Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2 (14 page)

She took a deep breath, then gave one final push with her power before pulling it all back in. That’s when she felt shadows of minds at the edges of her awareness. Patient but watchful, male humans sat in groups around the city. Past the sentries and hidden, one sharp and cunning mind laid in wait. Expectant.

The Hunter.

A blast of fear stole her breath. Her adrenaline spiked and her fingers started to tingle. “He’s here! How did he find us so fast?”

Rohnan’s head snapped up. His eyes opened wide and her mirrored fear blasted from his awareness. “So soon?”

“He’s expectant—waiting for something.” Shanti put her hand on her sword’s hilt. “He’s going to come in after us. Why else would he be hanging back?”

“We can’t let him.” Rohnan stalked toward the edge of the clearing. “I get Burson. You get Captain.”

“I am here.” Shanti started at Burson’s calm voice, from just beyond the rim of the clearing. His mind wasn’t blasting the conflicting emotion she’d grown to expect. He was completely shut off, and had approached without a sound.

Shanti turned to Xavier, unpracticed but still undeniably the leader of this crew. “We’ve been followed by one of the best. He’s outside the city. I have to leave again soon. We are journeying east. Now you know.”

Shanti turned to Rohnan with instructions on her lips, but was cut off by Xavier. “We’re going too—I thought you knew. The Captain told us shortly after you left the training yard earlier.”

Shanti rounded on Xavier with an incredulous expression. “No, you—”

Burson cut Shanti off. “They are going as your guard. As I am. As is Rohnan. I believe the Captain has already notified those leaving with us. Although, he expected to have more time.”

“They are still learning—this will be a dangerous journey,” Shanti seethed.

“We’re leaving
now?
I haven’t even packed!” Gracas spit out.

“Chosen, we don’t have time argue. We must get out,” Rohnan pushed in an urgent voice.

Shanti filled her lungs and forced calm. Ignoring the fear of a lethal enemy just outside the gates, and the danger it posed to these people, she focused on Rohnan. “Pack our things. Get everything ready. I’ll get the Captain and send word where to meet us.”

“The boys?” Rohnan asked.

Shanti didn’t even spare them a glance. “Send them home. I need to speak with Cayan about it.”

She ran, bursting through the trees while
searching
for Cayan with her
Gift
. The Hunter was at the very edge of her range—he’d chosen his spot well. He couldn’t be ready to move in yet, but how long did they have? And what did he have planned?

S
he found
Cayan in the heart of the city. His emotions flitted between expectant, eager and partially aroused. As she sprinted to the location, she was confused when she realized he was at the tailor’s shop in which she’d visited earlier that day to order her dress.

She burst into the shop. The bell above the door clanged, announcing her presence. Cayan stood in black slacks covered in white dashes and lines. He turned, shirtless. Thick cords of muscle on his sizable frame rolled and flexed with his movement. Large shoulders tapered down into a thin waist and trim hips. Every ounce of his upper body was perfectly defined and unerringly cut. Her mouth momentarily went dry with the sheer power she could see in his body.

Her logic and fighting mind restarted, cataloging that power and obvious prowess as a needed asset.

“Yes?” he asked in confusion. The tailor scoffed at the interruption.

“He’s here—the Hunter. The Superior Officer pursing me. He’s already outside the city walls just out of Burson’s reach. We need to leave.
Now!
”

Cayan’s mind exploded out, taking hers with it. The effect, unexpected, dizzied her for a moment. Lightheaded, she staggered forward and reached, bracing a hand on his warm pec. The skin contact solidified their link. Their
Gifts
boosted, extending past her earlier reach until the quantities of men as well as their emotional state became clear.

Cayan honed in their combined focus on the sharp and cunning mind. “Is that him?” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her.

“It is. Do you feel his intelligence—the sharpness of his mind? He’s a highly strategized thinker, and has years of experience and the best training Xandre could impart.”

“Have you met him before?”

“No. Just run from him. I’m basing it on his intelligence, his position, and my knowledge of Xandre and his army.”

“We have many more than he has. We can easily take him down.”

Shanti broke contact and stepped away. “He has more than a dozen
Sharshers
, all spread out. With them are men that are no doubt excellent with blades. You don’t have an army of Sanders, and even if you did, Burson can only protect one area at a time. They are too far away, and too spread out, for us to kill that many. We’d have to fight in groups, and this officer will have prepared for that. You think Daniels is excellent at his craft? You’ve not met anyone like a Superior Officer. Daniels has a lot to learn still, and will need to learn it from the master that is waiting outside your gates. Soon the Hunter will start killing sentries. You aren’t far from losing men, Cayan. And for what? Just to run, anyway. We have to leave.”

