006 Ambushed

  The wagon creaked and rattled along the dirt road, its wooden wheels groaning with every bump. I sat beside the old man on the driver’s bench, the reins sck in his hands as the oxen trotted forward at their zy pace. The forest fnked us on either side, thinning just enough to let patches of sunlight streak through the trees.

  “So,” I said, breaking the long silence. “What else do you know about this Count Delur?”

  The old man didn’t even gnce at me. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, one hand gently tugging the reins to guide the oxen around a crooked stone in the path.

  “Anything?” I pressed.

  Still nothing. Either he didn’t hear me, or he was ignoring me on purpose. Given how sharp he’d been earlier when money was involved, I was leaning toward the tter.

  Count Delur… The name sounded important. If I got Leaf’s transtion right, “Count” had to mean some kind of noble. There was no way it meant anything else, right? The kind of title you wouldn’t just throw around.

  “Do you know a way to Rague?” I tried again, adjusting my seat. “Anyone who can help me reach there?”

  The old man finally exhaled, lips parting like he was about to answer, but then the oxen whinnied and reared, hooves stamping the ground.

  A woman burst from behind a tree ahead of us, ragged clothes fpping, hair like bck straw. She stumbled into the middle of the road, legs muddy, eyes wild. But what mattered was the short bow she held, drawn, string taut, and an arrow trained squarely at the old man’s chest.

  “Stop right there!” she shouted, her voice cracked and raw.

  I moved instinctively, positioning myself just behind the old man’s shoulder. I drew my own recurved bow in a swift, practiced motion and slotted an ebony-tipped arrow onto the string. I pulled it back—smooth, silent—and aimed, just past the old man’s ear. One twitch of my fingers and the woman would drop.

  “Don’t move!” a deep voice barked behind me.

  I froze.

  A cold touch traced my neck. Metal. The ft of a bde? No. A spearhead. I could feel the tremble of its edge against my skin. A man had somehow crept up behind us, silent as a ghost.

  “Drop the bow,” the voice said, lower now, almost calm.

  Shit. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel he was close enough to end me before I even turned.

  I slowly loosened my grip on the bowstring, letting it ease back. My arms stayed raised, bow still in hand but no longer a threat.

  “Easy,” I said. “We’re just travelers.”

  The old man said nothing, hands still up, eyes locked on the woman in the road. Her hands trembled now, unsure. Maybe she hadn’t expected a fight. Or maybe she had and didn’t like how it was pying out.

  “You with the Terra dogs?” the woman hissed, eyes flicking between me and the old man.

  “No,” I said quickly. “Not with them. I’m heading to Rague.”

  “You speak like a noble,” the man behind me muttered.

  Where the hell did that impression even come from?

  “Yeah? I’m not. Just someone trying to get somewhere.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes. “Prove it.”

  “Hard to do that with a spear on my throat,” I replied.

  There was a pause, a silence stretched tight like the string of a bow.

  Then the pressure eased.

  I heard the sound of the spear being withdrawn. I exhaled slowly and turned. A tall man with sunburned skin and a tattered leather jerkin stepped back, spear still at the ready but no longer at my neck.

  “Who are you?” the woman asked again.

  I looked between the two of them. They were desperate, hungry, and dangerous. But not evil. Not like the raiders who burned Leaf’s vilge.

  “My name is… Leaf,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. A girl taken by Count Delur’s men.”

  The woman and the spearman exchanged a gnce.

  “Delur’s dogs took a lot of girls,” she said quietly. “If you’re really after them… you might just be stupid enough to be useful.”

  “Then maybe we can help each other,” I offered.

  She didn’t lower her bow, but her stance eased. A flicker of thought passed her face.

  “We only want the elf,” she said. “No sudden moves. The elf! Get off the wagon, slow and steady… or you’d get an arrow to the face!”

  “Wasn’t pnning on it,” I muttered, slinging my bow back.

  I hesitated.

  The two of them—dirty, tense, armed—moved like they knew the woods well. They didn’t seem scared of anything. Maybe that should’ve made me feel safer. It didn’t.

  I turned slightly, gncing back toward the old man’s wagon, my fingers brushing the smooth curve of my bow as if it could offer advice. The oxen shifted, snorting nervously, hooves restless on the dirt road.

  “Hey,” I called out. “Old man, wait!”

  But the second my feet hit the ground, the old bastard snapped the reins like he was in a race. The wagon jolted forward, and the horses lurched into motion, kicking up a curtain of dust behind them. He didn’t even look back.

  “Really?” I muttered. “Coward.”

  “Smart man,” Jorn said behind me. His voice was low and rough, like gravel soaked in liquor.

  I didn’t respond. Just adjusted my grip on the bow and sighed.

  The woman ahead of me kept walking without a word for a while, her boots crunching softly on pine needles and dry earth. After a few more steps, she finally gnced over her shoulder.

  “Name’s Sarah,” she said. “That’s Jorn.”

  The spearman gave a slight grunt, as if confirming it.

  I nodded slowly. “Leaf.”

  She didn’t question the name.

  Jorn didn’t either, but he didn’t exactly look friendly. He followed a few steps behind me, his spear lowered but not loose. He held it with one hand on the shaft and the other near the butt, ready to whip it into a full strike in a heartbeat. It wasn’t subtle. He wanted me to know I was being watched.

  “I’ll lead the way,” Sarah said, walking ahead. “Follow.”

  I kept walking anyway. I was already in this mess.

  Still, I couldn’t help frowning as I looked at Sarah again. Her clothes were ragged, patched together from too many different fabrics. One sleeve was torn halfway off, the other stitched with what looked like fishing line. Her boots were mismatched: one leather and one cloth. Her hair was knotted, and there was grime smeared across her neck like she hadn’t bathed in weeks.

