“Working on it!” Leif called back.
The oldest Son darted into the fray without a backward glance.
Rakon shifted closer—a living wall of muscle—his hammer swinging in rhythmic, deadly arcs that kept the enemy at bay. Calix stayed at Aldric’s shoulder, his bow singing a deadly rhythm, dropping any foe that made it past the large man.
Aldric stood between them, feeling useless. His limbs felt made of water, drained by the sickness that had finally passed only to leave him hollowed out and trembling. Without his glaive, without his armor, he felt small. Vulnerable.
And he hated it.
“Got one!” Leif’s voice cut through the chaos.
The older man emerged from the smoke, dragging a panicked destrier by the bridle. The beast’s eyes were wide with terror, foaming at the bit, but Leif held tight until Calix pried the reins from his grasp.
“I’m going,” his half-Kunishi Son growled, already vaulting into the saddle with fluid grace. He controlled the skittish animal with his knees and reached down, extending a forearm. “Up. Now.”
Aldric didn’t waste breath on pride. He gripped Calix’s vambrace and gritted his teeth against the agony in his weary joints as his Son hauled him up, settling him behind the pommel of the saddle.
Gathering the reins in his fists, Aldric kicked the horse into motion. The beast surged forward, hooves thundering against the hard-packed earth.
It would have been smarter to scale the hill itself, to ride along the crest of the ridge and scout the pass from above. But he didn’t have time for smart.
Riding at a hard gallop, they plunged into the ravine.
The wind whipped at Aldric’s face, stinging his eyes, stripping the breath from his lungs. Behind him, the rhythmicthrum-thrum-thrumof Calix’s bow continued to sing as the archer picked off soldiers lunging from the shadows.
An arrow whizzed past Aldric’s ear, almost close enough to nick skin. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink.
He just rode.
But his body was failing him. The burst of adrenaline from the cove was already fading, leaving behind a cold, gray exhaustion. His vision narrowed. The horse’s gait jarred his bones, threatening to shake him loose.
Not now,he pleaded silently.Not yet.
He leaned forward, driving the horse onward, the sun pendant beneath his shirt thumping against his sternum with each stride. He just needed a little more time.
Lord,Aldric prayed, the words forming awkwardly in the quiet sanctuary of his mind.Please…give me the strength to find my wife. Give me the strength to save her.
Never before had the Lord answered any of his prayers.
But He certainly answered this one.
The answer was instantaneous. It wasn’t a voice. It was an anchor.
Deep in his chest, something snapped taut—a hook engaging in the dark, pulling tight across the distance. A tether forged of something stronger than steel.
The air left his lungs in a rush. The connection hummed, vibrating through his marrow, warmer than the sun.
He felther.
Worry. Determination. Love. It flooded down the bond, washing away the fatigue, burning out the cold exhaustion blanketing his limbs.
Strength surged into him. Aldric gasped, sitting bolt upright in the saddle, his single eye snapping wide. He didn’t need to wonder where she was. He didn’t need to guess.
He simply knew.
The smell hit him first as they followed the subtle turn through the pass, the horse’s hooves scrambling for purchase on the loose rocks. A smell he knew—the metallic tang of witchfire. And then he saw it: smoke.
Aldric peeled back his lips in a snarl and drove the horse harder, the tether in his chest pulling him onward, reeling him in.
