The Attack

It happened fast.

We were still on the road when the boy came out of the ditch. Young. Maybe twenty. Worn coat, wild eyes, and a knife in his hand. He went straight for Voss without a word.

Voss’s horse reared. Marlow shouted something I didn’t catch.

I was already moving. I closed the distance, grabbed the boy’s arm mid-swing and yanked him off balance. He twisted hard, trying to break free, but I had him. I drove my knee into the back of his leg and slammed him down onto the road. The knife went flying.

Before he could reach for it I had my boot on his wrist and my sword against his throat.

“Stay down,” I said.

Voss had gotten his horse under control. He stared at the boy with wide eyes, breathing hard.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped. “Who is this?”

Marlow had dismounted and was standing a few steps back, one hand on his sword hilt. “He came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see him.”

The boy was breathing heavily beneath my boot. He glared up at Voss, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump.

“You’re going to take everything from them,” he spat. “My parents’ farm. Everything they’ve worked for. And you just sit there like it doesn’t matter.”

Voss looked down at him with a mixture of shock and disgust.

“Hold him,” he said after a moment. His voice had gone cold. “We’re not done here.”

I kept my boot on the boy’s wrist and waited.