"And the two villagers who just disappeared? Or the two by the stream earlier, collecting the first body? They never returned. First the bard, then--"
"Body by the stream? We passed that. It was still there, on a blanket. We wondered what had happened."
"You know exactly what happened," she said. "You killed the villagers and the guards. Picking them off so they couldn't fight--"
"The only people killing anyone are the ones who came with you. We saw what happened to Cecil." Ronan's voice took on a growl, not unlike the older man's.
"He wasn't infected, and they knew it," Ronan continued. "That's why we took you hostage. To make sure we get out of here alive. So, yes, we knocked out your guard, but he's right over there. We have no cause to kill the others."
Ashyn took another step toward her dagger.
"Don't argue with her, boy," the older man said. "We're wasting time."
"No. It'll be easier if we're not fighting her every step of the way. And if something is killing the villagers--"
"Nothing's killed them. They got spooked and--"
Ashyn dove for her dagger. Ronan was closer and lunged with her. She managed to get her fingers on the handle, but he slapped his hand down on the blade, pinning it there. She looked up. Their eyes met. Then he drew his hand across the blade and fell back with a yelp, cradling his fist. She snatched the dagger and scrambled up.
As Ronan shook his hand, she could see a small line of blood on his palm. Too tiny to excuse the cursing he was doing. He clenched his fist against his chest and, grimacing, turned to the other man.
"Sorry, Uncle. I--"
The older man cuffed him hard enough to make Ashyn wince. But Ronan shook it off and looked at Ashyn.
"You have a blade, but so do we." He waved Moria's dagger and gestured at Faiban's sword. "So don't bother running. Now, bring your lantern. We'll go find your guard, and you'll see he's fine."
Eight
Faiban was gone.
"Where is he?" Ashyn demanded.
"Not here, obviously," Ronan said as he prowled the clearing. "You said some of your party vanished. What--?"
His uncle cut in. "The guard escaped, boy. Vines must have been weak. Or someone freed him."
"Then where are the vines?"
His uncle waved at the forest. "Everywhere."
As they argued, Ashyn glanced at her hands, one holding the dagger, the other the lantern. She was armed and she had a light. She could fight or she could run.
Her sister would attack the moment she got the opportunity, whatever the odds. How many games of capture-my-lord had Ashyn lost after composing the perfect strategy, only to have her sister make some bold, mad move?
Now, watching the boy and his uncle argue, Ashyn wanted to make that bold move. They were distracted, having decided she wasn't a threat.
As she considered it, a drop fell from the treetops, hitting a leaf with a soft plop. The droplet shone red in the lantern light.
"Blood," she said.
The two stopped arguing.
Ronan walked over just as another drop fell from above. He touched the leaf.
"You're right," he murmured. "It's blood." He peered into the dark branches. "There must be something up there."
Ronan took her lantern. While he lifted it overhead, the light blinded them to everything beyond its glow. His uncle snatched the lantern and held it up. It reached a little higher, but that didn't help.