Page 74 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Mywillisn’t the problem,” I said more defensively than intended. “Iwantto see Ayden, to know he lives and . . . is all right. I want to be comforted and . . . dammit . . . I just want to see him.”

The way my voice choked off was all the confirmation either of us needed to validate her point. My head hung as we walked endless miles.

The first farm we reached had been decimated, its crops pillaged and buildings burned. Fortunately, one a bit to the south had been spared. An ancient woman and her teenage son welcomed us with wary eyes. I wondered why the boy had not heeded the call to arms, but Órla insisted their hospitality deserved better than a challenge. The woman offered us a meal and a bed. We enjoyed the former but waved off the latter. There was too much daylight to waste on rest. We did, however, manage to convince the woman to sell us a horse, making the stop far more valuable than her meager vegetable stew.

Our journey shortened by the addition of a mare, a new hope of beating the Kingdom army to Saltstone bloomed in my chest.

That was a little over a month ago.

While our journey passed with relative ease despite having to travel in a wide arc around the road the enemy surely traveled, haunting dreams of sightless eyes and defiled corpses kept spirits low.

It was a somber trek.

As I drew near the outermost perimeter of the capital, a horn sounded, bright and clear.

One long blast, then a short one.

“What do you think that means?” Órla asked from her perch on my shoulder.

“No idea, but you might want to speak in my head from here on out. I’m not so sure they’ll appreciate a talking owl as much as the folk on Rea Utu.”

“Ridiculous people.”She rustled her feathers in obvious irritation.

I chuckled, a first hint of good humor in far too long. It feltrightsomehow, and a knot in my chest began to loosen, if only a little.

The massive new gates ground open, and two heavily armored men rode equally armored horses to the inner perimeter and stopped. Each carried a crossbow now leveled at my chest.

“How can we help you, sir?” one of the men asked in a tone both commanding and courteous.

I met his eyes from across the barricades. “I am Declan Rea, Ranger of Melucia, son of the Mages’ Guild. I have come to report on the fall of the Rangers and to help with preparations. I need to speak with the Triad at once.”

The men looked at each other, then back at me. “If you’re not a Mage, we can’t let you pass. I’m sorry.”

They turned to leave.

“Say it, Declan. Declare yourself. It is time.”

I shifted in my saddle, uncomfortable with the words we’d rehearsed so often on the road. The soldiers were near the gate when I mustered my courage.

“Wait.”

The men turned.

I stood in my stirrups, tossed back my cloak, and revealed my tunic. “I am Ranger Declan Rea. I have ridden from Grove’s Passwith vital information for General Vre and Arch Mage Quin.” Sensing my need, the tunic flared from dark green to brilliant gold. The Phoenix blazed even brighter.

The guards shielded their widened eyes.

Men called from their perches in the towers.

The guards’ crossbow remained aimed in our direction as a look of impatience entered his eyes.

“Let me show you how to do this, dear Declan. You have so much to learn.”

“What are you—?”

She launched herself into the air, and a brilliant, shimmering aura bloomed around her. She soared above me, then dove to land on the barricade before the guards. The glow around her intensified, forcing the men to turn aside. Her magically enhanced words thundered across the field, and the guards’ eyes flew wide again, even as they strained to look up.

“I am Órlaith, Daughter of Magic. This man speaks true.By the magic of the Phoenix, I command you to stand aside.”

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