the man on the right was obviously of finer quality, even from this distance. He must be the Signal.
Gregson’s eyes darkened. “Your business dealings are of no concern to me, Councilman. The safety of this town is.”
Darren spluttered. “I fail to see how the safety of the town is threatened at the moment.”
“Have you not heard?” Gregson said stiffly. “The village of Gray’s Kill has been razed to the ground, nearly all of the villagers slaughtered.”
The councilman stared at the lieutenant, eyes wide, mouth open.
Doubt had just begun to filter through the initial shock in the man’s eyes, changing almost instantly into disbelief and rage, when Jayson heard a hiss followed by a thunk as something struck the councilman in the chest.
Jayson’s heart lurched even as the councilman staggered, gaze dropping to the black arrow that protruded at a sharp angle just below his heart. Blood already stained his shirt, seeping downward. One hand rose to clutch at the shaft of the arrow, tugging at it weakly.
The councilman turned a confused look toward Gregson. “What-” he began, his voice no more than a whisper.
Then his legs gave out and he thumped down to his knees.
Jayson gaped, frozen, unable to process what had happened. The arrow didn’t make any sense; it had come from nowhere.
Then Gregson kicked his horse forward, his narrowed gaze shooting toward the rock promontory that overlooked the town.
Jayson looked just in time to see a figure stand and draw, the bow black against the blue sky, tufts of clouds scudding along behind him. Then he gasped, jerked forward, encumbered by his seat in the saddle, but managed to grab Gregson’s arm and haul him backward.
The arrow shot past Gregson’s shoulder and sank into the flank of his horse.
The animal screamed and reared, wrenching Gregson from Jayson’s grip and throwing him from the saddle, before charging across the commons, trampling the councilman as it passed.
“Diermani’s balls!” Gregson spat as he scrambled to his feet. On the promontory above, ten more archers had appeared. “Those aren’t dwarren,” he whispered. “They’re Alvritshai.”
Arrows lanced down into the commons, breaking the tableau as women shrieked and men dodged toward cover. Gregson’s horse had vanished down the southern road. The two tradesmen stared in shock at the councilman’s body, the attackers hidden from their sight by the councilman’s manse. Jayson couldn’t think, his breath coming in short huffs, his entire body humming. Reaching for Gregson had been pure instinct, nothing more.
Gregson suddenly spun. “Warn Terson,” he barked, then slapped Jayson’s horse on the rump. The animal lurched forward, nearly throwing Jayson from the saddle. He cried out, hissing as the muscles in his legs spasmed, but caught himself. He heard Corim’s frantic shout from behind him, twisted in the saddle in time to see Gregson hauling the apprentice down from his horse moments before two arrows sank into the animal’s neck. It reared, screaming shrilly, feet kicking, but Gregson and Corim were already sprinting toward the protection of the tavern’s corner, the Legionnaire roaring warnings at the men and women caught in the open square. Jayson’s heart seized as three men and one woman fell to the cobbles, and then something skimmed across his own back, tracing a line of fire from shoulder to side, tugging at his clothing. He spun in his seat, grabbed at the reins and leaned forward over the horse’s neck as it careened through the fleeing people of Cobble Kill. More arrows rained down, shattering on the stone of the roadway. He heard a roar of rage, saw a man spin as an arrow took him in the throat, saw a woman dragging her daughter’s body into the cover of the stable yard, blood glistening bright on the stone beneath her-
And then the erupting chaos of the commons was left behind as his horse galloped down the southern road. Jayson gasped at the sudden calm that descended, although he could still hear the screams from the town behind. His heart thundered in his ears, the horse’s body thudding into his chest beneath him. His thoughts flickered from Corim to Terson to Gregson, torn between responsibilities, and he choked with indecision.
“Gregson has Corim,” he whispered to himself, voice ragged. He swallowed against the sudden sourness in his mouth and throat.
And then the garrison appeared ahead. Men were already gathered in the roadway, some of them pointing back toward the town with their swords, bellowing questions. Three of them surrounded Gregson’s horse, holding it steady as Terson jerked the arrow from its flank. It whinnied and shied away from him, but the Legionnaire ignored it, frowning down at the bloodied shaft in his hand.
At a shout from one of the men, Terson glanced up, caught sight of Jayson’s horse charging toward them, and stepped directly into the animal’s path.
Jayson’s bit back a curse and pulled hard on the horse’s reins to bring its frantic bolt to a halt. As it dug into the road, he rose in the saddle and roared, “The town is under attack!”
“From where? By whom?” The cries came from all directions, but Terson caught Jayson as he fell from the saddle, others stepping forward to calm his horse.
“Archers,” Jayson gasped, his body trembling with adrenaline. “Archers are on the promontory overlooking the town. They’re firing down into the commons. And they aren’t dwarren. They’re Alvritshai.”
Terson shot him a strange look, then bellowed, “To arms! Every man who’s here, grab your swords and form up! Curtis, sound the alarm. This isn’t a call to assemble any longer; it’s a call to war. Now move! Move, move, move!”
The entire group of men broke and scrambled, some charging toward the garrison that wasn’t much more than a wooden outpost on the side of the road with a stable in the back. The steady clang of the bell suddenly changed, another joining it, the combined sound now frantic. Ricks barreled out of the garrison, still fully armored from the ride to Gray’s Kill.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Get the men armed and organized here on the roadway as quickly as possible, then we’ll head toward Cobble Kill.”
The young soldier dashed off toward the stables, shouting orders as he went.
“Tell me what you saw,” Terson ordered, turning on Jayson.
“I only saw archers on the rock bluff overlooking the town. They nearly got Gregson before he ordered me to warn you and sent me here.” He tried not to think about Corim, about the others caught in the square.
“Are these the same men who attacked Gray’s Kill?”
“I didn’t see any Alvritshai or archers that night. I only saw the creatures and the dwarren.”
Terson swore. Behind him, men were struggling into armor, additional horses being herded from the stable to the road by a group of stableboys, saddles hastily being cinched tight. “Cobble Kill isn’t designed to withstand an attack,” Terson growled as he watched. He suddenly motioned toward Ricks. “Get me a spare sword. Now!”
When the soldier returned, he handed the weapon to Jayson. “Have you ever used one before?”
Jayson took the sheathed blade in both hands as he shook his head, surprised at how heavy it felt. He swallowed once, his heart already quickening. He couldn’t seem to clear the sourness in his throat. “No.”
Terson grunted and slapped him on the back. “Do the best you can.”
He shoved Jayson toward his horse and turned to the rest of the men, most of them ready and waiting. Jayson hastily began belting the sword around his waist.
“I want Curtis to take you four and try to circle up to Grant’s Overlook and deal with those archers. The rest of us are going straight into Cobble Kill. Got it?”
The entire group broke out with a “Yes, sir!” Curtis motioned his selected men to one side. Someone brought Terson his horse and he mounted, Jayson drawing his horse to the side of the road and swinging up into the saddle. The sword felt awkward and cumbersome at his side, but he held onto its pommel with a death grip. He could hear his pulse pounding in his head, sweat causing his shirt to stick to his back. His upper shoulder stung and he reached back with his free hand. He felt nothing except a rent in his shirt, but his fingers came back with traces of blood.
He suddenly recalled the lancing pain he’d felt as he’d raced from Cobble Kill. He must have been grazed by an arrow.
The thought sent a shudder through his muscles, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Terson suddenly
