Page 10 of Peregrine's Call
The man howled in pain and stumbled backward, cursing. But as soon as he left the fray, another fighter stepped in.
“Come down and fight like a man!” the blue-shirted attacker jeered.
Worried about harm to his horse, Tav leapt down and blocked the attacker’s path toward the animal. He parried the first clumsy blow from the blueshirt, but soon found himself flanked on two sides as the others closed in. The horse was the only thing saving him from a knife in the back…so far.
Two of the bandits were actually good swordfighters, reinforcing the idea that this group probably left an army to find an easier life in the wild, preying on mostly unarmed travelers.
He’d make them regret attacking a knight.
For the first few moments, Tav felt that the odds were fair enough. He’d dispatched the spearman, and the two swordsmen were within his ability to defeat, even both at once.
Then a pain burst at his chest. He glanced down to see a fist-sized rock bouncing to the ground. Someone was playing dirty.
The second of distraction made him drop his sword, and one the swordsmen lunged forward, striking Tav. A dull ache spread outward from his bicep. He didn’t look at it, but redoubled his attack.
His opponent fell back, unprepared for the speed of Octavian’s strikes. Another rock whistled by, missing Tav by inches.
He saw an opening and struck the other man with a quick jab. The sword sliced the man’s side, and he yelled out in pain. Tav hit again, and the man collapsed.
But just then, another heavy rock smacked into the side of Tav’s head, the chain mail he wore doing little to weaken the blow.
Tav staggered sideways a few steps, trying to regain his balance. But he was now in a worse position, no longer with his back protected by the bulk of his riding horse.
He kept attacking and defending, but the attacks became fewer, and the defense became more and more necessary as the attacking group closed in.
One bandit in a rust-red tunic seized the long lead for the pack horse and started sawing at it with his knife. Tav winced. Losing the pack horse and its supplies would be a problem. The rustshirt shouted in triumph and then ran toward the woods with his prize. The normally placid horse whinnied in distress, but walked as he was led.
Angry, Tav shifted his grip on his sword and hit the nearest bandit with the flat of the blade. The force of the blow stunned the man, who fell to his knees as he clutched his head and moaned.
A whistling sound made Tav freeze in place.
The bandit in blue shrieked as an arrow struck his leg. Did the archer hit one of his own gang?
Make that two, Tav corrected as a second arrow sang through the trees, striking another man in the chest. He looked astonished, and sank to the ground without a word.
Either the archer had terrible aim, or he was not on the bandits’ side—which didn’t mean he was Tav’s ally.
“Halt!” a voice called out from the safety of the woods. It was bright and clear without a trace of nervousness. But also…young? There was something familiar about it.
“All weapons to the ground!” the voice ordered. “Now!”
The three remaining bandits looked at each other in consternation, and lowered their arms, but didn’t drop the weapons.
The archer was having none of it. “Are you stupid? I said weapons to the ground. Last man to drop his will get an arrow through his eye.”
Hearing that, the bandits all dropped their swords and daggers with a clatter.
Tav slid his own sword into its scabbard, choosing to risk the archer’s ire. A knight didn’t throw away his sword.
“He’s still gothisweapon,” one of the bandits complained to the unseen archer, pointing at Tav.
An arrow struck the ground by the man’s feet—a clear warning to shut up.
“What now?” Tav asked the hidden archer, keeping his tone calm.
“Sir knight, kindly restrain these men. Or kill them. Doesn’t matter to me.”
The familiarity of the voice nagged at him, but he followed the instructions, quickly tying the three men to a broad trunk of a tree with the rope they themselves had carried.
