The Daylight War

Renna put a hand on his arm, and when Arlen looked at her, she met his eyes with a pleading look. ‘Take Rockslide, too. Ent right, him locked up like that. Meant to be out in the night.’

‘Can’t argue that,’ Arlen said, ‘but we got a long way to go in a hurry, and ent got time to drag another wild mustang all the way back to the Hollow.’ He looked to Jon, counting out more coins. ‘Can you send him on after us?’

‘Owe you that much and more,’ Jon said, ‘but I can’t risk my hands on a trip like that. Rocky will pull his stake and likely kick out the warding circles the first time they camp.’

Arlen nodded. ‘I’ll send Cutters to fetch him once I get to the Hollow. If anyone can handle a giant horse like that, it’s them.’

They flew down the road now. Twilight Dancer had to slow his full stride to match Promise, but Renna knew that it was only a matter of time.

‘I’m done wardin’ you up,’ she whispered in the mare’s ear, ‘he’ll be the one tryin’ to keep pace with you.’

Already, Promise wore shoes Arlen had warded himself, same as Dancer. A wood demon stepped onto the road in their path, and Renna rode it down in a thunderclap of magic. She pulled up, trampling the hapless demon and laughing as Promise crushed the life from it and got her first taste of demon magic. She leapt on down the road after Dancer, closing the gap between them with new vigour.

They made camp not long before dawn. ‘Stay with the horses,’ Arlen said. ‘Need to get a bit of my strength back.’ He disappeared into the gloom.

Renna gave him a few breaths to draw away, then moved off after prey of her own. She caught sight of a field demon stalking not far from camp, and fell into the lack-witted stumble of the old Renna, heaving her chest and whimpering in fear.

The demon gave a growl and pounced, but Renna was ready and caught it in a sharusahk throw, bearing it down. Her fists were painted with powerful wards, and she beat it about the head until it lay still.

She drew her knife, and this time didn’t even bother to cook the demon’s flesh before she ate it, sucking down the ichor like Glyn’s gravy. The taste was even fouler, but the remembrance of her power under the sun that day kept Renna’s stomach strong.

She was cleaned up and back in camp, chewing a sourleaf and carving wards into Promise’s hooves, when she heard Arlen returning.

‘He ent gonna know what I done,’ she told Promise. ‘Ent no way he could. And so what if he does? Arlen Bales don’t tell me what to do, promise or no.’

It was true enough, but it felt like a lie all the same.

She lifted her chin as Arlen appeared. He was glowing so brightly with magic that she had to squint her warded eyes to look at him. She understood why others thought him the Deliverer. There were times when the Creator Himself didn’t shine like Arlen Bales.

3

The Oatingers

333 AR Summer

27 Dawns Before New Moon

They said little the next day as they raced down an ill-used Messenger road. Arlen’s hood was drawn against the sun, but Renna knew the look of frustration it hid.

WhatbusinessdoesArlenhaveinDeliverer’s Hollow that’s so all-fired important?

It had to do with a girl, she knew. Leesha Paper. The name itched at her like a chigger. Arlen was evasive the first time Renna tried to ask who Leesha was to him, but they hadn’t been promised then, and she’d no right to insist.

Reckonit’s time to ask again, she thought.

‘Look out!’ Arlen cried as they turned a tight bend. Right in front of them, a cart was turned across the road, thick bushes to either side making it impossible to ride around. Renna dug her knees into Promise and pulled hard on her mane. The giant horse reared, whinnying and kicking wildly, and it was all Renna could do to keep her seat. Arlen watched, amused, from atop Twilight Dancer, who had already pulled up short and composed himself.

‘Promised you no halter,’ Renna said to the mare when she finally calmed. ‘Din’t say nothin’ about no saddle. You think on that.’ Promise snorted.

‘Ay, Tender! We could use a hand!’ a grey-bearded man called, waving at them with a worn and beaten hat. He and another man stood behind the cart, pushing as the skinny nag in front pulled.

‘Let me handle this, Ren,’ Arlen murmured, edging Twilight Dancer ahead of Promise. ‘What happened?’ he called.

