Page 72 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

Aiden loosed a long breath when the guard waved them through.

They stepped into the shadow of the city wall, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves rebounding off the stone arching over their heads.

Ahead, the outer portcullis yawned like fangs, and beyond, the shanties of the Foreshore leaned.

He’d never been so happy to be riding toward that forlorn place and away from those blasted black coats.

“Drop!”

The order that echoed from their backs made him blink before the meaning struck him.

“NO!” He bellowed.

The word reverberated around them as he wheeled toward the line of crimson at their backs.

Surprise flitted across the leashed fire wielder’s face as Aiden let the damper on his gift go up in smoke and he threw a shower of sparks back toward the street.

They hissed and crackled in outrage. People screamed and ducked out of the way as they erupted like little stars.

His call for aid was all he could manage before the chains rattled and the outer portcullis dropped with a heavy thud, trapping them in Misthol.

But even that didn’t drown out the sharp twang of a crossbow.

He felt the familiar sparks dancing on his skin that told him another fire wielder was working Solignis’s gift nearby, but Aiden didn’t look at him or the crimson coats that lowered pikes as they filed across the gate, cutting them off from the city.

The only thing he could stare at was the bowman’s mark .

Liam

No. No. No. No. No.

Liam gaped at Enya swaying in her saddle, rocked by the impact of the bolt.

She wore the broadhead like a lady might wear a broach, and a crimson apron was spilling down across the stark white of her shirt.

Her face was frozen in a mask of shock, but when her lips parted, all that came forth was a weak cough that sent a spray of crimson from her lips.

A ball of fire bloomed in Linus’s hands and swelled as it raced toward the onslaught of crimson coats, sending them scattering for cover.

Liam stared at the flame conjured from nowhere.

He’s a bloody fire wielder. Fresh screams rose up as it bowled into the men who were too slow, sizzling flesh and exploding in a deafening bang .

Holy gods.

“Catch her!” Linus barked, a second fireball already forming in his hands.

His words shook Liam from his stunned stupor.

He leapt off Arawelo and ran to her as she slumped forward.

He reached up, trying to hold her in her saddle, if only because he didn’t know how to get her down without jostling the shaft that garishly protruded from her back.

Warm, wet blood seeped beneath his fingers.

Liam had never uttered a prayer before, not a proper one to all five gods. He wasn’t even sure he knew any real prayers, but he found himself begging any who would listen to spare her and then he turned to begging her.

“Enya,” he pleaded, watching her eyes flutter closed.

“Enya, stay with me.” He frantically cast a look around as a wall of flame sprang up across the open gate.

The heat of it seared his face. Linus conjured another fireball, this one aimed at the men who appeared with crossbows on the other side of the outer portcullis. “What do we do?”

“Hold on, stable boy,” Linus shouted. “We hold on.”

“Hold on, En,” he whispered, as if that might be enough.

He tried to blink away the tears that threatened to blind him as more booms and rumblings filled the street.

The stones seemed to tremble beneath his boots and bits of mortar fell from the wall above their heads.

“Gods damn it, Enya. I didn’t come all this way just to let you die. ”

“She’s not going to die,” Linus snapped. “Because if she dies, Oryn bloody Brydove will peel my skin off in strips and mount my head on the dullest spike he can find. ”

Liam didn’t know who Oryn bloody Brydove was or why he should care, but his throat grew too tight to speak. His hands shook in their desperation to hold her up, even as the blood kept weeping from around the bolt with each beat of her heart. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Bloody hell,” Linus cursed, dodging a rock the size of a fist that whizzed toward his head. “A little help in here, if you bloody well please!”

Liam was too slow to dodge the rock that connected with his ribs in a sharp crack .

He grunted, but he didn’t let his grip on Enya’s thigh or shoulder falter.

An unnatural wind ripped through the archway, and for a moment, the heat from Linus’s wall of fire faded, smothered, as a black warhorse charged through a gap in the flames.

“About bloody time!” Linus shouted, hurling fireball after fireball through the portcullis at both the red and black cloaks that had formed up. An arrow whizzed through a gap in the bars and struck something Liam couldn’t see with a harmless thunk before falling to the paving stones near his feet.

Adar wore a look of cold fury that twisted into something visceral as he took in the bolt through Enya’s chest. The bloody cowards shot her in the back.

The demi-elf reined his mount next to her and extended a hand to her arm.

Liam saw nothing, but he seemed to do something, because the rush of blood slowed, then stopped. Still, Enya slumped.

“Get back on your horse,” Adar growled. Liam blinked at him. “I’ve got her, boy. Now get back on your bloody horse unless you intend to stay in Misthol, and hand me her reins.”

Liam didn’t remove his hands until Adar’s own eased her upright in her saddle and when they came away, she stayed there, as if some invisible hand held her in place.

Slowly, he took his own from her torso, sticky with her blood, and she didn’t shift.

Bloody wielders. With trembling steps, he mounted a dancing, wild eyed Arawelo.

Hooves clattered on the paving stones and the other two demi-elves leapt through the flames. Liam tried not to look at the crimson that coated the swords they each carried. He didn’t miss the shock that painted Andril’s face, but Elred’s Eagle surveyed them with cool calculation.

The world suddenly went quiet. For a moment, Liam wondered if the last bang had taken his hearing, or perhaps some unseen blow had killed him before he realized, but Cle’s hooves echoed off the stones as the gelding pranced.

The feel of Linus’s fire had died away too and Liam gasped as he watched stones, arrows, and more flame pelt what looked like a transparent dome around them.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Pedron spat.

