“Stay calm,” Amias said. “They may not harm us if—”
Two arrows lanced the ground before their feet.
“You were saying?” Colt said, making no attempt to lower his bow.
From the trees, four men jumped down and surrounded them. They were clad in dark clothes covered with green plants. Two of them wielded bows bigger than Colt’s, while the other two brandished an axe and hammer respectively.
Owen watched as the men surrounded them, closing them in. A tall, lanky-looking man with a rough looking axe strode casually up to them and cocked his head at Amias. “You look far from home,” he said. “Just strolling through our wood, are you?”
“Your wood?” Colt chuckled.
The tall man glanced at Colt. “Yes, and if you expect to get any further, you’ll pay up what you have.”
A shorter man dressed in patches of green moss came up beside him. “Can’t we just eat them? They’d make a good meal.”
The tall man pointed at Owen, who stood in the middle. “That one’s too thin. Better feed him some nuts and berries first.”
“I’ll feed you some fucking nuts,” Colt piped up.
“What’d you say there, now?” the tall man asked.
“Keep talking and I might just sever a body part and shove it down your throat.”
The tall man drew back in mock offense as his men broke out in boisterous laughter.
“We’re only passing through,” Amias said. “We mean you no harm.”
“No one just ‘passes through’ Birchwood without a reason.” The tall man rubbed at his stubbly face thoughtfully. “You must be running from someone.”
Amias raised his chin. “Perhaps you could take us through the forest? We wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“Oh, of course, we can point you in some direction, I suppose. We can work out a deal.”
“Thieves don’t take payments,” Colt spat.
The others laughed, and the tall man smiled. “You’re right. We’ll be taking those weapons now.”
Colt’s jaw tightened. His hand went for the blade sheathed on his belt.
Amias cast a stern glance at him. “There are four of them and three of us,” he hissed.
When Colt hesitated, Owen swallowed hard.
“You too, lad,” the tall man said to Owen. “Hand that dagger over.”
When Owen unbuckled his sheath, he glanced at the man. He was tall, with blue eyes set against a dirty, bearded face that looked as though it had seen much sorrow. Owen smelled the pine that was his aura until he could taste it.
This was not a man who killed innocents. Owen’s journey had just begun, and he would not let this man stand in his way with empty threats.
Shaking his head, Owen took a step back. “Even if you take our weapons, we’re still going through the forest.”
The tall man raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose we can’t stop you, though I don’t recommend it with no food or weapons.”
“I’m not going back.” Owen gripped his sheath in his hands, ignoring the glaring look that he could feel coming from Amias.
A burly, scar-faced man laughed. “It’s your death, lad. Now give me that dagger.”
“No.” Owen released his weapon from the sheath and tightened his fingers around the hilt, making the man hesitate, his lips in a deep frown. “I am going through this forest.” His voice was firm. “And I’m not going without all my things.”
The scarred man growled. Lurching forward, he shoved Owen to the ground, knocking his weapon from his hand.
“Easy, Harv,” the tall man said, picking up the blade from the leaves. “He’s just a lad.” He held a hand out to Owen, but Owen refused the man’s help.
“I swear you’re goin’ soft, Brom,” Harv muttered. “It’s like you—”
Before Harv could get in another word, Colt’s arm flew out and he punched the man in the face.
Owen quickly got to his feet, watching in shock as Colt tackled Harv to the ground. Colt straddled him and rained his fists down on his face.
“Enough!” shouted the tall man—Brom.
The other two men with them grabbed Colt and threw him off. Harv grunted, blood pooling into his mouth from his busted lip and nose.
Brom stood with his hands on his hips. “Pathetic, Harv. This is embarrassing. Who let you come along with us?” He looked around at his men, who pointed back at him.
“Right,” Colt started, gripping the hilt of his weapon. Amias stood behind them, inching toward the river. “I’ll fight you all single-handed if I have to.”
