Shade stymied the lightstone’s illumination in thick, impenetrable black blankets, except several feet from Ryne. There, the shade dissipated as if the light gobbled it up. Outside that area, shade essence sat unmoving among all others like dead weight, and these men used it to creep closer to their quarry without a sound. It appeared as if they walked on shadows.
Irmina shifted her gaze to Ryne. The giant man appeared unperturbed, the odd tattoos on his arms and the artwork drawn all over his leather armor glinting with the moonlight. He held no power from what she could tell, and yet he stood with quiet confidence as the men approached. He neither moved nor looked in any particular direction, and his oversized sword still rested in its scabbard.
Strangely, Silvereyes was nowhere to be seen.
The bandits on the hollow’s far side sneaked close enough that with a few strides they could attack. Ryne still didn’t move. Within the open space, they would surround him with ease.
Heart racing, Irmina took a deep breath. She’d never failed to carry out her orders before, and she intended on maintaining her reputation for success. Without her help, Ryne wouldn’t survive. She edged backward from the hilltop.
As she retreated, still facing the slope’s crest, the sound of clashing steel and muted, choked off cries rose from the hollow. Light bloomed from below, illuminating the night air. The essence washed out the shade. White images burnt across her vision before they faded. The sheer force of the power sent a tingle through her body as she remembered what she’d seen and felt Ryne do in the Fretian Woods.
Turning, she scrambled the rest of the way down and signaled to Misty with a single low trill, this time two wavering tones. The dartan ambled to her without a sound. She swung up onto Misty’s back and took her bow from next to the big saddle. Her hand touched the reassuring hilt of her longsword.
Battle sounds continued to surge. Then, as abruptly as they began, they stopped.
No, he mustn’t die. No. She urged Misty toward the hilltop. As they topped the rise, three trills undulating from low to high to low in a bird like song, left her lips.
Misty charged.
Irmina’s gaze flitted to the clearing, and she pulled back hard on her reins. The dartan reared to a halt with its two front feet in the air, shale and slate kicking up. Irmina gaped at the scene below her.
Ryne sauntered to the center of the clearing with his sword still sheathed. The ten men lay dead in the clearing. Each corpse lacked a head.
Ten men.
He’d defeated ten men in minutes and walked as if he was out on a leisurely stroll. Irmina snapped her mouth closed.
In each hand, Ryne carried a shaded divya. One by one, he dropped them to the ground at the middle of the clearing. He turned, his gaze rose to her, and his sword left its scabbard with a move her eyes couldn’t follow. Near blinding light flashed around the weapon. She gasped and covered her eyes.
The clang of steel on steel rang in the air. She dropped her hand from her eyes. His sword, covered in smooth light essences, rose and fell, shattering each divya. The light winked out when he finished. Another indiscernible motion followed, and his sword appeared in its scabbard once more.
“My master wishes for you to go to him,” said a soft voice behind her like ice trailing along her skin.
Irmina turned slowly, keeping her reins steady so Misty wouldn’t panic. Dressed in a long, dark Felani jacket and matching trousers, Silvereyes stood next to her. His face was all hard planes and angles, and his sandy hair was longer than she remembered. He appeared taller also. Locking gazes with her, he smiled, the expression one that could curdle milk. Her hand tightened on her bow.
“My name is Sakari. I mean you no harm.” He ignored her and glided noiselessly down the hill, his feet appearing not to touch the shale.
Irmina squinted at the places he stepped, but saw no sign of him using shade to move. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting from Sakari to Ryne.
“It’s not safe out there,” Ryne called, in a voice that rumbled like a slow peal of thunder, yet clear and distinct.
The grunting bark she heard earlier echoed again, but this time from more than one direction. She peered around but saw nothing. The barks came again, this time tickling some familiarity at the back of her mind.
Lines creasing her forehead in a tight frown, she trilled once to Misty and sent her down the slope. They weaved their way past the dead trees and dry brush to the two men. As they passed the corpses, the cloying smell of blood hung thick in the air. Misty tried to reach her neck out to the fresh meat, but Irmina pulled her away. She stopped a few feet from the men, replaced her bow next to the saddle, but didn’t dismount. Broken divya glinted near where Ryne stood.
Close up, Ryne was even more formidable than he appeared from a distance. She barely reached past his midsection, and he was as wide in the chest as Misty with slabs of banded muscle covering his arms like metal plastered over flesh. The tanned skin of his face and arms-the only places not covered by armor almost matching his skin color-shone. His head actually reached past Misty’s withers by a good two feet. He kicked away the splintered divya, his leather armor shifting as if molded to him when he moved. This close, she couldn’t see a place on the armor that wasn’t covered by intricate artwork matching the tattoos on his skin. Black hair in a single thick braid, and tied with a string, hung to the middle of his back. Scars streaking from his left ear to his chin marred the sculptured planes of his face.
He whistled and his dartan trotted out from amongst the trees to him. The blue and green creature stood several hands taller than Misty. The lightstone dimmed, its Mater waning.
“How did you manage that?” She pointed at the ten corpses.
He shrugged. “I was faster than them.”
She eyed his massive frame, but a picture of him moving with the speed needed to kill ten men in a straight fight wouldn’t form. Sure, she’d seen him run across the Orchid Plains, but such speed was nothing compared to what would be needed to kill these men. Sakari must have helped. Or maybe Ryne was an Ashishin. But that didn’t make sense either. She wouldn’t be here if he was one of the Tribunal’s Matii.
“Didn’t Varick tell you I might kill you if you came close to me without my permission?” Ryne’s cold, emerald eyes shone with the moonlight.
“Your bodyguard just told me to come to you.” She eased her hand to her sword.
“I would not do that. My master does not like threats.” Sakari’s voice and eyes were lifeless pools.
“Yes. He did ask you to come to me, didn’t he?” Ryne’s white teeth showed in a humorless smile. “You’ve followed me all the way from Carnas to here. Tell me, Mariel, are you an Ashishin?”
For a moment, she considered lying to him. But his mention of Varick bothered her. Had he told Ryne her identity? Ryne’s head cocked to one side as he waited, but neither his eyes or his relaxed posture gave away anything.
“Yes,” Irmina replied. “I am Ashishin Irmina Nagel.”
Ryne’s eyes became cold pits of ice. “Good. If you’d lied to me, I would’ve killed you for sure. Now it seems as if you do have some sense in you. I wondered if you did when you decided to chase after ten Alzari in the employ of Amuni’s Children.” His eyes drifted to the corpses.
Irmina beat back the urge to suck in a breath, giving the bodies a level look instead. “I thought they were simple bandits. Besides I couldn’t sit by and let them kill you.”
Ryne shook with his sudden chuckle. “Even if it cost you your life?”