-This is a sample from the ninth book in the Rivals Saga, From Ashes Forged-
Jag nocked an arrow from his position in the tree. He scowled. A branch blocked his otherwise perfect shot. Either he needed to find another shooting point, or he needed to figure out how to knock down a branch from seven feet in the air.
Muttering to himself, he jumped from his current branch to the one in question. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was sturdy enough to support his weight. So long as it lasted through the ambush, he was good.
The carriage took its time getting there. Jag resisted the urge to change the plan, or to speak to his men. Just in case the carriage was in earshot, they couldn't make any noise. Even jumping to the other branch was risky.
He aimed his bow towards the ground. The arrow was in perfect line with where the wheels of the carriage should be. There were exceptions, occasionally, but most often his plan carried through without a hitch.
Several twigs snapped. Jag grinned. His men had laid the trap. Quite clever of Wyll to think of, laying so many twigs just so to make sure they corresponded with the wheels of the carriage. For all of them to snap at once, it couldn't just be a person or band of people. Either giants existed—which they didn't—or the carriage had arrived.
Jag whistled. It was sound, but it more resembled a bird's tweeting than a human. He heard another whistle in response. This one sounded a little less bird-like, but it wasn't a giveaway. Clearly he needed to work with the other Knights of Blacke about their signals.
When white appeared in the corner of his eyes, he fired the arrow. He watched it soar and smirked when it got caught in the spokes of the wooden wheel. The horses neighed and the carriage stopped abruptly. It wasn't anything to be proud of. He could make that shot in his sleep.
He dropped down from the tree, bending his knees as he landed. His men jumped down, too, following his lead. Jag nocked another arrow. Slowly, he crept towards the carriage. Usually he threatened the driver, but oddly there wasn't a driver to threaten. Scarrles, his second-in-command, gave him a questioning look. Jag merely raised his eyebrow and continued. Perhaps this lord and lady were too poor to afford one. He almost felt bad robbing them.
Almost.
He nodded to Wyll, then to the door. Wyll hurriedly got to the carriage door and placed his hand on the handle. He took a deep breath, then opened it. Jag was steps away when Wyll gasped and stumbled backwards. Jag whirled towards him and saw he had been stabbed. A hook was embedded in the boy's chest.