Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2

by K. F. Breene

  She kicked its sides again. The animal jolted forward suddenly. Shanti barely grabbed hold of the saddle, crushing her bow to her chest, as she struggled to hold on. Laughing, Rohnan urged his horse after her.

  “They’re both crazy,” Marc said as he leaned forward to get his horse moving.

  “Crazy is good, boy. Crazy gets things done.” Sanders’ horse started forward.

  “It’ll be okay, Marc,” Xavier echoed Rohnan in a low tone as he kicked his horse forward. His voice was shaking. “S’am is the best, and Rohnan seems almost as good. We have Commander Sanders, too. They’ll get us through.”

  Marc nodded as terrified tears welled up in his eyes. He kicked his horse, following the others. He wouldn’t let Shanti—S’am—down. He would do his part, to protect his city.

  “I wish she gave us that boost where we don’t feel anything,” Marc mumbled.

  “She had to save her strength. It’s okay. We don’t need it.” Xavier said.

  Confidence low but determination high, Marc followed the group as they started with a trot. When they cleared the entrance to the city, the gates shuddered into action, closing behind them. Locking them out along with the enemy.

  Marc’s adrenaline rose as they started to pick up the pace. The horses neighed and huffed, in response to the tension of the riders. The sentries nodded or saluted as the eight passed. Marc noticed them shifting, adjusting their bows. The sentries would be the first line of defense if the enemy came toward the city.

  Their speed increased. The trees flashed by and the ground shook within his vision. S’am’s long braid swung back and forth on her back. Rohnan’s white-blond hair flared in the wind. The horses started to pant. And then S’am grunted and leaned forward.

  “They’re strong!” she yelled at Rohnan. Marc could barely hear her voice over the pounding of the hooves as the wind tried to steal her words. “Each at about three-fourths power level of mine!”

  “Can you hold them until we close?” Rohnan yelled back.

  “Get your arrows nocked!” Sanders yelled. Somehow his voice cut through the air and vibrated down Marc’s back.

  Marc’s teeth chattered from the horse’s jarring strides. He found himself nocking a hasty arrow even though he couldn’t hit a tree from fifty paces away. Still, he had to try. They all did.

  “Spread out,” Sanders yelled. “Don’t kill the person in front of you.”

  Marc urged his horse to the right, toward Sanders. Xavier and Rachie did the same, wanting to stay in earshot.

  “Faster!” S’am’s words whipped out of her mouth and swirled behind her. Marc caught them, though, and leaned forward. His horse put on a burst of speed, as did the others.

  But S’am’s took off. One minute, she was bouncing all around her saddle. The next, she was flying in front of them smoothly on a horse that defied nature’s constraints with speed. Rohnan urged an almost equally fast horse after her.

  “C’mon!” Sanders roared. He kicked his warhorse.

  The thunder of the animals, and the wind slapping Marc in the face, had his heart hammering and palms sweaty. Then he saw them. A line. Ten of them, all but two with black shirts and red circles. The one in the middle sat astride a spectacular shiny black horse. Those to the sides of him had no circles on their chest.

  “Aim for the Sarshers!” Sanders ordered.

  Marc barely heard. Or maybe he didn’t hear and it was a memory.

  His mind went blank except for the sound of his thumping heart. His horse found a clear lane and ran. Ran with all it had. Straight at the line of men on their tall steeds. All with flashing swords. Two with bows.

  Shanti loosed an arrow. Usually an excellent shot, this time the shot went wide. It hit the man next to one of the Sarshers. The arrow stuck in his arm and his own shot went wide, barely missing Xavier who had found himself on the end of the line.

  Rohnan loosed. Then ducked. His arrow stuck into the chest of one of the Sarshers as an arrow whizzed over his head. Shanti slumped in her saddle ahead of them. She was still running directly at the enemy.

  “Get those Sarshers! They’re too strong for her!” Sanders screamed. He loosed, nocked, loosed, nocked, loosed. Over and over. Fast and expert. No fear. The enemy was on the move. Their horses running, making them harder to hit.

  Bouncing around, Marc had trouble nocking his arrow. When he did, he raised his bow and drew the string to fire at the man directly in front of him. S’am was headed toward the same man at an angle.