Brom smiled crookedly amid his companions’ chuckles. “Is that so? Well, it seems you have a head start. Surely you wouldn’t mind if I took the time to unearth my own weapon.”
Colt stepped back and squinted his eyes.
“You don’t have to fight,” Owen intervened.
“Yes, we do.” Colt did not remove his eyes from Brom, who stood poised with his weapon in hand; the handle was long, with bands of leather wrapped around the parts Brom gripped. At the end, two thick, sharp pieces of steel jutted out from the head of the axe. On the top lay another triangular piece of steel that looked as though he had added them onto the weapon.
Looking from Brom’s axe to Colt’s blade, Owen gulped. His companion’s weapon was smaller, clearly made for up-close attacks. The steel was as long as his forearm, curving slightly upward. The edge was smooth at the tip as it curved, but the rest of the steel was serrated. It looked more designed for bush cutting than for fighting.
There is no way Colt can defeat him with that.
And yet, as the two men began their fight, Colt seemed to gain the upper hand with quick moves and strength. Every time Brom swung at him, Colt caught the handle within one of the ridges before shoving him away.
He’s very strong, Owen thought. He noticed that Colt spent more time calculating Brom’s moves than he did fighting, while Brom tired himself by attacking.
The other men watched with serious eyes. At one point, a heavyset man holding a large hammer winced and called out, “There’s no need to keep on, Brom! You’ve both proven your point.”
“Shut up!” Another man shoved him with his elbow.
Brom’s and Colt’s blades clashed, and for a moment they seemed stuck in a glare.
“He’s right, you know,” Colt said between his teeth. “You can drop the superiority act any time. I don’t mind.”
With a growl, Brom pushed Colt away so hard, he stumbled back.
Owen was watching the scene with intensity. But as the men stood there, close to restarting again, something dark moved within the trees. There, only twenty feet away from them, a wolf-like creature growled, its eyes glowing yellow like the Outrider’s before.
When Owen backed away slowly, Amias looked at him. “What is it?”
“There, in the trees,” Owen whispered.
The animal’s sudden snarl broke Brom and Colt apart. The other men backed away, weapons in hand as the animal walked into their circle, its head lowered, baring its yellow teeth.
“Well, this really puts a damper on things,” Brom stated.
“What do you mean?” Harv started. “There’re seven of us and one of it. Let’s kill the bloke and be on with it.”
Owen’s heart pounded as he watched Brom’s men make their way forward. While one of them distracted the animal, Brom rushed forward with his axe. He pulled back his arm and swung at its neck, but the blade rebounded back with a sharp ping, throwing Brom to the ground.
The other men stood back, calculating their next move. The animal was much larger than any normal wolf Owen had ever seen. Despite being told the Outrider was not overtly aggressive, it looked ready to kill, almost rabid as it snarled and snapped at them.
Amias whistled from nearby, diverting the animal’s attention.
Distracted, the Outrider turned toward him. It straightened its back as it neared him, giving up its guard.
The rest of the men all cornered the beast from
behind.
Taking a deep breath, Owen waited for the moment to strike. He crouched down, preparing to pounce on its back, but the Outrider broke away from Amias and turned on him. It slashed at Owen’s shoulder with its claws, making him fall.
Blood soaked through his sleeve as he clasped at the deep gash. The beast growled as one of the others swung another hammer against its back. The Outrider turned on one man and sunk its teeth into his leg. The man let out a scream as the wolf’s jaw clamped down hard.
Owen’s heart pounded in his skull. His shoulder throbbed, but it was nowhere near as painful as what he imagined the man felt between the sharp teeth of the Outrider. With shaking hands, Owen stood, huffing to catch his breath, and slowly neared the creature.
Something within him tingled like fire, running like a river through his veins. He took advantage of the Outrider’s dropped guard and held up his hand. A spiral of something he could only describe as power flowed from his palm. An invisible force held the Outrider in place as anger took hold of him.