“If he’s planned to withstand my men, he’s certainly planned to keep us here.”

The bell jingled again as a blast of chilled air assaulted Shanti’s back. Sanders and Lucius burst into the shop, making the tailor frown in irritation. Shanti looked at Lucius, the man she’d named Chance the last time she had been there. When he met her gaze, she felt as much as saw his regret. There was a distance there that hadn’t existed before, and when he glanced at Cayan, it became clear. He’d had to choose, and he had chosen his Captain and his city.

A pang hit Shanti’s heart, but she didn’t dwell on it. He’d chosen family and his home, and if she was honest with herself, he was probably better off. Death rode her shoulders—he didn’t need any part of that.

She nodded once, indicating she read him, right before Sanders stepped further into the shop. “One of the sentries saw something. He said he could’ve sworn it was a man in a black uniform, but he only caught a glimpse. He didn’t want to check it out—everyone around here knows what a black uniform means. He called for a shift change and got to me as fast as possible. Can you use that mind thing and check it out?”

Shanti glanced at Cayan before she said, “It
was
a man in a black uniform, and we have trouble.”

M
arc waited
behind Shanti at the front gate with white knuckles clutching the reins of his horse. With every swallow he choked on his own terror. He’d done this before, and battle terrified him. He wasn’t good with a blade, and could barely ride a horse. The Captain and Shanti had made a grievous error bringing him on this journey.

Horses shifted around him, sensing the anxiety of their riders. This was it. They were going to storm out of the city and try to run down the enemy while the twilight confused the eyes. They would face down one of the smartest, most cunning enemies with only one mind-warrior person, and she couldn’t ride a horse well either.

Marc tried to swallow the knot of acid rising in his throat.

He took a deep breath then ran over the plan that had taken more than two hours to hatch. Shanti and the Captain would break up into teams. Shanti would exit the front, toward a person called the Hunter, his two
Sarshers
, and a few other Graygual. The Captain would go out the back toward a few Graygual and four
Sarshers
. Burson would shield the Captain and his crew from the mental warfare, while Shanti
thought
she could handle the two
Sarshers
out the front.

The Captain had asked, “What if you can’t?”

It had been a good question, to which she replied with a terrible answer: “There are always risks.”

The sides of the city had the least protection, with only one
Sarsher
each and a couple Graygual. That was because the enemy at the front and rear could easily run to head off anyone fleeing out the sides.

The most surprising thing was the last-minute addition. She was a girl. Not a warrior girl like Shanti, either. A girl of no more than Marc’s age from the orphan house. Marc couldn’t fathom what her role might be, and no one was talking about it. He could tell Shanti had been confused, too. She’d asked repeatedly why a young woman with no training was going with them. Why weren’t they taking an experienced fighter instead? Apparently this girl, Ruisa, had a special talent they would need in the Shadow Lands. That had started Sanders muttering, but no one would say what that special talent was, despite Shanti threatening to hurt someone if they didn’t share.

Marc glanced up at the darkening sky and shifted in the well-worked leather of the saddle. “I don’t like this. I think I would’ve rather been pushed off to the mines.”

“That’s because you’ve never been in the mines,” Xavier said in a low hum. His hard eyes were on the middle of Shanti’s back, his knuckles just as white as Marc’s.

“You have the map?” Shanti asked Rohnan.

Rohnan didn’t so much as glance at her. He stared straight ahead through the open gates. “Yes. The meeting point is noted. The Captain sure he get through?”

“Yes, though since the Hunter is probably certain we’ll go that way, I’m sure he has someone covering the roads leading out of here.”

“He’ll follow the wild game trails,” Tobias noted, a warrior who was good with a sword and better with a bow. His eyes were hard and expression grim.

As far as Marc knew, Tobias didn’t shy away from danger, but he also didn’t enjoy running straight at it, unlike Sanders, who waited with crazy eyes filled with expectation. The Commander was unhinged, and Marc hated being in battle with him. Sanders made a guy think he should have no fear. And often, it did erase the fear, which led to doing stupid things.

“Okay, it’s about time.” Shanti absently patted her horse before nocking an arrow. “How is your aim, Rohnan?”

“I not the one who fall off horses, Chosen.” Rohnan nocked an arrow. “How is head?”

