Page 31 of The Ashborn

The soldiers shifted, closing in, grips tightening on their swords. Another answered—familiar, though Broan couldn’t place it. “No trouble if you come with us.”

Broan exhaled. “Trouble, then.” He pushed off the wall and moved out of the corner. He could fight three men.

The soldiers lurched forward. Broan snatched one of them by the arm, disarming him immediately. Too easy. He shifted his knee into the man’s face and pushed as he retrieved the sword that had fallen. His fingers gripped the handle just as he spun to block another flying toward him. As he held the force of metal against his own, the other soldier moved in. Broan kicked the man who held him in place, forcing him back, but it was too late.

His new foe sliced his sword into Broan’s arm, and he fell back, grimacing from the pain. The soldier who cut him wrapped his arm around Broan’s neck, squeezing tightly. Broan flailed his arms in the air, hoping to find hold of anything that could allow him to break free. Stars dangled in his vision. He dropped his weapon, grabbed the soldier’s hands, and dug into his skin.

Broan broke the flesh on the man’s hand. Blood surfaced, but the soldier refused to let go. Broan realized he should have listened to Kaelthar, even if he was promised safe passage aside from a moose or two.

The grounded soldier had regained his footing and was barreling toward them. Broan summoned the stone beneath his feet, jamming a large rock between him and his captor. He palmed his knife, turned, and threw it into the man’s gut.

Broan dove, twisting into a clumsy barrel roll as the ground rushed up. The world turned sideways until his arm flung out and his fingers caught the sword buried in the snow, blocking the last soldier once again. His arm throbbed. He could barely hold the soldier back. Broan couldn’t remember any River Storm soldiers with such strength aside from himself. This was unnatural. Uncanny. Almost as if he were fighting against the king himself.

The soldier could knock him into the cold, wet snow if he wanted to. Broan bared his teeth. “What are you fucking waiting for?”

“Let go,” the man said. Broan realized it was the man whose voice he recognized.

Before he could decide how he wanted to handle that information, Ithril’s boot kicked the soldier backward. He stumbled, and his hood fell from his head. Ithril pulled her bow, already nocked with an arrow.

“Stop!” Broan said, pushing Ithril’s arm and forcing her arrow into the dirt.

“What the hell?” she growled.

Broan didn’t respond to the Elvish soldier. If the fight hadn’t fully sobered him from the ale, seeing the River Storm soldier standing in front of him certainly did. He scoffed. “She’ll be relieved to know you’re alive. Maybe not so relieved to know you’re doing the king’s bidding.”

Kienna’s brother crouched like a cornered beast, muscles coiled, and eyes locked forward. Broan folded his arms, and Jacob finally eased, looking around him to see his comrades incapacitated. Broan hadn’t killed them. He blamed the ale for that.

Ithril lowered her bow and tightened her jaw. “Want to explain to me why he’s still standing?”

“That’s Kienna’s brother.”

“Kalyra?”

Broan rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Tightstrings. We can’t kill him.”

Ithril peered out of the corner of her eye, bouncing between Jacob and Broan. “So, you’ll let him go, and he can share intel with River Storm?”

Broan looked at Jacob, one brow cocked. “He wouldn’t sell me out.”

“Why not?” Jacob asked.

It was cute how he tried to look tough. Broan sighed. He knew Jacob and how much he loved his sister. “Whatever I’m doing will affect Kienna.”

Jacob flinched at her name. “I’ve already mourned her.”

Broan glanced at Ithril, who tightened her grip around her bow. He placed his hand on hers and lowered it once again. “The fuck you mourning for?”

Jacob’s fists tightened, and then Ithril had her bow up again. Jacob only shook his head. “King Vaerin will kill for this. Pure darkness is coming, and he wants her back.”

“What are you doing in the mountains?” Ithril asked. Her voice carried a growling bite that Broan found attractive.

He shot her a sideways grin.

Jacob shook his head. “Let’s call it. I never saw you, and I was never here.” He nodded toward the other soldiers. “I’ll handle them.”

Broan sighed, edging closer to Jacob. “You could use a drink.”

Chapter 12