"Wolf Warrior - 01 - The Lost Wolf Warrior" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monet Rae)

What the hell?

He stepped unhurriedly in front of Ian, to protect him if she chose to shoot. A display of her skills and the ten dead men littering the ground proved they were no match for this deceptively feminine warrior.

"Slowly place your weapons on the ground and move three steps back,” the woman commanded them.

Roan watched her with interest. Her only show of weakness was the way she leaned heavily against her unusually large horse. Her aim with the arrow was true and was unwaveringly directed on him and Ian.

Who was this woman?

He had never seen, not even in a man, the fighting abilities she had displayed this day. He could not place her accent; it wasn't English, Scottish or even Irish. Roan nodded his head to indicate that Ian should lower his sword. Ian gave him an incredulous glare. Never, in the decade they had been fighting together, had they ever surrendered their weapons. But with her weapon pointing point-blank at them, now was not the time to question her actions.

"Roan!” Ian protested.

He barked out the order, “Do it!"

Still watching the woman, they both lowered their swords and stepped back precisely three steps. With a wave of her bow she directed them again. “Please drop to your knees, with your hands behind your backs."

Her command was not a request. Again, he indicated they should comply, reassured slightly because he sensed a reluctance from the woman to hurt them. They both lowered themselves to their knees, watching the woman with curiosity. Her grip and aim with the weapon never faltered. At the same time she removed items from a bag attached to her saddle, occasionally studying the two of them to ensure they had not moved.

She knelt on the dirt next to a large rock, spreading out what appeared to be some sort of medicine bag as she gradually lowered the cross-bow to the ground. Roan became aware that she was in severe pain but was trying not to acknowledge it. He experienced her pain as if it were his own and wished with all his heart the arrow embedded in her flesh had struck him instead of her. She looked pointedly at him.

"Do not doubt that if you move, or approach me, I will kill you."

"No. I do not doubt your word."

"Good. Then do not move."

The woman placed some sort of leather thong in her mouth and to Roan's amazement, raised one of her swords, swinging it over her shoulder and severed the quill end of the arrow implanted in her back. To his further surprise, she calmly launched herself against a rock, piercing the arrow through the front of her skin. He saw a spasm of pain assault her body, her feet skidding in the dirt, her body jerking as she bit down on the leather, her cry muffled.

Almost nonchalantly, the woman pulled the remaining arrow shaft out of her shoulder, throwing it with obvious contempt into the dirt. A steady flow of blood began to ooze from her shoulder and he could not believe she was still conscious after such an injury.

With one hand, she spread some sort of wet herbal concoction on the front of the wound. Using a strip of cloth, she bound it tightly, then re-wrapped the pack and set it next to her. After that apparently painful ritual, she tried to stand, only to sink back down. The loss of blood was finally affecting her. Roan started to rise to aid her but she would not have it. Her hand went just as rapidly to the bow until Roan crouched back down again.

"Remain where you are,” she said, her gaze intense. She deliberately scooted back to a larger rock and propped herself against it.

For a moment she closed her eyes. He assumed she was falling unconscious. He started to stand up again. Immediately, she opened her eyes and brought up the bow.

"I will not ask again. Please do not make me harm you.” There was a pleading resonance in her voice. Frustrated, Roan descended, grinding his teeth as he went. She closed her eyes again, and Roan felt another sharp pain in his head. This time the pain was so biting that he raised both his hands to his skull. Ian looked at him questioningly, but he did not answer him. He heard her voice. He wasn't sure how, but he heard it as clear as day. She was calling for someone to help her.

Richard, it is Serena. I need your assistance. Follow Caine. I will be waiting.

There was a pause. She opened her eyes to check on them. Seeing that they hadn't moved, she closed her eyes again.

Caine—come to me.

The voice stopped, and Roan removed his hand from his head. She opened her eyes, observing them closely. She had one leg braced up to keep her back against the boulder. It was a defensive posture, so that an enemy could not come upon her unaware from the rear. He recognized her action for what it was. It was the protective action of a well-trained fighter.

"Do you have horses?” The blood was now leaking from behind her makeshift bandage, trickling down her shoulder.