The first arrow struck the carriage with a sound like a hammer driving a nail into stone.
The second shattered the window.
Glass exploded inward, scattering across the leather seats as Samantha threw herself over Soma. A jagged fragment sliced through the fabric of her sleeve, and somewhere outside, a horse screamed.
"DOWN!" Jaspar roared.
The carriage lurched violently to the left. Soma slammed against Samantha as the wheels ground across uneven earth, then came to a bone-jarring stop.
For one disorienting moment, everything seemed to happen at once.
Hooves thundered. Men shouted. Steel clashed against steel, and another arrow struck the carriage roof with a hollow, splintering crack.
Soma's heart hammered.
An ambush.
He'd read about dozens of them. Studied defensive formations, examined battlefield diagrams, and spent years listening to Igor describe the mistakes that got inexperienced soldiers killed.
None of that had prepared him for how loud it would be.
Or how quickly his hands would begin trembling.
Jaspar shoved the damaged carriage door open, his short sword already drawn.
"Shield formation! Protect the convoy! Archer, find their bloody positions!"
A Vanguard knight thundered past the doorway, raising his heavy shield as arrows hissed from the trees.
Jaspar turned toward Soma.
"Listen carefully, boy. You stay inside this carriage."
Soma reached for the wooden grip of his short sword.
"Captain, I can—"
"No."
The word cracked through the cabin.
Jaspar leaned closer, his scarred face suddenly more frightening than Soma had ever seen it.
"You are ten years old. You're surrounded by armed men who would happily gut you for the money in your father's pockets. This is not a training exercise."
Soma swallowed.
"Understood."
"If someone approaches the door, we knock three times before opening it. Anyone who opens it without that signal is a threat. Keep your blade ready, but do not go looking for a fight."
He looked toward Samantha.
"Protect him."
Her expression had changed completely.
The gentle warmth Soma knew so well had vanished, replaced by a cold, focused stillness.
"With my life, Captain."
Jaspar gave a curt nod.
Then he stepped outside and slammed the door.
Soma immediately moved toward the broken window.
Samantha caught his shoulder.
"Stay low."
"I need to see what's happening."
"You need to stay alive."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
She gave him a look that would have made even Sean reconsider his behavior.
Soma crouched.
"Fine."
Through the fractured window, he could see the Vanguard knights assembling around the convoy.
Three men carried heavy shields, their armored bodies forming a defensive wall beside the middle carriage. A spearman stood behind them, thrusting his weapon through carefully controlled openings while an archer used the lead carriage for cover.
Kara fought beside Jaspar, an enormous war hammer resting across one shoulder.
The dwarf looked considerably less cheerful than she had during yesterday's birthday celebration.
"COME ON, YOU LITTLE SHITS!" she bellowed toward the forest. "I'VE GOT A HAMMER WITH YOUR NAMES ON IT!"
An arrow struck the dirt beside her boot.
Kara glanced down.
"THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?"
She lifted the hammer and advanced behind the shields.
Soma stared.
I'm beginning to understand why Father hired her.
Another volley came from the trees.
The shieldmen braced, arrows striking their defenses with a rapid series of heavy thumps.
Jaspar shouted an order.
The archer responded, drawing and releasing in one smooth motion.
A distant cry echoed through the forest.
Someone had been hit.
Soma felt a cold sensation settle in his stomach.
This wasn't a sparring match.
People were dying.
And the battle had barely begun.
Samantha knelt beside the carriage door, listening.
Her right hand rested beneath the folds of her skirt.
Soma glanced at it.
"Sam?"
"Quiet."
He fell silent.
The fighting outside shifted toward the front of the convoy. Shouts rose from the trees as several bandits rushed the shieldmen, hoping to overwhelm the formation before the Vanguard could reorganize.
Jaspar's voice cut through the chaos.
"Hold your ground! Don't chase them into the trees!"
Soma heard a dull impact against the opposite side of the carriage.
Both he and Samantha turned.
Another impact followed.
Then a scraping sound.
Someone was moving along the exterior wall.
Samantha slowly reached beneath her skirt and withdrew a narrow dagger from a concealed sheath strapped to her thigh.
Soma blinked.
Since when does she carry that?
She placed one finger against her lips.
The carriage door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
No three knocks.
Soma's hand closed around his sword.
His breathing shortened. He could hear his own pulse pounding beneath the sounds of battle.
The handle stopped.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then the door flew open.
A broad-shouldered man in battered leather armor stood outside, his mouth stretched into a yellow-toothed grin.
"Well, look what we've got here!"
His gaze landed on Soma.
The grin widened.
"A little noble bastard and his pretty maid."
Soma drew his sword.
The bandit stepped forward.
He never made it inside.
Samantha moved.
One instant she was kneeling beside the door. The next, she'd launched herself through the opening, driving her dagger into the man's chest with enough force to throw him backward.