Lunging forward, Owen took up the dagger and jammed it into the beast’s neck, where it tore through thick muscle before puncturing hard metal. Energy flowed from the Core within the wolf, and the lines on the blade came to life with a yellow hue. Power hummed through the weapon, making Owen’s body vibrate. With one quick pull he yanked out the Core, and the animal fell limp to the ground.
Brom’s men pried open the jaw and removed the man’s leg, which was so badly mauled that it looked nearly severed. They tended to it promptly, Brom shouting for someone to fetch a tourniquet and ale.
A shock ran through Owen. He could do little more than watch the man seething in pain, his eyes distant and his mind in a fog. He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name as the man writhed on the ground. What would have happened to him had the dagger not worked?
He jumped when someone grabbed his good shoulder.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Amias cried. “Get your coat off. You’re bleeding through your clothes!”
“I’m fine.”
“Owen, you are not fine. Take it off.”
Amias helped him with his coat and shirt. The Outrider’s claws had ripped enough fabric and skin to gash his shoulder deeply. The wounds throbbed more as his adrenaline faded.
He sat on a boulder and let Amias rip the sleeve until his bloodied shoulder was exposed to the open air.
Colt came up beside them and handed Amias a long piece of cloth. “All right, mate?” he asked.
Owen sucked in a breath and held back his pain, his body tense as he tried to keep his face straight. “It’s nothing,” he got out. He glanced at the man lying on the ground, his leg wrapped in shredded rags and tied at the top of his thigh. “Nothing compared to his.”
Though the sting tore through his shoulder, burning, he tried his best to mask how he felt as Amias secured a cloth around his arm.
“It’ll need stitching, but for now it’s bound. Here, drink some of this.” Amias offered Owen a waterskin of bitter ale.
He made a face upon his first gulp, but he pushed it down and took a few more. He gasped, hoping the pain would dull from it soon.
“Come on, mate. Up you go,” Colt said, grabbing him by his good arm and helping him to his feet. “Chugging like that, I’ll have to buy you a drink at the next tavern we come across, yeah?”
“How about a bed first?” Owen put a hand to his head as he stood, his body drained and his mind weary from the attack.
“Aye,” Brom replied. He took a breath and looked at his men before he said, “Our camp is not far. We can patch you up there. I believe you’ve earned your stay with us.”
“Does this mean we have a draw?” Colt spread his arms out and raised his eyebrows.
Brom put a hand out and nodded. “We can just put it on hold for now. And had I known he’s Astran, I wouldn’t have given you so much trouble. Any Astran is a friend of mine.”
Colt’s arms plopped to his side. “Well, that would have been nice to know up front, yeah?”
“But can we trust you?” Amias asked.
Brom nodded. “That is your decision. You can go with us across the river, or you can go your own way.”
Owen opened his mind to get an inkling of the man’s energy. Pine flooded his senses, a pleasant thing that gave him hope, and he knew by the smile on the man’s face that he was sincere.
Then there were the others to consider, too. The heavy-set man held the color of yellow, and the injured one smelled of musk—not particularly bad, but not good. The one named Harv was nothing more than rotting fruit. Owen did not know what to make of him, but he knew he did not like the man.
When Brom signaled his men to move forward, two of them pulled the injured man up and carried him across the river.
“I suppose it’s good they have no qualms with Astran folk,” Amias muttered.
“Well, at least we’re on their good side now.” Colt popped his neck.
“Thanks to me,” Owen said, smirking.
“Right, suppose you are to thank for that.” Colt shrugged. “Guess you did all right with the Outrider, as well.” Owen held his chin up. “For a novice.”
Owen narrowed his eyes and held up the fist on his good arm, but instead Colt bumped it lightly with his own. It was not what Owen had intended, but he laughed at the gesture. They fell in line with the group, leaving the strange Outrider behind to rust.
Chapter 10
The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and crickets. Rain fell in spurts, and a light mist drifted through the trees. Owen was glad for the cool air. He was tired since the events of the Outrider attack, but the group’s quick pace toward their camp gave him hope that they would rest soon.
