Free Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) by T. L. Shreffler Page B

couldn't use them. She might be annoying, but I don't want her killed, Sora thought, glancing around.
    Her sense of alarm was growing. She could tell they were definitely being watched. Abruptly, Sora turned to look back at her traveling companion. "Laina, get off your horse and go hide!”
    At that moment, an unseen object whistled past her— thuuunk! A dagger! It landed hilt-deep in the tree next to her head. It would have hit her, but her steed abruptly whinnied, rearing and dancing to one side. That sent Sora tumbling sideways out of the saddle, unprepared for the sudden movement. She landed with a small “oof” of surprise, her staff jammed against her back, one foot caught in a stirrup.
    She kicked her foot free just as her horse took off into the trees, whinnying madly, pushing its way through a thin patch of bramble. She leapt to her feet; no time to worry about the beast. Then she dodged to one side, led by pure instinct. Another dagger whistled past her. A dark blur followed the dagger, and Sora brought out her own knives, ready for the next attack.
    So there were bandits in the woods. She should have known! No wonder they had given up the chase so easily.
    By the strength and speed, she judged her foe to be a man. His knives whistled close to her and she leapt away just in time to save her neck. Then the Cat’s Eye began to jingle, a dull chiming in her ears, and its unnamed presence awoke in her mind. She felt its power melt through her, sinking into the nooks of her shoulders, the joints of her hands. She felt as though her eyes had suddenly opened.
    It happened far more naturally than ever before. The Cat's Eye joined with her mind, and everything became clearer: the trees, the ground, the moon above. Her mother told her that each bearer left an imprint on the stone; the knowledge of past warriors lived inside it. With moves she never thought she could have mastered in her short lifetime, she dodged and ducked, easily evading the man's attacks.
    Feinting to one side, Sora felt her back touch a tree. Uh-oh, wasn't this my first lesson in fighting? Never get yourself cornered! She ducked beneath the next swing and came up on the man's other side, then brought up her daggers. Blocked. The man was a much better fighter than any of the bandits she had faced so far. He was fast, almost too fast, even with the help from her necklace. One thing was for sure: hand-to-hand combat was getting her nowhere.
    Sora broke away from her opponent and leapt across the clearing, putting several feet of space between them. Then she faced him, crouching slightly, observing. To her surprise, he followed her lead, breaking off from the fight and standing back to watch her.
    Who is he? she wondered, but when she tried to see his face, she found that it was too dark to make out clearly. He wore a hood pulled low over his head, his clothing as black and muddled as the foliage. It doesn't matter, a foe is a foe, she told herself, and concentrated on his wickedly pointed knife.
    It was time to act. She sprang forward, dagger outstretched, hoping to catch him off-guard. The man turned just in time to deflect her blow, but she nicked him; she felt her blade snag on his clothing and the slight pull of flesh. Sora couldn't see where she had hit him, but there was blood on her knife.
    They were in close combat again. He tried to grab her, his hands going to her wrists. She barely evaded him and landed a kick to his ribs, trying to force him back, but he wouldn't give her any space. It didn't seem to matter where she struck; he had a way of blocking her, of trapping her hands. And then, suddenly, he lashed out— wham! —and struck her squarely in the chest. Sora staggered backwards, winded from the blow, only to smash into the trunk of a tree. He was on her in a second, no space between them, no chance to even breathe. He grabbed her roughly and rammed her back against the tree again, hard, his knife against her throat.
    Anger burned inside