She didn't think twice. She vaulted up onto the riverbank, brought her sword around, and slammed its pommel into the shadow's side. It fell with a grunt, and she went down on top of it, her sword's blade pressed against its throat. Breathing hard, heart thundering, she flipped her hair out of her eyes and glared… into Uwen Gondil's simple face.
"Easy, Dez," said a voice, deeper in the shadows. She looked and saw Borlos standing beneath a willow tree. Behind him was a larger shadow, wearing a dragon-winged helm.
She bowed her head, then lifted her blade from Uwen's throat. "Damn it," she snarled as she rose.
"We made a bargain," Dezra snapped. She stood on the riverbank, hands on her hips, glaring at her father. Caramon looked back defiantly, while Borlos and Uwen stood off to the side. Trephas still hadn't returned. "You were supposed to go home," she snapped. "That was the deal."
"Then I'm breaking it," Caramon replied. "And what was sneaking off before dawn supposed to accomplish?"
She rolled her eyes. "I snuck away because I knew you'd want to come along. I wasn't about to spend the morning arguing with you-and I'm not now, either. Get out of here." She waved at Borlos and Uwen. "Take them with you, before one of you gets killed."
"I'm not going anywhere."
Dezra threw up her hands. "Look-"
Caramon shook his head firmly. "Dez, listen. Despite what you think, this isn't all about you. I'm not going to Ithax for your sake. I'm here for the Forestmaster. She helped me and my friends find the gods, years ago. You may not give a damn about that, but I do. I owe her my help."
She eyed him askance. "What about Bor and the kid? Did they want to accompany you on this little crusade, or did you decide to drag them along?"
"Now wait just a moment," Borlos interjected. "No one got dragged along. We came with him by choice."
"Then you're an even bigger fool than he is."
Uwen strode forward, his expression infuriatingly earnest. "I didn't come for the Forestmaster," he said. "I came here for you, Dezra. Let your father deal with the trouble here. You can come back to Solace with me."
"That does it!" Dezra snapped.
She stepped forward, grabbed the front of Uwen's tunic, and jerked him toward her. He grunted in surprise, stumbling, and she cocked her head back and kissed him fiercely on his lips. For a moment he struggled, his eyes wide, then he relented, his mouth opening against hers. When she pulled away, his face practically glowed with embarrassment.
"There!" she proclaimed, her eyes glinting above her mocking, lopsided smile. She shoved him back. "A kiss from the damsel fair. Isn't that what you wanted? I'd give you more, but my father's watching. Maybe tonight-"
"Dezra!" Caramon barked. "That's enough!"
"Leave him alone, Dez," Borlos added. He gestured at Uwen. "The lad's taken with you. So what?"
Dezra glared the bard into silence. "He's an idiot," she snarled. "Just like the rest of you. Did you really think-"
She stopped suddenly, her voice catching in her throat. Her gaze, which had been fixed on the mortified farmboy, slid past him to the shadowy woods. She'd seen something there-a gleam of metal. It was gone, but now there was a faint sound: the slow, soft creaking of sinew and wood. None of the others seemed to notice, but there was no mistaking it.
"Look out-" she began.
Too late. The arrow hissed through the air and struck Uwen in the back, punching through his armor. The surprise in his eyes grew even more pronounced. Then they emptied, and he fell against Dezra, blood on his lips. She lost her balance as he struck her, and they tumbled off the riverbank, into the Dark-water.
13
Dezra swallowed a mouthful of frigid water, struggling as Uwen's body bore her down. She tried to push him off, but his limp arms entangled her. Her struggles began to weaken.
Then the weight came off, pulled up from above. Hands grabbed her tunic, hauled her up. She emerged choking, and her rescuer-Borlos, of all people-dragged her to the river's edge, and pounded her back until she spat out a racking gout of water.
"Easy, Dez," he said as she wheezed, her face and hair fouled with clay. He looked past her. "How is he?"
Caramon didn't answer. Dezra twisted, gasping, and saw him standing in the stream over Uwen. The water around him was red with blood. He met her gaze accusingly, then another arrow flashed overhead, hitting him in the chest. It glanced off his breastplate with a loud ping!, then splashed into the water.
"Down!" Borlos shouted, hunkering low behind the embankment. "Leave him," he added when Caramon glanced at Uwen. "Move, before you end up the same way!"
A third arrow dove into the river to Caramon's left. He lunged forward, his legs churning the water, and threw himself down beside Dezra. He looked at her again, then turned away.
"Uh, big guy?" Borlos ventured. "I don't mean to be rude, but you do have a bow… ."
Caramon blinked. Awkwardly, he readied his shortbow, notched an arrow and pushed himself to his knees. Peering over the grassy embankment, he pulled back the string and let fly. Dezra heard a grunt, then the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.
"Got him," Caramon said. "One of those Skorenoi things. I think he's-"
A loud crack rang out before he could say more. He recoiled, ducking down.
"What was that?" Borlos asked.
"It blew up," Caramon said incredulously. "The arrow-it exploded when that creature died."
"Like the daemon warriors," Borlos said. "Chaos's legions in the war. The weapons that killed them were destroyed when they died, too. Huma's teeth: if all the Skorenoi are like that-"
Three more arrows arced above. Two vanished into the Darkwater; the third hit Uwen's body, floating in the stream.
Dezra pushed herself up, her hand on her sword. "How many are there?" she asked.
Caramon shrugged. "Hard to tell. Maybe six."
"Six," Borlos muttered. "Where'd your centaur chum get to, Dez?"
She ignored him, turning to her father. "How many more can you shoot?"
"I was lucky to hit the one."
Yet another arrow flew. It rose high, then dove sharply, striking the clay near Borlos's ankle. The bard flinched, drawing his leg in toward his body.
"We can't stay here," Dezra declared.
"Where are we supposed to go?" Borlos demanded.
"Give me a second." She rose to peer over the embankment, shaking off her father as he tried to pull her back. She saw the body of the one Caramon had shot-and the splintered remnants of the killing arrow-then looked past it, to the trees. She counted five misshapen shadows in the undergrowth, then drew back again when a shaft struck the ground in front of her.
"I think it's Thenidor's lot," she said. "They must have figured we'd come this way, and tried to head us off. They're close-I think we can rush them."
"Rush them?" Borlos gasped. "Are you insane?"
"You have a better idea?" Dezra shot back.
"You bet," the bard replied. "Dive in the river and swim."
Caramon shook his head. "They'11 just pick us off from the bank. No, Dez is right. If someone draws their fire, we might get to them before they can shoot again."
The bard swallowed. "So who gets to draw their fire?"
Dezra and Caramon looked at each other, then at him.
"I thought so," he said grimly.
Trephas hunkered low, watching the Skorenoi pepper the riverbank with arrows, and wondered what to do. He'd found them on the way back from investigating the noise he'd heard, but by that time, they'd been sneaking up on Dezra and the others. He'd watched Thenidor shoot the farmboy, and was a good enough archer to know it was a killing shot.