Continuing with Book Two of the Academy of the Accord series, and picking up a few sentences after last week’s excerpt. Marsden has been following the boy who stole the skewer of chicken.
“I said leave him alone!” The voice was angry, not frightened, and Marsden diverted into the alley to see what was going on.
The boy he had been following stood defiantly facing two older and larger boys, both of whom were better fed and better dressed. Most likely merchants’ sons come down to the wharves for a little fun, Marsden thought, even as his attention was drawn to a still figure that was crumpled to the ground behind the boy, curled up in a fetal position, his white robes dirty and bloody.
“Gonna make us, whoreson?” one of the others sneered.
“If I have to.”
The younger boy’s voice was calm, unafraid, and Marsden’s experienced eye examined his stance – light, balanced on the balls of his feet, alert, but not tense – and he smiled; he’d make a fine fighter.
One of the older ones lunged for the boy and jerked back, howling in pain, clutching his stomach as bright red blood spread out from a knife slash.
Marsden strode forward and for a moment all three of them froze, then one of the older ones shouted, “It’s the Guard! Run!” and bolted, followed more slowly by his injured companion.
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