Page 71 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Fires? I never saw any fires.” He looked up, confused.

“The Mages must’ve come after he was killed,”Órla whispered.

I kneeled and retrieved an arrow stuck into the ground. My fingers traced the shaft and fletching as my mind spun. “Who were they? Were they wearing uniforms? Did they have markings or wear pins? Did they carry banners? Anything you can recall will help.”

“They wore heavy fur cloaks that hung to the ground. I didn’t see any pins or markings on their furs, and they didn’t carry banners. I don’t think they wanted to be recognized.” The man paused. “When the archers raised to shoot, I saw dark green underneath—andsilverbuttons. They had shiny, silver buttons. They were too far away to catch more than that.”

“Go back to when this started. How did it start? Was there any warning?”

The spirit shook his head. “One minute, I was sitting at a table in the inn, the next, men were shouting and running in every direction, manning the walls and gates with weapons drawn. I never heard the bell or anything.”

I stared into the spirit’s eyes for a long moment.

I saw sadness, pain, and grief, but I didn’t see deception.

“Fin, I am so sorry. You . . . I will remember you,” was all I could say before my voice choked off.

I lowered my head and released my Light. Fin’s image dissolved into tiny glowing flakes and scattered into the air, like sparks carried by the smoke of a campfire.

I stared into the summoning circle for a long moment before scuffing its lines with a boot and looking up at Órla. “I wish Keelan was here. Or Atikus. They’d know what to do.”

Or Ayden.

Órla flapped to land on my shoulder and nuzzled her icy beak against my neck. Despite the shiver than ran down my spine from the cold, I reached up and pressed her tight against me. At the vibration of the owl’s tiny coo-purr, my soul warmed for the first time in hours.

Chapter 25

Ethan

Scouts fanned out ahead of the army’s advance as columns of soldiers streamed beyond the safety of our encampment. The inky black of Isabel’s new riding leathers made her stand out against the ocean of deep-green uniforms and pearly snow. The Phoenix stitched across her chest and billowing cloak unnerved the men, but she didn’t seem to care.

As we approached the rise that marked the edge of Huntcliff and the beginning of the mountain pass, the men surrounding her exchanged worried glances. The road sloped gradually downward from the rise until resuming an upward climb to match the mountainside ahead. Snow stood in drifts several feet deep.

“Your Majesty,” I said quietly beside her, not wanting the men to overhear. “We can’t take the horses in snow that deep. We’ll lame them all before we ever see the enemy.”

The Regent laughed. “General, have a little faith—and observe.”

She raised a hand, palm pointed in front of her.

Horses danced nervously, unnerved by magic’s fingers tingling against their senses.

Flames erupted from her palm in a wide plume, melting the snow and revealing the rough gravel road. She maintained her blaze until the resulting water evaporated and her horse could walk on dry ground.

“Coming, General?” She strode forward without a glance at the awestruck men behind her.

For hours, the slow-moving column followed as the Regent blazed a trail through the mountain snow. The men grew used to her display of power, but their mounts never fully adjusted to the shifting moisture and magical pressure; at one point, they became so agitated that I ordered the first few ranks of cavalry to hold back, allowing some distance between their troubled mounts and our sorcerous Regent.

Hours later, when the Regent showed no signs of slowing, I edged up beside her.

“Majesty, the men are exhausted. Their mounts are even more so.”

She looked back. For the first time that day, I watched as she actually considered her men.

“Very well. We camp here,” she said as the fire flowing from her palms ceased, dousing the forest in darkness.

“On the road?”

Her head snapped around. “Yes, General, on the road. I want this column moving before sunrise.”

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