Sweat drips into my eyes as I cling to my branch, unable to pull my attention away from the camp. The reason Dragix hasn’t been able to find it? It’s hidden—not just beneath the canopy of trees but beneath an actual canopy, which the Dokhalls have created from some kind of net.
I survey the canopy above me. How the hell did they get it up so high?
It’s covered in dirt, leaves, and unless my nose is wrong, shit. The Zintas have obviously taught the Dokhalls everything they know about hiding from the dragon.
Speaking of the Zintas…
On my left, close to one of the larger makeshift huts, a group of Zintas are sitting with a few Dokhalls. From the deference the Zintas seem to be paying to the Dokhalls, I’m guessing they might be the leaders of this little gang.
I squint, but I’m too far away to see if one of them is the leader from our ship. I owe him some pain before he dies.
A Voildi walks through the tent, a scroll in his hand, which he gives to one of the Dokhalls. It appears that all the Braxians’ enemies have decided to work together.
Lucky us.
God, I wish Dragix were here right now. He’d solve all our problems.
I tilt my head as I examine the canopy above me before surveying the entire camp and the trees surrounding it.
Maybe I don’t need Dragix after all.
My hatred for the Dokhalls is all-encompassing. It consumes almost all my thoughts. With their blockage of the main road leading from the water, plus what is clearly a gathering of their troops here, it’s clear they’re planning to march toward the ship.
Our ship.
I clench my hand tighter around the hilt of my knife. I need to do whatever I can to delay that until we can get our own armies together. Arix promised to help, but we need to ensure he can actually get to Rakiz’s camp, and it’s crucial that he knows to expect the Dokhalls on that main path.
My mind is racing as I climb down the tree, and I’m consumed with possible ways to wreak havoc. I drop to the ground, about to turn, when something jabs me in the back.
I freeze.
“Human,” an amused voice says. “You made a mistake coming here.”
I raise my hands above my head, slowly turning.
A Dokhall grins at me. I don’t recognize him from the ship, but from the expression on his face, he recognizes me.
“Drop your weapon.”
I drop my knife, and his grin widens.
He jerks his head toward the camp. “Now walk.”
I let my shoulders slump. I can’t muster up a tear, but I sniffle anyway. From the triumph in the Dokhall’s eyes, he believes I’m terrified.
Idiot.
I take a step, hugging my arms as if attempting to make myself look smaller. I pull one of my daggers from its sheath and spin, throwing it through the air.
I’m not expecting to hit him. Unlike my cousin, I’m not exactly a great shot. But the Dokhall still has to dodge the dagger, giving me a few precious seconds to lean down and swipe my larger, longer knife. It’s about the length of my forearm, and while it can’t compare to the Dokhall’s stunner, at least it gives me a chance.
I need to get rid of this guy before more of his purple friends join him and I’m really screwed.
He bares his teeth and advances on me, his stick held like a spear.
I sigh. “You know the problem with you guys? You’re so reliant on your special sticks that you don’t know how to fight. Tell me, does that one even have any charge left? Or are you just expecting to hit me over the head with it?”
“Kill you, human.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Well, that escalated quickly.”
He won’t kill me. Not so close to the camp when he’d be rewarded for taking me alive. I step away from the tree, giving myself more room to maneuver, and he strikes.
I dodge, and his weapon hits the tree, the sizzle it makes telling me it’s not completely useless.
I force myself to laugh.
“Nice work, dipshit. Do you perform that poorly with your other stick too?” I wink at him, and he roars, charging me.
Fuck. Someone definitely would have heard that.
I drop to the ground and roll away as his weapon hits the ground next to my head. Shit, that was close. I roll closer toward him and slide my blade along one of his bare feet.
He howls, and I laugh.
“Hurt?” I get back to my feet, and he comes at me, weapon raised. He’s faster than I thought, but I whirl, striking at his side. He blocks it with his weapon, pushing my knife aside and slamming the point of his stick into my shoulder.
Zap!
I go flying, my teeth clenched. Turns out his weapon has just enough juice to be dangerous. I roll straight back up to my feet, blinking furiously in an attempt to clear my vision. I can hear voices coming toward us, and from the grin on the Dokhall’s face, so can he.
The muscles in his legs tense before he moves, and I lunge toward him, dancing across the forest as we strike and parry. My shoulder burns, but I clench my teeth. He has a better weapon, and he’s stronger. But I’m faster.
He’s getting tired. If he were smart, he’d be jabbing his weapon at me. Whatever power it uses comes from the tip, and he’s more likely to incapacitate me that way. But he’s getting angry and sloppy, wielding his weapon like a sword.
My heartbeat begins to pound in my ears as the voices get closer.
Screw this.
He lifts his weapon, teeth bared as he attempts to slam it into my head. I wait until the last possible second and pivot, tripping him off-balance and slamming him into the ground.
He rolls, but it’s too late. I bury my knife in his chest, and he
