Seri watched Dravid lead the way through the eastern doors of the pavilion. Was he trying to get as far away from the spot where she had found him last? Outside, he turned to face her.
“Listen, I was wrong not to tell you about this right away,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Hailstones. She couldn’t get too upset at an unconditional apology. “All right,” she said.
“I was scared, and, and I didn’t know what to do.”
“That’s why you should have come to me.”
“I know! I was wrong. I did say that.”
“All right.”
Dravid glanced nervously around. “I guess I was worried, because you’ve lost her star-sight. I didn’t want to tell you that I had suddenly got this new power when you lost yours. And it was all my fault, anyway.”
Seri tried to take a few calming breaths. “You thought I might be jealous?”
“Yes. No. I mean, I just didn’t want to make you feel bad in any way.” He took an awkward step closer. “I care about you, Seri. I never want to do anything that would cause you pain.”
He said everything she wanted to hear. Starting with a complete apology, telling her he cared. So sweet. So…
“Wait. Did Ixchel tell you what to say?”
“What?”
She frowned. “Did Ixchel give you advice on apologizing to me?”
“Uh, she helped some. That is, I wanted to know how to, um…”
“And did she do this in your room?”
“Uh… yes?”
“She visits your room a lot.”
“But… you send her to find me. Don’t you?”
“How many other girls come to your room?”
“What?”
“Has Lucia been there? Maybe Junia, before she left?”
Dravid shook his head. “No, no. What is this? What are you—”
Seri trembled. “Maybe you should stay here when we leave with Forerunner. Then you can have all the pretty girls all to yourself. You can show off your magic and make them giggle, and, and…”
“No!”
“Not enough for you? You want to be around the girls that come on the trip too?”
“I want to be around you!”
Silence.
Dravid sighed and leaned hard against his crutch. “I just told you that I care about you. I meant that.”
Seri sniffed. “I’m… I know you do. You came with me, Dravid. That meant a lot.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have much else to do.”
She pushed him. “Stop it. You could have gone back to Kuktarma, to—what was it? All the broken female hearts you left behind?”
He chuckled, a weak little thing. “I… may have exaggerated that.”
“Stop.” She put a hand up to his face. That gorgeous skin that had given her those totally improper thoughts the first time she met him. “All the girls like you. And they can’t help it.”
He looked into her eyes. Had she ever noticed they were practically the same height? “But what about you?” he asked.
“I like you.” His smile dazzled. “You’re… my best friend.” The smile faded ever so slightly.
“And you’re mine.” He put his arm out and she stepped into the hug. The crutch was in the way. She knocked it aside so she could put both arms around him, and he could do the same. He laughed. “Don’t let me fall now!”
“I won’t.”
Dravid held her close. His hands moved across her robe, rubbing her back and shoulders. It was nice.
And then her mind flashed to an unwanted memory. Lord Varion’s hands. Touching her. Through her robe.
She broke away from Dravid with a gasp. He wavered, but caught hold of her hands to keep from falling. “Hey, I said don’t let me fall!” He sounded jovial, but his eyes looked confused.
“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.” She bent and picked up his crutch. Once he took it, she hurried away, calling herself a coward, but still unable to erase Lord Varion’s face from her mind.
CHAPTER FIFTY
MARSHAL KNELT WITH his palm flat against the dirt. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Back at the battlefield, he had been able to sense Volraag’s presence, or at least that’s what he assumed he sensed. He hoped the same held true now.
Nothing. No disturbances. No vibrations. No mouth watering. Either Volraag remained far away, or Marshal couldn’t sense him after all.
Wait. He felt something… but no. It came from the opposite direction of where he would expect to find his half-brother, and it… wasn’t the same. Power, maybe, but very faint. And not at all like his own. Rather than vibrations, it felt like a weak pulse. Regular, but slow. Strange.
“Anything?” Victor asked.
“I don’t think so,” Marshal said. “No sign of Volraag, anyway.”
“Well, that’s good. But I can’t imagine why he’s not coming after us full speed.”
“We have to expect that someone is coming.”
“Either the assassin, or soldiers, or both.”
“Any idea on what to do about it?”
“To do about what?” Topleb strolled up beside them.
“Pursuit,” Victor said. “You know, Rufus thought about trying to hide our trail. Maybe we should do that every time we travel?”
Topleb snorted. “Rufus knows nothing of tracking and trails. What can he do? Scuff up a few footprints?”
“We don’t know much, either,” Marshal said.
“We are big group,” Topleb said. “If someone wants to follow us, it will not be hard.”
“Should we try to find a defensive position or keep moving?” Victor asked.
“Since we have no idea who is coming or when they might catch up, I say keep moving,” Topleb said.
Marshal nodded. “I agree. Tell the others to pack up so we can start.”
As Topleb obeyed, Victor toyed with his flail. “I could hang back, keep an eye out, then catch up to let you know.”
“And if it’s the assassin and he finds you alone?”
“I’ve gotten better since the last time.” Victor grinned. “But not that much better. You’re right.”
