She pulled back the string, her hand shaking.
“Your elbow must be higher. And you must pull your fingers closer to your chin. Your chin should be lowered, your eyes are wavering. Choose one eye. Don’t overthink it. And don’t hold it so long-your hands will shake.”
Gwen let the arrow fly, and again the arrow grazed the target, although this time a bit closer to the center.
“There’s a strong wind today,” he said. “You must take that into account. Also, the ground you stand on is sloped. Both of those must be adjusted for. Finally, this bow you hoist is too heavy for you. That must be taken into account, too. To adjust, aim a little higher, and more to your right. And bend your knees just a little: they are locked. That will allow you to breathe. Breathe deep, and let it go as you reach the peak of your breath.”
Gwen did everything he instructed, and as she let this arrow fly, it felt different this time. She felt more in control.
There was the sound of the arrow striking the target, and she cried out in delight to see that she had hit a near perfect bull’s-eye.
Steffen smiled wide, too, and clapped his hands.
“My, you are a fast learner!” he said.
“You are a good teacher,” she answered, beaming, proud of herself.
Suddenly, beside them, Krohn started snarling. The hair stood up on his entire body, and he turned, watching the empty horizon, snarling.
“Krohn, what is it?” she asked.
Krohn continued to snarl and Steffen and Gwen exchanged a glance, wondering. Gwen started to become anxious about Krohn’s behavior. She had never seen him like this. Was he seeing something?
Suddenly there came a great rumbling, like thunder, and on the horizon, there appeared about a dozen horses, ridden by men in yellow and green armor. Her heart stopped, as she recognized it immediately: Nevaruns. She had assumed they were gone for good, after being chased away at the Hall of Arms. But apparently, they were sneaky. They had been waiting for their chance, waiting for a moment when she was not expecting it.
Now, they charged right for her.
Gwen was kicking herself; she had been so stupid. She should not have left herself vulnerable, alone in the hills like this, especially without her horse, a means of escape. Steffen had no horse either, and they were stuck, helpless, nothing for them to do but wait for their approach. She suddenly wished that Thor was there, by her side, as her heart flooded with panic.
But her heart also flooded with strength, and she felt an indignity rise in her veins. After all, she was MacGil’s daughter, a King’s daughter, and she bore the pride of a King. Her father ran from no one, and neither would she.
Gwen heard a screech, and high up she spotted Estopheles, screeching, swooping down, circling; she felt her father with her.
“My lady, run!” Steffen screamed.
He stepped forward, snatched the bow from her hands, and faster than any archer she had seen in her life, he reached down and fired three quick shots as the group neared, now maybe thirty yards away.
Steffen’s aim was unbelievable. He hit three warriors, each with perfect precision, in their throats, at the base of their collarbones, the arrows going through one end and out the other. Each fell sideways off their horse, dead.
“Never!” Gwen screamed back.
At the same time, Gwen grabbed her bow and fired at the men, too. She missed her first shot. Then she remembered everything that Steffen had taught her. She tried to breathe, to relax. And as she took aim again and let the arrow fly, she was amazed to watch it sail and pierce a warrior in the throat. He reached up, screaming, then fell down, too.
They were so close now that there was no time for Steffen or Gwen to fire. The horses bore down on them and at the last second they both jumped out of the way so as not to be trampled.
The soldiers each jumped from their horses, one tackling Gwen, and the other Steffen, knocking them down and landing on top of them, in their armor. Gwen’s ribs were bruised as she hit the ground.
Gwen’s attacker reached back with his gauntlet, preparing to backhand her, and she braced herself for the impact, one she knew would shatter her jaw.
But then a great snarling filled her ears, and before her eyes Krohn leapt forward and sank his fangs into the soldier’s throat. He shrieked, as Krohn found the soft spot between his plates of armor, and dug in, pinning him to the ground, refusing to let go.
Gwen rolled out from under him and in the same motion, she grabbed his dagger from his belt, and spun around just in time to plunge it into the other soldier diving for her. She stabbed him low in the belly and he shrieked, dropping his club, before he brought it down for her head.
He landed on top of her, limp, and the impact hurt. But she held on and drove the dagger deeper into him, and soon he stopped squirming, dead.
She pushed him off of her.
Another soldier came at her with a whip, about to lash her face, but Krohn turned and leapt, pouncing in the air and sinking his fangs into the soldier’s wrist, tearing off his hand in mid-air, the whip with it. The soldier shrieked, sinking to his knees and clutching his bloody stump.
Steffen finally managed to free himself from beneath the other knight, and as he did, he drew his sword and chopped off the handless knight’s head.
A soldier attacked Gwen from behind, grabbing her and yanking her to his feet, and holding a dagger to her throat.
“I hope that you always remember that I gave you this scar, princess,” he said, his hot breath in her ear. Then he reached up and brought the dagger to her cheek.
Gwen braced herself for the cut, feeling the metal touch her skin-when suddenly she heard a screech, and looked up to see Estopheles, diving down, claws out, right for her. She dodged her head, and the bird swooped straight down and clawed her attacker’s face.
He screamed, clutching his eyes and dropping the blade.
Steffen charged forward and stabbed the man in the chest. He then wheeled around and in the same motion, slashed a soldier in the stomach, right before he came down at Steffen with a war hammer.
Gwen, bruised, shaking, covered in blood, looked around at all the corpses and was amazed at the damage they’d done. It was like a mini battlefield, and she and Steffen and Krohn had somehow survived.
But she relaxed too soon: Krohn started snarling again, and Gwen turned and heard another great rumbling.
The horizon became filled with soldiers, hundreds of them, all wearing the yellow and green armor of the Nevaruns.
Gwen’s her heart stopped, as she realized that those few knights they had killed had just been an expeditionary party, a small taste of what was to come. Now there bore down on them an entire army, in full force. There was no way they could defend themselves-and nowhere to run.
Steffen stepped forward, fearlessly raised the bow, and prepared to fire. She was in awe at his chivalry, his fearlessness, but she knew it was a losing battle.
“Steffen!” she cried out.
He turned and looked at her, as she laid a hand on his wrist.
“Don’t,” she said. “We cannot win. I need you elsewhere. Leave this place. Run and get word to Thor, to the Legion. Tell them to find me, wherever I am. That is what I need.”
“My lady, I cannot leave you,” he protested, wide-eyed, the army getting closer, raising his voice to be heard.
“You must!” she insisted. “I demand that you do. If you care for me, you will. You are needed elsewhere. Without you, I cannot get a message to Thor. You’re my last hope. Go. GO!” she screamed, fierce.
Steffen turned and raced off across the fields, sprinting.
Gwen stood there, facing the oncoming army alone, only Krohn by her side, and she trembled inside, but refused to show it. She held her chest out, her chin up, and she stood there proudly, refusing to run. Krohn snarled at these men, not showing an ounce of fear, and she was determined to match his bravery. Whatever would come,
