Page 29 of The Ivory King

“To your feet, my lord! Assassins are falling from the fucking trees like ripe pears!” Tezen shouted, then zipped skyward. Assassins? What in the name of Ihdos? An arrow hit a nearby tree as I pried my hair from the dying woman’s hand. When I was finally free, I staggered to my feet. V’alor was at my side in an instant, his face coated with mud and blood, his sword slathered with gore.

“Stay by me,” he barked, raising his shield to ward off a dagger attack from a larger man in gray garb. V’alor struck like the wind, his shield to the face of the assassin, knocking him to his ass. There was no time for the man to do anything more than offer a prayer to whatever god he worshipped before V’alor drove his sword through the man’s heart.

Pasil appeared to my left, his nose gushing blood, his shield raised to protect me as Beiro shot down the final attacker, an arrow to his throat that fell the man immediately.

The woods fell quiet. The river roared behind us. Standing pinned between my guards, my sight darted from tree to tree, breaths coming in short pants, I waited as the wind blew wet leaves of rust and magenta down upon us.

We stood on alert for what seemed years until, slowly, V’alor lowered his shield. Pasil followed suit. Tezen streaked into the woods with Beiro.

“You’re wounded,” V’alor said to me.

“It’s just a small slash,” I replied, my heart still hammering in my chest.

“Pasil, tend to Aelir,” V’alor barked, his eyes never leaving the waving canopy as we stood ankle-deep in flood waters waiting for our comrades to return.

“I said it is naught but a scratch,” I sniped, even as blood dripped from my fingers to be washed around the eddies swirling around our feet.

“Even a scratch from a poisoned blade can kill,” V’alor replied as his gaze dropped from the trees to me. “Pasil, you will bind the wound.”

“It is of no consequence,” I weakly argued.

“Aelir, sit and let Pasil tend to your wound,” V’alor asked, softly and with concern.

“Yes, I…of course,” I stammered, allowing Pasil to lead me from the overflow back a few steps until just the toes of our boots now rested in brackish water. Tezen and Beiro appeared then, slipping out of the wet woods without making a sound. I found a seat on a mossy, soggy log. My clothes could not get any wetter, so why worry about having breeches with a damp seat?

“There is a bandit camp within spitting distance,” Tezen announced as she flew around my head in circles. “All were slain, their bodies cold. It appears these bastards were lying in wait for us.”

We all glanced at Beiro huddled by his gray gelding, his green eyes tight with worry.

V’alor strode over to the guide, his face stormy, and placed the gory tip of his sword to Beiro’s heaving chest.

“If I find out that you had any hand in this…” V’alor growled.

Beiro jerked his slim chin upward, his emerald eyes shining. “I am no assassin.”

“But youwerea bandit. Perhaps they work in unison,” V’alor stated.

“Sit, drink this,” Pasil said to me as he handed a small vial of dark green liquid into my hand. “It will ease the pain and aid in healing.”

Hand shaking, I took the vial, uncorked it, and swallowed it down. It was vile and left a sour taste of old leaves and earthworms on my tongue.

“I left the bandits as a young child, taken from their ranks by my grandmother. I have not returned or spoken to them in many seasons. If you wish to run me through for a past that I had no control over, then do so now!”

I blinked at the fire in Beiro’s tone. Pasil, who had been taking my gauntlet off to tend to my wound, stared at the fiery redhead with appreciation. Not many would be so cheeky when facing V’alor at the end of a sword.

“If I find that you had any culpability in this attack on my lord, I will gut you and toss your entrails to the trout,” V’alor vowed, then spun from Beiro. “I shall find our horses.”

I winced when Pasil poured a thick yellowish fluid from another small vial onto the cut. It was not as deep as it would have been had my leather gauntlet not taken some of the blow. “Ground mustard willow and hibiscus stamen. The druids say it eases the pain.”

I nodded at my guardsman as my sight lingered on V’alor moving into the woods.

“Beiro, he is just upset. He saw me injured,” I called to our guide. He nodded before moving off to sullenly fetch his arrows from the bodies of slain assassins. A sigh escaped me. “I do not understand why assassins would be lying in wait for us. They are not highwaymen or bandits. They have no need for the gold we carry or for the ransom I could fetch. Why would assassins ride out in a foul storm to try to end the life of an unknown heir to a small farming vills?”

Pasil tied the strips of material together before looking at me with light blue eyes steeped with unease.

“My lord, you are more than just the heir to a farming vills. You are the one being eyed to wear the crown of Melowynn. Youare on your way to claim a bride that will triple the lands of the Stillcloud family for generations to come. There are many who would see you struck down before you wed and produce heirs or have the mantle of king placed upon your shoulders.”

I stared blankly at him and then at the small pixie on my shoulder. Tezen bobbed her dirty head in agreement and sighed wearily. I joined her in my own hearty exhalation.

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