Free Warrior Mage (Book 1) by Lindsay Buroker Page B

the frozen outpost where he was stationed shortly after. That was more than a thousand miles to the north—and ten thousand feet higher in elevation. He couldn’t have received leave again so quickly, and regardless, he wouldn’t have been given an army vehicle to come home in.
    Yanko rushed forward, but had to leap out of the way as the wobbly carriage nearly ran over him.
    “Falcon,” he cried. “What’s wrong?” Aside from the arrows sticking out of the craft...
    As it finally slowed to a stop, Yanko squinted at the end of the lake, wondering how far behind those archers, and whatever trouble his brother had escaped, were.
    “Yanko?” came a wan call from inside.
    It was only then, with his brother closer now, that Yanko sensed not only his presence, but his pain. He rushed to the heavy door on the side and tugged on the latch, but it was locked.
    “Falcon? Let me in. Were you shot?” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled himself onto the roof to try the hatch that gave soldiers inside access to the cannon. It was locked too. He was on the verge of trying to conjure up some magical method of picking locks when the lower door thunked open.
    Falcon spilled out onto the street with a groan.
    Yanko hopped down, landing beside him, touching his chest lightly. The nub of an arrow, the shaft broken off, protruded from his brother’s thigh, and a huge slash had torn open the shoulder of his army uniform—along with an inch-deep canyon in the flesh beneath.
    “What happened? Do you...?” Worry constricted Yanko’s throat again, making it hard to finish. If Falcon was mortally wounded the way Uncle Mishnal had been... Curse the coyote god, Yanko couldn’t lose someone else he loved. Not his brother.
    “Need a healer?” Falcon asked. “Love one, thanks.”
    Yanko found the flippancy encouraging. Dying men weren’t flippant, right?
    “Everyone’s missing,” Yanko said. “I’m sorry. We just got here and don’t know what happened.”
    “Missing?” Falcon’s eyes grew haunted as well as pained. “Am I too late?” He touched a small messenger satchel strapped across his chest.
    “If you have a letter for Father, yes. I don’t know where anyone is.” Yanko raised his voice and called, “Lakeo? I need your help.” He could carry his brother inside, but probably not without hurting him further. It would be easier to keep from bumping his wounds with two people.
    When he started to stand up, Falcon grabbed his arm. “Yanko? The message is for you.”
    “Me? Who would send me a message?”
    “That’s what I asked.” Falcon managed a quirky grin, even though he was breathing deeply, grabbing his leg and struggling for composure. Someone had bandaged it around the arrow, not risking pulling it out in the carriage. Or maybe Falcon had made the clumsy bandage himself. “I wasn’t told. I was pulled from my unit, given a carriage, and told to deliver it to you.” With a shaking hand, he reached for the satchel, fumbling with the clasp.
    “Let me. You’ve lost a lot of blood, haven’t you?” Yanko could see some of it staining the floor of the carriage. He glimpsed someone’s arm, as well, an unmoving arm, also coated in blood. “And a driver,” he guessed.
    “Yeah.” Falcon moved his hand and let Yanko unfasten the clasps. “If I can’t have a healer, I could at least use a drink from Father’s forbidden cabinet. I’m old enough for it now, don’t you think?”
    Footsteps clomped on the wooden stairs of the porch.
    “He’s a mess,” Lakeo said. “Do you know who he is?”
    “My brother.” Yanko pulled an envelope out of his brother’s pouch, then waved for Lakeo to come help carry him inside. When he spotted the deep purple wax seal on the paper, he itched to open it, but he had to take care of Falcon first. “You saw the royal seal?” he couldn’t help but ask as Lakeo came around to Falcon’s legs. Yanko slid his hands under his brother’s armpits.
    Falcon hissed when they