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Harkell and Danton cantered back along the stream path enjoying the afternoon sun, glad to be on their way once more. White and yellow wildflowers grew along the bank of the stream between weeping willows swaying over the water. Oaks and sycamores grew to their left, their overhanging branches dappling the sunlight from time to time.
Suddenly, an arrow speared out of the trees and lodged in Harkell’s saddle brow.
“Shield!” yelled Harkell. “We’re under attack.”
Even as he looked across, Danton toppled from his saddle, an arrow in his shoulder. For a moment, a haze of aqua flickered in the air around him but then extinguished as Danton hit the ground. Two men jumped from the trees and held him down. With no gap between the men and himself, Danton couldn’t raise his shield, even if he
