Hero at the Fall (Rebel of the Sands 3)

‘What?’ Sam’s eyes were wide with panic. ‘Why?’ That was as good as a yes, as far as I was concerned.

‘Give me your sheema.’ I held out my hand to him.

‘No! Why? Use yours,’ Sam protested.

‘I’m not going to use mine,’ I said, uncorking the bottle. I took a swig for good measure. ‘Sentimental value.’

‘Well, maybe I’m sentimental about mine, too,’ Sam protested. ‘It was given to me by the wife of—’

‘No it wasn’t.’ I pulled the sheema from his neck, the badly done knot coming apart easily. ‘That,’ I said, shoving the cloth into the mouth of the bottle, ‘is your own fault for never learning how to tie a sheema properly.’

‘Okay, I was lying about the sentimental value.’ Sam flinched as a new volley of gunfire started. They were being careful; they wanted us alive. But not that careful. ‘Mostly I’m sentimental about not having my skin peeled off by the sun without my sheema. And also I’m very concerned you’re going to get us both killed and—’

‘Hey,’ I said to the barman. I shoved the bottle bomb into Sam’s hands as I turned away. ‘Matches. I know you have them.’

With shaking hands, he retrieved a box of matches from under the bar, holding them out to me.

I struck a match, setting it to the sheema wick of the makeshift bomb. Sam raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Nice to know my fear of you doing something that would get us killed was baseless.’

‘You should probably toss that, unless you really want to be proved right,’ I offered. ‘Now!’

We moved as one. Whatever else he was, Sam had always been good in a crisis. It was that same survival instinct that made him run out on us. We made a good team. He surged to his feet as I pulled my Demdji energy into my fingertips. Pain flooded in with it, making me stagger for a moment, almost tripping, almost losing my grip.

Sam flung the bottle, sending it smashing to the floor in a burst of glass, fire and, best of all, smoke.

I whipped my arms upwards. The sand surged up with all the strength I had in me. The thin, cheap floorboards never stood a chance. They splintered under the force, creating a gash in the building straight down into the water below.

I grabbed Sam by the collar and hauled him through. He was going to need to come up with a better answer than ‘What?’ to my question about swimming pretty quick. At least one of us needed to be able to stay afloat.

I just had time to suck in a lungful of air before we plunged into the sea. It was like stepping off a cliff into nothingness as the rest of the water rushed up around me. I started to panic as the unnatural feeling assaulted me. Then arms around me, fastening us together, buoyed me up in the waves, keeping me from plunging to the depths and getting lost there. I latched my own arms in a death grip around Sam’s shoulders as he propelled us back up, towards air. We broke through the surface, our heads bobbing in the narrow space between the bottom of the dock and the surface of the water.

‘Here’s a tip,’ Sam sputtered in my ear as we broke free. I coughed up saltwater across his shoulder. ‘Don’t try to inhale the sea.’

I hung on to him for dear life as he kicked, swimming us away from the bar and our pursuers. I tried to focus through the sensation of saltwater clawing at my nose until we came to a stop, bobbing in the narrow space between the hulls of two huge ships. It was dark now, and I could still hear shouting, but it was far away. It was possible we’d lost them.

We floated for a second, listening, breathing hard, both of us shaking. I could feel the dull pain in my side from using my power so much, and my head was spinning. I’d almost lost my grip on it that time. Almost killed us both.

‘Well.’ Sam finally spoke up, low so his voice wouldn’t carry back to our pursuers. ‘Seems I’m a bit lower on options than I thought. What was it you said about me using my exceptional skills to heroically get you out of here?’

Thumbscrews and a knee splitter. That was how I was going to kill him.

‘Who said anything about needing you to get out?’ I said. ‘How do you feel about getting me in somewhere?’

Chapter 9

‘For what it’s worth, I still think we should have killed her.’ Hala kept her head and her voice low, letting her hood obscure her face as the crowd pressed in around us.

‘I know you do,’ I said under my breath, glancing over my shoulder to the palace walls behind us for the thousandth time, as we shuffled towards the huge doors of the prayer house with painstaking slowness. The bodies of the three girls were still hanging there. No fourth body yet. We had some time to save this morning’s victim. A little time, at least.

Above us, the predawn light glinted off the great golden dome. The sound of bells rocked through the city. They were calling the people to prayers, and today, we were answering.

Prayers had been better attended since the city had come under siege. Hundreds were flocking in every day, driven by the sight of the unholy barricade all around us. Or by the enemies at our gates. Or the fear that their daughters would be stolen from them.

The latest girl had been taken in the night, probably right around the time Sam and I were getting back to the Hidden House, drenched from our accidental dip in the ocean. Jin had raised his brows at us curiously. ‘Do I even want to ask?’ o;What?’ Sam’s eyes were wide with panic. ‘Why?’ That was as good as a yes, as far as I was concerned.