“They waved us through and then put a bolt in her back,” Linus answered frantically. Liam realized sweat was running down the fire wielder’s face in great rivulets, whether from the exertion or the panic, he couldn’t tell.

“Later,” Adar barked.

“She can’t possibly ride,” Liam spluttered, raking a hand through his hair. He cringed when he realized that hand was still covered in Enya’s blood.

“She’s going to have to.”

“Stay beside her, Liam,” Andril ordered, as if he needed to be told.

“Ready?” Adar asked.

Linus raised a palm toward each side of the gate and Pedron rolled his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. They each gave a sharp nod, and the roar of the chaos refilled Liam’s ears as a fierce wind howled through the archway, turning back the arrows that flew their way.

A wave of flame followed the wind, scattering the guards that had emerged at their retreat behind that strange wall. Pedron raised a hand to the portcullis. It groaned on its hinges and snapped, falling out onto the street to shatter like glass.

The silence returned and Liam blinked in shock, but Arawelo didn’t need his nudge to stay close to Pips as they stepped carefully over the shards of iron lattice work and into the Foreshore.

His insides roiled at the carnage around them.

The king’s men, both in red and black, lay sprawled on the ground, their wails and moans unheard in the strange bubble that seemed to move with them.

Dull thuds, fewer now, came from the arrows and rocks still hurtled from the battlements.

“Bring it down,” Adar snarled.

A faint rumbling echoed through the barrier, or perhaps, through the ground and Liam twisted in his saddle.

The guard towers were trembling, swaying, and in the next blink, the city wall was collapsing in on itself.

Brown stone toppled like a house of cards and a heap of rubble choked off the open gate, trapping Pallas Davolier’s soldiers behind it.

Liam might have let out a triumphant whoop if sprays of stone hadn’t shown where the black clad earth wielders were trying to break through.

Any uniform that emerged on the road behind them stopped, grabbing at their throats and dropping to the ground, struggling as if against an unseen noose. A chill settled in Liam’s soul .

Bloody hell.

The strays and urchins of the Foreshore had vanished at the first hint of commotion, and when they were halfway through the stinking squalor, Andril turned to Adar.

“Harbortown?”

The silver haired demi-elf gave a terse nod and the barrier fell away just long enough for Andril to put his heels to his horse. Liam watched him gallop up the road as they were sealed once again into their silence.

“What’s in Harbortown?” He asked.

“A harbor,” Linus answered when it became clear no one else would. “Hopefully one with a boat.”

“Is she-”

“Still alive, stable boy.”

When they cleared the last leaning walls, Adar heeled his warhorse to a trot.

Liam winced as he watched Enya jostle against whatever held her upright.

He thought about protesting, but a sharp look from Adar’s murderous face had him biting his tongue.

The demi-elf had eyes and still, he trotted.

The barrier fell away and the other two of his companions fell back to guard their flight.

They stuck to the narrow little road that followed the coast, the waves sometimes disappearing behind a rise only to reappear ahead. They passed a scattering of fishing villages, none with docks large enough for more than dinghies and each time Liam came to that realization, his panic grew.

“How far?” He finally asked.

“Just ahead.”

The Saulet Sea had disappeared again and no sign of a town rose in Liam’s line of sight. He ground his teeth, and finally brought himself to ask the question he’d been afraid to.

“Is she going to be alright?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

Liam didn’t know what to make of that.

Harbortown finally appeared around a bend and Liam loosed a breath at the masts and sails that jutted up from the water.

He twisted in his saddle at the sound of galloping hooves, but it was only Pedron and Linus running to catch up.

Adar trotted straight for the docks where Andril stood at the foot of a wide gangplank, Lanta already standing on the deck of The Seabird .

The captain stood beside him, scowling. He took one look at Enya and turned to Andril. “You didn’t bloody tell me you were fleeing with a fugitive.”

“No fugitive,” Andril answered gruffly. “An accident.”

“An accident? Bah!” The captain spat.

Pedron leapt off Cle and towered over the man. “Have your bloody boat ready to sail, or I’ll do it for you.”

The grizzled captain met his glare, but his eyes found the twin swords crossed over Pedron’s shoulders and he took a step back. The demi-elves cocked their heads back toward the road.

“Ready your men to push off,” Andril said quickly, taking Pips’s reins to lead him up the plank, Enya still propped in the saddle.

Liam dismounted, leading a wary Arawelo toward the ramp.

She planted her feet and eyed the water that frothed in the drop below.

Adar strode by her leading Kiawa and the black clopped across it stoically.

As if not to be outdone, Arawelo took a tentative step, then another, and Liam loosed a sigh of relief when she stepped onto the deck of the bobbing ship.

Enya would kill him if they left the mare behind.

“See to the horses,” Adar growled, shoving Kiawa’s reins into Liam’s hands.

Another time, he might have marveled at the stallion, but his eyes were fixed on Enya.

Whatever wielded bond had been holding her in the saddle fell away, and she fell limply into Adar’s outstretched arms. He lifted her carefully, trying not to jostle the bolt as he clutched her to his chest and strode toward the captain’s cabin. “Colm.”

“Is she going to be alright?” He asked the golden haired demi-elf.

Andril, or Colm as it seemed he was called now, handed him Pips’s reins as Cle and Kez joined the roped off enclosure. “There is a skilled elven healer in Tuminzar.”

“Is she going to make it to Tuminzar?”

“Why isn’t this bloody boat moving?” Pedron roared.

Colm clapped him on the shoulder. “See to the horses, Liam. You don’t want to see this.”

Liam looked down at his hands, still stained crimson with Enya’s blood. He swallowed. Perhaps it made him a coward, but he nodded.