She saw in those movements why the Senaps were known for being the best—the most elite soldiers and trackers within Jansa. They were methodical and deliberate, moving together seamlessly as one unit.
Esha notched two arrows on her bow and sent a quick prayer up to the Moon Lord before letting go. The first arrow found its aim, in the small gap between the soldier’s shield and his cuirass, which he kept exposing. The taller soldier immediately ducked out of the way and pulled his comrade down. The arrow dedicated to him barely missed.
Any element of surprise was gone now. And Esha realized her grave mistake. When the taller soldier had turned to dodge her arrow, the rusted double silver brand of his armband glinted against the setting sun. He was a Senap captain. The other soldier must have been the newer one, turning around to watch the actions of his superior officer.
The captain unslung his bow and was aiming into the tree, directly at her.
Esha scrambled higher, up the sturdier branches, and jumped onto the tree to the right. She tumbled down the tree, using her momentum to ram into the captain and knock the bow out of his hands.
The shorter soldier was sitting to the right, a bloody hand to his throat as he scrambled to use jungle moss to stanch his wound. Smart soldiers were always so annoying.
Esha tumbled over the mossy, wet jungle floor and scrambled back up. The captain was getting up as well, and he didn’t look perturbed by her appearance, or that she was a she. He had the same gleam in his eyes as all good fighters. He drew out his knife and charged at her.
Panic seized her, and she rolled out of the way, grabbing the bow off the ground and shooting arrow after arrow at him. Only one found its aim, in his arm, but it barely slowed him down.
Esha decided to hold her ground as he came again at her. She dropped to the floor at the last second, slashing at his leg with the knife she had hidden on her. The captain grunted, stumbling, and Esha heaved forward, using the momentum to land a crack against his skull with the hilt of her knife. She struck one blow, but before she get another one in, he grabbed her wrist.
He seized her neck with his other hand, using his height and weight to lift her off the ground. The air escaped her lungs as she struggled to reach for the whip tucked under her waist sash, hidden so as to not give away her identity.
But it wouldn’t matter who she was if she wasn’t alive.
Esha fought against his hands, driving her foot into the soldier’s groin. He dropped her, grunting in pain, and she fell in a heap, gasping as she dragged herself away.
She took in a welcome breath and got to her feet shakily, preparing to square off with the captain again. A noise sounded from behind her, but Esha kept her eyes on the captain. That is, until he let out a piercing whistle.
Esha spun around and decided it was a good thing she had kept the whip in her sash.
Kunal let out a nervous chuckle.
“Where did I come from?” he said, repeating the question. His hands were still up, the two spears still pointed at his jugular. “A few of us soldiers are returning to the Fort from a mission and have camped farther into the jungle. I got a bit lost, I’m afraid.”
The soldier on the left scoffed, his spear wobbling. “Lost? Fort soldiers should be trained better than that.”
The soldier on the right shot a recriminating look at his partner and dropped his spear, offering an arm. Kunal grasped it, forearm to forearm. “Mohit, drop your weapon. I’d heard that there was another squad on its way back from the coast.”
Mohit didn’t look happy, but he did lower his spear a few notches, giving his fellow guard a half nod. Kunal lowered his hands but made sure to still keep them in Mohit’s sightlines as he moved forward.
“So, what is this?” Kunal asked, keeping his tone light as he assessed the caravan. “A weapons shipment? I heard there was a new set of Harran steel being sent to the palace before the start of the Sun Mela.”
The chariot was tilted, leaning against a tree. Kunal furrowed his brow, trying to see if he could make out any sounds from inside the covered chariot.
“No, nothing of that sort. Would’ve loved to get a look at a set of new Harran steel—those desert blacksmiths are unparalled,” the soldier said. “Though we are on our way to Gwali.”
Mohit gave his partner a sharp look, but Kunal pretended not to notice, stumbling a bit and using the side of the caravan to catch his fall.
And that’s when Kunal spotted it. The caravan wheel had an extra compartment that indicated the cargo being carried wasn’t cargo at all. And in the back, he saw the metal pin that every royal transport had, one that would separate the chariot from the caravan.
Mohit was now advancing on him, suspicion across his face as he ignored the sputtered words of his partner. Kunal straightened himself and pushed away from the caravan after reaching a hand behind to yank at the metal pin in the corner of the broken spoke. The pin tumbled to the ground, outside of Kunal’s grasp.
“Tell me, if your squad was returning to the Fort, why are you on this road? Wouldn’t it be better to go south?” Mohit asked.
“It would. But my comrades wanted to avoid the Tej rain forest, so we took this longer route.”
“That will delay you.”
“We planned on making up the time,” Kunal said, walking to the left as if he was aimlessly pacing. But he was positioning himself closer to the edge of the jungle. Away from the caravan, which was teetering now, the latch and small metal pin having loosened.
Another minute and the pressure alone from the caravan would cause them to weaken.
Mohit finally gave him a nod of approval. Kunal gave him a nod back, feeling the slow warmth of shame filling him. If he hadn’t agreed to find Reha, if he didn’t know what he knew . . . Mohit might have been a friend.
Suddenly, a shout pierced the air. It took him a few seconds to realize it was Esha’s voice.
And she was shouting his name.
Esha burst into the clearing, her hair flying, blood streaked across her clothes, a deep welt around her neck. He didn’t even have time to feel shock at the bruising around her throat.
Behind her were four soldiers, the pairs that Kunal had hoped weren’t there.
Kunal reacted before he could think. He rushed at the nearest soldier and tackled him to the ground, only to look up and see Esha sprinting toward the caravan.
It was poised to topple over.
Mohit was running toward the caravan as well, his eyes on the wheels. And another soldier was heading after them both. Kunal landed a well-placed blow to the soldier’s face, hearing a crack as he fell to the ground. Before he could get up, Kunal was tackled and hit the ground, hard.
Hard enough that his extra senses erupted around him and Kunal had to hold back a scream. He heard the labored breaths of every person, saw the pores on the face of his attacker.
And it was the only reason he heard the pin being slotted back into the chariot.
Sun Maiden’s spear. Kunal took another blow to his cheek, but he didn’t stay down. Gathering up his strength, he lifted and smashed his head into his attacker—a Senap captain who looked vaguely familiar. Kunal pushed away the terror at having hurt a ranking member of his—the army—and focused.
Two down.
Kunal ran back to the caravan. Mohit jumped into the chariot driver’s seat as Esha battled the remaining three soldiers. One of them turned, and Kunal followed his frantic glance to see Mohit lashing the horses to get away.