Ren's head spun from the fall. There were horses all around them, so close Ren could feel the impacts of their hooves shake the ground. Anik had been right about him. He had never fought a man to the death.

A second arrow struck, but it didn't bury itself in Ren's heart as he had half-anticipated. Instead, the still-vibrating arrow was embedded at the feet of the nearest Skarlan's horse. The creature whinnied, dancing backward as more arrows followed the first. Three more arrows all found their marks in the bodies of the Skarlan riders.

Scrambling to his feet, Ren looked around wildly. From the darkness of the trees came a single rider on a horse with no saddle. Her long hair whipped around her head as she swung a curved blade and buried it in the chest of a Skarlan soldier. Another fell to an arrow like the three others, archers appearing from between the trees. Ren spun around, searching for the last Skarlan soldier, but he had already dropped to the ground. Face split in two, the man lay at the feet of Anik's horse.

Relief flooded Ren's system despite the ache in his body. They were alive.

The strangers approached, regarding them in the half darkness. Ren met the eyes of a few of them and felt a bit of his relief fade. They weren't guards, nor villagers or soldiers. They didn't look like any Frayneans Ren had ever seen. Next to him, Niklas groaned again and Ren reached down to help him to his feet without taking his eyes off the strangers.

Of the six newcomers, four were women and two men, all six dressed in worn clothing. Their faces were hard as they scattered to gather the horses that hadn't fled as well as the arrows they had used to slaughter the soldiers. Ren felt Niklas' hand close around his wrist.

One of their rescuers, a dark-skinned woman with hair down to her waist, drew her weapon and approached Ren's fallen horse. It was still breathing, but lay still on its side. As Ren watched, she raised her blade and placed the tip of it against the place where the horse's neck met its head. Ren looked away. That horse had served him well, both here and back in Aleria. Several of the strangers regarded him with searching glances and Ren forced himself to school his expression.

The woman stood, wiping her sword on the chest of a fallen soldier, then turned her attention towards Ren. She looked him up and down, before turning to the woman on the horse, the only rider among them. Foreign words flowed in a soft, song-like rhythm.

It wasn't the woman who answered, but Anik. He spoke in the same language, his voice sounding somehow different when it was coloured by the strange, foreign tones.

Ren gawked. He knew the Lowlands had their own language, but as far as he knew, it had long since disappeared.