Anger surged through Vorik, propelling him up the cliff. These peopledaredshoot at their queen when they should have been sworn to protect her, when she’d given everything to protectthem. The ungrateful bastards.
In seconds, Vorik climbed forty feet, finding foot and handholds that barely existed. The crossbowman fired at him, but Vorik moved so quickly that the quarrel clipped off a rock instead of striking him. Before the sniper could reload, Voriksprang over the edge and grabbed him, spinning the man and hurling him toward the drop. He screamed, losing his weapon as he pitched over the edge, but the second sniper had nocked another arrow and was aiming toward the beach again.
Vorik sprinted toward him, drawing his sword. The archer got off his shot but was rushed, glancing in fear at Vorik’s rapid approach. Even without seeing the beach, Vorik knew the arrow had flown off-target.
The archer jumped back from the edge and swung his bow like a staff, trying to crack Vorik in the head. The cumbersome attack didn’t come close to hitting him. After ducking it, Vorik bowled into the man, driving him to the ground. Still angry, he almost beheaded the would-be assassin but decided Syla might want to question him.
Rocks clattered behind Vorik. He grabbed the archer, pulled him to his feet, and whirled, intending to use him as a shield if another attacker had crept out on the windswept bluff.
The female captain—Vonla—was crawling over the edge with a sword in hand. One of the Royal Protectors pulled himself over after her. A moment later, two fleet soldiers from the ship appeared—they’d used the trail to come around the long way.
“Walk,” Vorik told his prisoner, standing behind the man and forcing him toward the troops. “And thank whichever god you pray to that I didn’t break your neck.”
“You’re a stormer,” the man blurted, glancing down at the beach as their route took them along the edge of the bluff.
“Yes, I am.”
The other sniper had bounced down the rock face to the beach and wasn’t moving. Fortunately, Syla appeared uninjured. She’d stayed behind the dinghy, with Fel standing protectively over her with his mace, though her fingers twitched as she looked toward the unmoving sniper.
Vorik wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to see if the man had lived and, if so, heal him, but shouldn’t those who tried to assassinate their monarch be executed? What was wrong with these soldiers that they so easily gave their loyalty to a usurper? Didn’t they know that Syla had been away fighting for their people these past weeks? They should all believe her a hero.
“Thank you, uhm, Captain, isn’t it?” Vonla met Vorik’s eyes as she waved for the Royal Protector to search the prisoner and take him down the trail.
Hopefully, he could be questioned and Syla’s people could learn something helpful.
“Just Vorik now,” he said, letting them take the man. “I’m… Well, I suppose my demotion—if not exile—isn’t official yet, but only because I haven’t been home.” He smiled though there was no humor in the gesture.
“I see.”
Vorik found a faster if much steeper route down the cliff than the trail and half-hopped and half-climbed back to the beach. Even though Syla was all right, and her aunt had also effectively taken cover, he wanted to return to her side right away. He didn’t feel he could trust her soldiers to protect her. She needed him.
“I’ve seen mountain goats that would have hesitated to scramble down that slope,” Syla said when Vorik joined them.
“Kingdom mountain goats must be soft,” Vorik said. “Understandable, I suppose, since you don’t have any real mountains on these islands.”
“Harvest has the volcano.” Maybe thinking of the dragons she’d asked about, Syla looked off in that direction, though they couldn’t see the island from their location.
“Does it also have volcano goats?” Vorik asked.
“I believe there are some, yes. But not as spry as you.”
Fel groaned.
“Were you injured, Sergeant?” Syla touched his arm.
“I’m pained by listening to you fawn over your prisoner.” Fel curled a lip at Vorik.
“He did save my life. Again. And you know he’s not my prisoner.”
“I suspect your sergeant is upset becauseheis no longer spry,” Vorik whispered to her.
“He doesn’t do badly for someone who was supposed to retire last month.” Syla patted Fel on the shoulder, then gripped Vorik’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”
She frowned past his shoulder. Captain Vonla and the other troops had arrived with the archer.
“I don’t recognize him,” Syla said, “but he’s wearing a Kingdom enforcer uniform under his cloak.”
“We’ll find out what his orders were, Your Majesty,” the major said firmly.
