Shenn approached, his breath quickening, and Ren thought he saw his hand reach for his dagger.
But just then the dog began to bark, running up the trail, and from far away there came a great howl, long and low and angry—the eld. Ren gave Shenn a questioning look, and the two of them turned and pursued the animal, following the dog’s yelps as it went deeper into the woods.
Along the narrow steephead valley, at the source of the clear spring that had carved the ravine into the rock, they found the dog circling, panting, sniffing the air. The peaks rose in a sheer cliff above their heads, but there was nothing there.
No eld. The sun was setting, the air once more growing cold, the smoke grass undulating in the wind.
The dog looked up at the edges of the valley and gave a quick bark.
“Don’t worry,” Shenn murmured to Ren, coming up and taking the boy by the elbow, his eyes never leaving Ren, the knife in his hand.
Ren’s suspicions were correct: Shenn was not there for the eld.
“What will you tell my sister?” Ren asked. “After?”
“That the job is done,” he said, “that I did what her boys failed to do in the Hollows or in the bordertowns.”
So that was who wanted him dead. His own kin. His own sister had sent the gray-cloaked men who had trailed Ren since his release from the Priory. His own family was behind it. Ren had been too eager to trust the Harkans, to be their king. He had tried to befriend Shenn, but it had clearly been a waste of time. It was true what they said back at the Priory, that ransoms were seldom welcome back home. He had pushed the thought from his mind, but he could no longer deny it. The truth lay in the dagger Shenn held in his hand.
What was family when you were taken from them at three years of age?
Ren had no family.
He had no one but his fellow ransoms. Adin. Tye. They would never break his confidence or turn on him.
They were all he had left.
“It’ll hurt more if you fight me,” Shenn said, lunging with his knife—
Ren twisted away from the killing blow just as the eld leapt from the outcropping above, its hoof and horn hitting Shenn flat in the chest.
The creature trampled over him, screaming its outrage as it pounded on Shenn’s chest with its large hooves while the dog snapped at its heels. The eld’s front hoof caught Shenn’s cloak, and dragged him for a few paces before his shoulder hit a large stone, wedging him there while the animal bucked and screamed, shaking its head violently and laying down its horns, aiming them at Shenn’s throat. A lunge, a scrape, and Shenn’s blood poured out—but from his shoulder, Ren saw, not the throat, as the horns had nearly missed him.
Shenn fought back; he slashed at the eld with his dagger, but Ren could see that his strength was already gone. The dagger severed the hide, but the wounds were only glancing and did little to deter the eld. The creature smashed Shenn against the rock, then retreated, craning its neck, displaying its mighty antlers in all their glory, the white bifurcating tusks glistening in the light.
Then the creature bent its horns toward Shenn once more.
Ren hefted a mighty stone and hurled it at the eld, knocking the animal hard on the skull, just above the eyes. The eld roared, doubled back, and paused, its attention turning toward the new distraction.
Ren froze, his mind spinning. He was shaken by the sudden appearance of the eld, the trampling of Shenn, but most of all his words—the job is done. His own family, his sister wanted him dead. What sense was there in any of this, in trying to win his horns and the throne of Harkana if the family he had suffered for was as ruthless as the men who had kept him locked in the Priory?
In his anger, he locked eyes with the eld and the creature bellowed, mist rising from its nostrils, the antlers glistening like a crown of thorns. The eld bent its head and charged. The creature swept its many-pointed antlers from side to side, scraping the earth. Ren sidestepped the antlers. He hit the ground rolling and landed in a cloud of sand not far from Shenn. The man was spitting blood, his hands shaking, trying to find the wound, the gash that was leaking blood onto the sand. Shenn’s face was white, lips purple. Ren glanced from his brother to the eld and back. I should help him. Assassin or not, Ren didn’t like the idea of leaving his brother to bleed out while Ren pursued the hunt. So, he hurled a stone at the eld, then another. The creature retreated, then circled, giving Ren time to rip a piece of cloth from Shenn’s tunic and place it on the wound.
“Hold it here,” he said. Ren took Shenn’s hand and showed him where to apply the pressure, but his brother’s arm fell limply back to his side.
Just then, the eld charged. Ren grasped Shenn’s dagger and threw it at the creature. The blade struck the eld’s right flank, digging into the muscle. The creature roared its fury, charging past Ren, shaking wildly and trying to dislodge the blade.
“I’ve bought us some time,” Ren said as he tore more cloth from Shenn’s tunic. He wound the fabric around his brother’s chest, passing it beneath his shoulders. “Here,” Ren said, taking Shenn’s hand again and pressing it once more to the wound. Behind them, hooves clattered on the earth.
As the eld bore down upon him, Ren managed to throw himself mostly out of its path, but the eld’s horns caught his foot, sending him tumbling to the earth. That’s what I get for helping Shenn. He scolded himself for aiding his brother, even though it was the right thing to do.
Ren leapt to his feet, his clothes matted with dirt and dashed with Shenn’s blood. He held out his father’s dagger as the eld circled, coming around for another attack. It wasn’t until he saw the slender blade silhouetted against the mighty eld horns that a thought occurred to Ren: Why such a tiny knife? The dagger was simply too short to wield against the eld. Each of the eld horns was about the length of his outstretched arm, while the dagger was not much longer than the width of his hand. I need a bloody two-handed sword. The dagger might as well be a sewing needle for all the good it would do him.
The eld advanced and so did Ren. He took two great strides forward and ducked when the creature raised its horns. He came up behind the mighty tusks. Instinctively, his hand shot out, and his fingers wrapped the nearest eld horn, holding tightly around the burr as he pulled himself up onto the creature’s back. The eld bucked furiously back and forth as it tried to knock him to the ground where it could trample him with its hooves.