Page 102 of Untempered
Chay whirled hard. I heard the arrow sink deep into the wood of his shield. But beyond him, another flew toward where Audrey was prone against the stone.
It struck the air before her like it was made of wood, too. The shaft stood, bristling, like those Chay’s shield boasted. Almost immediately, another split it.
I didn’t know what magic that was, and I didn’t care. I steered hard to Audrey and kicked one foot free, readying myself to help her mount up and flee.
“Truce!” a voice shouted. “Unless Ylva dies.”
There was no way she wasn’t dying, and now wasn’t the time to wonder. “Get up,” I told Audrey, landing beside her. One of my knees gave out, and agony screamed up my legs. I kept my face blank. She didn’t notice, her eyes on the arrows ahead of us. Blood streaked down the outside of one arm, nonfatal. As she stood, the arrows tumbled from the sky like they’d been dropped by whatever magical force had stopped them mid-air. I boosted Audrey into my saddle.
Over my horse’s rump, I saw a man striding into the clearing, longbow at his side and quiver over his shoulder. The fur-lined cloak he wore strapped over his chest, and his long hair pulled back in a club both marked him as Southern.
“The earthworker says we shouldn’t kill you,” he called. “Let it be known that is theonlyreason you are still standing.”
Chay snorted, and so did his horse.
“You’re coming with me and will be thanking her,” the Southerner called.
I shared a quick look with Audrey. “You actually shot her?” she demanded, taking my reins.
I didn’t bother to point out the Worg had led us into an ambush. My quiver was on that saddle, and I only had the fistful of arrows I held and my knives. None of them were useful against invisible targets.
My bones ached. But over the Southerner’s head, I saw a dark form move in the trees. Judging from the number of arrows loosed, I suspected there were mayhap two more after this crusty cocktugger, at most.
I didn’t hate those odds, if I had eyes on two of them.
Deliberately, I looked up and caught Chay’s gaze, drawing in a deep breath. I didn’t question the flicker of compassion that was swiftly disguised, simply noted the way he sheathed his sword to take up his reins.
Go.I whistled and swung my bow up at the same time, letting fly at the figure lurking within the shadows and then charging toward the man in the clearing.
He spun. Horses screamed in fury, and hooves churned the ground. I dodged the arrow stabbed toward me and kicked out. A shaft whistled past me from the shadowed area where someone had lurked, and I knew that while I’d missed my secondary target, I’d accomplished my main one.
Safe travels,I thought to Audrey, sending another arrow into the darkness.
A foot in my abdomen drove me back, and a little further from the crusty cocktugger, I saw another emerging from the shadows.
“Enough!” the man roared, his face twisted in fury but his hawk-like features were still strikingly familiar. If he wasn’t Ylva’s blood, I’d cut Audrey’s throat myself. “Cut her string!”
I dropped my arm so the man before me missed my bow, and I ducked to the side. But my legs weren’t as sure as they should have been, and the ground gave way a little.
There was really no other way it was going to end than this brute pointing his drawn bow at my chest. “Do we take this one?” the man in front of me asked.
I could just aboutseeYlva’s kin considering whether it was worth it to rough me up. “The Butcher’s Brat won’t come back for her.” Fury pounded at my temples, and he smiled. “Will she?”
“You’d better hope not,” I said quietly. “She was gentle with your sister. She wouldn’t bother with you.”
“Gentle?”He raised a finger. “Walk, bitch.”
I considered fighting against it, but by now, the two other men would have a solid line on me. I had two arrows left.
If it came to it, I’d kill Ylva’s poor-tempered kin and let her live.
So I walked, biding my time, ignoring the exhaustion and the agony that had settled deep in my limbs. None of them got within range of my fists. The third man stayed mostly out of sight. And while I could hear the occasional noise that could be from Audrey and Chay in the distance, I wasn’t certain of it, though the men around me would be. They’d know their location, but more, they’d know whether their hearts beat too fast under duress, or whether their horses stumbled. They’d know if they were angled into the wind and whether they’d be home, safe, by nightfall.
It was beyond me to not resent them for the knowledge of my charge that I so desperately wanted. I remembered the blood on Audrey’s arm, the fistful of arrows she’d held. She’d done fine. Not well, perhaps, but fine. And Chay had been the boon I hadn’t expected. Apparently, hecoulduse a shield when he was on a horse, at least.
Ylva was lying on her back where she’d fallen. The arrow shaft lay beside her. Her skin was pale, and the woman bent over her didn’t look up from her hands, folded over the wound, and slick with her blood. She had the strange stillness of a magic user at work.
I had no guilt whatsoever. But the sight of this mage made me uneasy. I didn’t know enough about Southern magic to know if she ought to be my primary target. She hadn’t been the greatest threat earlier, and potentially had even halted those arrows to protect Audrey. But was that just because her primary focus was saving Ylva?
