movements, around and around, drawing the circle tighter with each pass. Dari and Aron moved closer to each other until they stood back-to-back, and Aron passed her one of his swords to hold in addition to her dagger. She could fight two-fisted as well as he could, and he wanted her to be the one holding two weapons. A better chance for her to escape. Perhaps more safety, if there was anything such as safety with odds as bad as nine seasoned fighters against two apprentices—with one of those being a pretender, on top of everything.
Each breath Aron took grew deeper, until his head spun even as his pulse thumped in his ears and neck.
Just get yourself and Dari home.
Those were his only instructions from Stormbreaker, who believed he was ready for whatever fate might pitch in his path.
But nine men against the two of us?
“We’ll be interfering with Stone business, then,” the tall man said with a cold calm that matched Dari’s, icicle for icicle. “If you’ll come with us peacefully, there’ll be no need to fight.”
Aron desperately worked to sort out if he should use his graal in this situation. They were threatened. Their lives were in danger. Was this an incidence of serving the higher good?
Dari might think so, but Lord Baldric had told him never, no matter the circumstances, and Stormbreaker never resorted to using his mind-talents, even to save his own hide, or the lives of those in his care.
Platt said it was a tool—my tool. And Stormbreaker’s graal is different from mine. His is harder to control.
“Come with you where?” Aron asked, not intending to let Dari die or be captured, no matter the personal price.
“Our camp. To meet our… guild master, if you will. Canus has special interest in all Stone apprentices.” The tall man nodded toward Aron as clouds of breath laced his shrouded face. “Especially boys.”
A fresh, righteous anger kindled in Aron’s depths. Canus the Bandit was at the root of this attack. Canus was the real foe in this situation; these were just his foe’s outstretched hands.
“He likes boys,” another of the robed outlaws agreed. “Takes most stray lads in and raises them for his own. You’d be a nice addition to the collection.”
Aron clenched his jaw so firmly it ached.
Even if they fought well, they had no prayer against so many. But he could use his mind-talents and get them safely home. Lord Baldric would likely send him to Judgment, but Dari would be free and breathing. That’s what mattered.
“Don’t,” she said, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Not now. Not to save me.”
“I will,” he countered, fighting to regulate his mental focus. “If it’s the only way.”
Dari’s answering snarl sounded more animal than human, and Aron’s heart stuttered. His concentration wavered, and the tip of his sword dipped, sending moonslight fracturing through each level of his thoughts.
“He’s trying to go through the Veil,” one of the men shouted. “So is she.”
Before Aron had time to be surprised at their awareness, the tall man bellowed, “Take them now!”
All nine bandits lunged toward them at the same moment, blades raised.
Reflex forced Aron to sweep his sword in a low arc, but the man nearest to him blocked the blow so completely it nearly jarred the weapon out of Aron’s grip. His hand clenched on the hilt, then burned from the impact. Before he could recover, fingers dug at him. The men pawed and grabbed, snatching at his legs, his shoulders, his elbows. Aron slashed and struck with his sword and fist, but the men wrestled him to the byway dirt and tore the hilt of his blade from his desperate grasp.
Dari screeched, sounding more angry than afraid. Fury blasted through Aron and he fought his captors even harder, until he thought his muscles might burst. He had to get free. He had to help her!
With what little focus he could grasp, he tried to throw his essence through the Veil, and caught bits of what the outlaws were saying to each other, mind-to-mind.
Don’t allow it….
Hurt him if you have to….
Kill her; she’s not the one we’re hunting….
The bandits’ legacy conversation shifted to echoes.
“No!” Aron roared with all the force left in his lungs. “Leave her alone!”
He could see nothing but blurs and dashes of moonslight. Feel nothing but the crushing weight of bandits covering his body. One of the men stuffed his sleeve into Aron’s open mouth, choking him on salty, oily cloth even as he reached the