Warrior Mage (Book 1) by Lindsay Buroker Read Free Book Online

their hips.
    Yanko took too long debating if he should try to capture and question them, and they disappeared around a bend ahead. He crawled the rest of the way over the fallen salt slabs, crouched and used his mind to probe the other nearby storage rooms. A draft of fresh desert air whispered across his cheeks. Odd. One didn’t usually feel that until one was rising out of the mines on the lift.
    A scream of pain traveled down the tunnel from ahead, halting his investigation. That scream had sounded familiar.
    “Uncle?” Yanko whispered.
    Lakeo slid down the rock pile and landed beside him.
    “Watch my back,” he said, barely aware that he was giving her an order. He sprinted up the passage without waiting for an answer. It made sense that the enemy would interrogate Uncle Mishnal if they had captured him. After all, he ran the mine. If there were any government secrets to be known about the salt and where it was distributed, he would know them.
    Yanko almost crashed into a man walking out of a side room carrying ropes of sausages. Not wanting to slow down, Yanko slammed an elbow into his sternum and tore the intruder’s kyzar from his belt before the man had done more than drop the food. Yanko took advantage of his surprise, smashing a palm into his foe’s face at the same time as he stepped in close, driving the blade into his chest.
    He had never killed before, and remorse caught up with what had been instinctive reactions. He stared as the man fell back, landing on the floor, death in his eyes as he gasped for his final breaths of air.
    The clang of steel near him told him Lakeo had passed him and also found an opponent. There was no time to linger. He pulled out the dying man’s second weapon, a two-edged longsword, then raced up the tunnel to help Lakeo. She had stumbled across two men who had been carrying a trunk of cheeses out of a supply room. They had flung their load down and were pressing her, both attacking at the same time. Predictably, the miners accompanying Yanko and Lakeo hung back. They had pickaxes, but did not rush to engage in the battle.
    Yanko charged up, catching one of her attackers in the side before he could break away to face him. Relentless, Yanko smashed the man’s sword hand, knocking the weapon away. He slammed the kyzar into the man’s chest, the blade scraping and grinding against ribs. The reality of the noise made Yanko wince, but the fact that Lakeo was in trouble ensured he did not hesitate. He would have turned to help her with her opponent, but two more invaders were racing down the hall toward them. He had to trust that Lakeo could take care of herself. Even though he usually bested her when they sparred, she had a scrappy unpredictable style that he hoped would serve her well.
    One of the approaching men carried a bow and paused to nock an arrow. Since he had a couple of seconds, Yanko did his best to block out the chaos of the fight, the rasping of men’s heavy breaths, the clank of swords, the grunts of pain and frustration. He called upon that draft creeping through the tunnels, channeled it, and threw a blast of air at the archer. The man toppled backward, his shoulder slamming into the wall, and his arrow falling away.
    “Mage!” the man started to scream.
    Using the same force of wind, Yanko shoved it down his throat, battering his tonsils and forcing the warning cry back into his mouth. The man’s head hammered against the wall, and he slumped to the ground, groaning.
    That would have to be enough for the moment, because the second invader had reached Yanko, a bare-armed man with two longswords. He leaped, both weapons swinging for Yanko’s head. There wasn’t time to come up with a magical defense—and he certainly couldn’t concentrate on one with those sharp blades angling for his eyes. He skittered to the side to avoid one of the swings and blocked the other with his purloined sword. The power of the blow radiated up his arm to his elbow, and he almost