Page 49 of The Serpent’s Shadow

I’d learned to read the Ljosalfar elf well in the weeks I’d been by his side. I wasn’t about to give up on him yet.

“Bullshit,” I grunted out. “Put the shame aside and let us dance, Corym.”

When I put it that way, it woke something inside the elf. His ears flicked, body going tense. He swung his gaze my way, giving me a firm nod. I noticed the telltale way his hand tightened on the leather hilt of his brilliant sword, crafted from metals I’d never seen on this planet.

He returned my grin—a bedeviled expression that lit a fire inside me and heightened my blood.

“As you say,lunis’ai.”

We came up with a plan on the fly, through nonverbal expression. Nods, raised fists, and arm movements brought us from a jog to a crouch, then a prowl.

The hunted were becoming the hunters, and our prey didn’t even realize the battlemap had shifted.

We quickly noticed that the Huscarls weren’t keeping to their tight ranks—their shield wall—while giving chase. They had become slightly dispersed, eagerly trying to catch up to us and run us down.

They wanted to be heroes, each man and woman in the company; the one to slay the elf and bring back the prisoner.

I swore it would be their downfall.

They had seen the way the elves fell to their blades. Flatfooted or not, it showed the Ljosalfar were not immune to steel, or invincible, contrary to what the dead Huscarls from the creek, staring down at us from Valhalla, must have thought.

I wanted to use that overconfidence to our benefit.

Corym and I didn’t split up, which was the surest way one of us would get caught and surrounded.

Instead, we stayed low in the thick trees, peering through wreaths and brambles and bushes as the first grouping of Huscarls passed us.

One of them muttered, “Where did they go?”

Another: “Read the tracks, rookie.”

“They’re everywhere.”

Yes, our feet were everywhere. We’d made it that way by design, turning the six Huscarls in front of us in circles.

As they followed one track and veered off toward a glade further past us—an understandable direction to go, given that we were only two—we watched for the next gang to pass through the trees in front of us.

This one was only three strong. Two women and a man, their black helmets and cloaks nearly invisible in the dark. I only noticed them by the white dragonhead patches on their shoulders, their swords and spearheads glinting in the moonlight.

The trio slowed, looking around. Bending their knees, ready for anything.

Corym and I nodded at each other.

We rushed out of the trees silent, no battle cry, circling from the left and right—from opposite directions.

We didn’t hope to get a jump on them, since they were ready for anything and they were trained warriors, but we got what we wanted anyway—

And turned them in opposing directions.

The man looked south, toward Corym, along with one of the women. She went back-to-back with the other woman, a strong mountain of a lass with thick shoulders and a wide, sturdy waist. Shorter than me, but stout and defensive with her shield up when I charged.

I Shaped a rune in the air in front of me, dancing silver marks of energy as I drew fire from Muspelheim and directed the blast on the ground next to the woman’s feet.

She lowered her shield reflexively from the threat, stamping to her left to get out of its trajectory—

Right into the swing-path of my hatchet.

Shield raised, metal bit into wood and sent woodchips flying.

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