Brood of Vipers by Maggie Claire (good books for high schoolers .txt) 📕

“Wolf wants me to question you all tomorrow to find out your plans,” Wren replies with a mischievous grin. “Of course, we both know there’s nothing for me to find, so—”

“You came here to gloat?” Jackal grumbles, a weary, broken chuckle rattling through his chest. “I knew you were tricky, but I didn’t expect you to be cruel. What else do you want? You’ve already won Wolf’s loyalty.”

“I came to offer you an alternative,” Wren explains, slowly drawing a knife from his pocket. “Only one will get this opportunity; everyone else will die tonight.”

“I’m listening,” Jackal murmurs, casting a wary glance at his comrades. None of the others appear to be awake. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Jackal questions, “What are you offering, Wren?”

“Freedom.” Wren dangles the possibility like a treat before a hungry dog. “I will let you go free. In return, I expect you to take Lynx and her child and run to the Pith lands. Find Mynah and the Ddraigs; carry a message to them for me. Tell them we are getting ready to move over the Devil’s Spine. After Wolf finds the dead bodies in the morning, he will be frightened. I’ll persuade him that it’s time to join the king and make plans for a joint attack.”

“And what if I agree but don’t follow through on my part of the deal?” Jackal sneers, carefully picking at the ropes around his wrists, searching for any means of escape.

“Then Lynx will kill you and carry the message herself. Besides, what other option do you think you’ll have? After Wolf finds the dead in here and discovers you aren’t among them, he will naturally assume you killed them all to keep them from sharing your assassination plans. He will never trust your word; most likely, he’ll kill you on sight. At least with the Ddraigs, you have a chance,” Wren explains, raising his blade to inspect its edge as he lets Jackal consider his words. “Now, are you going to take this opportunity? Or shall I slit your throat and offer it to the next man?”

Jackal sighs, shaking his head a little as he laments, “I don’t really have a choice, do I? Just kill them quickly, Wren. Don’t make them suffer.” Jackal turns his gaze to the other five men tied to the poles, recognizing this is the final moment he will see them alive. “Believe it or not, they are decent men. In a different world, they would have been some of the best.”

“You could say that of us all,” Wren quips, stalking over to stand before Hyena. In one fluid motion, he slices deep into Hyena’s neck, cleanly severing the arteries. In a matter of moments, Hyena’s body falls limp.

Wren moves quickly around the room, almost as if he’s taking part in a morbid dance. Slice the arteries, twirl away from the blood spatter, step to the next man. Slice, twirl, step. Slice, twirl, step. He moves with fluid grace until he stands before Jackal once more.

“I hate you,” Jackal declares in a hoarse voice.

“I don’t blame you,” Wren replies, sounding fatigued as he slices through the ropes that bind Jackal to the pole.

The sudden loss of support from the ropes causes Jackal to stumble and fall onto the hay-covered ground. He kneels in the muck, feeling the warmth of fresh blood seeping into his pant legs. The cloying air suffocates him. Breath comes in quick, ragged hitches as the scent of death begins to permeate the barn. “I can’t…breathe,” Jackal cries, clawing at his mask. He rips the tanned hide off his face, pushing himself off the ground as he races toward the barn door.

Wren beats him to the opening, forcing Jackal to stand still. “You can’t go out there until you’ve calmed down. Otherwise, you’ll alert the whole camp.”

“If I get their attention, then you’ll go down for this!” Jackal announces, preparing to bellow for help.

Wren clamps a hand over his mouth, bracing himself for a fight. “I’ll just say I heard movement in the barn and came to investigate.” Jackal lashes out with his elbow, connecting hard against Wren’s stomach. Yet even while winded, Wren has a plan. Doubling over, he uses the momentum of his motion to slam his head into the center of Jackal’s back. He lands a kick into the back of Jackal’s knees. Then, in one quick motion, Wren raises the knife and poises its tip against Jackal’s neck. “I could kill you now and be hailed as the hero that took out the traitor. I could send Lynx off on her own and still get the message to Mynah. I could even blame her escape on my distraction from dealing with you. Letting you live is a mercy, but it is one that I don’t have to give.”

“No, please,” Jackal begs, falling very still. “I’ll do as you wish.”

“Good answer,” Wren whispers in Jackal’s ear. “I’d rather Lynx and her son travel with a man that could protect them if it was necessary. Unlike me, however, Lynx won’t offer second chances. You give her any reason to mistrust you, and you won’t live to see the next sunrise.” Wren lets the knife fall slowly. When Jackal doesn’t put up any more of a fight, he carefully steps over to the barn door. “The door squeaks. Slip through the opening without widening it, and wait outside for me. Do not try a stunt like this again; I won’t offer you a third chance.”

This time, Jackal does as he is instructed. Once Wren slips through the barn door, he wordlessly motions for Jackal to follow him to his tent. They pick their way through the campsite, but their travels are far from stealthy. Jackal lumbers through the sand, accidentally kicking a few cooking pots and stumbling once into a firebreak. I was wise to keep only one alive, Wren grimly admits, wishing there had been a way to spare them