The ker halted, turned, and stared at him, but the borman did not return his gaze. He stood like a slab of stone, eyes fixed straight ahead, at Tirran, at the guards, at the guild, and for a moment, at Yu.
“Kel-Khadar,” the ker insisted.
“No.” The borman did not budge. “I carry the injured.”
Estingar stepped forward from the platform, a silent shadow to Tirran until he unfolded his massive wings. Not fully, but enough to make his silhouette surge threefold, his presence engulfing the space around him. The shadow-draped membrane seemed impervious to the wind. Snowflakes curved away from his wings like they dared not touch him. Imbiad followed them down with his hands still raised. He did not have Tirran’s sheer menace or Estingar’s wraithlike appearance, but his presence was saturated with threat, power brimming at his fingertips.
And that left Yu, suddenly the only one on the platform. Alone.
No way. He could not move. He would not. He would most definitely remain exactly where he was. He understood that this was a show of a united front, one of these one for all and all for one moments, but HECK NO. Absolutely not. Even as the guy just trailing along, he had no place amongst these three. Not because he did not want to stand up for the guild, or for what was right, in general. Not even because he would be utterly useless in any sort of confrontation, but because standing with them meant literally standing next to Tirran and the other two. And they scared the living shit out of him, never mind they were on his side.
“Kel-Khadar,” the ker repeated, and this time, the ice that had covered his stern voice cracked under the pressure, leaking urgency.
“No.” The borman’s breathing was loud, each breath rumbling in his chest. He did not say anything else, nor did he move. He stood and stared down Tirran, Estingar and Imbiad, who blocked the path.
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