by LeRoy Clary
Cinder said, “There are two other things you can do, Cobalt. One is to prepare to run. I don’t know where you will go but think about it and maybe come up with a destination. But decide where to go and what you can take with you. Get ready and hope you never have to do it. The other thing is you can keep watch on your road for other Dragon Clan and help them.”
“Others are coming?” Cobalt almost shouted, his fear rising.
Rake said, “Calm down. We came because we saw the Green dragon and in response, our families need information, the same as you. So, they sent us. If others in the mountains saw it, they will also send their people to investigate. Cinder and I happen to live closer than others and have only been on the road a day. There will be more.”
Cinder looked at Frog. “You could watch for them. Invite them to stay here for the night and you can feed them and tell them what we’ve learned so far.”
He seemed eager. “How will I know who they are? Will they carry staffs? Like in the stories?”
Rake said, “The staffs became too identified with our people. Breslau learned of them from that damned King Ember when he betrayed everyone in Princeton, especially us. His hatred drove him to be crazy. Carrying a staff in Breslau means death, so we don’t use them anymore.”
Cobalt said, “We heard King Ember sent his entire army across the sea to Breslau on ships while at the same time the Breslau army sailed to Princeton and took the kingdom without a fight. Then his army was imprisoned or killed when they returned. The Breslau royalty killed all the royalty and replaced them with their own.”
“We heard the same stories,” Cinder said. “So, you won’t be able to tell Dragon Clan by staffs but think for a moment. They will probably be around twenty, old enough to survive and be trusted, but not so old they have families of their own to provide for. That’s a guess, but probably accurate.”
Rake added, “One, maybe two at a time. Probably no more. They will carry rucksacks or backpacks for a trip of who knows how long? You might look for bows carried like ours in protective sheaths, that will be a definite sign, but not all will have them. They will be heading for Princeton, probably walking, carrying no crops to sell and no obvious reason to be there.”
Frog said, “That’s how I tell them apart? That’s not much.”
Cinder motioned for him to calm down. “How many people a day travel that road who meet the description we gave?”
“Not many travels it,” Frog said. “Sometimes, none for days.”
Cinder continued, “For the next five days, if anyone like that comes along you need to talk with them. Give them the chance to reveal themselves.”
“How?” he asked.
“Like we did with you. Our final test was to mention Bear Mountain as a place we wanted to visit. All three of you reacted. The Bear Mountain family of the Dragon Clan was the home of Camilla, Fleet, and probably ten more who are at the center of stories we all know. Watch closely. If they match the description and react to your mention of Bear Mountain, you can reveal yourselves.”
“Where will you be?” Cobalt asked.
“We’re not sure. However, we can send word or stop here on our way home. Whatever we find can be spread to those two families you know, and any more they have contact with. We need to be able to spread information fast, so if any of them has a better way, we need it.” Rake paused, realized how tired he was, and that they had shared as much as possible for one night.
Cinder glanced his way and made a small motion in the direction of the barn.
Frog caught it. “Let me show you where to sleep.”
The straw he tossed in a corner was yellow and fresh, as promised. They spread their blankets by the light of a single candle. Frog still wanted to talk. They almost had to force him to leave.
As they lay alone in the dark, Cinder said, “He wants to go with us.”
“Frog? I know.”
“He’s probably packing right now and will sneak after us.”
Rake said, “It’s important he warns the others and help any who come after us. Cobalt will help, but the farm needs them to do their regular chores, too. And their mother is very sick.”
“He cannot come or follow after us. I’m glad we agree on that.”
Rake drew in a deep breath and threw the blanket off him. The straw was comfortable, but not for him and Cinder. Not this night. She was already rolling her blankets in the dark. He said, “We have to go. Now.”
“I know. It was my idea.”
“Was not,” he shot back and found himself chuckling.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The dogs were either inside or sleeping. They didn’t bark as Rake and Cinder moved quietly behind the barn to the stream and walked across the two logs instead of crossing the open area between the buildings. There, they found a trail to follow and soon reached the road. At first, the clouds kept the night dark and the footing difficult. As the half-moon rose, and the clouds cleared, their pace increased.
Rake said, “I want you to know how warm and soft that hay was. You made me leave it. I think you owe me.”
“For me, I could sleep on a bare slab of granite and wouldn’t complain. Is it possible to walk and sleep at the same time?”
“We don’t have to go too far. Frog will get the idea and understand why we left. He’ll be disappointed, but it's for the best and I don’t think he’ll follow us.”
A short while later, Cinder pointed to a break in the forest where a path split off and left the road. They turned and followed it for a dozen steps, far enough from the road that a passerby wouldn’t hear them or see them. They spread their blankets. They were asleep instantly.
A sharp kick in his ribs woke Rake. He rolled over in pain, his sleepy eyes searching the morning light for the cause. A pair of men stood over them.
“He’s alive,” the shorter of them snarled, then laughed easily but without humor.
The taller of the two, also dressed in peasant homespun which was as dirty as that the first wore, held a large, rust-encrusted knife. Both wore variations of dilapidated straw hats. He said to Rake, “Get up.”
