Page 104 of Silverbow
A strangely muffled cackle came from somewhere behind her. Enya tried to work enough moisture into her mouth to speak. “He gave it to me,” she said roughly.
“Why? Who are you to him?”
“You can ask him yourself when he gets here.”
“Mosphaera, have mercy.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Kolvar bellowed, his horse stomping toward them.
“Give me the keys, Kolvar. Now!” Ascal snapped.
The dark haired demi-elf called Ruven hauled her down by her waist. He pushed a waterskin into her hands, eyes wide. Ascal, the golden haired demi, still stood on Arawelo’s other side, glowering at Kolvar.
“I don’t care if it’s Pallas Davolier’s bloody ring. Ten thousand gold marks is ten thousand gold marks. We’re taking the girl in for the bounty,” Kolvar growled.
“The Prince of Eastwood-”
Enya made a sound that made Ruven look at her with concern.Oh, light.
“I don’t give a dragon’s ass about your bloody Prince of Ashes.” Kolvar’s blade left its sheath, and all around them, the other mortals drew their own weapons. Enya eyed them warily as Ruven shifted her to stand behind him.
“You don’t want to be holding her when-”
A roaring circle of flame sprung up around the bounty hunters and Enya had to bury her fists in Ruven’s shirt to say upright as her knees buckled in relief.
Oryn
He let his wielding fall away but didn’t fully release his gifts as they galloped out of Midbury. When the fury didn’t ebb, he realized it was not wholly his own. Dread washed over him as his gifts pulsed and an unnatural wind roared in his ears. Mosphaerascreamed.
Oh, light. Enya.In his outrage over Aiden’s collaring, he hadn’t realized the gods had been trying to warn him. He knew as the copse came into view she would not be there, but some part of him still hoped she would emerge on that blasted red mare.
His companions trailed as he hurdled off the road and into the trees. He leapt down from his saddle, scanning the ground. Bade joined him, muttering curses as he toed at drag marks in the dirt. The scents of men and horses lingered, and something metallic, something like blood. Oryn bent, running his fingers along a fern and they came up smeared with red. Mosphaera wailed, ripping through the trees in a fury that set leaves swirling.
Bade bent and picked something out of the dirt. Oryn’s heart sank as he held out the little horse head carving. The wretched girl had finally listened to himfor once and he’d sent her straight into trouble. He tucked the carving into his pocket and mounted. Kiawa, sensing his temper, surged.
Following the trail was easy enough. A dozen horses were hard to hide. Their party had made it a scant few miles from the copse, and his temper only swelled when he took in the demi-elves with her. By the way Ruven and the Ashstrom brothers stood around her, steel glinting in the sun, he knew they found the ring, but it never should have taken that long.
“Can you wield?” He asked Aiden. The fire wielder’s face was pale and drawn, but he gave a tight nod. “Box them in.”
Another time, Oryn would have done it himself with air, but the way his gifts raged, he wasn’t certain he could stop at that. The flame that roared ten paces high, orange streaked wildly with blues and greens, told him Aiden’s gift was raging too. He smothered a path in and they stepped through the wall of fire.
Enya Ryerson stood at the middle of it. Ruven, Ascal, and Oncith guarded her between them. Oryn glanced disdainfully at the men who pointed swords at his people. A mounted man in the rear drew his bow, and with a whip of his gift, Oryn ripped it from his hands and cast it into Aiden’s flame.
“She’s alright,” Ascal said without shifting his sword away from the men who inched closer.
Oryn took one look at Enya and his temper threatened to break free of its leash. The girl most certainly wasn’t alright. She looked as if she’d been dragged through brambles and someone had dealt her a split lip, not to mention the blood running down her neck or the way she cradled her arm awkwardly. No, alright did not seem the right word. He didn’t bother to draw his own steel as he leapt from his saddle. He would not need it, not when his gifts strained to lay waste to something.
“Do not lie to me.”
The demi-elves flinched.
“She did not say she…traveled with you,” Ruven defended meekly.
Enya’s head whipped toward the man, indignation flashing in her. “I was trying to tell you. You just bloody couldn’t hear me with the gag stuffed in my mouth.”
His rage tugged again on those threads, another snapping, and Oryn forced himself to breathe through his nose. “Which one?” He asked, but she blinked at him. “Which one, Enya?”
Slowly, she pointed a shaky finger toward a man who stood with a sword breaker in hand. Oryn let his rage spiral into the wielding, and a gag of air rammed into the man’s mouth with so much force, he toppled back.
