Page 46 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Oh, little mouse, you already played your part. I have your body, your memories, even your powers. I do not need you anymore.”

A jolt slammed into my chest. Froth dribbled from the corners of my mouth as my body seized. I gripped my throat, desperate to draw breath. My chest convulsed, then my limbs numbed with sudden paralysis. I tried to stand, to scream for help, but nothing obeyed my command. In seconds, my eyes betrayed me, and the world turned black.

My spirit rose above my flesh. I saw myself, my lifeless form, still atop the bed. I had not known a spirit felt loss or pain, yet in that moment, regret found its way to the fore.

My ethereal eyes widened as my physical body stirred.

Its eyes snapped open, and brilliant red plumes swirled where once they shone white. Its mouth curled in a wide grin as it stood and cracked a tight neck.

It stared down at its hands, flexing its fingers, testing their strength.

And then it looked directly at me and spoke.

“Thank you, Isabel. Your sacrifice will be remembered.”

Chapter 15

Aaron

The sturdy stone hut held most of winter’s bitter wind at bay, but tiny whistles sneaked through cracks in the tower’s ancient window frames. Glass rattled with each hearty gust. Half a league below, flickering stars could be seen through the blanket of crisp darkness as campfires dotted the Kingdom’s countryside in every direction.

I turned from the window and began unpacking my rucksack, tossing clothes across my cot in no apparent pattern. It had taken more than a week of hard climbing to reach the highest peak in the mountain range that formed the border between the Kingdom and Melucia. At seventeen years old, I was wiry but strong for my age. And yet, trek like that, in the harsh cold of a highland winter, could suck the life out of any man.

I eyed my companion out of the corner of one eye. “How long you think this hunk o’ stone’s been here?”

Sergeant Bret Jensen sat across the cabin, covered in a pile of fur blankets. He was a mountain of a man; it took a lot of fur tocover his bulk. His gravelly voice responded, “Hmm. Stories say these things were made by the Mages right after that mad witch Irina died trying to take over the world. Manning the peaks and the signal beacons was the most important duty given to the first Rangers. Guess that means they’re nine hundred, maybe a thousand, years old.”

“You saidbeacons. There’s more than just this one?”

Bret sighed heavily and squinted up at me. “You really don’t pay attention, do you? Captain went over all this before we left. There’s fifty leagues of mountain border and seven beacons. Plus three more that are meant to be secret.”

Declan Rea had been my trainer and mentor while a cadet in the Academy, but Bret took over my training once I donned the Green. Rangers weren’t supposed to build bonds beyond soldierly camaraderie, but Bret had taken me under his wing and watched out for me like a father might a son. He claimed I reminded him of his own boy, said we had the same wiry brown hair that coiled in every direction. He said we even shared a ridiculous lopsided grin that somehow made Bret laugh just looking at it.

“Secret? Why keep a hut on a peak secret?” I asked.

Bret sighed and sat up. “There’s ten signal pyres. When one lights, all of us respond by lighting ours. That lets folks in Groves Pass know an attack’s coming. If the enemy wanted to sneak up on us, what’s the first thing they’d do?”

I stared blankly. My eyes strained in concentration and lips pursed. My head finally bobbed excitedly, and a grin plastered across my ruddy face. “Oh! I know! They’d take out our pyres. Wouldn’t want our folks knowing they were coming.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all Bret could muster, his eyes sparkling at my enthusiasm.

I walked to the hearth and shuffled logs. Flames danced merrily in response.

“Ya know, we’re darn lucky we got peak watch. If there’s ten of these huts, only twenty Rangers are gonna sleep out of the cold tonight. Think of those poor boys roaming through the mountains on patrol, freezing their tits off.”

Bret grinned. “Why don’t you use some of that luck and get us some more wood? Pile’s getting low.”

I nodded, glad to have a useful task, even after our long days of climbing. I threw on my heavy coat and stretched thick leather gloves over my fingers.

The pine-filled gust that rushed in when I opened the door nearly doused the fire. I stuck my head back through the open doorway. “Thought a little cool air might do ya good, old man.” I grinned and slammed the door.

The fire had dwindled to embers before I burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me and pressing my back against it.

Bret lifted his head from where he’d fallen asleep.

“There’re men . . . shootin’ arrows!” I doubled over, trying to catch my breath.

Bret shot to his feet, grabbed his bow, and threw a quiver over his shoulder. “How many? Did you get a look at them?”

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