleamed from Thea's eyes.
For all of five seconds.
Then arrows pierced the ground around us.
Thea whirled and cursed.
Bubbe stood in the front of the paddock, her red dress swirling and billowing. She dropped her bow and raised her arms, wind growing around her as she did.
Bern and Mel, astride horses, held bows too. Nocking new arrows, they kneed the animals forward into a gallop and leapt over the fence. They slid to the side, hung hidden behind their horse's necks, only the tops of their legs and the length of Mel's hair, dangling below, visible from this angle.
Jack and Mateo jumped from the roof to the ground on our side of the fence. Jack was the first to reach the Amazons, the first to strike. He jerked a knife from his belt and threw it as he ran.
A warrior, a female I didn't know but an Amazon all the same, crumpled, struck through the heart.
For an instant my world froze. . instinct and logic warring inside me. One of my own had fallen, been killed by a son. A lifetime of loyalty said that was wrong. I stared at the knife in my hand, not sure what to do, who to attack.
Friend or foe? Who was who? When did it stop being simple?
Another warrior jerked the knife from her fallen companion's chest and pulled back her arm, ready to launch it back at the son. I didn't think; I didn't let myself.
I acted. . my knife struck. . two warriors down.
Thea spun and screamed, 'Traitor! I thought it before, but here is the proof!' The stack of spears rose and turned. . pointed toward us. . me. There was death in her eyes. . directed at me.
I ran away from Kale and Lao, praying I was right, praying the spears would follow.
They did. One by one they shot toward me like they were being flung by a catapult. I dove and leapt, not pausing from one movement to the next. I put what I'd learned with Jack into practice, let instinct guide each motion.
Beyond me, the two groups fought; knives flashed; staffs twirled. There were yells and screams. I couldn't tell from whom or why. My attention wavered. A spear grazed my neck, then shot through the length of my hair.
I cursed and rolled again, only to see another spear hurtling toward me. My breath was ragged.
I was losing a battle I hadn't even been allowed to fight. I cursed myself then, my own stupidity. I'd let the enemy define the conflict-a beginner's mistake, a mistake that could kill you. I flipped into a somersault but didn't come out, kept going toward the spears rather than away. Didn't stop until I was in the middle of the struggle and a sword was within my reach.
I grabbed it and spun; adrenaline pumped through me. Thea stalked toward me, her lips moving, but Areto cut her off, a sword in her hand.
I smiled at my old student and wondered if her time under Thea had served her well.
She jabbed. I parried. She jabbed again. Our swords met; metal slid over metal until the crossguards met. She stared into my eyes. 'The barn. Look in the barn.'
Then she stepped back, her eyes dead, her body poised to continue the fight.
The barn.
I spun and slapped her against the wrist with the flat of my blade. She dropped her sword and fell to the ground as if struck.
A horse flew toward me, with Bern on his back. I tossed her the sword. Still moving, she grabbed it midair. I ran and jumped, using both hands to propel myself into place behind her on the animal. 'The barn,' I yelled. 'Cleo is in the barn.'
Swinging the sword at Areto, who had recovered her own, Bern nodded, then reined the horse toward the barn and kneed him back into a gallop.
As we raced by Bubbe, I yelled, 'Hold them off.'
The sound of air whooshing and Amazons yelling told me the old priestess was hard at work.
The barn was dark and smelled of wet hay. There were bales piled up to the rafters.
As Bern slowed the horse to a walk, I glanced back over my shoulder. Bubbe had called up a wind and was spinning it into a shield, the Amazons on one side, my allies on the other. Mel had joined her, spinning a buckler of her own, smaller than her grandmother's but more agile. It darted around, following any Amazon who thought to work her way around Bubbe's magic.
The others watched, tense, ready if the priestess's magic faltered.
'We checked here. We didn't see anyone,' Bern said, pointing with the sword.
'Areto said she was here.'
Bern's nostrils flared. 'Maybe she lied.'
I could see Bern hadn't forgiven Areto for choosing Thea over me. . over us, but there had been a light in Areto's eyes, an apology. I believed her.
I slid off the horse and approached the hay. 'When we were little, we made fortresses out of the hay. Did you ever do that, Bern?' It was a rhetorical question. I really couldn't imagine Bern as anything except the warrior she was today.
I climbed onto the stack and grabbed the first bale by its twine wrapping.
I tossed it down. It landed next to the warrior. She pulled back on the reins, making the horse step back, and eyed the pile of bales.
I knew what she was thinking: that even an Amazon couldn't survive with a ton of hay stacked on top of her.
