Free An Immortal Descent by Kari Edgren

sailors who had just emerged from the tavern.
    “Watch yerself!” one yelled, with a rough shove that sent Julian tumbling toward the road.
    James snatched him back just as a man veered off course to avoid a collision with his handcart. The cargo rattled and clinked, and I started at the sight of the amber cloak and white hair. The old man tipped his head in acknowledgement of the near miss. “Mind me cart, lads,” he said in an Irish brogue. “Bones break easy as me glass.” He laughed good-naturedly and continued on.
    With a curt nod, James turned back to the sailors, Julian propped under one arm. “Idiots!” he snapped. “Can’t you see he’s unwell?”
    The knot of sailors unfurled into a loose line of four men. A particularly large fellow stepped forward, glowering from small eyes set beneath a heavy brow. “Who ye be calling idiots?” The three remaining men closed ranks behind their friend.
    One look at James, and I knew the long ride had rattled his wits loose. Angry blood crept into his cheeks, and he appeared ready to commit murder. Or perhaps suicide, if he thought to take them all on at once. “Any man dimwitted enough to shove a sick man.” He waved his hand irritably. “Leave off before someone gets hurt.”
    The sailors pushed closer. James moved in front of Julian, his shoulders squared. One hand rested on his dagger.
    Oh, good heavens.
What the man had in courage, he lacked in rudimentary math. Four well-rested sailors against two exhausted men, one of which could hardly stand at the moment. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was headed.
    Julian stepped alongside James, swaying from the effort. When he attempted to put a hand to his own dagger, the near useless appendage fell back to his side.
    Bugger!
More points for courage, though a strong wind would suffice to fell the man. I shot an imploring look to Justine, while making a mental list of our options. For my part, I could attempt to immobilize the sailors long enough for James and Julian to escape. Or wait for the beating to finish, and then heal them once we were behind closed doors, though there would be little to do for Julian until he replenished his power from Brigid’s spring. Either way, it seemed a lot of wasted effort for a simple misunderstanding.
    “Which do ye want?” one of the sailors asked his mates. “That dark headed one looks a foot in the grave already. What say ye we put the other there for him?”
    James unsheathed his dagger. “Touch my friend and you’ll regret it.”
    The sailors laughed, and two of them drew their own weapons. “Captain’s short of hands,” another said, gesturing at James with a knife tip. “That gent’s got spark. I say we bring him back for a present. Wager he’s worth a week’s ration of rum.”
    The other men chorused in resounding “ayes.”
    Oh, no you don’t.
James was my ally in arms, and under no condition was I about to let him be pressed into service. Shifting my weight to the stirrup, I prepared to dismount.
    “Excuse me, gentlemen,” Justine said, her provocative purr rising above the din.
    All six men turned toward her at once, drawn like bugs to a flame. James and Julian looked at her expectantly. One of the sailors whistled under his breath. The others simply stared, mouths hanging open as they drank in her sultry beauty. I moved my weight back to the saddle and waited.
    Justine twined a coppery curl around a gloved finger. “My brother there is very ill. Would you mind helping me down so I may assist him into the tavern?”
    The sailors tripped over each other in the race to get to her first. Even then, they jostled and shoved for position. The horse pranced nervously from the commotion, and Justine leaned forward to pat its neck. “My companion also needs assistance,” she said, tilting her head in my direction.
    Two sailors came over and grinned at me. One showed dark gaps from missing teeth. The other had an angry boil on the end of his nose. They