I know, I think back.I can feel them too.
The sensation is familiar now – that press against the edge of my mind. Feelings rising that are not my own. Almost as if I am bonded to more than one wolf.
I could have believed the sensations were Fen’s were I not able to feel him so clearly now. Besides, the main emotion rolling off whoever is following us is very different to what I feel from my bond: outrage, disgust, and under it all, anticipation and patience.
It doesn’t take a genius to guess who is stalking us: Torailians. Whether we’re in their territory or not is certainly debatable, although I suspect they’d beg to differ. Hopefully, they’re just watching us to ensure we don’t go further towards their land.
And hopefully Kyor knows enough about the terrain to ensure we don’t.
Before I can warn the others, Benny speaks.
‘We’re being followed,’ he mutters, hand drifting casually to rest on his sword’s hilt.
Kyor doesn’t bother to deny it, and it’s clear Benny’s comment is not new information to him, as evidenced by his rigid shoulders and theway his gaze scans the horizon with precision.
‘How many?’ Ruben asks tightly.
Kyor and Benny hesitate simultaneously, and both by just a fraction too long.
That hesitation lands like a stone in my gut. Too many. That’s the answer.
‘Enough,’ Kyor says finally. Enough to be dangerous.
My mind shifts back to what I’ve heard about the warriors before … about the way they attack in their thousands. If attacking is what they decide to do, there’s no way we can survive numbers like that, even with dire wolves on our side.
I’m twisting my neck, scanning the area for any sign of them, when the first arrow whistles past Kyor’s ear.
Elska surges sideways before he can fully react, her movement smooth and instinctive. Another arrow sings through the air, piercing the space where Kyor’s head was a heartbeat before. My own heart stutters at how close he came to dying.
‘Down!’ Kyor shouts, but he makes no move to duck.
His arrogance riles the fear out of me. I’d hoped his shoulder wound would have taught him that he’s not fucking invincible, but clearly not.
‘They’re everywhere!’ Caz cries out as our attackers spring up out of the dusty earth. ‘We’re surrounded!’
She’s right. There was no charging, no yelling of orders to get into place, and yet they appeared instantly as one, as if they portated there. But they have no magic, so that’s not possible.
Sandy-clad figures face us on all fronts with their weapons raised, all with garnet eyes that gleam unnaturally bright against their warm skin.
Torailians.
Not thousands – not even hundreds, thankfully – but with the synchronicity of their attack, it would be easy to believe there were ten times more than the two dozen that are now spread around us in a perfect circle. How though? How did they do it?
I may not know how they achieved such a feat, but I know I was wrong about one thing: they weren’t tracking us at all, weren’t watching to see if we headed away. They were waiting. Patient. Ready.
And we walked straight into their snare.
‘Square!’ Kyor snaps at us, like we are his soldiers to command and obey. But we were not drilled for hours as a team. We’re just a ragged group of friends surviving by our wits, the grace of the Gods, and sheer, dumb luck.
I don’t even know what the fucking command means. Square up to our attackers? Form a square? Square dance?
Fen snarls, low and thunderous, his body angling to shield me without waiting for a command.
But the Torailians don’t aim for my wolf; they aim for me.
Nets – not arrows – fly towards me, but Fen dodges, sweeping to the side as he leaps towards the boundary of their ring. And it’s one hell of a fucking leap.
I knew dire wolves could jump, but the way he springs from the ground lifts us high enough that we could have cleared my and Kay’s home in the slums. My stomach swoops as I flatten against his body, and as we vault over the armed Torailians, one of them reaches up and grabs my ankle, trying to yank me from Fen.
