Page 100 of Silverbow
Bade got a handle on Cle and spun the gelding back toward Midbury. The ripple came a second time and he heeled the horse to a gallop without a word.
“Colm,” Oryn said, scanning the landscape. He pointed to a small copse of trees that stood to the east. “Wait there.”
“I-”
“No time. Wait for us there. Watch the road and be ready to run.”
“I-”
With a glare that brokered no argument, he turned Kiawa and galloped after Bade. Enya sat slack-jawed, watching them shrink and disappear in a cloud of dust. For weeks, she’d been lorded over, and now… She fiddled with her reins. She could run. But where would she go? Her father was back the way they’d come, if he was still alive. That would mean running by Oryn, and fast as Arawelo was, she wouldn’t outrun Kiawa. The road was full of fighting men like Sir Westerton, flocking toward Misthol, eager for their ten thousand marks, one way or another. She pressed her lips together, studying the dust trails in the distance that marked other travelers.
“Men,” she huffed. Arawelo snorted in agreement. With a shake of her head, Enya turned the mare toward the little stand of trees. She let her pick her way unhurriedly through the grasses that would soon be parched, tearing up mouthfuls as they went.
The shade beneath the branches was a welcome reprieve from the glare of the sun, even if doing as Oryn said felt strangely like some kind of self-sabotage. She could begrudgingly admit they had saved her in Trowbridge. And Windcross Wells. And whatever gods forsaken village the inn had been in. Oryn was teaching her to fight and take her to sanctuary. But she still wasn’t…free. Not exactly. A comfortable cage was still a cage, wasn’t it?
She turned Arawelo to watch the road and wait. Something that felt very much like self-loathing crept into her middle. Waiting for him felt like giving in. Worse were the little talons of fear that clawed at her insides.He bloody left me.For the first time in weeks, she was alone on the road.
A twig snapped behind her, deeper in the copse, and Enya’s breath caught. Slowly, she turned, scanning the trees. That fear took root, slithering down herspine, drumming up an echo that reminded her of the brigands and her flight through Greenridge Forest.
You’re jumping at shadows.
With a long breath and no sign of movement, Enya turned back to watch the road. Distantly, a cart lumbered from Midbury, but Oryn’s trail had disappeared. Arawelo raised her head at the crack of another twig, ears swiveling. Enya reached for her bow, but a voice stopped her cold.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lass. No sudden moves now.”
She raised her hands slowly to show she bore no weapon and turned her head. She found herself staring down the shaft of a nocked arrow. Her blood ran cold. It suddenly was very much like Greenridge. Though instead of a crossbow aimed at her heart, a wiry man had the fletching drawn to his cheek, poised to bury it in her back.
Curse you and your orders, Oryn Brydove.She should have run when she had the chance.
“What do we have here?” The bowman asked with a toothy smile.
Despite the heat, Enya sat frozen. She felt a bead of sweat slide between her shoulder blades. “I mean you no harm.” He was the one poised to shoot her, after all.
“What’s a girl doing out here all alone?”
“Just in search of some shade while my companions catch up,” she said with all the serenity she could muster.
He peered around her toward the road. “Don’t see none.”
“They were held up in the village. They’ll be along.”Please hurry, Oryn.
“Aye, Kolvar! Have a look at this.”
Footsteps crunched through the underbrush and a grizzled man with a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken more than once appeared through the trees. He wore patched, travel-stained britches and scuffed high boots. A sword hung on one hip, a knife with a wickedly curved blade on the other.
“What’s this?” He asked harshly.
“A girl stumbled in off the road,” the bowman said with a grin. “A girl all alone.”
Enya worked moisture back into her mouth. “My companions are just behind me.”
“Are they?” The man called Kolvar asked, a slow smile spreading across his face. Gold glinted on the fingers stroking his goatee, matching ahoop through one ear. Something about gold on a man covered in patches made her unease boil. “Well, why don’t you wait for them in our camp?”
“My apologies for disturbing you. We did not realize anyone was camping here. I think I will just wait for them on the road,” she said, but the man’s bow creaked, keeping her rooted to the spot.
“I’d like to know what a girl is doing out here alone.”
“I’m not alone,” she said levelly.