Marshal frowned and looked back the way they had come yesterday. The inevitable pursuit would come. And then he would have to choose: use his power to save his squad, probably by killing the enemy, or… let someone else die for him. Both prospects involved death. There had to be another way. He just couldn’t see it.
He and Victor rejoined the squad, finished packing up the gear, and headed out.
While Victor found it more pleasant traveling in the company of the squad, he realized they would never be able to travel as fast as when Talinir led them. Topleb knew the direction he wanted to go, but very little about Varioch’s actual landscape. He sometimes led them into dead ends which led to backtracking and trying different paths. The men grumbled good-naturedly, but they followed.
Rufus often lagged behind due to his twisted foot. Victor sometimes dropped back to walk with him, which seemed to cheer him up.
Once, Gnaeus lagged instead. Curious, Victor joined him and asked if he needed help.
Gnaeus shook his head. “Nah, I just… sometimes I gotta get away from Merish, ya know?”
Victor frowned. “But he never even talks.”
“Were you listening that night at the fire? I told you it’s my fault he’s cursed.”
“Oh.”
They walked in silence for a while. Victor wondered at the guilt that could keep a man committed to a friend, yet want to escape his company. He imagined he would do the same in Gnaeus’ shoes.
The thoughts consumed him so deeply, he didn’t notice the sound until Gnaeus turned to look behind them. Horses!
“Go! Tell Marshal and the others!” Victor ordered. As Gnaeus broke into a run, Victor took out his flail and drew his sword. He was committed too. No Bindings this time. Just doing the right thing.
He drew a deep breath. The pounding of hooves grew louder. M
ore this time. And no army of conscripts to help. In the distance, he caught glimpses of the red cloaks moving through the hills. Very little undergrowth to slow their path. Plenty of riding room between the scattered trees. They should have caught up much sooner. Were they being cautious?
A shout. One of them had seen him. As they came within sight, he counted. Ten… fifteen… twenty. That’s a lot. He began to spin the flail. He still didn’t know what activated his battle rage, but now would be a very good time for it. So far, he only felt nervous.
“You think you can take them all?” Marshal appeared beside him, gasping from running.
Victor grinned. “Thought I’d leave a few for you.”
“Why are men of Varioch such braggarts?” Topleb said, joining them. “Is not like this in Ch’olan. Humble we are.”
Marshal pointed. “I’ll blast the ground in the middle there. That should give some of them pause. The rest will have to split to either side.”
“Do it quickly!” The horsemen were less than a hundred yards away.
Marshal clapped his hands together. Though Victor couldn’t see it, he knew waves of power must have erupted from those hands. The ground ahead of them tore itself apart, rippling out in either direction and straight ahead. As expected, the charge of the horsemen broke apart. Some of the horses reared, stalling their drive. Others swept around to either side. Victor whooped and charged to the right. Vaguely, he knew the rest of the squad had come up behind them also.
“Victor, wait! I can’t—”
“Take the ones on the left!” Topleb shouted.
Victor barely heard them. The whooshing in his ears started again. The magic was at work, tightening his grip through the vibrations, speeding his feet as they pounded around a tree and rushed at the first horse and rider.
This one had broken well ahead of the others. His red Remavian Guard cloak fluttering, he swung his own flail out and down. In the back of his mind, Victor recalled a day when one of these Guards armed just like this had come to his own village, escorting a Lord-to-be. The day everything changed.
His own flail swept forward in an arc at his side. Forward and up, backward and down, as he ran. The rider turned his mount ever so slightly to come at Victor on his right. Perfect.
At the last moment, as his flail came up from its lower arc, Victor swept it across his body instead of directly forward. He twisted to his right, ducking his head back. He sidestepped and swept the flail upward now in a rotation that intersected with the enemy’s flail. The two chains collided and wrapped around each other. Victor continued his spin to the right, yanking down as hard as he could.
One supposed advantage the Guard’s flail had over Victor’s old piece was a strap to help keep its user from dropping it. Victor had been counting on that. The Guard flipped off his horse in full gallop, smashing into the ground. Victor lost hold of his own flail, but it didn’t matter now.
“Well done!” Topleb called. He flung a spear from his atlatl, striking the next oncoming horse. It made an awful scream and veered just enough for its rider to miss Victor with the sweep of a sword.
Dimly, he knew Marshal was using his power again on the other side. He could feel the vibrations in the ground. But it meant little. Another dozen riders came toward him, more cautious than the first two. He stood armed with only his sword, Topleb behind him with the atlatl. This might not end well.
An arrow passed by his head. He forgot some of the Guard also carried bows. Back in the battle, he could spin and charge through Rasna’s hapless troops, but that was a far cry from mounted elite warriors. You couldn’t shove your way through 1,000-pound horses while dodging the attacks of their riders.
But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. The rage, the magic, the whooshing of his heartbeat… it took over, driving him into a run toward the enemy. Topleb shouted something at him, but he couldn’t hear it.
And then he was among them. Dodging, weaving, slashing, ducking, running. He understood little of what he did, only that it felt right in the moment. He knew he moved far faster than he ever had before. How else could he dance in the midst of charging horses without being run down?