They crashed into the dirt together.
Soma scrambled toward the doorway.
"SAM!"
The bandit struck the ground hard, the breath exploding from his lungs. Samantha rolled away from him and came up on one knee, her black ponytail torn loose, hair spilling across her shoulders.
Her movements were controlled.
Precise.
Nothing like the gentle maid who fussed over his clothing and threatened to confiscate his books whenever he skipped meals.
The bandit tried to rise.
Samantha didn't give him the chance.
She closed the distance, caught his reaching arm, and drove her dagger into his eye.
His scream ended almost immediately.
Samantha withdrew the blade and stepped back.
Blood ran down the steel.
For several seconds, Soma couldn't move.
He'd seen injuries before. Training accidents. Bloody noses. An occasional broken bone.
But he'd never watched someone die.
Never watched a human being move one moment and become completely still the next.
Samantha turned toward him.
Their eyes met.
For the briefest instant, something uncertain crossed her face.
Then she offered a small, reassuring smile.
"Stay inside, Soma."
He stared at the dagger in her hand.
"Sam...?"
An arrow struck her thigh.
Samantha cried out and collapsed.
The impact spun her sideways, sending her crashing against the carriage wheel.
"SAMANTHA!"
Soma lunged toward the door.
Another arrow slammed into the wood beside his head.
He flinched backward.
"GET DOWN!" Samantha shouted.
She dragged herself beneath the carriage, clutching her wounded leg as another arrow struck the ground inches from her shoulder.
Soma crouched behind the doorframe, his mind racing.
The archer had a clear view of their position.
Somewhere among the trees.
He couldn't see where.
Samantha gritted her teeth and reached for the arrow embedded in her thigh.
"Don't pull it out!" Soma shouted.
She stopped.
Her breathing was ragged.
Blood soaked through her skirt.
She tore a strip of fabric and pressed it tightly around the wound, using the arrow shaft to judge where she could apply pressure without driving it deeper.
"I'm all right," she called.
Soma stared at her.
"You have an arrow sticking out of your leg!"
"I've noticed!"
"That isn't my definition of all right!"
Despite the pain, she managed a strained laugh.
"Then we'll argue about it later."
She began crawling toward the carriage door.
Soma moved to help her.
And saw the second bandit.
The man emerged from behind a nearby tree, a chipped sword raised above his shoulder.
He was approaching Samantha from her blind side.
"SAM! BEHIND YOU!"
She turned.
Too late.
The bandit lunged.
Soma moved before he could think.
He jumped from the carriage, struck Samantha across the shoulders, and shoved her away from the descending blade.
Pain exploded along his side.
For an instant, he didn't understand what had happened.
Then warmth spread beneath his tunic.
The sword had cut him.
Deeply enough that his knees nearly buckled.
The bandit wrenched his weapon free and raised it again.
Soma reacted.
Years of repetition took over.
He stepped inside the man's reach, both hands tightening around his short sword.
And thrust upward.
The blade entered the bandit's throat.
The man's eyes widened.
A wet, choking sound escaped his mouth as his sword slipped from his fingers.
Soma felt the resistance of flesh and muscle through the hilt.
Then the weapon came free.
The bandit staggered backward, clutching his throat.
He collapsed beside the carriage.
And did not rise.
Soma stood motionless.
Blood covered his hands.
His sword trembled.
I killed him.
The thought arrived with terrible clarity.
Not a training dummy.
Not an enemy described in a book.
A person.
Someone who had been alive only moments before.
Soma's stomach twisted.
He tried to breathe.
Nothing seemed to reach his lungs.
"SOMA!"
Samantha's voice broke through the ringing in his ears.
She reached him and pulled him toward the carriage, nearly collapsing as her injured leg failed beneath her.
"You're hurt!"
"I'm—"
He couldn't finish.
She wrapped one arm around him, shielding his body with hers.
"Stay with me. Look at me, Soma!"
He raised his eyes.
Samantha's expression was frightened in a way he'd never seen before.
Not for herself.
For him.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I've got you."
A bowstring snapped somewhere in the trees.
Samantha pulled him closer.
The arrow never reached them.
Instead, a sharp cry echoed from above the road as a bandit archer tumbled from a branch, a Vanguard arrow protruding from his chest.
Across the clearing, the royal bowman lowered his weapon.
"ARCHER DOWN!"
Jaspar turned toward the carriage.
His face changed when he saw the blood.
"SOMA!"
The captain's attention lasted only an instant.
Three bandits charged the shield wall, their weapons flashing beneath the broken sunlight.
"SHIELDS FORWARD!" Jaspar roared.
The Vanguard moved together.
The first bandit struck a shield and was thrown backward. The spearman stepped through a narrow opening and drove his weapon into the man's abdomen.
The second attacker attempted to slip around the formation.