His side ached as they ascended a hill. Rocks and boulders aided his climb, but the ground was slippery with wet leaves, and he tripped several times. His injured shoulder throbbed under the bandage. When they reached the top of the hill, they all paused a moment to catch their breath.
“Just up ahead,” Brom panted.
Owen’s whole body was shaking, his arms vibrating as the sting tore through his shoulder. He tried to hide the fact that he was spent from climbing, until he saw how worn out the other men looked.
When a man’s voice carried through the trees in the distance, Brom shouted back in answer. A moment later, Brom signaled them forward and the group was off again.
Owen did not know what to expect from camping with these men. Coming down the other side of the hill, he passed a few wooden posts, and saw a small fire burning. The camp was small, with about four tents made from branches, leaves, and straw, and another surrounded with sheepskin.
As they came forward with the injured man, a blond-haired man ran up to them.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A run-in with an Outrider,” Brom replied. “It nearly took off Doran’s leg.” He turned to the heavy-set man, Joren, and Harv, who had helped carry the man. “Lay him on his pallet and get him patched up.”
“Who are they?” the stranger asked, nodding at Owen.
“Some stragglers who helped us. Don’t worry, Tobias, they’re trustworthy. I’ll take them to my tent.”
When they stopped near the biggest tent, Brom entered first and waved them in. The inside was dark, but Owen could make out a small table. A pallet of blankets lay on the ground.
“Mind your step,” Brom said, lighting a lantern that brightened the small area. “That’ll be your sleeping spot tonight.”
Illuminated by the light were a few pots and pans to the side, as well as a few full sacks and knapsacks.
“We thank you for your hospitality,” Amias said, sitting on the ground with a heavy sigh.
“You helped defeat the Outrider. It’s the least I can do. Here, sit down, Owen. I’ll patch up that wound.”
Owen cut his eyes up at Brom, who inspected his sleeve. Being this close to him, Owen noted his dark unkempt hair and beard held no gray in them. He looked to be in his
early thirties, perhaps younger if not for the circles under his eyes and the scar on his forehead that disappeared into his hairline.
“Are we safe here?” Amias asked.
“For the moment. We move often. We’ve been hiding within the forest here for a few weeks.”
Colt crossed his arms and stared at Brom. “Oh, yeah? Hiding from who?”
“Does it matter?”
“If we’re going to be staying in your camp, I’d say it does.”
“A few others we used to run with. That’s all you need to know.” Brom nodded at Owen. “You’ll need to take the shirt off. It’ll require a few stitches.”
With Amias’s help, Owen tugged off his shirt and settled back in the chair with a sigh. The claw marks on his arm were warm, but the bleeding had stopped. He looked away and winced.
“I’ll clean it first,” Brom said. “I’ll be back with some water.” He left promptly, leaving the three of them alone.
“You trust him?” Colt asked, his face leery.
Amias nodded hesitantly. “We need all the help we can get, and right now he’s doing us a favor.”
“Right. And for all we know, they could have stabbed their last mates in the back. Could even be working for the Legion.”
“They helped us kill an Outrider,” Owen said. “Why would they be Legion?”
“The Legion will do anything to find Astrans,” Colt muttered.
“I thought you didn’t care.”
Colt screwed up his face. “I don’t.”
“Look,” Amias broke in. “We don’t have to give him details of our journey, and he doesn’t seem keen giving us any either, but we have to put some amount of trust in him. We could use some provisions and rest out of the cold.”
As soon as Brom came back, they all went quiet. “Ah, here we are.” He set a bowl of water on the table and gave Owen a jug of liquid.
He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose.
“It’ll help if you drink it,” Brom said. “It’s a brew Joren concocted. Should take the edge off.”
With a sigh, Owen took a gulp of the drink. It burned as it went down his throat, leaving a spicy, cinnamon-like aftertaste that he did not enjoy.
Beyond the Core (The Starborn Series Book 1) Page 11
