Page 7 of The Awakening of Essensia

He held it out further, raising an eyebrow. “Take it. Before someone notices you’re receiving preferential treatment.”

As she reached for it, he opened his hand, his rough, calloused fingertips brushing her palm for the briefest moment, raising gooseflesh on her arm.

A small bundle of tightly packed leaves dropped into her hand. She hesitated, her eyes on the bundle. This was the second time he had helped her, and she couldn’t work out why. She looked up to ask him exactly why she was receiving preferential treatment, but he was already gone, circling around to the rear.

By the time she found herself facing the winding path, the pain had dulled to a bearable ache, and she was able to unsling her bow with ease. She had taken pain relieving herbs before, but nothing that worked that quickly.

The Commander called out the signal before she had time to question it further, and Vaelira drove her heels into Millie’s side, bringing the horse up to speed in seconds.

The first target loomed ahead, already splintered from the arrows that had come before her. She took a steady breath and let her arrow fly. It hit the edge of the target, then bounced to the forest floor. Vaelira gritted her teeth, hissing out a breath. The next target was lower, almost hidden among the brush, but this time it found its mark, landing with a soft thud. It wasn’t dead centre, but at least it had stuck. The third arrived quicker than the second and she nearly missed it, twisting in the saddle at the last moment to land the shot.

The red-painted circles became more frequent, forcing her to draw and release faster. Her stitches pulled with each movement and the sixth and seventh arrows missed their marks, the pain rattling her arm despite the leaves still lodged in her cheek. It would have been impossible without them.

Too aware of the hoofbeats coming from behind, Vaelira forced herself to focus. She slowed Millie slightly and landed the eighth and ninth shots cleanly, her rhythm steading as the last eleven targets landed true, leaving her with a score of seventeen out of twenty. Respectable, but less than she had hoped.

She broke from the trees into fading light, shadows stretching long across the plain. They were cutting it close. Soon night would descend, and the demons with it. It was beyond unwise to linger any longer.

A strangled moan cut through the air.

Vaelira snapped her head towards the sound, her chest lurching. A cluster of recruits gathered a few feet away. She urged Millie forward.

On the ground Freya lay with her face twisted in pain, one leg bent at an unnatural angle.

Vaelira jumped down, ignoring the searing twang of pain in her side, and shoved her way through the group. A gasp caught in her throat. The bone in Freya’s lower leg protruded clean through torn, bloodied skin.

“What happened?” Vaelira said, forcing down the bile. She crouched beside her friend, surveying the damage. A blood-soaked cloth lay on the ground.

“S—stupid horse got s—spooked,” Freya choked out. “One minute we were waiting for Wren to escort us back…” She drew a shuddering breath, and her next words came in a rush, “next thing I knew, she b—bolted and I was thrown.”

“The horse ran straight back to town,” one of the other recruits added, tearing a piece from his already torn shirt. His hands were stained red.

Vaelira turned towards him. It was Keenan. He bent back down, applying pressure to the wound.

“Lord Jurah, Eli, mount up,” Commander Lysander ordered. “Return to Anhaven at once. You should have enough time to send aid before nightfall.”

The younger of the two guards, Eli, stepped forward, his lips pursed. “With all due respect, Commander, I will stay behind.”

Commander Lysander narrowed his eyes at Eli, and for a moment it looked as though he was about to protest, but then to Vaelira’s surprise, he nodded. “Lord Jurah and I will return with the others.”

He turned to Vaelira and lowered his voice. “If the sun sets before we return, you’ll have to ride. Injury or not. Better to risk further harm than be stranded.”

Vaelira nodded grimly. She appreciated that he didn’t waste time attempting to convince her to leave with them, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d agreed with Eli. Freya was his recruit and therefore his responsibility. Did the Royal Guard rank higher than the Commander of an outer town? Either way, Vaelira trusted that Lysander must have some faith in Eli’s capabilities if he was leaving them under his supervision.

They galloped away and Eli removed his cloak, bending to drape it around Freya’s shoulders. She whimpered, and Vaelira’s attention shot back to her friend. Freya’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and slick with sweat.

“It’ll be fine,” Vaelira said, forcing a relaxed expression onto her face. “Kili’s going to give you an earful about getting thrown, but you’ll live.”

Freya tried to smile but winced again.

Eli’s white steed snapped at Millie, making Vaelira’s smaller mare rear back. Vaelira jumped up and snatched her reins from him, leading her horse a safe distance away. He ignored her, his gaze sweeping the tree line.

“How are you doing down there?” Eli said, still watching the woods.

“How do you think she’s doing?” Vaelira answered, irritated at the absurdity of the question.

Freya was lying flat now, dragging in deep, painful breaths. She groaned. “I’m going to murder that cursed horse,” she ground out.

“A poor rider blames the horse,” Eli said, absent mindedly.