A black throwing knife in his remaining eye, the ranger sank to the ground. His short swords tumbled from his limp hands.
Arrows protruding from his shoulder and chest, Walker stood over her, his mithral shatterspike knocking one arrow from the air even as another nicked his shoulder. Red-Hair-a pair of daggers in his hands-Tough-Face, and Thin-Man were rushing toward them, murder in their eyes.
'Strong as steel!' he rasped.
Arya raised her brow, but she understood his extended hand.
'Up!' Walker shouted, just in case she hadn't. Arya was not about to argue.
Her armor weighed her down and her leg protested, but she managed to stand with his aid. Pressing her back to Walker's, she lifted her sword and shield and awaited the three rangers stalking in from all sides.
'Turn into a ghost!' commanded Arya. 'Flee!'
'Not without you,' Walker said through gritted teeth.
The rangers pulled up short, granting the two a wide berth. Walker's cloak of grim resolution intimidated them, and they came no closer. Instead, Red-Hair reversed his daggers for throwing, and the others pulled light crossbows from their belts. Thin-Man even produced a slender white wand and pointed it at them-the crystal at the end crackling with electricity. Darthan and Gieves came to join them, pointing their arrows at the two resolute warriors.
'Lower your blade,' said Walker.
'What?' Arya could not believe her ears.
'No choice.' The point of his shatterspike dipped toward the ground, and he dropped the throwing dagger in his left hand.
Hesitantly, Arya lowered her sword as well, though the shield was still strapped to her arm. If they fired at them, she could step in front of Walker and protect both of them. Perhaps. If she knew Tymora's favor.
'Smile on us, Lady Luck,' whispered Arya.
As though they heard an unspoken command, the line of rangers with projectile weapons parted and another man stepped through. With dusky flesh made penumbral at night and curly hair the color of soot, he seemed made of darkness-a darkness he usually kept caged in white hunting leathers. Not now, however: now he wore black.
'Meris,' growled Arya. 'Bastard.'
'Indeed,' the wild scout laughed. 'How nice to see you again, beautiful cousin. You spurned my well-meant advances before, but I assure you that you won't this time.'
'Nothing from you is ever 'well-meant,' Meris.' Arya took the smallest step in front of Walker, and all the arrows and bolts shifted to her.
Meris ignored his rangers. Instead, he turned his gaze to Walker. 'I see your affections have found somewhere else to rest,' he said.
'Leave him out of this,' said Arya. 'I'm the one you want-take me and let him go!'
'Actually, I'm here for him,' replied Meris. 'You're just an added bonus. I've always looked forward to getting you alone, but I thought I'd missed my chance. Tymora must be smiling on both of us.'
The knight might have winced at the irony, but she was too confused. 'You didn't know I was here?' Arya looked at him incredulously.
'Oh, I'd guessed he'd use you and leave you dead in the forest somewhere,' Meris said. 'He's a dangerous man, that Walker.' He stepped toward them, his hand dropping to his axe.
Arya stepped in front of Walker and lifted her blade, warding him off. 'Take another step and I attack,' she warned.
Meris looked at the rangers on his left and right. 'Oh, that's reasonable,' he smirked. 'Really, Cousin-'
'If I attack, you'll have to kill me, and you'll lose your 'added bonus.''
Meris laughed. 'Irrelevant,' he rasped, mimicking Walker's broken voice. 'I could just shoot both of you right now.'
'But if I come with you willingly,' Arya said. 'You don't lose it.'
'You would come with me willingly?' Meris's face was calm, but she could tell he was intrigued. Then his eyes narrowed. 'How do I know you'll keep your word?'
'I am a Knight in Silver. I always keep my word.'
'What do you ask in return? For this… accommodation?'
Arya bristled at his words but refused to let him see her discomfort. 'Walker goes free.'
'Of course,' said Meris. 'I might have guessed.'
He pondered the agreement, crossing his arms before him. Arya could feel Walker's eyes on the back of her head, but she refused to flinch.
'Done,' Meris said finally, a bemused smile on his face.
'Your word?'
'I swear on my sword.' Meris extended his hand toward Arya.
Arya raised her brow. It had not escaped her notice that he carried no sword. 'Have your men lower their bows first.'
'You don't trust me?' Meris shrugged. 'Well, believe it or not, I am a man of my word.' He signaled, and the other rangers lowered their bows and put the arrows away. At the same time, Arya sheathed her sword and turned to the ghostwalker with tears in her eyes.
'Run away, Walker,' said Arya. 'I'm not going to lose you. Not now.'
'We will meet again,' Walker assured her softly.
Meris reached out and took Arya's arm, pulling her away.
True to her word, Arya followed. The rangers dispersed, though they continued to watch Walker warily.
After handing Arya by the arm to Darthan, who disarmed her, Meris turned back and strode toward Walker. He approached peacefully and unarmed. Walker kept his sword point down and stood calmly, awaiting the dusky scout's arrival.
It pained the ghostwalker to surrender. He knew what was coming next, but there was no other way he could save Arya. This simply had to be done.
When Meris stood within a pace of Walker, he stopped and stared him in the eye. Even this was more than the other rangers were willing to do, but Meris's hate overwhelmed any fear.
'I have been eager for this meeting since you humiliated me not once, not twice, but thrice, Walker,' said Meris. 'Now I'm going to set you free.' He sighed. 'Pity. I always hoped I'd get to cross swords with you.'
Walker eyed Meris's black leathers. 'Black covers all things-blood and hate, sins and lies-does it not?'
'What was that?' snapped Meris, thrusting his face next to Walker's.
Walker seemed not to hear him. 'I have read the eyes of many men, most of them dying,' he said. 'And I have never seen so much hate as in yours.'
'Look deep, Walker' Meris said. 'Perhaps you'll see me laughing back.'
A memory came unbidden into his mind.
The boy's eyes filled with fire… Rage? Anger? At the world or at himself?
Meris saw the look of recognition, and his eyes narrowed. 'You know me,' he said, almost intrigued, almost…
'I remember your eyes,' Walker said. 'Eyes of anger, eyes of pain, eyes of fear. You were afraid, that night.'
'Am I afraid now?' Meris asked through his hard grin, his hands trembling.
There was a moment of silence. Walker thought he could see the spirit of Tarm Thardeyn standing to the side, looking at him sadly. Then Walker smiled.
'You will always be afraid.'
In a blur of motion, Meris seized the shatterspike from Walker's hand, whirled in a circle, and slashed the ghostwalker across the chest. Blood sprayed and Arya screamed. Even though his body lit with fire, Walker fell without a sound.