The man came over to them, taking off his hat again to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his dirty hand. His hair and beard were mostly grey, the deep lines of his face streaked with dirt. ‘Stuck in the rottin’ mud. Think you might lend us one o’ them big horses long enough to break free?’

‘Sorry, can’t help,’ Arlen said, his eyes scanning the area.

The man’s eyes gogged at him. ‘Whaddaya mean, you can’t help? What kind of Tender are you?’

Renna looked at Arlen, surprised he would be so rude to a greybeard in need. ‘Dancer could pull them free in no time.’

Arlen shook his head. ‘Cart ent stuck, Ren. This is the oldest trick in the bandit handbook.’ He snorted. ‘Didn’t think folk still did this one.’

‘Bandits? Honest word?’ Renna looked around again, this time with her night eyes. She and Arlen were cut off in the middle of nowhere, in daylight when they were weakest. The mud wasn’t even up to the ankles of the men, and the bushes on either side of the road could easily conceal more men. Her fingers drifted towards her knife, but Arlen whisked a hand at her and she left it in its sheath.

‘Bad enough we got demons at night,’ Arlen said. ‘Now folk turn on each other in the day.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’ the greybeard cried, but he was stepping back, and Renna could see the lie in his eyes now, so clear that she wondered why she hadn’t seen it before. That day folk, even elders, could be just as bad as demons was no new lesson to her. Harl had been grey, and Raddock Lawry.

The man standing behind the cart ducked out of sight a moment, and then reappeared holding a crank bow. Two men came from the bushes, aiming drawn hunting bows at them. From around the bend behind them came three more men with spears, blocking their retreat. All were gaunt, with dark circles under their eyes and ragged, patched clothing.

Only the greybeard was unarmed. ‘Ent looking to hurt anyone, Tender,’ he said, putting his hat back on, ‘but these are desperate times, and you’re carrying an awful heavy load for a Tender and his …’ He squinted at Renna. She was dappled in shadows, obscuring the wards on her skin, but there was no missing the scandalous cut of her clothes. The man with the crank bow let out a low whistle, moving forward for a closer look.

‘Don’t go gettin’ any ideas, Donn,’ the greybeard warned, and the crank bowman checked himself.

The greybeard flicked his eyes back to Arlen. ‘In any event, we’ll be taking any food, blankets, or medicine you got, not to mention those big horses.’

Renna gripped her knife, but Arlen only chuckled. ‘Trust me, you wouldn’t want the horses.’

‘You don’t get to tell me what I want, Tender,’ the greybeard snapped. ‘Creator abandoned us a long time ago. Now you two get down off those horses or my men will fill you full of holes.’

Arlen was off Twilight Dancer in an instant. Renna barely saw him move as he closed the distance to the greybeard, catching him in a sharusahk choke hold and twisting the old man between him and the bowmen.

‘Like you said,’ Arlen said, ‘ent looking to hurt anyone. Just looking to be on my way. So why don’t you tell your men to …’

He was cut off as one of the bowmen let fly. Renna gasped, but Arlen snatched the arrow out of the air the way a quick man might snatch a horsefly.

‘This was apt to hit you more than me,’ Arlen noted, holding up the arrow in front of the greybeard. He tossed it aside.

‘Corespawn it, Brice!’ the greybeard shouted. ‘You trying to kill me?!’

‘Sorry!’ Brice cried. ‘Slipped!’

‘Slipped, he says,’ the greybeard muttered. ‘Creator help us.’

While all the attention was on the bowman, one of the spearmen took the opportunity to quietly move up behind Arlen. He was sneaky enough by day folk standards, but Renna didn’t cry an alarm. She could tell just from Arlen’s stance that he knew the man was coming. Was baiting it, even.

Just as the spearman lunged, Arlen shoved the greybeard away. The man put his spear horizontally over Arlen’s head, meaning to come up under his chin in a choke. Arlen grabbed the shaft, bending forward with a twist that turned all the man’s momentum against him, flipping him over to land heavily on his back. Arlen, now holding the spear in one hand, put his foot on the man’s chest and looked at the others.