“I wish I knew how strong the
Sarshers
are.” Shanti’s fingers whitened on her bow.

“Only one way find out.”

“Yes, Rohnan. Very helpful, as always.” Shanti winked at Marc, nodded at Xavier, and then to Rachie. They had been chosen to go out this way. The rest of the Honor Guard had gone with the captain.

Marc knew from experience that when she smiled, or winked, or hugged, it meant she was preparing for the worst. That meant this was going to be one of the worst.

His stomach pinched and he breathed deeply to stop himself from throwing up. It was barely working.

“Are you going to tell us who to shoot at, S’am?” Rachie asked in a whisper.

“Usually, I’d call you an idiot for that question, Rachie,” Shanti said in a flat voice. “But in this case, you aim for anyone in an all-black uniform.”

“Do they know we are coming out?” Xavier asked.

“They will be ready.” Shanti glanced back. “One of the sentries sent through an alarm an hour ago by shooting an arrow. He wasn’t as clever as the sentry before him. The Hunter’s mind-path changed shortly after that. It appears the Hunter does not need much to figure out his enemy’s movements.”

Silence filled the space when Shanti stopped talking. Men shifted on the walls, bows in hand, waiting. If this Hunter killed Marc and Shanti and the rest, and decided to attack the city, the defenses were ready. The Captain had prepared for failure.

“We be okay.” Rohnan’s sing-song voice was almost as pleasant as his soft gaze when he turned back to glance at Marc. It didn’t help.

“Okay, here we go.” Shanti kicked her horse. It neighed and pranced sideways. “Bloody stubborn animal. What does it want, a
please?
”

She kicked its sides again. The animal jolted forward suddenly. Shanti barely grabbed hold of the saddle, crushing her bow to her chest, as she struggled to hold on. Laughing, Rohnan urged his horse after her.

“They’re both crazy,” Marc said as he leaned forward to get his horse moving.

“Crazy is good, boy. Crazy gets things done.” Sanders’ horse started forward.

“It’ll be okay, Marc,” Xavier echoed Rohnan in a low tone as he kicked his horse forward. His voice was shaking. “S’am is the best, and Rohnan seems almost as good. We have Commander Sanders, too. They’ll get us through.”

Marc nodded as terrified tears welled up in his eyes. He kicked his horse, following the others. He wouldn’t let Shanti—S’am—down. He would do his part, to protect his city.

“I wish she gave us that boost where we don’t feel anything,” Marc mumbled.

“She had to save her strength. It’s okay. We don’t need it.” Xavier said.

Confidence low but determination high, Marc followed the group as they started with a trot. When they cleared the entrance to the city, the gates shuddered into action, closing behind them. Locking them out along with the enemy.

Marc’s adrenaline rose as they started to pick up the pace. The horses neighed and huffed, in response to the tension of the riders. The sentries nodded or saluted as the eight passed. Marc noticed them shifting, adjusting their bows. The sentries would be the first line of defense if the enemy came toward the city.

Their speed increased. The trees flashed by and the ground shook within his vision. S’am’s long braid swung back and forth on her back. Rohnan’s white-blond hair flared in the wind. The horses started to pant. And then S’am grunted and leaned forward.

“They’re strong!” she yelled at Rohnan. Marc could barely hear her voice over the pounding of the hooves as the wind tried to steal her words. “Each at about three-fourths power level of mine!”

“Can you hold them until we close?” Rohnan yelled back.

“Get your arrows nocked!” Sanders yelled. Somehow his voice cut through the air and vibrated down Marc’s back.

Marc’s teeth chattered from the horse’s jarring strides. He found himself nocking a hasty arrow even though he couldn’t hit a tree from fifty paces away. Still, he had to try. They all did.

“Spread out,” Sanders yelled. “Don’t kill the person in front of you.”

Marc urged his horse to the right, toward Sanders. Xavier and Rachie did the same, wanting to stay in earshot.

“Faster!” S’am’s words whipped out of her mouth and swirled behind her. Marc caught them, though, and leaned forward. His horse put on a burst of speed, as did the others.

But S’am’s took off. One minute, she was bouncing all around her saddle. The next, she was flying in front of them smoothly on a horse that defied nature’s constraints with speed. Rohnan urged an almost equally fast horse after her.

“C’mon!” Sanders roared. He kicked his warhorse.

The thunder of the animals, and the wind slapping Marc in the face, had his heart hammering and palms sweaty. Then he saw them. A line. Ten of them, all but two with black shirts and red circles. The one in the middle sat astride a spectacular shiny black horse. Those to the sides of him had no circles on their chest.

