Chapter 2

Outside the tunnel mouth, gunpowder smoke and blood hung in the air and would not lift. The bandit who had died mid-sentence lay on his back in the scree, a charred hole in his chest. He did not move again.

The burly rider sat his scaled mount, a chain mace dangling at the horse's flank. Gray-black, crack-lined eyes swept the corpse, then fixed on the tunnel mouth—a black hole, as if fire might spill out.

"Damn you—killed Iron Bones. You wish to die?"

Hoofbeats and bootfalls pulled up at the cave lip. Dust was still settling when the raiders fanned into a half circle and sealed the mouth.

His voice was low, but it carried:

"Out of that hole! Don't make me drag you out!"

For all their numbers, none of them stepped up first. Each man feared a bolt that would buy him a quick grave. Some raised curved blades on instinct; others hunted for cover.

A low roar rolled out of the tunnel.

The giant wolf burst from the dark like a blue-black streak. It was lion-heavy, deep blue fur bristling along its shoulders, gold-flecked eyes throwing cold light. Its paws found the ground without a sound as it closed on the two raiders farthest left.

The first brute's arms swelled. His fist came down with a whistle. The wolf planted its forepaws, threw its body sideways under the blow, then stamped on his forearm and launched off it—midair, a clean arc at the second man.

That one's legs had just begun to warp for a sprint when the wolf shifted in flight, hooked a claw into his shoulder, spun half a turn, and tore his back open from the side. Blood misted. He lurched away screaming. The wolf was already wheeling before it landed; a growl, and it went for the first man again.

The swollen-armed raider roared and threw a second punch. The wolf slid low along the ground, sand flying under its claws; it came in under the fist, locked its jaws on his calf, and wrenched. The man howled and dropped to one knee. The wolf let go, backed half a step, and swept its tail across his legs. He went over on his back.

Both men stayed down, rasping, blood pooling in the sand around them.

The wolf stood between them, blue fur rising and falling, eyes moving coldly over what was left.

Chaos broke loose. Eyes jerked toward the tunnel again. In someone's peripheral vision, a figure had appeared on the cliff above the mouth—how, no one could say. Short curling hair, deep brown; honey-brown skin; brows and nose bridge cut clean. Slender, athletic, shoulders strung like a bow at full draw. One knee braced, a heavy crossbow drawn to the ear.

Lila Thorne.

No one had seen her leave the mouth or climb the ridge. In a breath she held the high ground; the whole fight lay open below her.

The corner of her mouth lifted.

"Next."

The bolt left the string. A line of fire for the man in the saddle.

He did not dodge. He lifted his hand and closed five fingers in front of his face. The shaft stopped two fists from his nose, fletching shivering. His chin came up; his eyes narrowed to slits. Someone beside him started to cheer.

On the cliff, Lila said nothing. Her lips curved, barely.

The arrowhead detonated in his palm. The blast stayed muffled in his fist; fire lanced through his fingers, heat washed the horse's head, powder stung their faces.

Lila lifted her eyes from behind the string. Horse and rider swayed once in the smoke; she let out a breath.

The smoke thinned. The strange horse snorted. A few threads of mane had charred; hooves still stood firm in the sand.

The rider shook his hand. His palm was scorched black, but no meat hung open.

He looked up at the cliff, voice thick with mockery: "That it? Not a scratch."

The band laughed.

At the same moment, a man's voice cut across the tunnel mouth:

"Victor and Nova. Fall back inside."

The man called Victor showed himself out of the dark—short, thick, rolling in his gait like a dwarf out of a storybook.

Behind him came two rabbits chest-high to a man, snow-white, round tails and wide ears—ordinary rabbits grown several sizes too large. One carried a crate; the other bore a boy.

The boy was Nova, twelve or thirteen by the look. His calves clamped the rabbit's flanks as he yelled:

"Run, rabbits! They're coming after us!"

The small figure and the two white shapes vanished into the tunnel depths like a frightened pack train shrinking back into the hole.

Several raiders brightened. "There's more inside! Cut them off!"

Before the words finished, another figure had stepped out of the mouth, blocking the line between tunnel and barrens.

Eren Xiao.

Medium height and built like weathered stone; short stubble shot with gray. Deep eye sockets, a face that could read Asian or European depending on the light. Look closer and faint lines circled his left eye, like crystal crawling under the skin.

His hands hung empty at his sides. He did not move.

The bandits hung back, unsure what to make of him.

The rider checked his mount. Crack-lined eyes moved slowly over the field: the body in the scree, bolt through the chest; two men still twitching at his feet. Three down since that first arrow from the shadows—and he still did not know who he was fighting.

The chain mace hung low. The iron ball dragged across sand with a teeth-grinding scrape.

"Name," the big man said, voice like gravel. "Who the fuck kills Iron Bones and walks? Even the revolutionaries and the Iron Crystal Guild—they step aside for us."

Eren looked up, gaze climbing from stirrup to the burn-scarred face. "Good. Iron Bones, revolutionaries, the Guild—one by one."

The rider barked a laugh. "Is this supposed to be a joke? Just you four—"

His eyes went from the crossbow on the cliff to the mouth, then locked on Eren's face.

"A man with strange marks near his eyes… a woman and a kid with him… You're that Eren they wanted out of Rusak for making trouble, aren't you?"

Eren did not answer. He turned his head slightly and gave the man a sidelong look, cold and measuring.

"Boss wants your haul. You killed my men—I don't care why. You're not walking."

On the cliff, Lila snapped: "You'd kill a child—and still talk big?"

"Sharp tongue—you'll learn when we drag you back." He cracked his whip. "Boys—want her alive. Bring her back."

The bandits behind him laughed and answered.

"You—tunnel. Mute? You just let the woman talk for you." He jerked his chin at Eren. "You Eren?"

Eren's voice did not shift. "You said your boss gave orders?"

"Scared?" The big man grinned.

Wind lifted sand between them.

"I'll remember his name," Eren said. "Won't bother to ask twice."

The rider's eyes hardened. He opened his mouth—

Eren moved first.