“That wasn’t possible,” he shot back. “And while we stand here blethering, trouble is coming. We need to go.”
The thunder of approaching hoofbeats shook the ground then, torchlight flickering through the trees.
No one argued with Alar after that. Leaving their fire pit burning, for there was no time to kick dirt over it, Shee and Marav alike rushed to their mounts. Mor untied Dorka, dragged her away from the tree, and vaulted upon her white elk’s back.
Lara mounted Bracken, noting that Roth had yanked one of the lasses up onto his stallion’s back. Meanwhile, Cailean had hauled the other one up behind him. However, Alar was still on foot. Her heart kicked against her ribs. Curse it. He was fast, but even with his earth magic, he’d never keep up with them.
He was going to have to ride with someone.
Just not her.
Skaal stalked up to Alar then, pushing hard against his shoulder. He flashed the fae hound a wary look. “What is it?”
She made a growling noise in the back of her throat and lowered herself down next to him.
Surprise flickered over his face. “Really?”
Her tail swished.
“Get on her back, Half-blood,” Cailean grunted.
Alar obeyed, climbing astride and grabbing hold of her thick ruff. An instant later, they were off, bounding through the trees.
Lara dug her heels into Bracken’s flanks and followed.
They fled north, through the dense pinewood, weaving between tall, bristling pines. Branches thwacked her in the face, nearly unseating her. And all the while, the thunder of their pursuers drew closer. Angry shouts echoed through the woods now.
And when she emerged into a clearing, where a burn glittered in the moonlight, she found Mor and her Ravens waiting, as was Alar upon Skaal. Dorka crouched behind Mor, her hackles raised.
“Why have you stopped?” Lara pulled up between Cailean and Bree. The others were right behind her.
“They’ve got us surrounded,” Sablebane replied.
No sooner had he spoken than the glow of torches flooded the clearing, chasing away the moonlight. Tattooed warriors astride stocky horses emerged. Firelight glinted dully off iron.
“Fuck,” Cailean growled. An instant later, his own tattoos started to glow silver as he readied himself to fight.
“We’re badly outnumbered,” Roth grunted.
“Aye … but that doesn’t mean we’ll go down easily.” Vyr’s black eyes glinted as he raised his sword, while his elk tensed under him.
Lara’s fingers flexed around the hilt of her dagger. By the Gods, everything was unraveling.
“No sign of Beathan,” Alar observed.
Mor muttered something under her breath in reply.
An instant later, warriors attacked with a roar. Circines. There were no wulvers amongst them. The clang of ironmeeting iron and steel splintered the air. Lara found herself hemmed in by the others as they fought back.
Sheathing her dagger, she knotted the reins. She then retrieved her cairn stone from its pouch, clenching it in her right hand as she extended her left, reaching for the flames. It was hard to catch hold of them though, for many of the Circines carrying torches tossed them to the ground so they could fight.
Lara struggled to find that peaceful place within that enabled her to wield fire safely.
Sweat beaded on her forehead as she reached again for the flames.
And this time, she connected with one of the torches. A tongue of fire roared upward, curling like a vine around the torso of a hill-tribe warrior. His screams knifed through the clearing as he toppled off his horse.
But he was just one amongst many.