Did Marshal feel this way when using his power? Did he hear the whooshing, experience the heightened awareness, feel the thrill?
He came to a stop and spun back around. He had come all the way through the charge. Blood dripped from his sword, whether human or horse he didn’t know. The Remavian Guard pulled their horses into turns. Out of the dozen that had charged, he saw two empty saddles.
The lead rider shouted something to the others and they spun their horses away. Victor didn’t know and didn’t care where they were going. His attention focused on the leader, who dismounted and approached on foot, sword at the ready. A large man, his rough look and handful of small scars implied he had been fighting for many years.
Victor charged him, sweeping in with a crossing slash that immediately came back in a downward stroke Talinir taught him. The Guard dodged the first and parried the second. His sword looked like good steel, the best Varioch had to offer. But it didn’t compare to Victor’s Eldani-forged blade.
For a few moments, they exchanged attack after attack, moving back and forth, circling each other. Neither scored a hit. Victor knew this to be the most skilled opponent he had faced since Talinir or the assassin. But he couldn’t figure out why the Guard seemed to grow slower with each move.
Victor dodged back and to his own right, using the momentum to spin entirely around, sidestepping as he did to tag the guard in a scratch across his side. From that moment, it became almost too easy.
The Guard yelled something, but Victor couldn’t understand it. He parried a thrust downward, then brought his own sword up in another scratch across the Guard’s leather breastplate. Another yell he couldn’t hear. The Guard’s facial expression looked desperate.
The Guard’s low slash seemed almost in slow motion. Victor jumped over it, then stabbed up and under the breastplate. He pulled back and the Guard collapsed, his lips still moving.
A strange sight caught Victor’s attention. A ripple in the ground came toward him. The earth crumbled upward, then settled as it moved on, like a ripple in the water. He easily jumped over it as it passed by and kept going.
Victor looked around in every direction. Horses scattered about, riderless and unsure. Five Guards lay unmoving on the ground. Topleb pulled one of his spears out of a body and looked at him.
The whooshing faded almost as swiftly as it had come. Victor’s hands shook.
“—you hear me?” He realized Topleb had been speaking to him.
“What?”
“Oh, so you can hear. You just didn’t want to answer him?”
“What was he saying?”
Topleb cocked his head. “So you couldn’t hear while fighting? Strange.”
“What was he saying?”
“He kept screaming, ‘How are you so fast?’”
Victor wondered what could be happening to him. He thrilled to the battle, but it frightened him. He seemed to lose control of almost everything while fighting.
Marshal scrambled into view. “What happened over here?”
Topleb gestured. “Victor happened. He charged them all by himself, so their leader sent everyone to go after you. He stayed to deal with Victor. It did not end well for him. It was like watching one of the ancient heroes of Ch’olan.”
“Did you take care of the rest?” Victor asked.
Marshal nodded. “After some more demonstrations of power, they took off. I don’t think they’ll be bothering us any more.”
“The ones who survived,” Topleb said. He bent over the Guard’s body at his feet and struggled with something.
Victor felt fatigue sweep over him, and he stumbled. “What do we do now?”
“As crude as it sounds, we scavenge the dead,” Topleb said. He stood, holding a leather breastplate, and walked to Victor. “For starters, if you’re going to keep imitating a wild bull, y
ou should wear some more protection.” He held up the breastplate to gauge its fit and nodded.
“Why? I don’t…” He trailed off as he realized that his tunic was shredded in multiple places. Again. At the same moment, twinges of pain pierced his consciousness. Apparently, his opponents had scored a few shots on him. None of them appeared serious, but Topleb had a point.
“It seems wrong to take from the dead,” Marshal said. Gnaeus and Merish came up behind him.
“You would rather steal from the living?” Topleb pointed at the bodies. “They have good weapons, better than most of ours. Good clothes too, if Victor hasn’t cut them all to pieces.”
“What about the horses?” Gnaeus asked.
“Do you know how to ride?”
“Not well.”
“They didn’t leave enough for all of us, and I don’t think most of us would be very comfortable,” Topleb said. “Too bad we can’t sell them.” He paused. “We could eat one.”
“We can’t eat a horse!” Gnaeus protested.
“If we get hungry enough, we can.”
Marshal stepped away from the others. He pointed his hands at the ground and it exploded in front of him. He worked at it for a few moments, then stepped back. He left behind a large ditch a few feet wide and twice as long.
“Take what we can from them,” he ordered, “then put their bodies here. We’ll bury them together. I won’t leave them for the animals. They’re still our countrymen, even if they worked for horrible men.”
“Your countrymen,” Topleb muttered.
Victor started to help, but found he could barely move. He sat down hard. Marshal approached. “Are you all right?”
“Just exhausted,” he said. His own voice sounded strange to him, distorted somehow.
Marshal nodded. “I don’t know what’s happening exactly, but you’ve got your own magic somehow. Maybe you get it from hanging around me all the time? Or it came through our Bond?”
“I don’t know, either,” Victor said. “It comes on me and I can’t stop. I can’t hear or anything. I just keep fighting. And getting faster, I guess.”
Until All Bonds Are Broken Page 23
