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Authors: Frankie Robertson
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looked ahead to where he walked with Dahleven. Sorn had a runner’s build: lean and wiry. His dark brown hair just touched his shoulders. He’d be perfect for Elaine . Dahleven’s muscular frame was more to her own taste. His broad shoulders tapered down in a classic “V” to a narrow waist. Dahleven might be confusing and annoying, but he did have a really nice ass.
*
“Do you believe her tale?” Dahleven asked without preamble, when Sorn joined him. “Is she truly ignorant of Talent and all the rest?”
Though Sorn was younger by two years, Dahleven had always trusted his opinion. Even when they were boys, Sorn saw through the mess that obscured most complex questions. And, his romantic life notwithstanding, Sorn understood women. Something Dahleven, as most men, didn’t even try to lay claim to.
“Yes, I believe her. And so do you. That’s what scares you. Lady Celia’s presence is an omen of change.”
“Indeed.” Dahleven gave Sorn a tight, lopsided smile. “How did she get here? Who brought her?”
Sorn shook his head, his own worry showing in the tightness around his eyes. “Whether it was the gods or a Great Talent, the Lady is here unwilling. She deserves some consideration for that, no matter which way that wind blows.”
Dahleven looked over at Sorn. His friend raised his eyebrows in gentle challenge, as if to say, You know I’m right .
Dahleven inclined his head, silently acknowledging the criticism. Then he grinned. “That’s why I put you in charge of her, Sorn. I don’t have time to coddle a lady right now, but I know she’ll be safe in your care.”
Sorn rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s easy duty. She’s pleasant and funny and proud and honest. You’d know that for yourself if you did more than growl at her.”
“I’ve noticed.” He wasn’t blind and deaf. He’d noticed, all right. He’d noticed that Lady Celia’s green eyes flashed like razor-edged emeralds at him, but softened like a meadow on a spring day when she looked at Sorn. He’d noticed she had a distracting shapeliness and an honest character to be admired. He’d noticed it would be too easy to spend time thinking about touching her instead of getting his men home safely.
Dahleven jerked his head. “You’d best get back to her.”
*
Cele trudged onward as the sun dropped lower in the sky. At least her feet didn’t hurt much anymore, since Ghav had slathered her blisters with his ointment. The terrain opened up a bit and then the footing became soft, as Dahleven led them through a dry wash. Steep banks rose to either side, though a tumble of large boulders had broken from the right, narrowing their path for a short way. Sorn turned and waited for her. Fendrikanin passed him. She was nearly even with Sorn when his head jerked up and his attention focused on the hills to Cele’s left.
Then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER FIVE
An arrow whizzed by Cele’s left cheek just as Falsom’s shout, “Tewas!” cut off abruptly.
The next instant Sorn pushed her between two boulders and a thorn bush. “Stay there!”
The rock scraped Cele’s shoulder and knees. Screams and shouts of battle surrounded her, piercing like the thorns clawing at her back. An arrow skittered off the rock above her head and rebounded into the tangled branches of the thornbush.
She had only a narrow view of the fight—mostly of Sorn’s back as he lunged and danced away from his opponent’s attack. Dahleven’s voice rose above the chaos. “Back against the banks! Into the rocks!”
Ululating cries rose from several places on the wash’s banks above them. Hair rose on Cele’s arms and the back of her neck and her hands felt clammy. No battle cry in the movies compared to hearing one first hand.
Cele craned her neck, trying to see what was happening. The thornbush at her back stuck sharply into her shoulder and scraped her cheek. She flinched back, ducking her head again. Over the
*
“Do you believe her tale?” Dahleven asked without preamble, when Sorn joined him. “Is she truly ignorant of Talent and all the rest?”
Though Sorn was younger by two years, Dahleven had always trusted his opinion. Even when they were boys, Sorn saw through the mess that obscured most complex questions. And, his romantic life notwithstanding, Sorn understood women. Something Dahleven, as most men, didn’t even try to lay claim to.
“Yes, I believe her. And so do you. That’s what scares you. Lady Celia’s presence is an omen of change.”
“Indeed.” Dahleven gave Sorn a tight, lopsided smile. “How did she get here? Who brought her?”
Sorn shook his head, his own worry showing in the tightness around his eyes. “Whether it was the gods or a Great Talent, the Lady is here unwilling. She deserves some consideration for that, no matter which way that wind blows.”
Dahleven looked over at Sorn. His friend raised his eyebrows in gentle challenge, as if to say, You know I’m right .
Dahleven inclined his head, silently acknowledging the criticism. Then he grinned. “That’s why I put you in charge of her, Sorn. I don’t have time to coddle a lady right now, but I know she’ll be safe in your care.”
Sorn rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s easy duty. She’s pleasant and funny and proud and honest. You’d know that for yourself if you did more than growl at her.”
“I’ve noticed.” He wasn’t blind and deaf. He’d noticed, all right. He’d noticed that Lady Celia’s green eyes flashed like razor-edged emeralds at him, but softened like a meadow on a spring day when she looked at Sorn. He’d noticed she had a distracting shapeliness and an honest character to be admired. He’d noticed it would be too easy to spend time thinking about touching her instead of getting his men home safely.
Dahleven jerked his head. “You’d best get back to her.”
*
Cele trudged onward as the sun dropped lower in the sky. At least her feet didn’t hurt much anymore, since Ghav had slathered her blisters with his ointment. The terrain opened up a bit and then the footing became soft, as Dahleven led them through a dry wash. Steep banks rose to either side, though a tumble of large boulders had broken from the right, narrowing their path for a short way. Sorn turned and waited for her. Fendrikanin passed him. She was nearly even with Sorn when his head jerked up and his attention focused on the hills to Cele’s left.
Then all hell broke loose.
CHAPTER FIVE
An arrow whizzed by Cele’s left cheek just as Falsom’s shout, “Tewas!” cut off abruptly.
The next instant Sorn pushed her between two boulders and a thorn bush. “Stay there!”
The rock scraped Cele’s shoulder and knees. Screams and shouts of battle surrounded her, piercing like the thorns clawing at her back. An arrow skittered off the rock above her head and rebounded into the tangled branches of the thornbush.
She had only a narrow view of the fight—mostly of Sorn’s back as he lunged and danced away from his opponent’s attack. Dahleven’s voice rose above the chaos. “Back against the banks! Into the rocks!”
Ululating cries rose from several places on the wash’s banks above them. Hair rose on Cele’s arms and the back of her neck and her hands felt clammy. No battle cry in the movies compared to hearing one first hand.
Cele craned her neck, trying to see what was happening. The thornbush at her back stuck sharply into her shoulder and scraped her cheek. She flinched back, ducking her head again. Over the
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