[This post is from Thom’s point of view.]
The pace of the drums in the distance sped up for a moment. Thom felt his heartrate increase along with their tempo, breathing growing a little ragged as his lungs tried to keep up.
Calm. Stay calm.
All he wanted to do was get his wife and unborn son away from the coming danger.
Tell Carolyn to saddle horses and get them out of here—Marin and Neve and Phelan and Tala and the babies and Angie. Tell her to saddle horses and get them out of here, ride out across the bridge and far away. Tell her to ride to Cameron and to wait for us to come for them—if we ever do, if we can.
His mouth went dry.
The drums stopped.
Thom’s stomach dropped.
It’s too late for that. No one escapes now.
He breathed a curse and closed his eyes, though only for the barest moment. He heard Leinth’s voice.
“They’re here,” she said, her voice soft.
“If they are, we can’t see them yet,” Sif growled. Her bowstring creaked, though not enough for it to be a full draw. She was simply making ready.
“Seamus,” Thom said, managing somehow to keep his voice steady. “The archers from the Hunt.”
“They’ll loose on your mark,” he said, anticipating the question before Thom gave voice to it. “They’re yours to command.”
That’s something. “What about the riders?”
“Mustering on the far side of the bridge, ready to cut them off as needed. Carolyn and I worked out their signal.”
Thom drew another steadying breath.
I didn’t expect that from Carolyn, but it’s certainly smart.
Paul whistled from the watch tower. “Riders,” he called. “Looks like they’ve got a flag up. Maybe they want to talk first.”
Another curse escaped Thom’s lips and a chill crept down his spine. “Maybe,” he said, though he hardly believed it. “Seamus, I’ll want you with me. Where the hell is Thordin?”
“Here,” his voice said, the sound breathless, as if he’d run all the way to meet them at the wall. “I’m right here. And if it’s the Southron clans, you don’t want him with you. Take Leinth if you take anyone.”
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “My place is up on the wall.” She nodded toward where Rory was perched, watching the activity going on below with a quirked brow. “This is my home, Thomas, and I will defend it from them until my dying breath, but if I walk out there with you I fear we’re as good as dead. No. You can do this. You don’t need us to walk beside you—you’re strong enough to do it alone.”
A shiver wracked him, but he nodded slightly. Her words were as terrifying as they were comforting and he knew he sure as hell didn’t want to walk out there alone.
“If we’re going to talk to them, you’d better get out there fast, Thom,” Paul warned.
Thom swore softly.
“Open the gate,” he ordered, his voice quiet.
I’d rather have my wife or my brother at my side, but sometimes, you just have to do things alone.
“If they so much as twitch wrong, shoot them,” he told Sif as Seamus and Thordin unbarred the gate so Thom could pass.
Sif nodded grimly. “If they set so much as an eyelash out of line, you can be sure that they won’t continue to breathe afterwards.”
Thom nodded back to her, then walked through the gates to meet the riders approaching, flying their flag of parley.
Damn. I hope I’m doing the right thing.
I hope this isn’t a trap.
Too late now.
Twenty feet from the gates, he stopped and waited, silent and watching.
Hoping.
Praying.
