Page 6 of Blood of Wolves

At the very rear of the column, astride his massive warhorse, Bjorn herded the last civilians along, checking over his shoulder, toward the harbor, where the masts of the Sel ships were just visible from this distance. They hadn’t hit the mainland, yet, but they would soon. At any moment.

It felt almost like they’dallowedthe evacuation.

Bjorn lifted his gaze up to the wall, and met hers. Even from this distance, she could see the upward curve of his lips, the small, tight smile – no less genuinely warm – that he offered her, in the midst of controlled chaos, and thrumming terror.

She stepped back; turned to face the three nervous faces behind her. Tessa, Rune, and the young guardsmen who held Leif’s favorite hawk, Él, hooded, on one gloved arm.

Revna wore a glove, too, and she took the hawk; felt the strong grasp of her talons on her fingers as the bird moved from one grip to the other. The message Revna had written out earlier was already rolled and secured inside the small, leather tube strapped to the hawk’s leg.

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“Mum.”

Her gaze shifted to Rune, who was still too pale and thin in the face, even if his hair was tightly, neatly braided for once, thanks to Tessa’s careful fingers. “Are you sure?” she asked. “I can ask someone else–”

He shook his head, and his jaw tightened, and he said, “I can do this. I’m sore, not dead.”

Miraculously, she thought with a pang.

He held his bow, an arrow resting against the unstrained wood, fingers gripping the fletching loosely. Ready. Despite the shadows beneath them, his eyes were full of determination. He looked so much like his uncle that it hurt.

Revna nodded. “All right.” She picked up her skirt with her free hand and walked along the battlements, around a bend and to the long stretch of wall-walk that faced the north. The snow-mantled fields gleamed as if scattered with diamonds. The tree line, and the far distant mountains, lay like folded gray quilts.

Revna scanned the air; spotted dark movement high, beneath a tattered strip of cloud.

Behind her, Rune moved into position, boot soles scuffing over stone. His cloak rustled, as he lifted his arms. Was it hurting him? Was even that too much?

She didn’t look. She pulled Él’s hood, and watched the bird swivel her head, feathers ruffling, getting her bearings. After a moment, she settled; stared off across the fields, and the forest, gaze sharpening visibly, pupils expanding a fraction. Revna could feel her tense, ready, just like Rune.

“I need you to find him.” She meant the words to be stern, a forceful command – but they came out a plea instead. “Find your boy, and deliver this.” She touched the leather case, briefly, and then extended her gloved arm. Lowered it. “Go.”

It had been a while since she’d gone hawking, but her body remembering the movement. The throw, the moment of loosing the jesses.

Él leaped aloft, the strong, initial flap of her wings stirring Revna’s hair, and dusting snow from the wall, as she went over. The hawk dropped, a moment, getting a feel for the wind, and then started to climb, wings beating strong and steady; she headed out across the field, flying north, to her master.

A shadow fell over her, and a black wraith hurtled down through shredded clouds.

“Rune!”

“I see.” The bow creaked as he drew it; she heard him grunt, faintly. And then the string twanged, and the arrow was only a hiss of wind beside her, and a brief glimpse of retreating goose feathers, before the vulture’s dive hitched, and the bird tumbled, end over end, and fell, dead, down, down, down to the snow, as Él continued on, unscathed.

Even if the Sels were still onboard their ships, they’d loosed a host of vultures on the city – trained vultures, or perhaps magicked, even. Tessa had tried sending messages south to her family in Drakewell, and each messenger falcon had been plucked from the sky, and killed, messages undelivered.

But this time. This time Revna had hope.

She let out a deep breath, and turned to check on Rune. He’d lowered his bow, and stood with one hand pressed to his ribs, just above his still-healing injury, teeth gritted against the pain.

Tessa had a hand on his arm, gazing at him worriedly.

“How badly did you just set yourself back?” Revna asked.

She could see that it was an effort to stop grimacing. “Not bad.”

She sighed. “Oh, my little liar.”

“Hey–”

She stepped up and patted his cheek. “Go see Olaf and make sure you didn’t strain anything. And thank you.”

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