Kara intercepted him.
Her hammer struck his shoulder with a sound like breaking timber.
He fell.
The third hesitated.
It cost him his life.
A Vanguard sword flashed through the gap between two shields, and the man collapsed beside his companions.
Soma watched from Samantha's arms, his mind struggling to keep pace.
The knights fought as a unit.
Every movement supported another.
Every opening had a purpose.
It was exactly the sort of coordinated formation he'd studied with Igor.
And it was horrifying.
The road was littered with fallen men.
The air stank of blood, sweat, and disturbed earth.
Then a voice rose from the trees.
"GET THAT CARRIAGE!"
A towering man emerged from behind a fallen trunk, carrying a heavy mace and a round leather shield.
His armor was better maintained than the others', and a jagged scar ran from his lower jaw toward his ear.
The remaining bandits looked toward him.
Their leader.
He surveyed the battlefield and immediately recognized what the others had failed to accomplish.
The Vanguard formation couldn't be broken from the front.
So he chose another approach.
"NOW!"
A nearby bandit dropped into a crouch and raised his shield.
The leader sprinted toward him.
Soma's eyes widened.
What the hell is he doing?
The man planted one boot against his companion's shield.
The crouching bandit surged upward.
And the leader launched himself into the air.
"ABOVE!" Soma shouted.
Too late.
The bandit sailed over the shieldmen, twisted his body, and landed in a rolling tumble behind their defensive line.
Directly between Jaspar and the carriage.
Kara swore.
"YOU CLEVER BASTARD!"
The leader rose with a grin.
His eyes found Samantha.
Then Soma.
"Well, hello there."
Samantha shoved Soma behind her.
"Stay back!"
The leader lunged.
His mace swept toward her head.
She ducked, the heavy weapon passing close enough to stir her loose hair.
Her dagger flashed toward his abdomen.
But her wounded leg betrayed her.
She couldn't drive forward with her usual speed.
The bandit twisted aside, catching her wrist with his shield before slamming an elbow into her face.
Samantha staggered backward.
She collided with Soma.
They fell together.
The leader raised his mace.
"Should've stayed in your pretty little manor!"
Soma saw the weapon descending.
He tried to move.
His injured side screamed in protest.
Samantha twisted over him, placing her body between his and the attack.
Her eyes closed.
Then steel struck flesh.
But not hers.
Jaspar had crossed the distance in a blur.
His short sword carved across the bandit's ribs, the force of his charge throwing the larger man sideways.
The leader crashed into the dirt and rolled until he struck the base of a tree.
Jaspar planted himself between the fallen attacker and the carriage.
"GET BEHIND ME!"
Samantha scrambled upright, hauled Soma toward the nearest shieldman, and collapsed against the carriage wheel.
Jaspar glanced at Soma's bloodstained tunic.
Something dangerous entered his expression.
"You're going to regret touching that boy."
The leader coughed and pushed himself to one knee.
Blood trickled through the torn leather across his ribs.
He looked at Jaspar.
Then at the knights advancing toward him.
For the first time, his grin disappeared.
The remaining bandits began withdrawing toward their leader.
Only three were still in a position to fight.
The Vanguard regrouped around the middle carriage, their shields forming a tight defensive arc while the archer climbed onto the rear carriage for a clearer shot.
Kara stood beside Jaspar, her hammer resting across one shoulder.
"Want me to break his legs?"
"Not yet," Jaspar growled.
"You're no fun."
Soma barely heard them.
His attention had turned toward his side.
The pain was still there, a deep burning ache beneath his ribs. Blood had soaked through his tunic and spread across his fingers where he'd pressed his hand against the wound.
But something was wrong.
The liquid covering his palm wasn't red.
He blinked.
Raised his hand.
Looked again.
What...?
A thick, shimmering substance coated his skin.
Gold.
Not yellow from sunlight.
Not a reflection from his clothing.
Actual, radiant gold.
It glimmered with an inner warmth, catching the light in tiny shifting patterns.
Soma stared.
That's impossible.
He touched the wound again.
More golden liquid stained his fingers.
His breath caught.
"What the hell?"
Samantha looked at him.
"Soma?"
He raised his hand toward the sunlight.
"Sam... my blood..."
She followed his gaze.
The color drained from her face.
Kara turned at the sound of his voice.
Her eyes widened.
For one impossible heartbeat, the battlefield seemed to hold its breath.
Then the dwarf whispered two words.
"Divine blood."
Jaspar spun around.
His gaze fell on Soma's raised hand.
The captain went completely still.
"Fuck."
Soma looked at him.
"Captain?"
Jaspar crossed the distance before he could finish.
He seized Soma beneath the arms and practically threw him into the carriage.
"INSIDE!"
Soma crashed onto the leather seat.
"OW! WHAT THE—"
"KARA!"
The dwarf was already moving.
"On it!"
