The Gift of Battle by Morgan Rice Read Free Book Online Page A

what you don’t see. Look closely. Up there,
on the ridge.”
    She studied the
landscape, but saw nothing.
    “There is but
one taskmaster up there. One. For two dozen slaves. Look back, over the valley,
and see how many there are.”
    Loti glanced
furtively back over her shoulder, and in the valley spread out below, she saw
dozens of taskmasters overseeing slaves, who broke rock and tilled the land.
She turned and looked back up at the ridge, and she understood for the first
time what her brother had in mind. Not only was there only one taskmaster, but
even better, there was a zerta beside him. A means of escape.
    She was
impressed.
    He nodded in
understanding.
    “The ridgetop is
the most dangerous job post,” he whispered. “The hottest, the least desired, by
slave and taskmaster alike. But that, my sister, is an opportunity.”
    Loti was
suddenly kicked in the back, and she stumbled forward along with Loc. The two
of them righted themselves and continued up the ridge, Loti gasping for air,
trying to catch her breath beneath the rising heat as they ascended. But this
time, when she looked back up, her heart swelled with optimism, beating faster
in her throat: finally, they had a plan.
    Loti had never
considered her brother to be bold, so willing to take such risk, to confront
the Empire. But now as she looked at him, she could see the desperation in his
eyes, could see that he was finally thinking as she was. She saw him in a new
light, and she admired him greatly for it. It was exactly the type of plan she
would have come up with herself.
    “And what of our
shackles?” she whispered back, as she made sure the taskmasters were not
looking.
    Loc gestured
with his head.
    “His saddle,”
Loc replied. “Look closely.”
    Loti looked and
saw the long sword dangling in it; she realized they could use it to cut the
shackles. They could make a break from there.
    Feeling a sense
of optimism for the first time since being captured, Loti perused the other
slaves atop the peak. They were all broken men and women, hunched mindlessly
over their tasks, none with any defiance left in their eyes; she knew at once
that none of them would be of any help to their cause. That was fine by
her—they did not need their help. They needed but one chance, and for all these
other slaves to serve as a distraction.
    Loti felt one
final hard kick in the small of her back, and she stumbled forward and landed
face-first in the dirt as they reached the peak of the ridge. She felt rough
hands drag her back up to her feet, and she turned to see the taskmaster shove
her roughly before turning and heading back down the ridge, leaving them there.
    “Get in line!”
yelled a new taskmaster, the sole one atop the ridge.
    Loti felt his
calloused hands grab the back of her neck and shove her; her chains rattled as
she hurried forward, stumbling into the work field of slaves. She was handed a
long hoe with an iron end, then given one last shove as the Empire taskmaster
expected her to start tilling with all the others.
    Loti turned, saw
Loc give her a meaningful nod, and she felt the fire burning in her veins; she
knew it was now or never.
    Loti let out a
cry, raised the hoe, swung it around, and with all her might brought it down.
She was shocked to feel the thud, to see it lodged into the back of the
taskmaster’s head.
    Loti had swung
around so quickly, so decisively, clearly he had never expected it. He had not
even time to react. Clearly no slave here, surrounded by all these taskmasters
and with nowhere to run, would ever dare such a move.
    Loti felt the
buzz of the hoe throughout her hands and arms, and she watched in shock, then
satisfaction, as the guard stumbled forward and fell. With her back still
burning from the lashes, it felt like vindication.
    Her brother
stepped forward, raised his own hoe high, and as the taskmaster began to
writhe, he brought it straight down on the back of his head.
    Finally, the
taskmaster lay still.
    Breathing