Page 119 of Paladin's Faith

He tried again. “If they shoot at us again—”

“Young man, if I leave this poor beast here to die, an arrow is the least of what I’ll deserve.”

Shane gritted his teeth. He approved in principle, but not when his job centered on keeping the artificer alive. “Get to the rocks,” he said. “I’ll cut her free.”

She sat back on her heels and gave him a brief, searching look, then handed him the knife. Marguerite and Wren were already behind the rocks.

The mule heaved against her restraints. Shane didn’t know enough about horses to know what exactly he was cutting, or if it was even the right thing, but having a half-ton animal thrashing around certainly wasn’t helping.

“Easy, girl,” he murmured, patting the animal’s shoulder. “Easy. We’ll get you loose. Just give me a minute…” She settled, but only slightly.

Davith appeared beside him and took the knife. “You keep talking,” the man told him. “I’ll cut.”

Shane decided not to argue. The skin on the back of his neck was crawling, waiting for the next volley. I might as well be wearing a sign on my back that says ‘Insert Arrow Here.’

“Good girl,” he told the mule, petting her nose. “I know this is scary. It’ll be over soon. Just a few more minutes…”

“If you’d like to pet my nose and reassure me next, I could really use it,” said Ashes from the other side of the boulder. Marguerite laughed the loud, slightly mistimed laugh of someone under great strain.

An arrow shattered against a rock a few feet away.

“I hate this,” Davith remarked, to no one in particular, but he didn’t stop cutting.

“Good news,” said Shane. “It’s a crossbow.”

“That’s good news?”

“It explains why it’s taking them so long to reload. They’ve probably only got one, and it’s harder to do on horseback.”

The mule bucked again and was suddenly free. She thrashed her way to her feet, while Davith and Shane retreated behind the boulders. Her flanks were scraped and bleeding, but all four feet were hitting the ground evenly. Shane could tell this because she immediately broke into a gallop, putting as much distance between herself and the hated wagon as possible.

“Well,” said Davith, as the mule fled, “at least somebody’s getting away.”

Another bolt hit the ground. Shane pushed farther back into the tangle of stones. The crossbowman was going to have to circle around the stones to get a clear shot. And if they’re sensible, that’s exactly what they’ll do.

Gods and saints, let them not be sensible.

He peered around the last stone again. If the crossbowman did circle around, his only choice would be to duck around the far side of the stones, probably into the waiting arms of the other four warriors. One person might be able to crawl into the wreckage of the wagon for cover, but not all five of them.

“So they have bows,” said Ashes conversationally.

“Yes,” Shane said.

“We don’t have bows.”

“No.”

“Ah.”

“Why don’t we have bows?” asked Davith.

“We’re berserkers,” said Wren. The you idiot was silent, but clearly implied.

“Can’t go berserk with a bow?”

“I absolutely can. I can break it over your head and then strangle you with the bowstring. Shooting arrows, not so much.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”