Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen 1)

His other hand closed on top of hers. “It is difficult…for me…to speak. The Arch-Rike is controlling…trying to control…me.”

She looked him firmly in the eye. “You will have to do better than that, Paedrin. It wasn’t even funny.”

There was a sudden tic, a twitch in the corner of his mouth. “I thought I had you for a moment. What gave me away?”

She smirked. “Aside from the fact that Kiranrao brought you here alive? What kind of grease is it on your finger? I noticed it when you held up your hand. Is that tallow?”

Paedrin smiled and held up his hand again. “Linseed, I think. Smells like it, anyway. It helps disrupt the connection, apparently. Glad Kiranrao had some fat with him. You would never find any fat on me.”

Hettie nodded. “That’s a little better. You aren’t angry with me for hiring him to save you?”

Paedrin chuckled. “I offered to kiss his little toes in payment, but he said you had worked something out between the two of you. Your uncle will take it amiss for giving him the stones.”

“If there was ever a man who could outsmart Kiranrao…”

“Other than myself?” Paedrin added, offering her a cocked smile.

“Well, first we must outsmart the Arch-Rike. The ports all closed, as you know, when the bells tolled. But I also told you before that the Romani do not need the ports to get into the city. Follow me, outlaw.”

Hettie stayed low to keep the bushes as a screen and started off in the opposite direction than the one that Kiranrao took. Paedrin kept pace behind her. She was relieved to hear the sound of his breathing. Even though they were far from being out of danger, his presence soothed her worries. There was no doubt getting away from the island would require some conflict. She had seen him fight. She even respected him for it.

They reached the end of the wall before it turned, and the scrub ended abruptly. Leaving cover would be a problem, but there were trees farther down that would hide them from anyone patrolling the upper walls. She waited, listening.

Paedrin’s breath was in her ear. “Why delay?”

“Hush. Listening for the sound of footfalls on the wall above us. Do you hear any?”

He paused, craning his neck. He shook his head. Together they started down the slope, staying low to the ground to keep from losing their footing. Hettie caught herself on exposed roots and used them as handholds to maneuver down the steep slope. When they were near the end, there was the sound of barking, and suddenly a black hound leaped from the woods and rushed at them, followed by several soldiers.

“The horn!” Hettie warned. “Don’t let them use it!”

Paedrin sprang from the edge of the slope and soared into the air. She flattened herself as he sailed over her gracefully, as if he were nothing more than a leaf suspended by the breeze. The Vaettir awed her with their innate ability to float and hover depending on how they controlled their breath. He went past the rushing hound and then suddenly came straight down, landing in a kneeling crouch. He looked up at the advancing soldiers and shot out at them like an arrow loosed from a bow.

Hettie brought up her weapon and sent an arrow into the dog’s flanks, piercing its rear leg. It yelped and howled with pain, spinning in the dirt as it struggled to free itself from the arrow.

As Hettie slid the rest of the way down the hillside, Paedrin was in the midst of the soldiers, his hands and feet moving everywhere at once. They all had weapons, but none of them came close to touching him. One man raised a horn to his mouth and Hettie pulled free another arrow to silence him.

Paedrin blocked her shot as he vaulted upward and landed with a foot to the man’s forehead. The horn tumbled to the ground, and Paedrin brought his heel down on it, crushing the end. Dropping down, he landed his fist into the man’s temple, and he was out cold.

Six men were dispatched in moments.

Hettie approached, looking sidelong at the whimpering hound.

Paedrin cocked his head at her. “You didn’t kill the dog.”

She gave him a lazy smile. “Are you criticizing my aim?”

“Well, it would have been preferred if you had wrestled it into submission,” he answered. “Or bit its ear. But you probably aren’t an expert in wrestling beasts. Only skinning them.”

She gave him an arched look. “Bit its ear? Paedrin…” She shook her head.

He stood straight and tall, his Bhikhu tunic rumpled and stained from their long journey. His eyes were glittering with intensity. It made her pause a moment.

“I am only just getting back my sense of humor,” he said. “I have never felt so alive and free as I do at this moment. When you feel as if the rest of your life is going to be plunged into shadows, it makes you willing to risk it all over one thing. Let’s find your uncle. I want to go with him into the Scourgelands. I even think I know a way that I can help.”