WitchHunter ✔️

Birdie

Ace

The urge to scream 'I told you so' is nearly too much for me to bear as I crouch in the tree above the scene taking place before me. The ambush had been obvious, not that I could have outwardly told Hale, who has apparently never seen an actual pregnant woman before, because, while fine from a distance, her belly had been far too round, like a ball. The husband's eyes darted 'round the trees, scanning for the men he knew were there, the remorse and urgency on the wife's face when she realized how kind he was and what she was about to let happen. But no. Why listen to your trained assassin when you're the great Hale Arsen?

I allow my daggers to glide out of their holsters and into my awaiting palms. Any second now, when they're all engrossed in one another, that's when I'll drop in. The twins slip from their horses, Cozen drawing his axe, and Candor, his long bow. They face the three at the back of the group, while Hale prepares to take on the other three. Plus the three archers in the trees. Hale had done one thing correctly, at least. He'd practically shouted the number of men I should be expecting.

The three behind suddenly charge, all bearing swords. I drop on the nearest one, running my knife gracefully along his throat before using Crow as a springboard to leap back into the threes. An arrow thwoks into another's chest as Cozy swings at the third. The burly bandit backs away, just behind Crow.

"Roke!" I shout, the Par'lok command thick in my throat. Crows ears thwick back, and just like that, the calmly grazing stallion transforms into a war tank. With a thunderous bellow, he kicks his legs out backward, the sound of metal hoof colliding with bone echoing off the trees. I'm already moving. "Sien!" I call, dropping out of the tree. Crow is under me, his command urging him to come. I crouch on his back as he moves, my cloak billowing out around me, concealing my shape. An arrow whizzes past my face, and a moment later I hear the thwing of Candor's long bow sending a return arrow.

Hale's sword narrowly catches the axe of the tall, gruff leader, the blade sliding down to the hilt. I leap from Crow's back, high into the air, releasing my two knives. They slice cleanly through the air, each finding their mark in the necks of the two swordsmen. My slippered feet find the dirt just behind Hale. The axe wielder backs up as I fix my gaze upon him, my cloak settling around me.

"And just what the fuck are you?" He sneers.

"None of your concern right now." Hale grunts, lunging forward, just as an arrow hits the ground where he'd stood a moment before. I whip my head around to the trees, tracking the source, just as another one rips itself from the bushes.

I'm not fast enough. I'm able to dodge only slightly as the arrow grazes my shoulder, just two inches above where the lochri burned me last night. My pistol is out before the arrow hits the ground, finding the source of each arrow with a couple of thunderous booms in such quick succession an outsider would have thought only one bullet flew today.

I whip my gun around, pointing it at the only bandit left standing, his axe once again locked with Hale's sword.

"You have a pistol?" the man springs back, away from Hale, whose surprise also shows on his face.

"A gift." I say. "From Velius Dag."

I drop my arm to my side, walking to retrieve my daggers from their places in the dead men. I crouch, just arms length from the axe wielder, and wrap my hand around the grip of my knife. I sense the man's movement rather than see it, the heavy battleaxe rising in the air above my head. Just before it begins its descent, Hale's sword finds it's home in the man's side, just as I knew it would, and I roll away from under the falling axe blade. It lands heavily beside me, and I stand, holstering both the gun and my dagger.