Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (81 page)

"I
am
the
world's
greatest
archer,"
the
Archer
replied
angrily,
"and
he
hit
her."

"He
had
surprise
on
his
side,
he
was
shooting
down,
and she
was
out
in
the
open—and
for
all
we
know,
he
was
aiming at
someone
else,"
the
Leader
retorted.
"You
were
shooting up
at
a
man
ducking
behind
a
parapet—there's
no
way
anyone
could
have
hit
him."

"Still
think
he'll
just
surrender?"
Breaker
asked
bitterly, as
the
Scholar
began
to
cut
around
the
Speaker's
wound
with his
pocketknife
to
free
the
barbs.

"It
didn't
cut
the
artery,"
the
Scholar
said.
"We're
lucky—
she
should
live."

"Take
her
back
to
the
wagon,
you
and
Beauty,"
the
Leader ordered.
"Bow,
Sword,
and
I
will
take
care
of
Laquar
kellin
Hario."
He
gestured.
"Come
on,
you
two!"

"What,
just
the
three
of
us?"
Breaker
said.

"Yes!
Now,
come
on!"
With
that,
the
Leader
broke
into
a trot,
up
the
slope.

"Come
on,"
the
Archer
said,
following.

Unhappily,
Breaker
followed,
as
well.

This
wasn't
how
it
was
supposed
to
go;
they
were
supposed
to
be
a
team
of
eight,
slipping
into
the
Dark
Lord's
fortress
unseen,
protected
by
magic,
following
a
carefully
worked-out
plan—not
three
men
charging
across
open ground
in
broad
daylight
with
ordinary
weapons.
This
was nothing
like
the
old
stories;
this
wasn't
heroism,
this
was
madness.

But
what
choice
did
they
have?
The
Thief
had
not
come, the
Seer
had
lost
her
nerve,
the
Speaker
was
wounded,
the Beauty
and
the
Scholar
were
tending
to
her—that
left
the
three
of
them.

At
least
none
of
them
had
died
yet—but
he
didn't
want
to think
about
that,
lest
the
thought
become
fact.
So
far
they
had
relied
on
the
Wizard
Lord's
unwillingness
to
give
up
any of
his
magic,
but
surely,
that
only
went
so
far—and
that
arrow
might
well
have
killed
someone!
If
it
had
pierced
the
Speaker's
femoral
artery
she
would
be
bleeding
to
death even
now,
and
Breaker
doubted
anyone
could
have
saved her.

And
why
wasn't
the
Wizard
Lord's
archer,
whoever
it was,
shooting
more
arrows?
He
peered
up
at
the
top
of
the
tower,
at
the
jagged
parapet;
he
hadn't
seen
the
archer,
but the
Leader
had
said
he
was
behind
that
barrier.

And
what
if
there
were
several
archers?

Of
course,
all
the
reports
said
that
this
Wizard
Lord
kept less
staff
than
any
other
in
history—where
the
Dark
Lord
of the
Midlands
had
kept
a
hundred
guards
at
his
keep,
and
the
Dark
Lord
of
Goln
Vleys
had
dozens
of
spies
and
assassins, the
Dark
Lord
of
the
Galbek
Hills
wasn't
known
to
employ anyone
but
a
handful
of
maids
from
Split
Reed
who
did
his
cooking
and
cleaning,
and
presumably
provided
other
services
as
well.