caught up in the disagreement with Druz that he hadn’t been as attentive as he usually was.
“What?” she challenged. “Don’t tell me you suddenly decided that you care about those people down there.”
“No,” Haarn replied.
The footsteps paused. The druid smelled the spicy meat on the breaths of the men around them and even heard a few garbled and raspy whispers. He marveled at the fact, with the men so near, that the woman didn’t know they were there.
“Then why are you”
Druz reached for her sword as Haarn heard footsteps rush from the forest around them. The sword cleared its leather scabbard and she stepped into a defensive posture.
Knowing the men formed a loose semicircle around them, Haarn lifted his hands slowly from his sides and held them straight out.
“Put down your weapon,” Haarn advised.
“No,” Druz replied. “I won’t be taken as a slave.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Broadfoot shifted in the trees, edging closer. None of the slavers around them noticed the slight noise the big bear made.
Haarn growled, drawing the rumbling sound from deep in his chest. Broadfoot stopped in his tracks, but snuffled his displeasure at the command. Even with the magic available to him and the years of association he had with the bear, the druid couldn’t talk directly to Broadfoot, but he could make his wishes known.
“What the hell was that?” one of the men demanded.
Another man spat. “He’s one of those damned druids,” he cursed. “We’d be better off killing him now, Brugar. There ain’t no easy way we’re going to take him with us.”
“Lord Vallis is paying by the head,” a gruff voice said. “As long as that druid’s head stays on his shoulders, it’s worth gold.”
“The woman’s worth more,” another man said. “Look at her. See how pretty she is?”
Haarn watched the dark stain of embarrassment touch Druz’s features.
“Well hold her back from Vogalsang’s auction block in Nimpeth then sell her to Warryl,” the man went on. “Warryl can sell her to one of those fleshpots along the Golden Road down by the Nagawater.”
“You’ll have to kill me first,” Druz promised, lifting her long sword meaningfully. “A quick death now is preferable to a slow death later.”
Haarn watched the woman’s eyes and felt his respect for her grow. Despite the clumsy way she interacted with the forest and let the men’s taunts embarrass her, she
knew her own true balance. Most men he’d met, the druid felt from his limited experience with those outside his order, had never been tested enough to reach that. The woman suddenly appeared more intriguing to him.
“Tell her to put the sword down, druid,” Brugar commanded.
He was a mountain of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall. His skin was swarthy, almost black. He wore dark leather armor and carried a battle-axe. His shaven head gleamed in the moonlight. Scars littered his arms, shoulders, and face. He glared fiercely at Haarn.
“She won’t listen to me,” Haarn replied.
“Make her,” Brugar ordered, “or I’ll kill you both.”
Haarn didn’t reply. He sensed the greed in the man, knowing that Brugar was already counting the gold he’d be paid for those he captured. The druid also heard the quiet footsteps coming up from behind them. He made himself wait.
At the last moment, a twig snapped under the approaching man’s foot. Haarn glanced over his shoulder, already hearing the mercenary in motion as she reacted to the unexpected sound.
Druz spun quickly and moonlight flashed on the naked blade in her hand. She took a step away and almost succeeded in escaping the cruel blow that smashed into her head. Her fleeing step turned into an outright fall as she dropped bonelessly to the ground. The other man Haarn had heard creeping through the forest stood over the mercenary.
The slaver was thin and unkempt, rawboned and ragged. His gaze was feral and fleeting, never looking in any direction too
“What?” she challenged. “Don’t tell me you suddenly decided that you care about those people down there.”
“No,” Haarn replied.
The footsteps paused. The druid smelled the spicy meat on the breaths of the men around them and even heard a few garbled and raspy whispers. He marveled at the fact, with the men so near, that the woman didn’t know they were there.
“Then why are you”
Druz reached for her sword as Haarn heard footsteps rush from the forest around them. The sword cleared its leather scabbard and she stepped into a defensive posture.
Knowing the men formed a loose semicircle around them, Haarn lifted his hands slowly from his sides and held them straight out.
“Put down your weapon,” Haarn advised.
“No,” Druz replied. “I won’t be taken as a slave.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Broadfoot shifted in the trees, edging closer. None of the slavers around them noticed the slight noise the big bear made.
Haarn growled, drawing the rumbling sound from deep in his chest. Broadfoot stopped in his tracks, but snuffled his displeasure at the command. Even with the magic available to him and the years of association he had with the bear, the druid couldn’t talk directly to Broadfoot, but he could make his wishes known.
“What the hell was that?” one of the men demanded.
Another man spat. “He’s one of those damned druids,” he cursed. “We’d be better off killing him now, Brugar. There ain’t no easy way we’re going to take him with us.”
“Lord Vallis is paying by the head,” a gruff voice said. “As long as that druid’s head stays on his shoulders, it’s worth gold.”
“The woman’s worth more,” another man said. “Look at her. See how pretty she is?”
Haarn watched the dark stain of embarrassment touch Druz’s features.
“Well hold her back from Vogalsang’s auction block in Nimpeth then sell her to Warryl,” the man went on. “Warryl can sell her to one of those fleshpots along the Golden Road down by the Nagawater.”
“You’ll have to kill me first,” Druz promised, lifting her long sword meaningfully. “A quick death now is preferable to a slow death later.”
Haarn watched the woman’s eyes and felt his respect for her grow. Despite the clumsy way she interacted with the forest and let the men’s taunts embarrass her, she
knew her own true balance. Most men he’d met, the druid felt from his limited experience with those outside his order, had never been tested enough to reach that. The woman suddenly appeared more intriguing to him.
“Tell her to put the sword down, druid,” Brugar commanded.
He was a mountain of a man, standing nearly seven feet tall. His skin was swarthy, almost black. He wore dark leather armor and carried a battle-axe. His shaven head gleamed in the moonlight. Scars littered his arms, shoulders, and face. He glared fiercely at Haarn.
“She won’t listen to me,” Haarn replied.
“Make her,” Brugar ordered, “or I’ll kill you both.”
Haarn didn’t reply. He sensed the greed in the man, knowing that Brugar was already counting the gold he’d be paid for those he captured. The druid also heard the quiet footsteps coming up from behind them. He made himself wait.
At the last moment, a twig snapped under the approaching man’s foot. Haarn glanced over his shoulder, already hearing the mercenary in motion as she reacted to the unexpected sound.
Druz spun quickly and moonlight flashed on the naked blade in her hand. She took a step away and almost succeeded in escaping the cruel blow that smashed into her head. Her fleeing step turned into an outright fall as she dropped bonelessly to the ground. The other man Haarn had heard creeping through the forest stood over the mercenary.
The slaver was thin and unkempt, rawboned and ragged. His gaze was feral and fleeting, never looking in any direction too
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