Rake glanced at Cinder. She was holding her ribs as if she’d been kicked too. Whatever the two men had planned for them wouldn’t be good, and their trip was too important for a pair of highwaymen to delay them. A few days could be critical to their task. It could be worse if they intended to take them to join other highwaymen—or whatever they were. Without speaking, Rake looked at Cinder and gave a slight nod of encouragement. She would take it as such. He hoped.
Those thoughts and more coursed through his mind as he held his chest overstating the considerable pain in an attempt to lull them. Facing the pair now might be their best opportunity instead of waiting to find out if there were more of them, or after they were seriously hurt. Cinder had also held her ribs in a similar way. His eyes rose to the two men again.
He was larger than either by far. They were thin, almost emaciated. They appeared underfed, unclean, and angry at their stations in life. Both wore their scars like others wore freckles.
Now that he was awake and alert, he took in more details as he slowly climbed to his feet as if he was hurt more than was true. He bent at the waist and held his side, not that there was too much acting involved. The shorter one didn’t display a knife but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. Rake didn’t see one at his waist.
Attacking a man holding a knife is never a good idea, but under the circumstances, it might be their only chance. He hoped the man was not proficient in using it. Rake shuffled a step closer. He tensed.
Cinder was at his side, two steps away. She groaned loudly. Both men turned to each other and laughed.
Without warning, Cinder’s right booted foot shot out. It lifted high and struck the man just below his neck—which had been her target, Rake thought, as he swung his fist. It struck an instant later, squarely on the same man’s head, high above his cheekbone. The larger man fell. The smaller one leaped savagely at him the
knife raised to stab. It hadn’t been in his hand earlier. He must have concealed it.
Rake wrapped his arms around the attacker like a mother hugging a lost child and held on as they fell to the ground together. The impact of the fall knocked the wind out of both. Cinder’s foot lashed out and kicked the man he held again. And again, with her heavy boot. Three times, her foot struck the smaller man in his chest while Rake held his arms pinned to his sides, and he went limp.
Rake climbed to his feet, ready to continue the fight with the taller one, the man who had been kicked and punched first, but he too was still on the ground, knees pulled to his chest. His moans and the hands that held onto his ribs told the story. Cinder must have kicked him, again when Rake hadn’t looked that way. Payback.
Her kicks were fierce. She stood between them, ready and willing to use her booted foot on either of them. Despite her small size and being a woman, her feet had become weapons to fear—especially if caught unaware. Rake retrieved the old knife and held it up in disgust. If judging a man by his tools was a measure of worth, they both deserved to die. Dirt, old blood, and rust coated the blade that had at one time been a quality knife. He tossed it aside.
“Who are you?” Cinder asked the smaller one. When he didn’t answer, she kicked him in his leg. He joined the other in moaning out loud.
Rake stepped between her and them. He looked down and met the gaze of the nearest man. “Here’s how it works. Right now, I’m keeping this wildcat from kicking you a dozen more times. Each. I’ve seen her do it before when she gets angry. After she tires of kicking, she stomps on hands and heads. It’s an ugly sight and makes me ill every time I see her do it. But if you don’t talk to her right now, and tell her the truth, I’m going to take a seat over near your friend and look the other way. After she’s done with you, I think he’ll talk if he’s not too sick to speak.”
“No.”
“No, what? What are you saying?” Rake asked as he took a step closer to the other one. “Are you refusing to talk to her? Cinder come over here.”
“No, don’t let her come near me. Please.”
“She asked you a question and I haven’t heard an answer.” He stepped aside and Cinder moved closer, dancing on her toes. She said as she planted her left foot, “Your name?”
“Ansel,” he said quickly as his eyes remained on her feet.
“Well, Ansel, what are a couple of fine specimens like you two doing here kicking us awake?”
“We came down the trail to reach the road and found you sleeping here. It was an accident.”
Cinder glanced at Rake, then back again. “Why were you on this trail?”
“Our camp is up there.” His thumb jabbed over his shoulder at the thick forest. “Don’t hurt me.”
“How many of you are there?” Cinder asked.
He hesitated, then said, “Five. Six, if you count Maggie.”
“Maggie?” Rake asked.
“She cooks and stuff.”
“And stuff?” Cinder said slowly. “Does she do those things because she wants to or because you make her?”
“She’s ours. We took her in a raid.”
Rake ignored the imploring look from Cinder as he bent and took the man by the front of his shirt. “Are the other three at your camp now?”
He nodded vigorously.
Rake said, “Any dogs?”
“No.”
Cinder said, “We have to go back up there and help her.”
They were not on a rescue mission. They had a single goal, which was to help their families in what might be a time of danger. However, he couldn’t walk away. After fighting the conflicting emotions, Rake said sadly, “I know. But we should hurry.”
They quickly tied the two prisoners with strips torn from their dirty clothing while asking a few more questions. Whenever there was defiance or reluctance, Rake looked to Cinder and after that exchange, the answers spilled out. Their fear of her only increased.
