Page 6 of Court of Talons

I’m thrown backward with the impact of the Divh’s crash back to earth. Another eruption of dust explodes skyward. I think I hear Nazar’s voice, but I have no time for him.

My head canting dangerously to the side with the weight of my braids, I scramble over the promontory’s edge, ignoring the rocks and the scrubby brush that rips at my clothes and hair. The mighty Gent didn’t catch Merritt after all. Instead, my brother lies in the shallow lee of a rocky outcropping. The Divh sprawls on the far bank of the stream, knocked back into the ruined forest, trembling violently. I gape at the monster, then back at Merritt as I race down the slope.

My brother has rolled to his side, his body outstretched. The arrow is embedded in his back, its dull gray flanges sticking out wide like a horse’s plume, terrible and dire.

“Merritt,” I gasp, dropping to my knees. The cold, cruel point of the arrow juts from his chest, stained crimson with fast-flowing blood. Merritt’s eyes are wide and glassy. I take hishands, wishing I could give him my strength, my stubbornness, that he might live and I might suffer in his place.

The Divh groans in the clearing by the stream, its breath heavy and harsh. My brother’s body shudders as Gent’s does, the two of them still echoing each other’s agony, and I grip Merritt’s hands more firmly.

“You will not die, my brother,” I command as his wild gaze finds mine, this bright and foolish boy. There is no more superiority in his eyes, no more youthful disdain. Instead, there’s fear. Fear and hope and endless yearning for my words to be true. “You will not die but rise in glory, defending the Tenth House as our champion. From the steps of the Exalted Imperium to the farthest borders of the Western Realms, you will ride forth. You will not die.”

“Talia,” he whispers. Panic chases through me. I’ve dressed animal wounds after vicious attacks—men’s wounds too, when marauders ambushed our riders. I know death, and I know the burst of blood that spills from Merritt’s mouth, painting the world in red. Still, I can do naught but hold this fragile warrior child in my grasp. He is my brother, and he cannot die. He is my brother, and?—

“You will not die,” I say again, more sharply. Merritt’s pain-filled stare drifts back to mine. He seems ancient in this moment, not a boy at all anymore, but a man who’s learned too late the wisdom of the world, too late and too soon at once. I sense him slipping away and I pull him awkwardly close, trying to avoid the tip of the brutal arrow that seems to have cleaved its way through even bone, so firmly has it punched through my brother’s suddenly too-small body.

I shudder as Merritt collapses into me. I’ve been taught not to cry, but the unbending of my brother’s body is my undoing as well. Tears spill forth, sobs wracking through me. I can almostimagine Merritt’s spirit, desperately fighting to leave, but I am equally desperate.You cannot die.

Finally, my mind registers that something else is wrong.Where are our retainers, come to help with Merritt? Where is Nazar?

Then a new sound penetrates my ears.

Screaming.

I whip around, but I can’t make anything out beyond the promontory’s peak. Still, I mark the crash of battle on the other side of the rocky outcropping—the clatter of swords, the pounding of horses’ hooves, the cries of men.Marauders!

The warrior!As soon as his image flashes into my mind, I cannot unsee it, I cannot undo it. No one else was in the forest, was there? I rushed back too fast, too fast! I didn’t ask his name; I didn’t ask his business. I let myself be turned around and now...and now…

I suck in a huge breath. I have no sword, no shield. But they’ll be coming—for me, if not for Merritt. No one will believe my brother has survived that arrow through his back. If I can hide him in plain sight, hide us both…

Hauling Merritt against me, I drag him along the rocky slope. Several paces on, I see a shallow ditch flanked with boulders. I stumble into it, half pulling Merritt’s body over mine, facedown so the arrow’s foul gray plumage is easy to see for anyone looking. If they think he’s dead, they’ll not glance twice, I know. They won’t look for either of us.

My brother convulses again, though the breath has all but left his body.

“Shhh, Merritt, shhh,” I croon, clutching him close. “Lie still. They’ll think you’re dead. They’ll leave and we’ll find help, I swear it.”

The cries of battle surge closer. Above me, pressing down as if to cover me more completely, my brother shivers again.

Or…not exactly shivers.

Squinting hard, I fix on the point just below his left shoulder, where beneath his tunic sleeve, Merritt’s warrior band is deeply embedded in his bicep. He received that sentient cuff when he was twelve. I hadn’t been a part of that ceremony, of course. I know next to nothing of the private, sacred ritual. But now the loose fabric of my brother’s sleeve trembles violently, shifting as something moves beneath it. In my mind’s eye I can see his warrior band, wriggling against Merritt’s skin as if to shuck itself free from my brother’s dying arm, an arm it no longer considers worthy of protecting or defending.

“Stay with me, Merritt.” To keep him steady, I grip Merritt’s shoulder with my right hand, then entwine my left hand with his as his fingers slacken. “We’ll get you help, we will.”

Where is Merritt’s Divh?I can’t see anything from my hiding place. Another shard of panic knifes through me. Divhs die when their warriors die, disappearing back to their own plane. So, if the monster is still here—if it lives, then there’s hope.

I lift Merritt’s body a bare inch to peer out, but the Divh no longer sprawls across the river, its enormous bulk gone. And when I look back at my brother, I know the truth.

By the Light, no.Merritt’s eyes have turned distant and cold, staring into nothing. His body is yet more diminished, thinner than it was, a mere shroud of the boy who’d fairly burst with laughter and chatter and life. I try to speak, to cry, to dosomething, but I’m locked in place, covered in Merritt’s blood. Everything around me is frozen still, except… I frown in confusion. Except Merritt’s warrior band.

I reach out to lock my hand in his, drawing it close as I stare at his upper left arm. I transfer his hand to my left and slide a new knife out of my right wrist sheathe and into my palm, then cut his tunic sleeve away. What I see makes my mouth go dry.

While the rest of the world has stopped, my brother’s band, that sacred symbol of the bond between warrior and Div…keepsmoving.

Squirming, almost. Slipping and writhing like a living thing—then snapping free with impossible speed to race down his arm.

“What—”

I jerk back but can’t dislodge my left hand in time.