Page 3 of Blood Fist

“We should head back,” Jonen said, eyes shaded by a palm as he looked up.

Ridan grunted, dusting off his breeches. Momma Sehleh would be angry he’d gotten them so dirty but at least he didn’t rip them this time.

Collecting their ponies, Ridan lithely jumped onto Peppercorn’s back as she finished chewing a mouthful of grass. Jonen already had Brownie turned toward home when Ridan heard something.

The little forest was awash with sounds, but thiswas different. A noise he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He would dismiss it, but Peppercorn heard it, too. She stopped chewing, jerking her head up to look in the opposite direction. Her muscles tense, ears forward. He stroked her neck as he lifted his nose to the air.

Being years away from presenting, his sense of smell wasn’t great. But as an omega, he could still pick up some things. He tried to pick through the damp smell of forest, the dry rot of trees, and the smell of dirt and hay coming off Peppercorn. Even his body odor.

He smelled fear.

“Jonen,” he called softly, looking over to see the smaller alpha had already noticed. Out of habit, he drew his knife. It would be useless against anything other than stubborn mushrooms, but it felt good to have in his hands.

He nudged his mare forward, reins draped over her neck so he could keep both hands free. Her movements were stiff and cautious, a far cry from their flight across the plains only a few hours ago. She was nervous, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

The smell grew in strength the farther north they traveled. As they drew closer, a new smell hit them, one both boys were intimately familiar with.Blood.

“Ridan,” Jonen hissed, his knife up and gripped securely. “We should go back. Get a hunting party.

Jonen was probably right. Not that Ridan would tell him. He wasn’t about to turn tail and run. Not as a Stone Blade, and not as the future chief. His mother might think he was too young for a proper weapon, but he would never turn his back because of fear.

Before them the trees seemed to thin, and the ground rose in a berm. Dismounting, he moved forward without making a noise. His father had taughthim how to move across fallen leaves and thin twigs silently, and it was second nature to him now. Knife up by his chest, he kept low, using his hands to ascend the crest of the berm.

When he got to the top he was hit with the concentrated smell—fear, blood, urine. The smell of killing. Looking down in the valley, he caught sight of what they called the Road.

Forbidden from coming this far outside of Stone Blade lands, he doubted there were many in the clan who had seen the Road with their own eyes. The old folk say the Road used to come closer to the village, that people of the past would use it for trade, but when the walled city went up, the magic users destroyed it. They wanted nothing to do with the savage, magicless Clansmen.

As far as he knew, the Road went from the city of Kaledonea to Brambleberry junction, then turned back on itself. No one from Kaledonea left their walls to travel this far south.

Or at least, he hadn’t thought they did.

“That’s a Kaledonean carriage.” Jonen’s words were nearly silent, carrying only as far as Ridan’s ear.

He couldn’t say if it was truly a Kaledonea carriage or not. Jonen was better with sigils than he was. But he did know that the men that had been guarding it were dead.

The carriage was on its side, dark wood smeared with dust and mud as the wheels spun uselessly. The cart horse was standing a little way off, uncomfortable in its tangled harness. Three gaunt men were looting the corpses of the guards, peeling off leather armor to find whatever personal possessions the men might have been holding.

“Clanless,” Ridan hissed.

Jonen’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Clanless were a real problem, often trying to sneak into clans under false names or pretenses, hoping they could outrun their past digressions. A man with no clan had no honor, nothing to base his word upon. The Clanless were less than the insects beneath them. They were dingy and bedraggled. Life was hard without the support of a clan.

Their eyes met, the two boys agreeing without words. As one, they slid their knives into their mouths, clamping down on the hilt so they could use their hands to pull their slings loose.

Considered a child’s weapon, no Stone Blade could take up the bow unless they could hunt with a sling alone. Jonen and Ridan had long since perfected the crude weapon, practicing under the strict supervision of his mother and Osmond. While their aim with the bow was still uncertain, with the small sling, it was unbeatable.

“I’ve got the guy by the wheel.” Jonen selected a smooth river stone from one of his pockets, hefting it in his palm to test its weight before settling it between the flax wheat strings.

Ridan grunted his assent, pulling out his weapon. He didn’t have a stone with him, having used his last one on the broken clay pots they set up for target practice. But a moment of digging through the loose soil beneath him had him unearthing one. It was a little bigger than he’d like, but he didn’t have to sling it far.

Jonen held up his fist, and Ridan nodded, beginning to count in his head.

Eyes trained on his target; he felt his heart rate slow. Blood thrummed under his skin. His fingers tingled. He could practically feel the muscles coiling and uncoilingas the stone left his sling, hear the whistling of air, and the solid thunk of earth meeting his target.

Just as Jonen lifted himself, Ridan was moving. He took two steps to crest the little hill, leaving enough space between him and Jonen for his arm to move. With his weight on his back foot, he stepped off, throwing his entire body into the throw. The stone sailed from the sling, shooting through the air until it met its target.

They didn’t wait to see how true their aim was. Ridan bit down on his knife, feeling the leather crush between his teeth as he fell. Landing in a roll, he threw his entire weight into the third thief, tightening his arms around his neck so he could take him down. The man cried out, caught unawares.

He hit the ground with a thud. Ridan wrapped his elbow around the man’s neck before they stopped rolling. With all his strength, he squeezed, ignoring the pain of nails raking into his arms. The thief made choking noises, spit dribbling out of his open mouth as he gasped for breath. As the man began losing strength, he tried to swat at Ridan, arms flailing around his head. Ridan just held tighter, pressing until the adult beneath him stopped moving.