  Breath coming in hoarse pants, Marc pulled his arm back and tried to sight his arrow. The horse jostled him, making him struggle. His vision jiggled. He could barely focus on the shaking figure in front of him. He loosed the arrow. It sailed high over the enemy.

  Marc swore under his breath and grabbed another. The figure ahead was raising his own bow, aiming for S’am. She wasn’t aiming back, though! She looked like she tried to straighten up, but she seemed strained. Those Sarshers had clearly taken a lot out of her.

  Panic shot through Marc.

  He sighted again, closer now. The tip of his arrow waved through the air. His bow as steady as a boat in huge swells. His body bounced frantically on the horse. Marc could see the Hunter’s blank face, perfectly composed. No passion, like Sanders. No determination, like Tobias or Rachie. No fear at all. His arm pulled back as the last Sarsher fell from his saddle.

  Shanti tried to raise her bow, but Marc had seen her this depleted before. She was close to passing out. She’d be easy prey, then.

  Sweat dripped into Marc’s eye, stinging. Without the time to wipe it away, he closed that eye and used the other to sight. The Hunter’s arm pulled back. Adrenaline spiked within Marc. He let go of the bowstring. His arrow made a thummmm sound and was gone.

  The Hunter flinched back as S’am drew closer. His arm jerked, releasing the arrow into the ground, before the bow tumbled down the horse’s flank.

  I did it!

  Marc had shot him in the shoulder!

  S’am thundered down on top of the enemy, not in control of her horse. Rather than fighting the animal, though, she dropped her bow and ripped her sword from its sheath. The blade glinted in the failing light, wobbling at the end of a weak arm. She had nothing left.

  “Run away, S’am!” Marc screamed, trying to nock another arrow.

  With something Marc could only describe as an un-horselike war-cry, her horse rammed into the Hunter’s own mount. The Hunter’s horse bucked wildly. The Hunter, agile on his animal, still had to grip the reins and held on.

  S’am’s horse didn’t relent. It screamed again, this time turning its rump to the other animal before kicking the Hunter’s horse with a powerful strike.

  The Hunter’s horse screamed in response, a sound filled with pain and agony, jarring the Hunter as it lurched.

  Only then did S’am’s horse finally run on, with S’am clutching frantically to its back.

  Marc’s horse, much slower, kept its same course, still running at the Hunter.

  “Oh no! No, no, no!” Marc yelled, trying to turn his horse.

  Too late. Marc’s horse ran right by. The Hunter, still looking majestic on his injured, baying animal, turned his head to watch Marc pass. His arm hung limp at his side, Marc’s arrow still lodged in his shoulder. A cold, hard stare, devoid of any pain or emotion, hit Marc like a brick to the face. Dead eyes sliced through Marc’s body all the way down until it tingled his toes. He could feel that stare promising retribution; promising a life of agony to himself and his family. That stare promised far worse than mere death; it promised that the Hunter would remember Marc’s face and add him to the list of prey.

  Shaking, hands numb, Marc lost all sense of direction. He didn’t know where his horse went. He didn’t notice where everyone else was or even look around to see if there had been any casualties. He just stared straight ahead with the memory of that look echoing through his body and burning his bones.

  He’d never been so terrified in his whole life,
and he knew, without a doubt, that it would never go away. Neither would that Hunter.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shanti was so tired she could barely feel her body. Limbs plagued with a tremor she couldn’t control, numb feet, eyelids coated with iron and trying to lock shut—she was a mess. Even her horse was spent. The animal’s sides heaved, its breath puffing white through the chilled air.

  All eight fighters had escaped with their lives. Tobias had sustained a gash on his leg from a sword that wouldn’t be too big of a deal, and Jaime, a man Shanti barely knew, had taken an arrow to his left arm. The arrow had barely sliced into the flesh just below his shoulder before it fell away, the barb not sticking, but the wound would hinder him. Marc could patch him up, but he’d need rest to make a full recovery, something he wouldn’t get. He’d just have to make do.

  Cayan’s crew had already arrived by the time the horses walked into the designated meeting point. As they neared the other horses, Shanti slumped even further into her saddle, almost lying on the neck of her horse.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Cayan stalked up with decisive movements to accompany his harsh tone. “Is she hurt?”