The girl or woman known as Maggie was their slave. She’d been captured months ago. Yes, she was beaten and sexually abused when not cooking for them or performing other duties the men were too lazy to do.
Rake learned most of that while using his knife to cut the strips of their shirts that he used to bind their wrists and feet. Often the blade sliced perilously close to their skin—and the answers were revealed quicker. They were the sort of men who enjoy giving pain to others while rejecting the least of it when applied to themselves.
To be sure they didn’t escape the bindings, he bound them twice, using more strips as he continued to question them. Cinder shuffled closer with her booted feet when an answer came too slowly, however, that didn’t happen often. Fear of a woman is a great motivator. Then Rake stood and collected his bow and quiver, leaving the rucksack behind.
Cinder held her bow clenched in a fist so tight her fingers were white, along with a look of pure fury on her face. She seemed to be ignoring the injury to her ribs which made Rake think she’d exaggerated the pain. On second thought, perhaps she was just so angry she set the pain aside.
He said, “How do you want to do this?”
“They probably will kill Maggie if we don’t take them out first.”
“Take them out? You mean to kill all three?” Rake asked as he reconsidered and said, “We can’t take them, prisoner. We’ll be moving too fast to keep five prisoners.”
She said, “Despite what I said, I can’t bring myself to kill like that, not in cold blood. Not even scum like this who probably do the same whenever they can get away with it.”
“Then what? We just walk into their camp and tell them we’re there to free the woman and they should surrender to us? We need a plan that both of us can live with.”
“Alright, I see your point. How about this. When we get close and see how the camp is set up and situated, one of us moves through the brush to the other side. We use our bows to shoot one arrow each, at the same time. At their legs. Then we yell and scream as we charge to scare them because we might miss with the first shot. Probably will miss, I suppose since we have not practiced. Hell, I’ll probably miss the one I’m aiming at and hit another.”
“We do need to practice as Carver told us to do. We shoot for legs then drop our bows and charge with our knives. If we take them by surprise like that, we can overcome three, especially if one or two are hit in the legs. Hopefully, we manage to keep the woman safe while doing it.”
Cinder said, “I should be the one to move around behind them because I’m better in the forest. That means you won’t see me, so you get ready with your bow and wait. I’ll try to time it when they are not too close to her. I’ll take aim at the closest one to me. You take the another. Then we charge and make it up as we go along.”
He turned, prepared to take the lead down the path. Rake glanced down at the two who were tied and gagged. Their eyes were wild after hearing their plan. He said in an even tone certain to draw more attention, “If you’re gone when we get back, we’ll hunt you down if it takes a month. And then, I promise to turn you over to my friend here and I’ll walk away for half a day, so I don’t have to hear your screams.”
The expressions of fear assured Rake they would be in the same place, even if the bindings fell off. Instead of leading, he followed Cinder. Her idea. In the daylight, they could see the path was well used, wide enough to move along easily, and bare dirt so no sound of their passing would warn those in the camp.
A couple of hundred steps brought them to a depression caused by the flooding of a stream where it rounded a bend. Inside the depression were four people, two tents, a small fire, and a collection of clothing hanging from branches to dry. Bones and debris littered the ground near the fire. The place smelled of sewage and discarded items were spread over the ground.
The bank of the stream was almost as tall as Rake, but the foot-worn trail had made it easy to go down the slope. The far side was different. The slope there stood taller, and there was no ramp down. However, shrubs
and brush grew close to the edges and provided cover to hide behind.
Cinder touched his arm lightly as she silently moved away. No talking was required.
Rake followed her a few steps to where a tree trunk would keep him hidden. At the base were several bushes growing knee-high that would help conceal him. He knelt and strung the bow. Cinder was out of sight.
In the clearing below, only twenty paces away, two men sat on logs facing each other across the fire. They talked and laughed. The third had gone inside a tent. Rake could see him through the open flap as he moved around inside. A few steps away, another figure knelt at the edge of the stream rinsing bowls. It was the woman kept as a slave. It was a perfect time for the attack—except Cinder was not yet in position.
He carefully pulled an arrow, examined the barbed tip to make sure he had the right one, and fitted it to the string. The shaft was black. He mentally rehearsed his actions. When Cinder took her shot, they would probably all turn and face in her direction. Then he would stand, aim, and release. If the one inside the tent emerged, he would maybe shoot one more arrow in his direction. Then, he would leap to his right and charge down the ramp screaming and waving his knife. He placed a second arrow in reach.
The problem was that he didn’t believe that it would happen like planned. Battles never went as they were supposed to. He had to adjust to whatever happened, but he believed the men would be more concerned with the attackers than hurting the woman, especially if they made a lot of noise and the men thought there were more of them attacking than two.
Maggie looked as if she was finishing washing at the stream. That meant she would return to the men and place herself in more danger by being closer to them. Hopefully, Cinder had the patience to wait for the right opportunity because another like the present one might not reoccur. Instead, one man reached out and hit her with his open palm, as he cursed her about something.
Cinder must have been thinking along the same lines. An arrow flashed through the air. It struck the man who had hit her just above his knee. The other leaped to his feet and turned to face where it came from.
