Before she could second guess herself, she leapt to her feet and stepped out into the middle of the roadway.

  "Garron!" she shouted, waving both arms. "I am here for a ride. I hope that’s okay."

  Garron’s head snapped up. His eyes narrowed as he squinted down the road, clearly trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Then recognition set in, and his expression broke into a wide grin. He lifted one hand and waved back.

  "Well hey there, lass," he called. "You are a welcome sight to a traveler’s eyes."

  Riley continued forward at a steady pace. The dog moved when she did but stayed in the brush, unseen. She tried to glance sideways toward where the ambushers had been hiding, but the angle and foliage made it impossible to see what they were doing.

  She picked up into a light jog toward the caravan.

  "I hope we have another quiet ride like last time," Riley called, forcing a bright tone into her voice. "I’m still not good enough to handle those reins."

  Garron laughed, though the sound trailed off near the end. She saw his brow furrow slightly as he muttered to himself.

  "Quiet ride? What are you saying…?"

  His smile faded for a heartbeat, then returned, wider and more deliberate.

  "Do not worry," he said loudly. "I have all the luck we need. Do you have belongings to stow?"

  He bent down and opened the compartment beneath his seat, shifting things around inside as if making room.

  Riley slowed, then stopped.

  A sound to her left made her head snap around.

  The ambush exploded into motion.

  Three men burst from the brush and spilled onto the road, weapons raised. Riley pivoted instantly and moved toward the opposite side of the road.

  "Stop right there, girl!" one of the men shouted.

  They were armed. Two carried crossbows, both already trained. The third held a long sword, its blade catching the light as he advanced a step.

  One crossbow was aimed directly at Riley. The others shifted their focus toward the caravan.

  "Steady, son," Garron barked, his voice sharp and commanding. "You might want to rethink this."

  Riley glanced back and saw Garron standing now, his high-powered magic crossbow lifted and leveled at the men. He had drawn it without a sound. It was the same weapon he had used during the last raid she had witnessed, the one that had shattered a mounted attacker and dropped both horse and rider in moments.

  She hadn’t expected him to catch it. They’d only met once before, and yet when she gave her veiled warning, a message that could have meant nothing, he understood.

  And now, thanks to her quick thinking, the men who thought they had come upon easy prey were in for a surprise. Garron wasn’t walking blind anymore. He was ready.

  "Stand down, caravan master," one of the ambushers called. "All we want is what you are carrying."

  "Or you can stand down," Garron replied evenly, "and I will let you all walk away unharmed."

  The bandit leader laughed.

  "I’ll give you one last chance old man. Choose. Either we get what we want, or you and this girl die, and we take it anyway."

  Riley had seen what Garron could do, but she didn’t know these men. Their voices carried the kind of certainty that made her believe they’d follow through. She couldn’t tell where to place her bet, on Garron’s skill, or on the ruthless promise in their eyes.

  Her stomach twisted. They were too close. Both she and Garron had ranged weapons pointed at them.

  Garron’s grip tightened and issued a warning.

  "This bow has enough power to send you to the next life," he said calmly. "There will only be enough left of you to feed a single crow. Your death would be certain. Mine only likely. Perhaps you should make the wiser choice."

  The man who had been stationed on Riley stepped back and snapped his fingers at the swordsman.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "You cover her."

  The swordsman shifted instantly and they switched places. Now the swordsman’s blade was raised and inches away from her, his eyes locked in.

  Just like that, Garron found himself with two ranged weapons aimed at him.

  "So now your death is certain, and so is hers."

  Garron’s eyes flicked to Riley for the briefest instant, then snapped back to the two men positioned in front of him. His jaw tightened. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncertainty cutting through his usual confidence.

  The swordsman responded by advancing towards Riley ever so slightly. Riley leaned back. She had reached the edge of the opposite side of the road, her back nearly pressed into the same dense brush she had hidden in moments earlier. The man loomed over her, blocking her retreat completely. His gaze crawled over her from head to toe, slow and deliberate.

  "Well," he said, flashing a brown, uneven grin, "maybe we do not have to kill them both. At least not right away."

  Riley recoiled. The stench coming off him was revolting. Filth clung to his clothes and skin, and his breath was fouler still, a weapon in itself. She turned her face away from the sword hovering inches from her, but even more from the thoughts she could see forming behind his eyes.

  He stepped closer.

  Riley dropped into a half crouch, her hands scraping against the dirt behind her as she searched desperately for space that was not there.

  "Yes, I can think of a few things we could do first," the man began.

  He never finished the sentence.

  A feral growl tore through the air.