  “The Sarshers strong. Very strong. Strongest we have seen. They nearly overcome her.” Rohnan slid to the ground as Cayan came to the side of her horse.

  Shanti felt his hands slide around her middle gently, careful not to jostle her.

  “I’m fine, Cayan.” She feebly pushed at his unyielding arms. His hands hooked around her waist and upper shoulder before sliding her over the side of her horse. As her balance tipped, she clutched onto him with numbed arms. Her legs dangled as he hoisted her like a child and cradled her next to his body.

  “It’s a good thing you treat me like your equal and let me walk on my own,” she muttered, focusing all her power on not dropping her head to his shoulder.

  “You’d just fall down. You’re a woman—letting you crawl toward the fire would make me look bad,” Cayan said softly.

  “Oh great. Look after your reputation.”

  “What happened?”

  Shanti pushed through the tired fog of her brain, ignoring the spicy feeling of their mated power bubbling up, to the quick skirmish with the Hunter. “He couldn’t have meant to sacrifice those Sarshers. They were incredibly strong for Inkna. Xandre won’t be happy we took them out.”

  “Rohnan couldn’t help?” Cayan walked up to a roaring fire surrounded by stones to keep the blaze contained. Somewhere close the smell of cooking wafted up and flirted with Shanti’s senses.

  “His Gift doesn’t work like that. He can give me some power and energy, but his Gift is all receptive. When Burson masked your power, it mostly cut me off from you, and then there was the distance. I had a hard time blocking their attack.”

  Her head felt like it was full of water, heavy and slow-moving. Cayan’s warmth, and the strength of his arms surrounding her, made her eyelids droop in fatigue. Her arms tightened around his neck as the thought of sleep, cradled in warmth in safety, stole her focus.

  Her scoff had her eyes fluttering open again. Safety, what a pleasant fantasy. “Put me down, Cayan. I’m not a toddler.”

  “Act like toddler,” Rohnan said, standing close—probably monitoring Cayan’s hold. Regardless of what Shanti had said, Rohnan still didn’t trust Cayan’s motives.

  Shanti sighed as she was set on soft furs near the fire. Cayan’s people always did everything to extremes, including comfort. In the future, it would just eat time, but for right now, she was thankful. “Marc saved the day. It was his shot that prevented the Hunter from finding his mark.”

  “And everyone else? Tobias is limping slightly and Jaime is grim…” Cayan said, straightening.

  “I’m good, sir. Just a cut. Marc said he can put some salve on it,” Tobias called from behind them.

  “Marc will see to me as well.” Jaime’s voice held strain. Shanti knew that he was trying to ignore the pain.

  She sat with a hunched back as the warmth from the fire seeped into her skin. Burson sat opposite her poring over a map. Gracas and Leilius stared at her with solemn eyes and thin lips. Leilius had seen action before, but she knew it scared him when he thought about it for any length of time. This was the first time for Gracas, and though he’d probably start to love the excitement, the first plunge had left him in quiet contemplation.

  Or maybe it was just being in the vicinity of the Captain. It was hard to say with the spirited youth.

  The rest of Cayan’s group must’ve been at the small fire on the other side of a line of trees. She could see the glow and the shadows of men, but she was too far away to make them out. Rohnan was seated beside her. He put his hands near the fire and rubbed them together.

  “The Hunter?” Cayan asked, finally sitting down.

  “Alive. Wounded, but not terminal.” Shanti looked at Cayan. Dressed in a barely creased blue shirt and pants, he sat tall and firm, like he hadn’t just fought his way out of his city. “His men ran at us in perfect formation, herding me into the center while the others were shepherded out. Marc happened to be right behind me, or I would’ve been left alone. He is… cunning. An excellent tactician,” she shook her head. “He worries me.”

  “Do you think he’ll follow?” Cayan asked with tight eyes. He worried about his city—about leaving it unprotected.

  “Yes,” Shanti said with certainty. “We killed those two Sarshers, and taunted the Hunter. He’ll come after us. He won’t worry about your city, not yet. There’s nothing there for him.”

  A vein throbbed in Cayan’s jaw, but he said nothing as he turned his gaze to the fire.

  “Did you kill all your Sarshers?” she asked.

