Siege (The Warrior Chronicles, #5) - K.F. Breene Page 0,36
never second-guess yourself.”
“I thought I saw a black shape, but…”
“And you think it was the cat?”
Alena shook her head, feeling that weird itch between her shoulder blades subside. “No, I don’t think so. I’m just jumpy, I think.”
“Okay…” The word was drawn out in a wishy-washy sort of voice. Leilius shrugged with one shoulder. “But if you think we should check it out…”
“We’d check it out?” An image of the man fighting Shanti last night flared in her memory. His sleek movements and inhuman speed paired with the glimmer on his blade. She sat back farther in her saddle. “It was probably nothing.”
A shout sounded somewhere in front of them, and then was answered off to the right.
Alena glanced back out through the gate. A man, his face half covered in black, stood next to the tree. Staring at her.
A zing of adrenaline zipped through her body. Her hair follicles tingled in fear. “Oh no!” Her hands jerked to the right of their own accord. Dragging her horse’s head toward him. Why? “Leilius. Quick. Help!”
“What? What’s happening?” Leilius spurred his horse and brought up his knife. “Where?”
The man took off at a run, immediately masked by the wall.
“There’s someone out there. One of those men!” Alena spurred her horse to the gate, but then stopped. “Should we follow? What should we do?”
The blood drained from Leilius’ face. “Not follow!” Fear coated each syllable. “Let’s get S’am.”
“What about the people watching the rear exit? They are completely exposed!”
Indecision froze Leilius’ movements. He stared at Alena with wide, fear-soaked eyes. Then his expression hardened up and his brow settled low. “We have to warn them. Let’s go!”
“What about S’am?” Alena said, spurring her horse forward.
“We don’t have time.”
“We’re supposed to think to communicate, remember?” Alena dug her heels into the horse’s sides.
“Don’t worry. I’m terrified. I’m communicating enough for the both of us.”
Lucius’ horse neighed. It shook its head, its ears flattening. A black shape slid under cover like a phantom. He sat forward in his saddle, focusing hard on that area. His hand held his sword in a painful grip.
A feline tail flicked before disappearing.
Lucius heaved a silent sigh.
He shook his head and walked his horse forward, hoping some distance from the predators would calm it. “We shouldn’t have those things around the horses in battle.”
Timken, a man Lucius had come to know quite well when the Graygual had taken over the city, squinted as he looked at the rear gate. They sat on the hillside overlooking this side of the city, taking down anyone trying to escape from within. “It’s hard to say. They were handy last night. They took down two men that would’ve escaped.”
“They’re useful, don’t get me wrong, but they don’t work well with the horses. The last thing you want is to be thrown before you even reach the battle.”
Timken spat. One of the women in front of him glanced back with a scowl.
Horses off to the right started neighing and stamping their feet. One danced left, having its relatively inexperienced rider clutching her reins. Lucius clicked, getting the horse walking. He made his way down the back of the line as two Graygual sprinted through the open gate. The archers were ready. Two arrows were loosed immediately, followed by three more. Four arrows stuck in the man closest, and one went wide, barely glancing the leg of the other. The first man sank to his knees as the other faltered, his hand going for his thigh. Two more arrows flew, sticking in his side and his arm. He stumbled, dropping to all fours, before rolling to his unharmed side.
“Should we go finish him off, sir?” Abigail, a middle-aged woman who Lucius had incorrectly assumed was shy and reserved, fingered her knives.
“He’s dying already, I think.” Lucius’ horse pranced and stomped the ground.
A black shape shook the foliage on the hill above them.
Lucius turned with his bow held up, waiting. The horse blew out a breath and pawed the ground.
A speck of black zipped further down the hillside but to the right, this cat moving off with the other.
Lucius sighed again, this time more audibly. He didn’t know what was worse—the cats or skilled Graygual. Both were unpredictable and deadly.
“You ladies need better communication,” Timken was saying, unaware of the danger behind him. “If you are this still and close, call out your man. Then hit your mark. There is no sense wasting all our arrows on the same man, or getting one but missing the