The doorframe still smoked from the blast when five masked men stepped into the house. Their eyes locked on Nyra and Rael.
"That's them," one said, voice muffled behind the mask. "The boy and girl. Who knew some old crone would choose to shelter them?"
They circled slowly, their taunts dripping like oil.
"What happened to all that bravado? You had plenty when you walked into town, even more in the Guild's hall. Now you just stand there, frozen. Without the masked stranger, you're nothing but spineless rats."
Another laughed. "He's probably dead already. We'll bring his head to you soon enough. Surrender now, and maybe, just maybe, we let you walk away with your skin intact."
The elderly woman trembled, but she stepped forward, planting herself between the intruders and the two youths. She had already lost her son. She wasn't going to watch these strangers but children in her eyes, be taken without trying to stop it.