  “Of course. The two stationed on the sides, as well. They chased us, so Tepson and I hung back to dispatch them with our bows. All the Sarshers are accounted for.”

  “And you weren’t followed?”

  A small smile twisted Cayan’s lips. The fire danced in his eyes. “You’re the only one who left anyone alive.”

  Shanti couldn’t help her huff as she turned back to the fire. “I’d like to see you kill one of the elite while combating two huge powers and trying to hang onto an insane horse who would rather stop and kick another horse than run on out of danger.”

  “S’am’s horse was vicious!” Rachie laughed as he sauntered up to the fire. “Gracas, I did it! I showed up Tobias, and I did my part!” He sat next to the other members of the Honor Guard with a goofy grin.

  Xavier walked into the firelight next with a smug swagger of his own. His eyes took in who else was sitting around the blaze. As soon as he noticed the Captain, his walk straightened and his shoulders hunched. He quietly sank down next to the others with a bowed head. Rachie, having noticed the same thing, albeit belatedly, snapped his mouth shut. All the boys’ eyes found the flickering flames.

  Shanti rolled her eyes—she’d never understood the deference the boys showed, but she’d learned to ignore it for the most part. She turned to Cayan, “I need energy. You can provide it. This will be your first lesson because you are way behind.”

  “I will monitor,” Rohnan murmured, scooting closer and putting a hand on Shanti’s neck.

  Shanti jumped and shied away. “Rohnan! Get that block of ice off me. Warm it up, first!”

  “Do we get lessons, too, S’am?” Gracas asked. Leilius elbowed him before pointedly looking back at the fire. Gracas scowled and looked at his attacker, not understanding the abuse.

  “Yes, but not tonight,” Shanti answered. “We have a long journey ahead of us. In the lulls, I’ll help train you boys, as will the others.”

  “To which others are you referring?” Tobias dropped a saddle away from the fire. The light flickered shadows along the indents of his face. Sanders dropped another saddle next to him.

  “Why didn’t you have the Honor Guard look after the horses?” Cayan asked Sanders with a hard stare.

  “Figured I’d let them get used to battle, first. They’ve go
t their adrenaline up right now, but when their heads start replaying events, they won’t be so keyed up.” Sanders walked over to a tree behind Daniels and Burson and leaned back. He bit into an apple.

  Cayan’s gaze followed him. “That’s the best time to keep busy.”

  “Yes, sir. I also wanted to look over the animals myself, to see if any were hurt. Two have shallow scrapes. A little blood, but nothing too bad. One was Shanti’s horse. That thing has great breeding. Fast as lightning, muscular, seems fearless—I’d bet it was intended for a war horse but fell short with its attitude. I’ve never seen a finer horse—never in my life, sir. Mean as the blazes, though—thing tried to bite me! Rohnan’s horse is nearly there. Good stock. And that Hunter’s horse was sure a pretty thing with the added bonus of following its master’s command. We can learn a thing or two, there. The Duke would be buying our stock.”

  “Always hearing gold coins jingling, huh Sanders?” Tobias smirked as he took up position at the tree next to Sanders’. He let his good leg take most of his weight. Marc was probably working on Jaime.

  Sanders grunted. “When I see something worth seeing, I remember it.”

  “If we have the opportunity, we’ll try to… acquire more,” Cayan said.

  Shanti and Rohnan both started to laugh. Shanti said, “Steal more. Just say it. If you get the chance, you’ll steal more.”

  Tobias started to chuckle. “Let the blondes do it. They seem to have had practice.”

  “I do. Much,” Rohnan said. He placed his fire-warmed hand on Shanti’s skin.

  Shanti met Cayan’s eyes. “Okay, we need to start. Are you ready?”

  The dancing humor drained from Cayan’s gaze. He shifted so he faced her and flipped his hand so their palms were touching. Shanti sucked in a breath as his fingers entwined between hers. Electricity spread throughout her body. Warmth pooled in her core.

  “You allow so intimate a hold with him?” Rohnan asked in a murmur.

  “He fears losing control. This makes him feel more grounded. And since I’ve already relived the horrors of feeling this hold again, I’m immune to it now. Surely you can feel the comfort he radiates when he does it?”