A Fragile Thing || Far Cry 4

Chapter Nine

Ajay knew he couldn't win out against the lieutenant's strength. He was more fit than he had ever been in his life, but was still no match for the mass of muscle that now had him in his clutches. Ajay did the only thing he could think of. He would concede the battle to, hopefully, win the war.

The dagger plunged into Ajay's left shoulder, tearing a cry from his mouth. But he was free. The lieutenant was caught off guard by Ajay's tactic and, in his hesitation, Ajay kicked out behind him. His foot connected with the lieutenant's knee and, as the brute staggered, Ajay launched himself forward, barely catching himself on his hands and knees before crashing and sliding awkwardly into the cavern wall. Ajay gritted his teeth against the lancing pain in his shoulder, still aware that he had mere seconds to come up with a plan. Then his hand hit something wet.

Blood.

Blood from the second archer, lying dead against the wall, eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. And lying right next to him—his bow, with one arrow still tucked into the quiver on his back.

The thought hadn't even fully formed in Ajay's mind before he had grabbed both and rotated, coming up on one knee. He ignored the pain in his shoulder, conquered it. Even though he could feel the dagger ripping through muscle and tissue alike.

The archer was dead. Ajay hadn't made it in time to save him. All he could do now to honor his memory was to kill the lieutenant with the archer's own weapon.

Nock. Draw. Breathe. Fire.

Ajay had practiced it countless times and he took himself back there. Back to the range with dented metal targets opposing him. This was just a shot like any other.

This was his last chance.

He wasn't going to waste it.

Time slowed as shock and terror transformed the lieutenant's face. The bowstring snapped forward, the arrow hurtled toward the frozen lieutenant.

And embedded itself into his left eye, killing him instantly. His body sagged to its knees before falling backward and tumbling through empty air into the chasm. Ajay sagged to the floor, immense pain returning to his shoulder. He groaned as he dropped the bow, his hand unable to hold onto it any longer. With a shriek, Ajay wrenched the dagger from his shoulder and tossed it aside, blood gleaming off of the razor-sharp blade. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt to wrap around the wound and stanch the bleeding. He then staggered over to his pistol, his left arm hanging uselessly by his side.

Armed once more, Ajay took a steadying breath. He had to keep going, had to keep pushing forward. He had a mission. Yuma was still out there, lurking in the shadows. So he trudged past the bottomless pit, seeking out the one person that had brought him more agony and hardship than any other.

After five minutes, Ajay's vision started blurring around the edges. The blood loss was starting to get to him. He shook his head and blinked heavily, trying to clear his eyes. Then a faint scuffling noise hit him. Pausing, Ajay listened intently to the sound. It was coming from dead ahead. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good. Not gunfire or shouting, but definitely some kind of fighting. And that could only mean one thing—Sabal had found Yuma. Or the other way around.

Ajay moved swiftly but conscientiously toward the sound. He wasn't going to walk into another ambush. As the fighting grew louder, the passage widened. More and more flickering candles stood in alcoves carved into the wall, their light bathing the passage in an orange glow. Spiraling ever downward, soon carved stone steps appeared underneath Ajay's feet. Statues of Yalung sprung up on either side of the path, recurring every so many yards. The hair on the back of Ajay's neck stood on end, but still he pressed forward. Until the passage opened up and Ajay gaped at the sight.