Chapter Forty-Five
The Firebound Few
They were outnumbered, outmatched—yet fire made them more than men.
The warning had barely left Matteo’s mouth before Storne barked,
“We’ve been followed. Into the forest—now!”
The world snapped to motion.
Hooves struck stone.
Startled birds tore skyward in a rush of wings.
The company exploded into motion.
Viktor didn’t think—he only shoved Amerei toward Obsidian’s reins. She mounted quick, cloak gathered in her fist, eyes flashing wide. He swung onto Ruby, teeth clenched against the pull in his side.
Storne’s voice cut through the chaos, eyes locked on Viktor:
“Don’t you dare let her out of your sight.”
Viktor gave a single nod.
A vow of blood.
Branches whipped low as the column tore down the dirt path, the thunder of hooves devouring the hush of Bernewood.
Amerei flicked her reins, Obsidian surging to Viktor’s flank, her cloak snapping behind her like a banner, hair streaming wild in the wind.
“We need to become a moving target!” Viktor called. “Can you handle the trees at a gallop?”
She shot him a look, fierce through the rush. “Can you?”
His lips curved despite the danger.
Fecking marry me already.
He drove Ruby harder into the shadows beside her, the forest swallowing them whole.
* * *
Gabriel urged Faerin forward, the mare leaping roots like a hound loosed from its chain. Evander’s face was pale but set, fingers white around the reins.
Gabriel didn’t let him breathe.
“Eyes up, Lieutenant—riders coming hard!
But Evander’s gaze flicked anyway—to the red glow cutting through the trees, torches weaving like hunting serpents. Shapes moved fast between the trunks, steel glinting, hooves pounding.
Zeporah’s men. Closing.
“Don’t look at them—look where you’re going,” Gabriel called, yanking his mount to clear a fallen trunk. “If they cut us off, we’re ash.”
A branch raked Evander’s shoulder, tearing fabric and flesh alike. He hissed through his teeth but didn’t fall back. Gabriel’s eyes flicked to him—shaken, green as spring—but dask, he held the line.
The horns came next—harsh, hungry, echoing through the trees until every stride felt stolen.
Gabriel wrenched Faerin hard, wheeling the mare broadside across the path.
“Now!”
Evander’s heels dug in.
Stones littering the trail shuddered, lifted—then blazed.
Together they raised their slings, Endowment sparking, the air vibrating hot.
They wound up—
once, twice—
and hurled them as one.
Fiery arcs screamed through the forest, crashing through brush, scattering horses and men alike.
Shouts rang out—startled, furious.
“Ride!” Gabriel snapped, already spurring Faerin forward.
Evander followed, chest heaving, the echo of burning stone rolling in their wake.
Gabriel wheeled his arm, fire arcing from his sling. The stone slammed into a soldier’s chest, dropping him clean out of the saddle.
Evander loosed his own.
It struck a man in the throat.
For a heartbeat, Evander didn’t understand what he was seeing—only that the rider’s hands flew up, clawing at nothing, eyes wide with surprise. Then the man toppled from the saddle and lay still in the dirt.
Evander froze, staring at his hands as if they no longer belonged to him. His pulse stuttered. The world went quiet except for his own breathing—ragged, hollow. What have I done?
“I—” His voice caught.
“Don’t think,” Gabriel barked, riding hard beside him. “Strike again or you’re dead.”
Another wave surged from the treeline, close enough that stones wouldn’t hold them. Hooves pounded, blades flashing through fractured light.
“Too close!” Gabriel shouted.
He hurled one last stone before yanking his horse short.
“Down—now!”
Evander followed, boots slamming hard into the dirt, sword already half-drawn. His breath came fast, fear and fire tangled. A shadow dropped beside him—taller, surer, steel already bared.
“Leolis,” Evander growled.
Steel rang.
Bright.
Brutal.
Leolis pressed him hard, strike after strike, fighting with the confidence of one who had already decided the outcome.
Their blades locked close enough that Evander could smell the iron and sweat.
The older soldier’s lip curled.
“Fight harder, boy. I’d hate for you to die before you watch me take your virgin princess apart.”
Flame licked up Evander’s blade—fierce for a heartbeat—then guttered, smoldering out as his strength buckled.
Leolis laughed, cruel and close. He slid his blade past Evander’s guard, forcing him back.
“A few moments of thrill? Is that why she denies you?”
Each strike drove Evander farther, boots slipping in churned earth. The older elf’s grin widened—one more lunge would finish it.
“Evander!” Gabriel’s voice cut across the clash.
He booted his own opponent sprawling, snatched up a jagged stone, and hurled it. Evander swung at it by instinct, heat sparking through his palms, blade arcing wide.
The rock ignited mid-air—a screaming ball of fire that ripped past Leolis’s head, close enough to sear a black line through his hair.
For the first time, Leolis staggered.
His grin faltered, shock flashing across his face—
then twisted into something worse.
His eyes went wild, feral, hunger and fury tangled together.
He bared his teeth, voice low and guttural.
“Now you bleed.”