Wanderling (Spirit Seeker Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

trunk.
    “Shem!”
Adala screamed, but the man she had just stabbed caught her in the side of the
head with a brute-forced punch. Acute pricks of light danced in her vision as
she staggered backwards, still grasping her knife.
    “Adala,
help!” came Shem’s frantic voice.
    “Let
him go,” Adala pleaded. She tried to step forward.
    The
man before her clutched his side with one hand while he swung wide and fast for
her head. Adala dropped low and sucked in a quick breath. He fought like a
wounded animal. He pulled back for an overhead strike, and she rolled to the
side and lunged for his stomach, ready to plunge in the knife for a second
time. He moved to the side in a flash and changed the course of his sword. It
slid against the outside of her upper right arm and a sharp pain shot through
her. The next thing she saw was the bottom of his boot as he kicked full-force
into her face.
    Pain.
    First
in her nose and then her side as he kicked her again. She writhed on the
ground, knife forgotten. She curled up to protect her vital organs. No other
blow came.
    “Get
the boy to the horses,” she heard the injured man say. “I’ve got to get
bandaged up before we ride out.”
    When
she opened her eyes she saw the ceiling above her and the lump of her mother’s
mattress to the right. Eleanor’s arm hung over the edge, blood dripping from
the fingertips. Adala stared as her mother turned her head weakly and looked
Adala in the eye. “You can’t let them take him,” she whispered shakily. “Protect
him, Adala,” she said in a trembling voice, “it’s what you were raised to do.”
    The
man with the lantern was already climbing down the ladder, and the room grew
darker. The injured man went next, leaving the last man, who pulled a
struggling Shem from the corner, ready to lower him to the others.
    Adala
fumbled about the rough floorboards for her knife, earning more than one
splinter in her frantic search. Her fingers felt the cool, wet blade in the
darkness, and she grasped the handle with determination. As a final attempt,
she ran behind the last intruder and used her left hand to yank back his chin
from behind. She swung her knife around to slit his throat, but he anticipated
her move. He reached with his left hand to grab her wrist. Instead, neither one
reached their target. He aimed for her wrist and caught the knife in his hand;
she aimed for his throat and sliced open his palm instead.
    “Stupid
wench!” The man groaned, and thrust his right elbow into her jaw. She lost grip
of her knife and staggered backwards, hands over her throbbing face.
    Shem
screamed, “No, no, no!” and the intruder kneed him forward so that he fell
through to the first floor, crying and screaming.
    The
man approached Adala, and she crawled backwards on the floorboards until she
was against the low ceiling of the slanted loft. “Please don’t,” she whispered,
“he’s just a boy! Take me instead—I can sail and fish. I’ll do whatever you
need.”
    “We
don’t want you,” he said. He grabbed her foot and dragged her out of the
corner, then lifted her up by the hair with his good hand. She painfully tried
to wriggle free, choking back the terror. He came close to her ear and said,
“We don’t want you getting in our way, either, wench.” His foul breath reeked
worse than his words. Her scalp burned as he yanked her hair, and she felt him
gather momentum as he swung her head toward the floorboards. That was all she
knew before splitting pain and then darkness consumed her.
    ***
    How
much time had passed before Adala woke she did not know. The throbbing of her
head was excruciating, and the loft was still pitch dark. The house was silent.
    She
sat up straight, the memory of her brother’s screams echoing in her mind. Her
movement was punished with a sharp pain in her head. She cursed, feeling the
side of her head where sticky blood caked her hair against the scalp. She felt
dried and fresh trickles of blood leading up her