“Aim for the
Sarshers
!” Sanders ordered.

Marc barely heard. Or maybe he didn’t hear and it was a memory.

His mind went blank except for the sound of his thumping heart. His horse found a clear lane and ran. Ran with all it had. Straight at the line of men on their tall steeds. All with flashing swords. Two with bows.

Shanti loosed an arrow. Usually an excellent shot, this time the shot went wide. It hit the man next to one of the
Sarshers
. The arrow stuck in his arm and his own shot went wide, barely missing Xavier who had found himself on the end of the line.

Rohnan loosed. Then ducked. His arrow stuck into the chest of one of the
Sarshers
as an arrow whizzed over his head. Shanti slumped in her saddle ahead of them. She was still running directly at the enemy.

“Get those
Sarshers
! They’re too strong for her!” Sanders screamed. He loosed, nocked, loosed, nocked, loosed. Over and over. Fast and expert. No fear. The enemy was on the move. Their horses running, making them harder to hit.

Bouncing around, Marc had trouble nocking his arrow. When he did, he raised his bow and drew the string to fire at the man directly in front of him. S’am was headed toward the same man at an angle.

Breath coming in hoarse pants, Marc pulled his arm back and tried to sight his arrow. The horse jostled him, making him struggle. His vision jiggled. He could barely focus on the shaking figure in front of him. He loosed the arrow. It sailed high over the enemy.

Marc swore under his breath and grabbed another. The figure ahead was raising his own bow, aiming for S’am. She wasn’t aiming back, though! She looked like she tried to straighten up, but she seemed strained. Those
Sarshers
had clearly taken a lot out of her.

Panic shot through Marc.

He sighted again, closer now. The tip of his arrow waved through the air. His bow as steady as a boat in huge swells. His body bounced frantically on the horse. Marc could see the Hunter’s blank face, perfectly composed. No passion, like Sanders. No determination, like Tobias or Rachie. No fear at all. His arm pulled back as the last
Sarsher
fell from his saddle.

Shanti tried to raise her bow, but Marc had seen her this depleted before. She was close to passing out. She’d be easy prey, then.

Sweat dripped into Marc’s eye, stinging. Without the time to wipe it away, he closed that eye and used the other to sight. The Hunter’s arm pulled back. Adrenaline spiked within Marc. He let go of the bowstring. His arrow made a
thummmm
sound and was gone.

The Hunter flinched back as S’am drew closer. His arm jerked, releasing the arrow into the ground, before the bow tumbled down the horse’s flank.

I did it!

Marc had shot him in the shoulder!

S’am thundered down on top of the enemy, not in control of her horse. Rather than fighting the animal, though, she dropped her bow and ripped her sword from its sheath. The blade glinted in the failing light, wobbling at the end of a weak arm. She had nothing left.

“Run away, S’am!” Marc screamed, trying to nock another arrow.

With something Marc could only describe as an un-horselike war-cry, her horse rammed into the Hunter’s own mount. The Hunter’s horse bucked wildly. The Hunter, agile on his animal, still had to grip the reins and held on.

S’am’s horse didn’t relent. It screamed again, this time turning its rump to the other animal before kicking the Hunter’s horse with a powerful strike.

The Hunter’s horse screamed in response, a sound filled with pain and agony, jarring the Hunter as it lurched.

Only then did S’am’s horse finally run on, with S’am clutching frantically to its back.

Marc’s horse, much slower, kept its same course, still running at the Hunter.

“Oh no! No, no, no!” Marc yelled, trying to turn his horse.

Too late. Marc’s horse ran right by. The Hunter, still looking majestic on his injured, baying animal, turned his head to watch Marc pass. His arm hung limp at his side, Marc’s arrow still lodged in his shoulder. A cold, hard stare, devoid of any pain or emotion, hit Marc like a brick to the face. Dead eyes sliced through Marc’s body all the way down until it tingled his toes. He could feel that stare promising retribution; promising a life of agony to himself and his family. That stare promised far worse than mere death; it promised that the Hunter would remember Marc’s face and add him to the list of prey.

Shaking, hands numb, Marc lost all sense of direction. He didn’t know where his horse went. He didn’t notice where everyone else was or even look around to see if there had been any casualties. He just stared straight ahead with the memory of that look echoing through his body and burning his bones.

He’d never been so terrified in his whole life, and he knew, without a doubt, that it would never go away. Neither would that Hunter.