TITLE: Sahmara's Sunset
Escaped slave, Sahmara, and the ragtag soldiers she's banded with to get home, find themselves under attack.
Grabbing for the small knife in her belt, Sahmara readied herself as she had seen those around her do. Unfortunately, the only thing Sahmara had ever done with a knife was cut her meat at the dinner table. These men were not on a plate and there was no fork to hold them down. Two men came at her with short swords in hand. A line of fire erupted on her shoulder where one blade connected. She dodged backwards as much as she dared, but there were men everywhere and all of them fought for their lives. There was nowhere to run, and no one would be coming to her rescue.
Determined not to become breakfast for the crows, Sahmara made a mad stab at the closet man. The blade bounced off his mailed shirt, gaining her nothing but skinned knuckles. He laughed, a cruel rumble that reverberated in her ears. Again she lashed out with her knife, but someone smashed into her from behind, knocking the blade from her hand. She stumbled and fell.
A strong hand grabbed her shirt. “Stay down would ya? You’ll be much more fun alive.”
The man with the sword placed its point against her chest. “You listen to Poul now, we might even let ya go when were finished.” He grinned, revealing blackened teeth.
“Might let you go.” The man behind her snickered. “Might let you go to the gods, more like.”