“Archers!” Chaol’s bellow rang out.
Behind them, down the battlements, bows
groaned.
Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and
nocked an arrow into place.
Rowan kept his own bow strapped across
his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and
Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste
them on a few soldiers when their aim might
be needed with far worse targets later in the
day.
But one of them had to be noted felling
soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally
their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as
Rowan, he’d admit, would do just fine.
Rowan followed the line of Fenrys’s
arrowhead to where he’d marked one of the
bearers of a siege ladder. “Make it
impressive,” he muttered.
“Mind your own business,” Fenrys
lily
(lily)
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