The other slaves, the non-thieves, watched the proceedings in sick fascination.
She could expect no help from them.
Mildred had drawn an imaginary line on the tunnel floor. It was the distance she knew she could cross in a single step with power; it defined her killing range. When the fat guy sidestepped over the line, Mildred flung her left hand up at his face. A cloud of twinkling dust scattered into his eyes and up his nose as he gasped in surprise. The powdered glass cut him like ten thousand tiny razor blades.
“Unnhhh!” he cried, covering his eyes as he staggered back.
Mildred power stepped, bringing her ax up side arm, and two-handed it into the center of the fat man’s throat. The point made a wet, slapping sound as it sank in to the start of the handle. She turned with the man as he gagged, ripping the curved ax out of his neck.
Blood jetted from the gaping hole where his Adam’s apple had been.
He clutched at his ruined throat, his mouth opened wide, but no scream came forth.
Mildred used her momentum, planting her feet and twisting her torso. Uncoiling from her hips and legs, she backhanded the flat end of the hammer in a tight arc that ended at the base of his unprotected skull.
Bone crunched sharply and the fat man jolted forward. His knees buckled under him.
From the way his face hit the floor, Mildred figured he was dead before contact.
His friends figured the same thing.
“You bitch!” Bristle-nose cried. “You chilled Bucky. We’re gonna pound you to a pulp!”
“You’re going to need a longer handle than that if you’re going do it from over there,” she said.
“Get the bitch!”
Mildred moved into her original position, the wall to her back, the cart protecting her left flank. She guessed that a three man charge was coming next. An attack from all sides, which she couldn’t turn away. But what the thieves had just seen her do to their friend Bucky made them cautious. They didn’t want to get too close. They took short swings at her, their blows coming up way short. Mildred didn’t overreact, didn’t commit herself. She didn’t retreat, either. To do that would have given them an opening.
The stocky robber with running sores on his cheeks tried to edge in along the right hand wall, close enough to land a blow.
Though Mildred saw it coming, she was barely able to duck the right handed, sidearm blow. The man’s ax point crashed into the wall. Mildred countered by bringing the flat of her ax down onto his wrist. Something snapped. The robber let out a shriek and released his ax handle. The weapon clattered to the floor as he jumped back, clutching his forearm.
“She broke my wrist!” he moaned.
Mildred was on him before he could take another step and before the others could recover from their shock. She swung the square end of her ax head against the side of his skull, a single two-handed blow to the temple that sent him sprawling. He hit the floor flat on his belly, arms and legs splayed, and didn’t move.
Mildred could see he wasn’t breathing.
The thieves could see it, too.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” the third robber muttered out of the corner of his mouth. His long, greasy hair was plastered to the sides of his narrow head.
“Shut up, dimmie,” Bristle-nose growled. “When we chill her and take her ore, it means double water rations for us. Come on. She must be getting tired. Let’s take her out before she recovers.”
Mildred was feeling the effects of her exertions. The ax definitely seemed heavier than a few moments ago, but she was so pumped with adrenaline it didn’t matter.
Two thieves were down for the count, and the others were still coming at her. She realized she was going to have to kill them both. And the only way she could do that was to exploit her relative maneuverability, make them get in each other’s way.
Bristle-nose moved along the far side of the cart; Greasy-hair came next to the wall. They closed in, with axes raised to strike.