Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [83]
Sure enough, blood splattered her face, and Arya wondered that she did not feel the sword that must be standing in her chest or forehead. Perhaps this was death.
Then she heard a bubbling groan and her eyes snapped open.
A black throwing knife in his remaining eye, the ranger sank to the ground. His short swords tumbled from his limp hands.
Arrows protruding from his shoulder and chest, Walker stood over her, his mithral shatterspike knocking one arrow from the air even as another nicked his shoulder. Red-Hair-a pair of daggers in his hands-Tough-Face, and Thin-Man were rushing toward them, murder in their eyes.
"Strong as steel!" he rasped.
Arya raised her brow, but she understood his extended hand.
"Up!" Walker shouted, just in case she hadn't. Arya was not about to argue.
Her armor weighed her down and her leg protested, but she managed to stand with his aid. Pressing her back to Walker's, she lifted her sword and shield and awaited the three rangers stalking in from all sides.
"Turn into a ghost!" commanded Arya. "Flee!"
"Not without you," Walker said through gritted teeth.
The rangers pulled up short, granting the two a wide berth. Walker's cloak of grim resolution intimidated them, and they came no closer. Instead, Red-Hair reversed his daggers for throwing, and the others pulled light crossbows from their belts. Thin-Man even produced a slender white wand and pointed it at them-the crystal at the end crackling with electricity. Darthan and Gieves came to join them, pointing their arrows at the two resolute warriors.
"Lower your blade," said Walker.
"What?" Arya could not believe her ears.
"No choice." The point of his shatterspike dipped toward the ground, and he dropped the throwing dagger in his left hand.
Hesitantly, Arya lowered her sword as well, though the shield was still strapped to her arm. If they fired at them, she could step in front of Walker and protect both of them. Perhaps. If she knew Tymora's favor.
"Smile on us, Lady Luck," whispered Arya.
As though they heard an unspoken command, the line of rangers with projectile weapons parted and another man stepped through. With dusky flesh made penumbral at night and curly hair the color of soot, he seemed made of darkness-a darkness he usually kept caged in white hunting leathers. Not now, however: now he wore black.
"Meris," growled Arya. "Bastard."
"Indeed," the wild scout laughed. "How nice to see you again, beautiful cousin. You spurned my well-meant advances before, but I assure you that you won't this time."
"Nothing from you is ever 'well-meant,' Meris." Arya took the smallest step in front of Walker, and all the arrows and bolts shifted to her.
Meris ignored his rangers. Instead, he turned his gaze to Walker. "I see your affections have found somewhere else to rest," he said.
"Leave him out of this," said Arya. "I'm the one you want-take me and let him go!"
"Actually, I'm here for him," replied Meris. "You're just an added bonus. I've always looked forward to getting you alone, but I thought I'd missed my chance. Tymora must be smiling on both of us."
The knight might have winced at the irony, but she was too confused. "You didn't know I was here?" Arya looked at him incredulously.
"Oh, I'd guessed he'd use you and leave you dead in the forest somewhere," Meris said. "He's a dangerous man, that Walker." He stepped toward them, his hand dropping to his axe.
Arya stepped in front of Walker and lifted her blade, warding him off. "Take another step and I attack," she warned.
Meris looked at the rangers on his left and right. "Oh, that's reasonable," he smirked. "Really, Cousin-"
"If I attack, you'll have to kill me, and you'll lose your 'added bonus.'"
Meris laughed. "Irrelevant," he rasped, mimicking Walker's broken voice. "I could just shoot both of you right now."
"But if I come with you willingly," Arya said. "You don't lose it."
"You would come with me willingly?" Meris's face was calm, but she could tell he was intrigued. Then his eyes narrowed.