  And yet somehow, she had a mercenary with her.

  How the hell does someone like her afford a guy like him?

  Mercenaries didn’t come cheap, at least not the good ones. Maybe Jorn owed her something. Maybe they had history. Or maybe…

  Maybe they’re just bandits pying a game.

  It wouldn’t be the first time someone acted helpful just to lead a traveler into the woods for a quiet kill and quick loot. But if they wanted loot, they would have ensured the ld man wouldn’t be able to run away.

  Moreover, still… they hadn’t asked for coin. Not yet. That didn’t mean they weren’t pnning to. But if they were going to rob me, they were taking their sweet time about it.

  Sarah didn’t seem particurly concerned with conversation. She led the way through a narrow deer path, winding between trees and rocks, taking sharp turns like she was following ndmarks only she could see.

  Jorn didn’t speak either, but he didn’t let the silence feel empty. His presence was loud, even when his boots made no sound. Every step he took felt calcuted. Controlled.

  I couldn’t decide if I was being escorted… or herded.

  “Where exactly are we going?” I finally asked.

  “To someone who might know where Delur’s taken the girls,” Sarah said, not looking back.

  “And you just happened to be waiting on the road for someone like me to pass by?”

  “We watch the road,” Jorn said. “You looked like trouble. We like trouble.”

  I swallowed a bitter ugh. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

  Sarah gave a snort or maybe the ghost of a ugh, maybe just a breath. “You’re not the first to come looking for the Bck Wolf.”

  I blinked. “That’s what people call him?”

  “That’s what his banner is,” she said. “A bck wolf on gold. It's not a secret. But what he does with the people he takes? That’s harder to find out.”

  I didn’t say anything. My stomach twisted as my mind fshed back to Mindy, her screams, her struggle, the brand.

  Sarah gnced back again, and this time her eyes weren’t wild. They were sharp. “You’ve got a reason to chase him. I can see it.”

  “You could say that.”

  She nodded once, accepting that answer for now.

  The forest closed in tighter as we walked, the canopy above thickening and muting the sky into patches of gray-blue between the branches. Every now and then, I caught myself wondering if I should turn around. If I should run. But where would I even go?

  I was already far from everything I knew.

  And somehow, even in Leaf’s body, I felt like I was getting closer to something tangible.

  We walked in silence, the trees crowding tighter around us as the path narrowed. Sarah moved with purpose, ducking under branches, hopping over roots with the ease of someone who had taken this path many times before. Jorn stayed behind me, quiet as death, his spear still cradled in that zy-but-ready grip that made the hairs on my neck stand on end.

  After the fourth or fifth turn, I finally asked, “What do you want from me?”

  “You’re an elf,” Sarah said, as if that expined everything.

  I waited for more. Nothing came.

  “That’s it?” I said, frowning. “That’s your big answer?”

  She didn’t respond.

  I almost turned around then and there, but the sound of rushing water reached my ears. The treeline parted, and suddenly, we were descending a rocky slope toward a hidden clearing by the riverside.

  The camp came into view.

  It was nestled carefully between natural barriers—towering boulders on one side, tall pines and tangled underbrush on the other. Smoke rose gently from a few scattered fire pits, thin and well-managed to avoid drawing attention. Canvas tents and makeshift huts were arranged in loose circles. A few drying racks held fish and strips of meat. Tools and baskets y scattered about like the people here hadn’t settled long… or might need to leave quickly.

  People turned as we arrived. Not many. Maybe a few dozen at most.

  There were elders hunched beneath cloaks, their faces weathered like stone. Children peeked out from behind crates and tent fps, clutching dolls made of twine and scraps of cloth. A few women and men stood with weapons in hand—an old axe, a broken spear shaft rewrapped with rope, a curved butcher’s bde sharpened to a point. They weren’t soldiers. They were survivors. Farmers, hunters, tradesfolk. The kinds of people who shouldn’t be anywhere near a battlefield.

  Sarah walked ahead and gestured with a hand. “This is what’s left,” she said. “The dregs, if you want to be blunt.”

  I followed her down into the camp, trying not to stare. But it was hard not to.

  She gnced back at me. “Mountain cns. Mostly from the eastern slopes. Some riverfolk. A few from the northern farms near Ebron. All of them escaped.”

  “Escaped from what?”

  “Svery.” Her voice was ft, like she’d said the word too many times to flinch at it anymore. “Count Delur’s business is booming. The bastard has contacts all over the provinces. He’s been expanding: more men, more raids, and more deals. He’s not just taking women anymore. He’s taking everyone he thinks he can sell.”

  My stomach tightened. “And what does that have to do with me being an elf?”

  Sarah stopped walking and turned toward me. Her gaze was sharp, but not unkind. Just serious.

  “Because two nights ago,” she said, “a few of us raided one of Delur’s supply camps. Belonged to one of his knights.”

  “You attacked a noble’s camp?” I said, eyebrows rising.

  “We don’t care about his title.” She shook her head. “What we saw… what we found…”

  She exhaled hard.

  “There were elves in cages,” she said. “A lot of them. Young. Old. Colred. Chained. Not just women either. Warriors. Hunters. Even a healer, I think.”

  I swallowed. The image of Mindy fshed in my mind—screaming, struggling, branded.

  “And you think I can help,” I said slowly.

  She nodded. “You’re the only elf we’ve seen walking free. Armed. Capable. That either makes you a traitor, or someone worth listening to.”

  I clenched my jaw, staring past her at the camp. At the children. The tired men with borrowed weapons. The haggard mothers.

  I didn’t feel like a hero. I didn’t even feel like myself.

  But I knew one thing. I wasn’t going to stand by and let it happen again.

  Not to them. Not to anyone.