Harvest of Gold Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sama stood behind him, holding a fat rock in his hand.
    Darius’s opponent grew distracted for a moment by the noise of his companion dropping to the ground. It was the opening Darius needed. The thought of what this man could do to his wife should he lose gave Darius the strength to get back on his feet, ignoring the fire in his ribs. Taking advantage of his opponent’s slack-jawed surprise, he landed his elbow into the man’s belly and knocked him in the side of the head with a double-handed punch. The man staggered to one side. Darius swept a kick against his knees in the opposite direction and his opponent toppled. On the ground, he could not use the staff. Sama joined the melee, and between the two of them they finally subdued the adversary. He lay unconscious, a trickle of blood falling from his fast swelling lip.
    They rushed to help Meres; Darius experienced a rush of relief when he realized that although the others in the gang of attackers were skilled fighters, they were nowhere near as extraordinary as the man whom he had faced. Within minutes, Meres’s two challengers were quashed and tied with severe knots that held them helpless against one another. The other three men in the gang, now in various stages of unconsciousness, were restrained in similar fashion.
    He had barely finished tying up the last man when Sarah ran to his side. “Are you all right?” She couldn’t manage to hide a small quiver in her voice.
    “You were supposed to wait until I called you.” He tried to sound stern, but heard relief drown out every other emotion in his words.
    “Pardon, my lord. In all the excitement, I forgot.”
    Barefoot as she was now, the top of her head came to his chest. Her hair, wild from sleep and her haphazard run, tangled about her face. The full mouth, trembling with fear only moments ago, now grew flat into a stubborn line as she tried to regain her composure. If not for the carefully averted gaze of his men and the deep bruise at his side, he would have clasped her to him and kissed her—to reassure her or himself, he could not be certain.
    “You took a few hard hits,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Anything broken?”
    It occurred to him that for a woman unused to battle and bloodshed, she was acting with admirable self-possession. No tears. No hysterics. No embarrassing scene before his men. He knew that self-control came at a high cost, and appreciated it all the more. “I may have a few cracked ribs,” he said, keeping his voice light.
    “And your cheek is bleeding. It will probably scar. Too bad. You won’t be as good looking as Meres anymore.”
    Darius swallowed a smile, enchanted by her indomitable humor. “Saucy wench. You’d better attend me, then. Or will you faint at the sight of a little blood?”
    He would have laughed at her offended expression if the moan of one of the captives hadn’t forced him back to the present situation.
    “Search them,” Darius said through gritted teeth as Sarah bound his ribs with bandage. “Strip them naked if you have to. I want to know who they are and why they attacked us.”
    Arta, who had regained consciousness and sat nursing a prodigious headache, growled. “Thieves and rascals—that’s who they are. Looking for our silver, no doubt.”
    Darius made a noncommittal sound in his throat. The five men did not strike him as ordinary robbers. They fought like professionals, not bandits. Their high-quality horses were well cared for. He could still picture the unusual moves of the slim man he had fought; if not for Sama’s help, he would have lost that clash. Those were not the moves of a common thief.
    He deliberated for a moment on whether to take the time and solve the puzzle of this mysterious attack, or bundle the culprits on their horses and deliver them to the magistrate in Susa and let him untangle this enigma. After all, the king, who had summoned him and Sarah for a special audience, expected their speedy presence.
    Yet,