Page 48 of An Archer's Reckoning

In moments, answering stars roared to life on neighboring peaks along the range.

And with them, the war began.

Chapter 16

Aaron

Tree limbs lashed my face as I ran, threatening to send me tumbling down the mountainside. I could run longer than most, but fear of an arrow in the back spurred me to cover even greater distance. I wound around trees and over fallen logs, desperate not to trip on the rocky ground. The slope steepened, forcing me to slow. I tucked myself behind a large boulder to catch my breath and drink from the small skin I grabbed on the way out the door. My heart still raced from the panic I felt as I heard arrows thudding into the wood of the guard shack.

They really wanted to kill us.

Nothing felt real.

I replayed the scene in my mind, desperate for understanding.

The Kingdom’s men never spoke. They simply shot.

If Bret hadn’t had the Gift of Fire, they would’ve silenced the signal beacon before it ever uttered a cry. Their goal was obvious, but why? Why would the Kingdom attack? Thatquestion felt bigger than a boy who barely fit into his cloak could handle.

I missed Bret. Thinking about him made my heart hurt. He wasn’t the gentlest sort, but he took me under his wing as I floundered, desperate to earn my cloak. Without him, I doubt I would’ve made it through my first year.

For some reason thinking of Bret made me think of Declan.

I wished Dec was here.

He would know what to do.

He always did.

It felt like a million years since our time in the Academy, since he’d taken me under his wing. I wasn’t even sure if he knew how much of a brother he’d become in my eyes. I never would have earned my Greens without him.

A bird cawed in the distance, startling me out of my memories. I peered around the stone.

The forest stood still, cloaked in winter’s embrace.

I had to get back to Grove’s Pass and warn my leaders. That was all that mattered now.

I tried to rub a little warmth into my hands through the thick gloves given to every Ranger. Our duty might be miserable at times, but the Rangers knew how to equip a man. As I stared down at the tight black stitching in the green-dyed leather, visions of home and a distant past came unbidden to my mind. I watched as my ma, bent by years of raising children and working the farm, raised an iron kettle to boil over a flame. I smelled her cooking in the background, and my mouth began to water. I never had a knack in the kitchen, but ma could make dirt taste good given an iron pot and a pocketful of spices. I saw steam curling as the stock simmered, sending the scent of garlic, onion, and other herbs to every corner of the cottage.

Ma whirled, long-handled wooden spoon held like a sword in front of her, as two young boys and a teenage girl ran throughthe front door. I grinned at the scolding I knew would follow as they marked a muddy path with their dingy boots.

Before I knew what was happening, my head rested against the boulder, and my eyes closed. A short time later, the icy cold of the stone jolted me out of my dream. I realized I’d almost made the worst mistake any rookie Ranger could make in the mountains: I’d almost fallen asleep.

No, Ihadfallen asleep.

Worse, my drifting off had wasted precious time. Melucia was under attack. Bret probably hadn’t made it away from those men alive—and many more of my countrymen, possibly even my own family, would die before all this was over.

I had to get back down this blasted mountain.

I stood quickly and stretched life into my back and legs. How long had I been there?

Winter had taken firm control, blanketing the range with a vengeance over the past couple of days. I brushed the snow off my cloak and chided myself for the delay.

Hours later—I’d lost track of how many—I stopped again to rest and eat. The dried meat and fruit stashed in every Ranger’s pack was usually a last resort. It was tasteless and tough, meant to sustain a man until he could make it home to better fare. In the frigid cold of the mountain’s winter, after trudging for hours, I thought the dried meat a feast from a King’s table. I savored the smoky, tangy flavor, chewing, and chewing, and chewing.

Right, I thought,the texture could use some work, but the flavor . . .

My eyes rolled back as the savory piece lingered in my mouth.

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