Raveler: The Dark God Book 3 by John D. Brown Page B

queen,” said Harnock.
    “We didn’t touch anything,” said Talen.
    “Of course, we didn’t,” said Harnock.
    In the tops of the branches in the distance, a troop of woodikin moved into view. They were carrying sticks. Then Talen realized they weren’t sticks. They were blow pipes. The woodikin were famous for their poison darts.
    Talen increased his Fire.
    Harnock yelled up at the woodikin again. They exchanged a number of words. Then Harnock grimaced. All the while, the troop of armed woodikin came closer. “He says to give up the boy, and our debt will be paid.”
    “You can’t be serious,” said Talen.
    “It’s tempting,” Harnock said.
    “What would woodikin want with Talen?” asked River.
    “Woodikin like human slaves,” said Harnock. “It’s a status thing. They might put him to work on the ground in their orchards. Or turn him into a pack animal and make him haul things about. But my bet is they’d use him in their weapons practice. They’d pit their ring warriors against him in a spectacle. He’d be released when he was dead.”
    “Ring warriors?” Talen asked.
    “You ever wonder why the woodikin stay out of our lands? It’s not just the threat of Skir Masters blowing their hornets away. Mokad buys them off with weaves of might.”
    “They have dreadmen?” Talen asked.
    “Some, but they also use the weaves for healing.”
    “Do they give weaves to all the tribes?”
    “Oh, no. Just the Orange Slayers. It’s what keeps the Orange Slayers in power, and the other tribes in submission.”
    The woodikin above them yelled down again.
    “They want the boy,” Harnock said.
    River said, “This isn’t about slaves and spectacles, is it? Could they know about Talen? Could they have been sent word?”
    “How would they have gotten word?”
    “The crows?” River offered. “A patrol?”
    “Gah,” Harnock said and sighed in frustration.
    “That troop is getting close,” Talen said.
    “You think I can’t see?” Harnock growled.
    The woodikin yelled down at them again.
    Harnock replied with a strange arm gesture.
    “What was that?” asked Talen.
    “That’s how woodikin say ‘I’m going to eat your grandmother’s brain you worthless bird-copulator.’”
    “That’s a lot for one gesture,” Talen said.
    The woodikin in the tree answered by bringing up its small bow and letting loose one if its shafts.
    They all scrambled for cover. Talen darted behind a tree. Harnock behind another. The short arrow thocked into the tree a few inches from Harnock’s hand.
    “Hogan’s son,” Harnock said, “you are a massive boil on my arse.”
    “That wasn’t my strategy,” Talen replied.
    “I don’t think boils have strategies,” Harnock said. “They just are.”
    “We can talk about beauty treatments later,” River said. “I think now’s the time for an exit.”
    “Those rotted hairy blighters,” Harnock said. “I healed their chief tree warrior. They’re going to pay.”
    “Not now,” said River. “And don’t you think of sending us out on our own. We have no idea where to run.”
    “We’re running down to the river,” Harnock said. “Now, stick close. This is going to be tight.” Then he bolted back down the path. River followed. Talen ran after them. He glanced back at the woodikin only to realize the creature had loosed another arrow. He tried to jump out of the way, but was too late. The arrow sank into the pack on his back. If it hadn’t been for the folded-up blanket inside, he was sure it would have gone all the way through. Talen’s heart thumped in his throat.
    Talen had already multiplied himself beyond what he was used to with the candidate weave. But he was not going to be left behind. He increased his Fire. Then increased it a bit more, and flew down the gentle slope, dodging past the trees, trying to catch up to Harnock and River.
    Behind them, the woodikin began shouting and hooting, blowing their whistles, filling the trees with noise. A number