The Soterion Mission by Stewart Ross Read Free Book Online Page A

twinkled in the broken sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves. The two Zeds confronting him, unsure how to approach, darted this way and that trying to find a way in. Each time they advanced, they were pierced and sliced by that razor-sharp blade. Exhausted and bleeding heavily, they fell back.
    Zavar was on the point of advancing to finish them off when he heard a cry to his left. It was Taja. Having fired all six arrows from her belt, she was trying desperately to defend herself with the long knife that all archers carried for cutting new ammunition. A Zed warrior armed with a club had knocked the weapon from her hand. Before her now loomed a grinning, broken-toothed warrior with a rusty machete poised above his head.
    In one movement, Zavar spun round and drove forward with his sword. The Zed stood for a second, his expression frozen in deadly shock. An instant later, his machete clattered to the ground and he crumpled slowly beside it. Zavar’s thrust had pierced his heart.
    The club man made a second lunge at Taja as she stooped to retrieve her knife. With eyes fixed on his adversary, he failed to notice a quick movement to his right. The stainless steel bayonet Cyrus had given Roxanne before they set out slipped easily between the man’s ribs. All Constants, young and old, male and female, were taught the skills of warfare: their lives depended on it. Roxanne was no exception.
    Turning from the bayoneted man lying at her feet, Taja glanced towards the warrior whose swift action had saved her from serious injury, if not death. The eyes of the two women met. It was a glance of recognition, certainly, but Roxanne was unsure whether it was also a sign of reconciliation.
    This was hardly the time for speculation. Zavar was in trouble. In turning to help Taja, he had momentarily taken his eyes off the Zeds immediately in front of him. Seizing his chance, a wiry fellow with the yellow tinge of jaundice upon his skin smashed his club into Zavar’s left shoulder. The blow sent him reeling and, to regain his balance, he lowered his sword. At this, the second Zed stabbed him in the same shoulder with a barbed spike lashed to the end of a wooden pole. Hearing his cry of pain, the two women came to his rescue. Seconds later, both Zeds, already seriously weakened by Zavar’s swordplay, were out of the fight.
    No less than fourteen Zeds now lay bleeding upon the forest floor. Some were dead, others too badly injured to raise themselves. Cyrus appraised the situation in an instant. “Don’t let even one get away!” he gasped. “Not a single one!”
    The Tallins advanced carefully on the remaining Zeds. Corby brought down one, and Cyrus and Navid accounted for another two. Roxanne’s bayonet gashed the back of a fourth as he fled into the trees with two other survivors. As giving chase risked another ambush, the exhausted Constants decided to let them go.
    Navid, panting heavily, came over to Cyrus and put an arm round his shoulder. “Quite a fight, eh?” he grinned.
    Cyrus brushed a lock of dark brown hair from his sweat-covered face. “Yes, but we shouldn’t have let any escape, Nav. They know our position and will report back.” He wiped the tip of his spear on a tuft of coarse grass. “We’ve got to get out of here quick, before they come after us with dogs.”
    First, though, they had to tend to Zavar. He was in great pain. The blow from the club had broken a bone in his shoulder and the wound from the spike was bleeding badly. He was able to walk, though. When Cyrus had fashioned a sling out of a belt and Roxanne had stopped the flow of blood with a pad of leaves and a woollen bandage, the party struck out in what they hoped was the direction of Highway 24. This time Roxanne and Navid led the way, followed by Zavar and Taja with Cyrus bringing up the rear. Corby, unhurt in the fray, trotted along happily beside his master.

    At the top of the rise, the trees gave way to denser, more regular undergrowth that