He goes for an index finger this time, the brief reflection of the sun is a blur before the wet thud of steel sticking into wood follows. Edwyn really screams now, as his severed digit falls into the grass.
Orrian still stands alone with his back to the rest of us, his posture tense and motionless as a statue. I move to stand beside him, he should not be separated from the group. As I join his side, footsteps follow as the rest of his people move to support their king in solidarity.
The prince steps back once again, delighted when he sees our advancement.
“Well look at all of you,” he mocks, “Only you can end this Orrian. Tell your people to stand down and we can stop with this unpleasantness.”
“Don’t you dare,” Jaq growls quietly.
“I know,” says Orrian through gritted teeth, turning to face his trusted companion.
Prince Arron observes us entertained. His smile widens as Orrian turns back to face him with continued unwavering resolve in his eyes.
“Are you sure? We are going to have so much fun!” says Arron.
The prince moves back in front of the hunter. He holds the blade above his head, lying against Edwyn’s throat, before slowly dragging the tip down and out of sight, hidden from us by the prince’s body. A long bloody trail marks the knife’s journey. His arms stop, there’s no way of knowing but I would guess that the knife hovers over Edwyn’s gut. The prince’s elbows move inwards as he pushes the steel deeper.
Next to me a swift movement rustles my hair.
One of the soldiers charges their prince, tackling him to the ground.
A second later Orrian’s arrow disappears into Edwyn’s heart. His whole body recoils from the impact and a grunt escapes his lips. He slowly raises his head as fresh blood joins the existing stream. Proud eyes find those of the man he serves, a small smile as his last breaths escape him. The sun finally dips below the surface as the light leaves his eyes.
Edwyn, the man who had taken an arrow for me, a stranger whom he barely knew. He had protected us all that way to the mountain, scared off Rhys when we needed to escape, volunteered to go on such a dangerous mission just so that his people would be better protected. Gone. Is it possible to hurt so much for a man I knew so little about? The most I’d ever heard him talk was when trying to prepare Orrian for his fight and even then, he had never discussed himself. The tattooed monster, the one I can’t imagine ever falling in battle, finally slain.
My head whips round to find Orrian, his bow has already dropped to his side. There is no shock behind those eyes, pain without remorse, it was intentional. He knew what he was doing. He must have known Edwyn so much better than I, the warrior had been a lifeline to his old life, and yet he had done what needed doing. He had put his inevitable suffering to an end, and in his final moments I know the act had been rewarded with untainted gratitude.
Above, Prince Arron scrambles to his feet, kicking off his saviour and brushing himself down furiously. He stares disbelieving at his former prisoner, and then turns to face the man who had ruined his fun, all composed demeanour replaced with something animalistic.
“So be it,” he snarls.
The prince steps back from the edge, taking a moment to assess Edwyn’s body one last time before moving out of view.
In the distance another horn sounds, and the quake of hundreds of boots and hooves shake the ground beneath our feet.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The thunder approaches, distant trees waver as the incoming tide of soldiers tear past them. Orrian heads straight for the barricade whilst Horas grabs me roughly by the arm, together we lead the chase towards our pile of spears, joining Astera with arming the others.
I grab a spear one of the last remaining spears for myself as our weapons pile finally disappears into waiting hands. My throat tightens as I stare down at the weapon in my grip, the runes facing me. What have I become? Would I instil fear if any of Avlym saw me now? Would they even recognise me?
I watch as Ryfon scoops a child out from her mother’s arms. A few feet away from him, Tharrin argues with his younger brother. At their feet, the spy sits watching the brotherly conflict with detached curiosity. I can’t make out the pair of them over the chaos around us but finally Arys screams in frustration and takes off running after the medic. The rafts are already full, waiting to disembark at the first sign of defeat.
In the distance, bodiless voices change their pitch. Horses whinny and the dull thuds follow tumbling crashes. Men yell out in surprise, some of whom are abruptly cut short. I never had a chance to help any of the hunters with their traps, but they seem to be doing their job.
War cries echo around us, forcing me out of my own mind. I don’t have time for this, these people need me. I give myself two more seconds, forcing my breathing to steady. I won’t make it out of here if I fear my own weapon. Gripping the shaft, feelings of treachery clawing at my heart, I take off running.
I reach the barricade at the same time as the charge. In front, Faelyn stands with his blade ready, I am not surprised that he managed to get his hands on one of the precious swords. As I join the ranks, the first lines of the colony’s foot soldiers emerge from the treeline. We