  The dog exploded out of the brush in a blur of motion, sailing over Riley and straight into the swordsman’s chest. The impact drove him backward as powerful jaws clamped onto his face.

  "Ahhhhhh!" the man screamed.

  In the split second that the two remaining ambushers let their guard down while they turned to glimpse what had become of their companion, Garron moved. He braced himself, shoulders steady, and in one smooth, practiced motion released the crossbow’s payload.

  The world lit up. A flash tore through the clearing, bright, unnatural, almost soundless. For an instant, the air itself seemed to ripple.

  Then silence.

  The two ranged attackers were gone. Not fallen, not broken, gone. No flesh, no bone, not even the scuffed leather of their boots remained. The ground where they had stood was bare, as if they had never existed at all. They had been erased from the Earth.

  "Riley!" Garron shouted as he grabbed another bolt and began reloading.

  The swordsman had dropped his blade and was clawing desperately at the dog’s head, trying to pry it free. Blood poured down his chest, his screams broken and wet. The dog did not relent, shaking and biting with relentless fury.

  "Riley, take the sword and run for cover!" Garron yelled.

  Riley scrambled forward and grabbed the fallen blade. It was heavier than she expected, dragging awkwardly against the ground as she crawled away from the struggle. Behind her, the crossbow clicked into place.

  Garron jumped down from the wagon, raising his weapon.

  Riley turned just in time to understand what he was about to do.

  "No! Garron!" she screamed.

  If he fired, the swordsman would die, but so would the dog.

  Riley dropped the sword and surged to her feet, throwing herself between Garron and the writhing figures on the road.

  "Wait!" she screamed. "Not the dog!"

  Garron froze, eyes wide, finger tense on the trigger.

  Riley spun and faced the struggle, her voice breaking as she shouted over the chaos.

  "Come here, boy. Please. Come here."

  The dog snarled, teeth still buried deep, blood matting his fur.

  "Please," Riley begged. "Come here."

  For a moment that felt impossibly long, nothing happened.

  Then the dog released his grip.

  He leapt back, growling, standing protectively in front of Riley as the swordsman collapsed into the dirt, choking and broken.

  Riley dropped to her knees beside the dog, hands shaking as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  "It is okay," she whispered. "It is okay."

  Behind them, Garron lowered his weapon, exhaling the breath he had been holding.

  The dog stopped pulsing. He lifted his head and looked up at Riley. His stance held firm, anchoring them both in the moment, but there was no aggression in it. The tension in the air had shifted.

  Garron remained where he was, crossbow raised and trained on the wounded man, his finger deliberately off the trigger.

  The swordsman screamed again, spitting at the dog with what little strength he had left. Riley pulled the dog back a bit further, clearing the line between Garron and the man.

  He leveled the weapon directly at the swordsman.

  The man struggled to his feet, swaying badly. His face was torn open by deep gashes, blood pouring freely down his chest and soaking into the dirt. He was beyond basic first aid, he needed a healing potion.

  Garron studied him in silence.

  His thoughts turned to judgment. This man was no simple thief. He had spoken with intent. He had meant to do terrible things to Riley. He and his companions had been ready to kill them both. For what? Some loot?

  The swordsman raised his hands slowly, palms out, his eyes wide and unfocused.

  "Please," he begged. "No."

  Garron did not lower his weapon.

  "I should send you to the next world like the others," he said evenly. "You were going to kill us and take what was not yours."

  He paused, then exhaled slowly.

  "But not today. We will take what you have, and you will walk back to whatever cave you crawled out of. Now go, and may the gods deal with you as you deserve."

  The swordsman did not argue.

  He turned and staggered into the forest, vanishing between the trees moments later.

  Garron finally lowered his crossbow.

  He turned toward Riley, who had pushed herself up onto unsteady feet. She was leaning against the dog for support.

  "Are you hurt?" Garron asked, his voice gentler now.

  "I think I am okay," Riley said after a moment. "Just a few bruises."

  Garron nodded, then glanced down.

  "And how is this hero?" he asked, gesturing toward the dog now seated calmly at Riley’s side.

  Riley looked down at him, then back at Garron.

  "A new friend," she said softly. “He’s ok too.”

  The dog glanced between them and wagged his tail just a little.

  "What’s his name?" Garron asked.

  Riley hesitated. She knelt and rested a hand on the dog’s head, scratching behind his ears.

  "I think it’s time I gave him one."

  She smiled.

  "How about Thorne?"

  The dog huffed quietly, tail wagging again.

  Riley laughed, breathless and relieved.

  "Yeah," she said. "His name is Thorne." She rested her head on his, sealing their bond.