Breathe in.As she got her racing heart under control, she swung her left leg over and slid off Sapphire’s back. “I’m going to have a look around,” she said, briskly walking away before the men could protest. She kept one hand on the knife at her waist and the other securely holding her bow.
Passing a tent that had been destroyed, she lifted what remained of the opening flap to peer inside. There were two men, one of which was breathing unevenly. He let out a quiet moan when she got closer.
“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here to help. Are you alright?” Isla asked gently. She shoved the bow onto her shoulder and set the knife on the ground as she crawled over to the man. He lifted the pants on his right leg, and she sucked in a breath at the coppery tang that hit her nostrils. There was a large gash, probably a knife wound, with blood pouring out of it. Ripping a large piece of cloth from a nearby blanket, she wrapped it tightly around the injury. There wasn’t much she could do without proper medical supplies, but hopefully, it would staunch the flow of blood until they reached Krill.
She helped the man sit up and began to carefully tug him out of the tent opening, trying not to put too much pressure on the bad leg. “What about Trenton?” he said between grunts, pointing at the second man in the tent. She set him down as easily as she could and maneuvered her way back inside. Bending her ear to the second man’s chest, she listened for a heartbeat, but she knew there would be none.
Slowly, she shook her head at the first man. He only nodded, clearly expecting the worst, silent tears streaking down his cheeks.
“Why would they do this?” he whispered. “Th—they said they were…looking for something. But why—why would they kill him?” His words were slow and labored, broken up by grunts of pain. She could tell he was close to losing control, both from his injury and the thought of so much loss around him.
“It’ll be alright. I’m going to keep looking for others to help. Do you think you can make it to those horses right there?” She pointed to August and Damien, who were only a few yards away. The man nodded, wiping away a tear as he began working his way toward them.
Isla collected her knife and continued her search, finding a couple more bodies and one man without too many injuries. She knelt beside him, noticing he was very young, maybe sixteen, and figured this was probably his first merchant trip. He was frozen in shock, eyes glazed over and hands covered in blood. It looked like he had tried to help the older man next to him but had been too late.
She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “My name is Isla. I’m here to help. Can you stand?” she asked calmly.
His eyes darted to an area above and behind her, triggered by some movement she couldn’t see. Bri shrieked her name, and she swung around, hand flying to her bow and pulling back the string in one fluid motion.
She saw him instantly: a long-haired man with a crazed gleam in his eyes. He leapt from the tree behind her and aimed a spear at her chest. Before he could take a step, she planted an arrow between his eyes.
Bri gasped as the man went down. Isla barely had time to register the fact that she had taken a human life before a war cry came from the other direction.
Two more men, one with a spear and another with a long knife, rushed at her. She reached back to grab an arrow from her quiver, notched it, and let it fly. Without pausing, she sent another one into the second man’s chest. Scanning the trees behind them, she caught a flash of movement in the shadows and shot a third arrow into the branches. Seconds later, a body lurched forward and fell to the ground.
Isla didn’t know how many were left and was too far away to get to her companions. Looking back at them, she saw a man already dead at Sapphire’s hooves while August fought off another. She breathed a sigh of relief when she caught Damien hiding Bri in the trees.
A twig snapped directly behind her, and Isla whirled around. This man was much closer than the others; she couldn’t take him out quickly with an arrow. She grabbed her knife and lunged, swiping at his chest.
He jumped backward with a wicked grin on his face. “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you,” he rasped, brandishing a long dagger.
Isla was not as proficient in hand-to-hand combat. She was trained with weapons for hunting purposes, not fighting. Scrambling away, she glanced around to try and find something to protect herself with, but there was nothing sturdy in sight. Isla huffed and squared off with the man, cracking her neck.
Well, I guess this is it.
She ran toward him and ducked at the last second when he tried to swipe at her, veering to his right. Popping up on his other side, she attempted to pounce on him again. But he was too quick and had already turned back to face her. He was laughing now, with a wild look that promised pain and other vile deeds.
Out of nowhere, the boy she’d helped earlier jumped to his feet and tackled the man. He was much smaller than the attacker, but the boy caught him off guard and they both went down. The boy’s advantage was quickly lost, however, when the larger man easily flipped him onto his back and clamped his hands around the boy’s throat, spit flying from his wicked smile. With a shout, Isla rushed over to the thrashing limbs, the sound of his desperate choking painful to her ears. She didn’t even think; she simply gripped her dagger by the handle and thrust it into the man’s back, cringing at the squelching and the feel of steel sliding through bone and muscle.
Panting, she shoved the man off the boy and pulled the latter from the ground, the two of them scrambling away from the dying figure.
“You’re okay, it’s over,” she said to him, wiping hair out of her face.
He swallowed and nodded, then his eyes grew wide. “Look out!” he cried hoarsely, pointing behind her.
“You havegotto be kidding me. There are more?” she grumbled as she grabbed her bow and notched another arrow, turning to let it fly straight at the oncoming man.
She did not expect what happened next.
The arrow simply hovered in the air, a foot from the man’s head.
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said in a quiet, steady voice. Her breath caught in her throat. She knew this man. Or at least, recognized him. But there wasno way. It wasn’t possible.
Yet she couldn’t mistake the wild, windswept hair, the strong jawline and high cheekbones, the piercing gray eyes.
It was him. The statue on the fountain.
The God of Air.
