Page 93 of The Crown of Moonlight
“There are always other ways.”Daire shrugs.“But it would take a runesmith with more skills than most.”
“You think Vheara has Greys that good?”I ask.
“I think the better question is why she would waste runes that powerful on a beacon fire in the back of beyond unless she was expecting us to pass this way,” Lorcan says.
We all fall silent as we consider that.
We descend the slope towards the group of sentries.There’s no doubt that Flora’s presence will change the dynamic among the Riders in ways I’m only beginning to calculate, but it feels good to have Daire and Lorcan beside me again as we move to attack.
It’s a familiar rhythm, stalking our prey, setting the trap, snapping it closed.I’ve missed their swords at my side and those moments when the power runes allow us to hear each other’s voices in our minds.I’ve missed them, and this is the first time I can admit to myself how much I feared that I would never see any of them again.
A Grey and six soldiers—four men and two women—are hidden among the trees below us, a few feet uphill of the drovers’ track along the loch.The spot is well-chosen for an ambush on anyone passing by.Escape to the front and rear is easily blocked, and a narrow strip of bog on the loch side of the track will prevent escape in that direction.
The Riders and I use the same advantage against them.
Daire activates another rune to let us communicate silently with each other.Then circling ahead, Lorcan blocks the route to the nearby camp.I will hold back to cover the rear and keep them from retreating towards Ronan and Flora.Daire will drop in directly above them.
“Ready.”Lorcan’s signal is a whisper in my mind, and Daire echoes, “Ready.”
I give the order to go.
We spring the trap, and I signal that the Grey is mine.My gut tightens, my mind sharp in that moment of anticipation when the enemy is an unknown quantity, and I don’t know what sort of magic I might face.
The Grey raises his hand as if for an elemental attack, his ashen skin seeming to absorb what little light the moon provides.I surge forward, my sword swinging.The eerie eyes with their strange, colourless irises widen in panic, and the mouth opens to scream, but his head falls silently to the ground.
Two of the women have their swords drawn and circle towards me.I’m good at killing, but I don’t enjoy it.I’ve seen too much death in the past year, and I can’t help wondering whether these soldiers would fight for Vheara if they had a choice.Is it naïve to hope they wouldn’t?
I give both women a quick, clean death, then hunt down a man who tries to escape into the trees.
There’s no sign of a signal fire on the hilltop yet, but we hurry in the direction of the camp as soon as the last of the sentries is dead.Where the trees break and the slope descends into the gully, I signal for Daire to scout ahead while Lorcan and I wait at the edge of a clump of pale-barked birches.
The wind is gusting, blowing scattered clouds past the waxing moon and rustling the brush in the rock-strewn gully as Daire slips across.We’re close enough to see the men moving around the camp, and where there were three shelters yesterday, there are seven now.
“Three Greys and eighteen men,” Daire’s voice whispers in my head.“Also three Ravenhounds.”
“Damn it.”I release my grip on the hilt of my sword and turn away.“That’s too many.Too much risk of the beacons being lit.Come back, and we’ll regroup.”
“It’s one Grey apiece, and a few men,” Daire says.“Perfect odds, just about.”
Lorcan opens his mouth, then thinks better of it, and merely studies me with his green eyes glittering as we start to retrace our steps.
“Where are we going?”Lorcan asks as we pass the spot where we killed the sentries.
My boot snags in the thorny gorse, and I pause to kick it free.“We’ll leave the camp alone.That many reinforcements says they’re not taking chances.Killing one Grey and a few men could have been the work of Highlanders who happened to get their hands on celestial steel.If we take them all out tonight, we’ll have a fight on our hands all the way to Muilean and the doorway.”
“Are you going soft on us, Chyr?”Daire asks.
“It won’t matter how many Greys we’ve killed if we miss the doorway because we didn’t get there on time.”
Some of the tension drains from Daire’s features, but Lorcan’s silent disapproval hangs over us the entire way back to where Flora and Ronan wait.Then we round a bend and spot the two of them seated side by side on a log beside the track, heads bent together.Her scarf and his brown forearm brush as they lean in, speaking too low for their voices to reach us.
My blood pumps hot, and I stretch my fingers to relieve the tension.
If any of the Riders would be suited to Flora, it’s Ronan.We all see that.That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Flora’s eyes cut to mine as if she knows exactly where I am, and she says, “You didn’t kill them all.”
How can she know that?