‘Give me your sheema.’ I held out my hand to him.

‘No! Why? Use yours,’ Sam protested.

‘I’m not going to use mine,’ I said, uncorking the bottle. I took a swig for good measure. ‘Sentimental value.’

‘Well, maybe I’m sentimental about mine, too,’ Sam protested. ‘It was given to me by the wife of—’

‘No it wasn’t.’ I pulled the sheema from his neck, the badly done knot coming apart easily. ‘That,’ I said, shoving the cloth into the mouth of the bottle, ‘is your own fault for never learning how to tie a sheema properly.’

‘Okay, I was lying about the sentimental value.’ Sam flinched as a new volley of gunfire started. They were being careful; they wanted us alive. But not that careful. ‘Mostly I’m sentimental about not having my skin peeled off by the sun without my sheema. And also I’m very concerned you’re going to get us both killed and—’

‘Hey,’ I said to the barman. I shoved the bottle bomb into Sam’s hands as I turned away. ‘Matches. I know you have them.’

With shaking hands, he retrieved a box of matches from under the bar, holding them out to me.

I struck a match, setting it to the sheema wick of the makeshift bomb. Sam raised an eyebrow at me. ‘Nice to know my fear of you doing something that would get us killed was baseless.’

‘You should probably toss that, unless you really want to be proved right,’ I offered. ‘Now!’

We moved as one. Whatever else he was, Sam had always been good in a crisis. It was that same survival instinct that made him run out on us. We made a good team. He surged to his feet as I pulled my Demdji energy into my fingertips. Pain flooded in with it, making me stagger for a moment, almost tripping, almost losing my grip.

Sam flung the bottle, sending it smashing to the floor in a burst of glass, fire and, best of all, smoke.

I whipped my arms upwards. The sand surged up with all the strength I had in me. The thin, cheap floorboards never stood a chance. They splintered under the force, creating a gash in the building straight down into the water below.

I grabbed Sam by the collar and hauled him through. He was going to need to come up with a better answer than ‘What?’ to my question about swimming pretty quick. At least one of us needed to be able to stay afloat.

I just had time to suck in a lungful of air before we plunged into the sea. It was like stepping off a cliff into nothingness as the rest of the water rushed up around me. I started to panic as the unnatural feeling assaulted me. Then arms around me, fastening us together, buoyed me up in the waves, keeping me from plunging to the depths and getting lost there. I latched my own arms in a death grip around Sam’s shoulders as he propelled us back up, towards air. We broke through the surface, our heads bobbing in the narrow space between the bottom of the dock and the surface of the water.

‘Here’s a tip,’ Sam sputtered in my ear as we broke free. I coughed up saltwater across his shoulder. ‘Don’t try to inhale the sea.’

I hung on to him for dear life as he kicked, swimming us away from the bar and our pursuers. I tried to focus through the sensation of saltwater clawing at my nose until we came to a stop, bobbing in the narrow space between the hulls of two huge ships. It was dark now, and I could still hear shouting, but it was far away. It was possible we’d lost them.

We floated for a second, listening, breathing hard, both of us shaking. I could feel the dull pain in my side from using my power so much, and my head was spinning. I’d almost lost my grip on it that time. Almost killed us both.

‘Well.’ Sam finally spoke up, low so his voice wouldn’t carry back to our pursuers. ‘Seems I’m a bit lower on options than I thought. What was it you said about me using my exceptional skills to heroically get you out of here?’

Thumbscrews and a knee splitter. That was how I was going to kill him.

‘Who said anything about needing you to get out?’ I said. ‘How do you feel about getting me in somewhere?’

Chapter 9

‘For what it’s worth, I still think we should have killed her.’ Hala kept her head and her voice low, letting her hood obscure her face as the crowd pressed in around us.

‘I know you do,’ I said under my breath, glancing over my shoulder to the palace walls behind us for the thousandth time, as we shuffled towards the huge doors of the prayer house with painstaking slowness. The bodies of the three girls were still hanging there. No fourth body yet. We had some time to save this morning’s victim. A little time, at least.

Above us, the predawn light glinted off the great golden dome. The sound of bells rocked through the city. They were calling the people to prayers, and today, we were answering.

Prayers had been better attended since the city had come under siege. Hundreds were flocking in every day, driven by the sight of the unholy barricade all around us. Or by the enemies at our gates. Or the fear that their daughters would be stolen from them.

The latest girl had been taken in the night, probably right around the time Sam and I were getting back to the Hidden House, drenched from our accidental dip in the ocean. Jin had raised his brows at us curiously. ‘Do I even want to ask?’