Free Shattered Shields - eARC by Jennifer Brozek, Bryan Thomas Schmidt Page B

caster.”
    Rethgar shook his head. “Orders were to scout and return, not cross enemy lines—”
    “We can do both,” I interrupted. “Send Tliel back to headquarters with our report while we go locate the tallest camp. We can’t let any units blunder into a caster unaware.” They’re the most deadly tallest—able to warp natural energies into their own foul magic. A single one could destroy an entire company. For that reason, any casters spotted were killed on sight. I looked around. “Where’s Tliel?”
    We all checked around for the pixie, but saw no sign of him. “Where’d he go after sounding the warning?” Syreth asked.
    “The archer.” I cursed my lack of awareness. I’d been so focused on Nereas’ sacrifice that I’d forgotten the pixie took an arrow during the fight. “He was hit, but I thought he was still flying.” My gut twisted at the thought of losing another soldier. “We have to go back.”
    “I left a trail,” Rethgar said. “If he was up, he’da found it—and us—by now.”
    “Syreth, you and I will backtrack and look for him. Reth and Bzith, do what you can for Fzith’s injury. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Snugging my battered, pointed leather cap tight on my head, I turned to the satyr. “Let’s go.”
    He picked me up and settled me on his shoulders, then bounded off through the woods, accelerating until the passing trees and brush were nothing more than a black blur. Rethgar could go as fast in a straight line, but he couldn’t maneuver like a satyr. All I could do was hold on to his thick gray pelt and not cry out every time we came within a hair’s-breadth of hitting a stump or rock. But Syreth adjusted our trajectory every time, whizzing between the towering trunks and ancient boulders jutting from the earth.
    When we reached the clearing, he set me down at the edge. We both scanned the area, in case the tallest had left a force behind. The dead bodies had been removed, and only black patches of drying blood and dozens of large footprints—including the deeper ones of the Ravager—remained. There was no sign of Tliel.
    Syreth sniffed the air. “Tallest stink everywhere…can’t pick up his scent.”
    I swallowed past the lump in my throat when I saw Nereas’s toppled oak, its limbs torn or chopped off and its bark scored with dozens of sword cuts. Like us, the tallest were not merciful to their enemies.
    We cautiously entered the clearing, ready to run at the slightest sound of the enemy. “Guard me.” I sank into the ground again. Concentrating, I extended my senses, searching for any sign of our comrade. There.
    Rising, I trotted to the far side. On the ground, amid a line of tallest boot prints, was a lone, glowing drop of blood. Walking a few steps into the woods, I found another one. Next to it lay a single, tiny, broken arrow, confirming my worst fear.
    “He’s been taken.”
    * * *
    Our reduced unit traveled swiftly through the forest, ready to slaughter anyone who got in our way. When we returned, there was no discussion about what had to be done. We never left one of our own in the hands of the tallest. Ever. Even Bzith had nodded when he’d learned where we were going. Although his seamed face was drawn and pale, and his side must have pained him with every step, he hadn’t uttered a sound of complaint.
    Twice we avoided tallest patrols, although we were forced to double back and circle around the second enemy party. We weren’t sure they were specifically looking for us, but it made sense—we’d killed theirs and escaped with our lives. Well, most of us. After dodging the second group, caution slowed our steps—no sense losing four to save one.
    After calling yet another halt, Syreth returned from point and bent to my ear. “Edge of the woods is just ahead. Suggest we take a look before going in.”
    I nodded, and we all crept through the underbrush to where the woods ended and the realm of the tallest began.
    Before us stretched