She climbed into the carriage after him, pulling her enormous hammer through the doorway.
Jaspar slammed the door shut.
Then turned toward the Vanguard.
"NEW ORDERS!"
The knights snapped toward him.
"Nobody enters that carriage. Nobody approaches that boy. Protect him with your lives!"
The captain's voice had changed.
There was no longer any hint of an instructor evaluating a student.
This was a battlefield commander responding to a catastrophe.
"And listen carefully," Jaspar continued, his remaining eye blazing. "Those bastards don't leave this forest alive."
Soma sat frozen inside the carriage.
Kara positioned herself beside the door, her hammer resting across her knees.
For the first time since meeting her, she wasn't smiling.
"Master Kara?"
She glanced at him.
"What does divine blood mean?"
Her expression tightened.
"Something we're going to discuss when we're somewhere safe."
"Am I dying?"
"No."
"Then why is everyone acting like I am?"
Kara looked toward the window.
"Because, lad, there are things in this world that men will kill entire families to possess."
Soma felt a chill pass through him.
Outside, someone shouted.
Then the sound of battle resumed.
The bandit leader had seen everything.
The golden blood.
The dwarf's reaction.
The sudden desperation in the captain's voice.
His eyes shifted toward the silver crest painted across the carriage door.
House Locke.
The Supreme Archduke's family.
And inside that carriage sat a child whose blood glittered like molten gold.
The leader's mouth fell open.
He had expected a ransom.
A noble hostage.
Enough money to disappear somewhere warm and never work another day.
But this?
This was worth more than he'd ever imagined.
The information alone could purchase an entire estate.
Perhaps an army.
Perhaps protection from people whose names he barely dared whisper.
His wounded ribs were suddenly irrelevant.
Divine blood.
He looked at the knights advancing toward him.
Then toward the forest.
He didn't need to win anymore.
He only needed to escape.
"FALL BACK!" he shouted.
One of his remaining men turned.
An arrow struck the bandit through the skull.
He dropped without another sound.
The second man panicked and bolted.
The Vanguard archer fired again.
The arrow struck the fleeing bandit squarely in the backside.
"AAAAAAH! MY ARSE!"
For half a second, even Kara seemed startled.
Then Igor's favorite kind of vulgarity erupted from Jaspar.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE! AIM FOR SOMETHING IMPORTANT!"
The wounded bandit collapsed in the dirt, howling obscenities.
But his leader was already running.
Jaspar saw him.
And understood.
The man's expression wasn't merely frightened.
It was triumphant.
He knew what he'd witnessed.
And he intended to sell it.
Jaspar's blood ran cold.
"Hold the formation!" he shouted. "Keep the boy protected!"
He glanced toward Kara.
"Nobody sees what's inside that carriage."
She nodded once.
"Understood."
The captain turned toward the forest.
The bandit leader was sprinting between the trees, abandoning his weapons as he fled.
Jaspar lowered his center of gravity.
Mana flared faintly around his boots.
For an instant, his injured body seemed to forget every limitation that had ended his military career.
Then he vanished into the trees.
Leaving only a sudden rush of displaced air behind him.
Inside the carriage, Soma sat staring at his hands.
Samantha had climbed in beside him after the knights confirmed the immediate area was secure. Her thigh was still wounded, and fresh blood had begun soaking through the makeshift bandage.
She should have been resting.
Instead, she was examining his injury.
Her fingers trembled as she carefully lifted the edge of his tunic.
The wound was real.
Painful.
Still bleeding.
But the blood remained the color of polished gold.
Soma looked at her.
"Sam?"
She didn't answer.
"Samantha."
Her eyes finally met his.
He'd known her for almost his entire life.
She'd taught him to walk without smashing his head against furniture. She'd brought pastries to the training grounds, confiscated books when he needed sleep, and endured more of Igor's disgusting jokes than any reasonable person should.
He knew the sound of her laughter.
The way she frowned when he took unnecessary risks.
The particular expression she wore when she was trying to hide a surprise.
But he'd never seen her look at him like this.
Terrified.
Not of him.
For him.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered.
Samantha swallowed.
Then she pulled him into a careful embrace, avoiding the wound in his side.
"I don't know, Soma."
Her voice broke slightly.
"But we're going to find out."
Soma rested his forehead against her shoulder.
Outside, the forest had begun to grow quiet.
Somewhere beyond the trees, Jaspar was hunting a man who had seen something he was never supposed to see.
The wounded bandit continued howling in the distance.
Kara barked orders to the surviving guards.
And Soma Locke, who had spent ten years studying a world he believed he was slowly beginning to understand, stared at the impossible golden blood drying across his fingers.
For the first time since his rebirth, he wondered whether the greatest mystery in Hallowcrown might not be the gods, the Citadel, or the extraordinary creatures described in his uncle's books.
It might be himself.