Page 121 of Paladin's Faith

He risked a look around the edge of the rock. The horsemen had dismounted, and three of them were beginning to make a broad, wary circle around the outcropping. The crossbowman, who appeared to be a middle-aged woman, was still standing with the horses.

Checking to make sure we’re here before sending their archer to pick us off. So we still have time. Dammit. “Shrive me, sister, for I have sinned.”

“The gods hear you.”

He closed his eyes. Closing his eyes was not very smart, with warriors circling them, but he needed, for just a moment, to be alone with the inside of his eyelids. “I have felt lust.”

Davith snorted. Shane fantasized about bouncing his head off the stones. It’s not a sin if you don’t actually do it.

“I think we’re allowed to feel that?” said Wren timidly. “It’s not a sin?”

“It is if you do it right,” said Ashes, not quite under her breath.

“It has led me to jealousy,” said Shane, determined to get it all out, “and envy. And to act in fear.” The tips of his ears felt hot.

“Ah.” Wren cleared her throat. “Have you made restitution for your sin?”

“I have not.”

“I am unworthy, but I absolve you of your sin. The gods forgive you your weakness, but They will require you to make restitution for your sins.”

“Thank you.”

He opened his eyes and checked the enemy’s location. The four warriors—swordsmen, he saw—were standing a hundred feet away, watching them. They know where we are, we know where they are…now they retreat and bring their crossbowman around, with all three of them guarding her, so that when we charge her because we have nothing left to lose, we won’t cut her down easily. She’ll aim for me first, then Wren if they’re smart and Davith if they’re not.

He couldn’t help but glance back toward the others. Marguerite was looking at him thoughtfully. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Was it about his confession?

Don’t be ridiculous. She’s probably wondering how I’m going to get them out of this mess. This is not the time to be mooning about!

Look, I wouldn’t be if Wren hadn’t…

And then he stopped thinking about lust or sin or confession, because an arrow had just appeared in one of the swordsmen’s right eye.

FORTY-TWO

Shane was so surprised that he sat there gaping as the swordsman toppled over. Then he looked over his shoulder, halfway convinced that one of the others had pulled a bow out of thin air.

“What is it?” hissed Wren. “What’s going on?”

“There’s an archer somewhere!”

“Are they on our side?”

“I have no idea!”

He looked back, in time to see the remaining three running straight for their position. They must think the arrow came from us, too. Crap.

“Here they come,” he said, drawing Lord Nallan’s sword. Wren set her back against the stone, axe in hand.

Shane waited until the first one was almost upon them, then rushed to meet him. He hated to lose cover, but it was more important to keep the fighting as far from the noncombatants as possible. Dreaming God willing, the crossbowman couldn’t get a clear shot through her comrade.

The black tide rose at once, and a good thing, too. His opponent had a shield. So did his opponent’s friend, who arrived a second later. Shane blocked a strike and stepped out of the way of another, but even with the preternatural speed of the battle tide on him, it was all he could do to keep ahead of their blows.

…and dodge and duck under that one and cut for the legs and…

They fought as a pair, too. If he had been capable of conscious thought, he would have cursed. The Sail operatives back in the fortress had fought like a bunch of individual fighters. These two had clearly been working together for a long time.

…block that—no, duck, it’s a feint!—and step around the side and cut…