fast, one of only four,’ said Devun, and there was threat in his voice and posture. ‘The only innocents fleeing the colleges now are refugees, hungry from seasons of deprivation. None of you have that look.’
He was looking past Yron again at the TaiGethen.
‘And these are neither refugees nor college representatives,’ said Yron, and he walked a little closer to Devun. ‘My friend, you are among those who hate Xetesk with the same passion as you do. Let’s not cause trouble here. These elves are not used to people standing in their way. It makes them nervous.’
‘Well, since we are friends, there is no harm in you telling me both your name and your business.’
Devun had no interest in letting them go. Yron could see his posturing impressing those with whom he rode. But there was no harm in the truth; it might just do the trick. He drew himself tall, ignoring the blood running down his leg and the dull ache of the wound.
‘I am Captain Yron, late of the Xeteskian college guard, now on the run for desertion and treachery. These are members of the TaiGethen from Calaius. Take me if you must but don’t get in their way. You’ll live to regret it. Or rather, you won’t.’ He spread his arms. ‘Your move.’
Devun didn’t even pause to think. ‘Commander Selik will want to talk to you all.’ He signalled to his men. ‘Hold them.’
Yron sighed and ducked to the ground, rolling over and out of immediate trouble. Riders heeled their horses, moving to surround them, others began to slide from their mounts, drawing swords. The TaiGethen exploded into action.
All three elven bows drew and released, knocking three men from their saddles. The cell split. Merke threw a jaqrui ahead of her, drawing her sword, running and leaping in a blur of movement. She caught a rider feet-first in the stomach, knocking him from his horse to hang by one stirrup. She landed smartly, rose and slashed out his throat. More jaqrui wailed, more men died.
Vaart was surrounded by four. He feinted and ducked a straight blow, punching his sword clean through the eye of his attacker and following him as he went down, rolling over the corpse and dragging his blade clear. The other three came at him. He lashed a kick out front, winding one, caught a blow on his sword from another and swayed away from a reckless swing.
He rolled right, coming up and stabbing into the thigh of the nearest man, whose sword lashed out and caught him a glancing blow on his left shoulder, biting deep before swinging clear. Vaart rolled again with the blow, fending off the two who still came at him. He stood, drop-kicked one in the windpipe, a killing twist of his foot as he landed atop the Black Wing. He spun on his heel, hurled a jaqrui into the face of the man with the thigh wound but the last was just quick enough to bury his sword in Vaart’s chest. The elf died silently.
Yron pushed himself to his feet, running to Merke’s aid. To his left, Inell was backing away from three bowmen, eyeing up which to take first, the bodies of two in front of his dripping blade. Yron ignored him, drawing his axe and thrashing it into the back of a man attempting to flank the cell leader. At the same time, Merke thrust her sword up into the belly of a swordsman still on his horse, spun and almost tore Yron’s throat out, just pulling her blow. She nodded and half turned but then stumbled forward, falling into Yron and bringing him down, an arrow deep in her back, puncturing her heart.
Yron fell flat, winded, his head thrown back, his gaze passing across Inell, two arrows in his chest, punching flat-palmed into the nose of the man who stood over him, driving bone into his brain. The man fell twitching to the ground, Inell following him, a blade driven through his lower back.
On top of him, Merke moved, her hand pressing on one of his. He opened it and the thumb was pushed into his palm.
‘You know what to do,’ she said, drawing a final ragged bubbling breath.
Rough hands pulled Yron from beneath her body, he making a play at struggling in order to slip the fragment into his pocket. His axe was taken from him and cast aside. Devun was in front of him, looking open-mouthed at the scene of carnage. More than