Rudi's own shaft went through the second man's chest, the safer center of mass, even at the price of the harder, louder crack as it punched into the lacquered-leather armor. That was showing off they were the two best archers of their generation in Clan Mackenzie, and Edain was a bit touchy about it. The snap of the string on Edain's bracer came a tiny instant before the tooth-grating crunch of the bodkin as it smashed its way into the man's Adam's apple and out through his neck bone. His head came up before Edain started to move, prompted by some warning sign, but the Mackenzie arrow was on its way before the Prophet's man could begin to bend the short thick recurve. The man was fifty yards away, riding with a shaft on the string and his reins knotted on the cantle of his saddle, controlling the beast effortlessly with thighs and balance. "You take the one with the bow," he said softly to Edain. … Necessary, sometimes, he thought, and let the thought flow away with his next breath. And therefore…Īnd I don't particularly like killing men, even bad ones.
Though it was dark and the kilt and plaid were fairly good camouflage, as was the dark green of their brigandines and helms, the sentries would spot them soon.
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