I let the song dance between my throat and tongue, and immediately the wood in my hand began to vibrate, responding to the call.
Madi groaned as, no doubt, the arrowhead was likewise affected. But she bit down and closed her eyes.
Then I asked the arrow to let go of its purchase, to unbind itself of flesh and bone. At first, the arrow resisted. Like all created things, an arrow simply wished to perform whatever task it was created for. In this case, to bathe itself in flesh and blood, and to remain.
I convinced the arrow that if it let go, it would be used again, and find a home in another body, even deeper. This seemed to do the trick, and with a shimmying jig, the shaft began to retreat from the wound.
After Madi, I did the same on Hana and Pachi, though since the arrows that had struck them were embedded only in muscle, it was less devastating.
I treated each with a pinch of tar leaf and warned, “These wounds will leave scars, but there is no quicker way to mend a wound. And I fear we haven’t the time to waste. Another party will no doubt come and finish what was started here if we do not reach Gilsby before nightfall.”
Tejón was wounded most grievously. The axe came free of the bear’s bone plate, and two arrows were sung free easily enough, but a couple of the orcs had cleaved their axes into his shoulder and neck, nearly severing an artery in the process. Now that the battle lust had lifted, the beast could no longer stand.
I had one health potion remaining. The days when such items were easily acquired were long past, and they were invaluable. Yet the bear deserved all I could provide him. “Hold his head, please—he needs to drink all of this,” I told Madi. The bear was no simple beast, though, and understood what was being asked of him. We managed to pour the whole bottle down his throat.
The wound knitted itself from the inside, and with the addition of a few more pinches of tar leaf, the wound stopped bleeding.
I looked to the mare that had so faithfully carried me and had unwittingly saved my life. She rested in a charred heap, her body so scorched that her head and face were indiscernible. I’d fallen early in the fight, and when the wyvern had opened its maw to roast me, I’d thought my journey was at an end. But then the horse had raised up on its hind legs, panic filling her eyes.
The flame had enveloped her mercilessly.
The two travelers were staring about, shock still dampening their senses. “Let’s get moving,” I said. “Do not worry about the loot and leave the bodies. The only thing that might save us now is haste. We all need to run. Pachi and Tejón cannot carry us. We are only about ten miles from Gilsby, though, perhaps less. If we hurry, we will see the ocean before sundown.” As I spoke, I took all that I could from the saddlebags on the fallen horse.
I thanked Corbrae once more. The old bastard had enchanted my satchel of holding himself, and without it, even more would have been lost this day. Then I fell into a loping stride, trusting my companions to follow.
The distance that separated us from the relative safety of Gilsby was not insurmountable. Had our mounts been in good enough shape, we would have made it there in less than two hours, shorter if pressed. Yet on foot, and when nursing bruises and wounds, our march would be painful to say the least.
I set a pace that I knew I could maintain.
The fight with the wyverns and orcs had been a close thing. I’d used every trick I knew to evade the gouts of flame that had been launched at me. My stamina had paid the price. Just a week ago, it would have been easier.
Anwar had fallen to the Silent Hymn, and no doubt nearly any fell beast would have, but I carried the weight of it with me. Next spring would bring my seventieth name day. As a bullet bard, I knew that the years had not scathed me so. Even poor Sherman, younger as he was, looked my senior now. Yet after using the extent of my power on the wyvern lord, I felt the immense pressure of time bearing down on me. If Corbrae could be trusted, my days were limited now.
Madi teased me between huffs, and when I looked at her, she grinned despite the pain in her body. “Don’t look so grim, Alice. We’ve got this.”
“Yeah, we can make it,” Hana agreed as she trudged to run on my other side.
I laughed despite the bruises and cracks in my ribs, all caused from falling off the horse. The glint of youth and the fire of life was in their eyes. And though it had been plain to me from the beginning that both knew shadow and pain, their optimism was infectious.
I shouted, an ancient challenge coming to my lips without my bidding. “Aye! Onward, knights of Gil! Not storm nor starlight will hinder us!”
The girls and I ran on, and though our speed flagged on the few hills that remained, we did not stop. Pachi and Tejón loped behind us, most likely impatient with their two-legged companions’ slow progress.
We came to the final hill that blocked our way, and I slowed to a walk. I caught a glance from the warrior, concern flashing in her brown eyes.
She made to speak, but I held up a hand. “Let us walk a way. The night is no longer a threat to us. We
