“Much hurt, there, Eddis? You’re all bloody.”
She shook her head.
“Good. Hey, the camp! Coming in!” Another glance at Eddis. “Need my help?”
“You deal with him. He clipped my ear, that’s all.”
She checked the fallen men. The one who’d been wounded just as they came up was huddled in on himself, moaning pitifully. She shifted the sword back to her right again and tapped the back of his head with it. “You’re not dying. You’re making too much noise to be hurt badly,” she said harshly. “Get up. You wanted in our camp? Fine, let’s go.”
It took a little prodding, but he finally edged away from the tip of her blade and fumbled to his feet.
She gazed at him. Dirty, ragged. “You attacked us a couple nights ago, just inside the forest, didn’t you?”
Silence. He stared at her slack-jawed.
She nudged him with the flat of her blade. “Go on, move it.”
There were three other ragged, thin men already in the clearing. One lay on his side, eyes closed. His shirt was soaked with blood, and he seemed to be barely breathing. The one Jerdren had by the jerkin wasn’t injured that she could tell. The other two bore cuts but weren’t much hurt. Two of the Keep men took the man Eddis was guarding as Blorys came across the open ground, his eyes wide.
“You’re hurt!”
“It’s not bad, really,” Eddis said. She was suddenly very tired and wanted nothing more than to just collapse. “My ear,” she added with a smile. “You know how ears and scalp wounds bleed.”
“Your face—gods, Eddis!”
“It’s shallow, just a cut. M’Baddah can—”
Mead came up and took her arm. “I have a charm, Eddis. We’ll heal it.”
“You might need that later,” she began, but Blorys and the mage both shook their heads.
“It would be bad for morale,” the elf said, “to have our only swordswoman scarred. Besides, it is my charm, and therefore my decision.”
“All right,” she said, “but later. There’s some unfinished business first.”
One of their men lay facedown in the clearing, an arrow protruding from his back, and three others had been injured, though none badly.
Jerdren, M’Baddah and Willow had already begun questioning their prisoners, and the wounded man Eddis had brought in was stammering out answers, despite curses and threats from the man Jers had disarmed and dragged in. Two Keep men stood over him with drawn swords, which Eddis thought was all that kept him from throwing himself on the fellow.
“Yeah, we were with those guys that ambushed you the other night. But how’d we know you were gonna be down here by the road? Couple fellas followed your tracks the next morning, and you were going north.”
“If you’d been smart,” Jerdren said evenly, “you’d all have kept going the way you were running when we were done with you. Why didn’t you?”
The fellow gave him a sullen look. “Because he said he knew where we could find these men.” He pointed to the loud man under guard. “And because we’re city men mostly, not hunters, and we haven’t had a decent meal in days! We’d never make it back into the realm, so why try? What else was there—go up to the gates of the Keep and beg for bread?”
Jerdren was quiet for a long moment. The wounded man watched him warily. “Eddis,” Jers said finally. “All of you. You know what we have to do here, right?”
Eddis nodded. “It was a mistake letting any of them go the first time. We do that now, and they’ll attack us again. Or—”
“Or they’ll get lucky, find the men they’re looking for, and use the information about us to get into that camp,” Blorys finished.
The wounded man paled “You—you can’t just… !”
“Can’t just kill you?” Jerdren’s lips twitched. “Would you rather we tied you up and left you here? There’s a mountain lion out here, and there’s orcs, and worse things. The castellan of the Keep’s given us a charge. We have the right to execute lawless men like you.” He turned and caught hold of the fellow he’d brought in, dragging him cursing and snarling to his feet. “You first. At least it’ll shut you up.”
M’Baddah came across. “Two men to hold him for me. I have done this before.” He glanced at Eddis. “Let us do this and be done, quickly,” he added. He turned and walked into the woods. Two Keep men came after with the ragged prisoner between them, and two others with drawn bows, in case he somehow broke free. The wounded man gazed after them, stunned, then buried his face in his hands and wept harshly.
Eddis took a deep breath, and Blorys wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.
The sun was nearly down by the time the last of the bandits was taken away—the wounded man, still weeping, had to be carried because his legs wouldn’t hold him. The other bodies were dragged off into the brush. M’Baddah was gone for some time after that, dealing in his own way with coldblooded killing, Eddis thought. Mead had tended to her face, and she was grateful for the sudden lack of pain, though all the fuss seemed foolish.
Jerdren looked around the clearing finally and sighed. “All that for seven miserable coppers. It seems we keep piling up dead enemies around the campsites, doesn’t it? I say this time we leave ’em right here, and we move on.”
“No argument,” Eddis said, when it became clear they were all waiting for her. “And don’t fuss over me, please. I don’t ask it or need it. It wasn’t cut that badly to begin with, and it’s healed.” The shoulder and sleeve of her shirt were stiff with blood. She’d have to change into her spare and wash the thing before she slept.
Jerdren gave his sword one more wipe before sheathing it. “Once we get settled, if there’s still time, I’d like to send M’Baddah out with his pick, four or five men, to see if there’s any sign of those men along the river.”
The dark man merely nodded, and moments later, they were on their way.
Eddis found herself in the middle of the party, with M’Whan at her side, and Mead a few paces ahead, two of the Keep men a distance behind. M’Whan was quiet, his brows drawn together. She touched his arm to get his attention.
“Anything wrong?” she asked quietly.
M’Whan sighed faintly. “It’s Father,” he said. “This scouting party. I… he’ll ask for me to go with him, I know he will. Though after what happened on our way up to the Keep, I wish he wouldn’t.”
“After—oh. Odd. I’d nearly forgotten about that ambush. M’Whan, it was not your fault that your father was wounded. Maybe one of us would have been killed, if you hadn’t taken care of that man on the road.”
Silence, which she finally broke. “You aren’t as good as he is, but that is only because he’s had more years of practice. Someday—”
“No, Eddis. He will always be my Nehuah, and I will always be his student. He has the greatness to be a master, a true Nehuah, and I do not. It is better that I accept that, don’t you see?”
His voice was like M’Baddah’s, Eddis thought—low and non-carrying.
“I don’t believe that’s true, M’Whan,” she said, as quietly. “Remember, your father chose you as his Nehuelo, and he explained it to me. Nehuelo doesn’t just mean apprentice. It means ‘the one who guards the back of the master.’”
M’Whan shook his head, visibly frustrated. “If he chose merely because he and I are the last of our family, if he chose for love of a son, or pride in his family… ?” An abashed smile turned the corner of his mouth, very briefly. “I doubt my father ever would have spoken of such things to you, as I do now, when he was Nehuelo. That is another difference between us.”
Eddis kept her eyes on the ground before her. Shadow was deep here and the ground uneven.
“All right,” she said finally. “Perhaps he did choose you for family, or for love. But remember, when he and I needed another guard, he asked that I hire you. You’re his son, yes, but if you weren’t skil
led enough to take care of yourself, why would he put you in danger that way—or himself, or the clients who hire us? Or me, come to think of it. He’s fond of me—damned if I can think why, but it’s so.”
“If I fail him again…” The outland youth’s voice was overly tight as it faded.
“You haven’t faded him yet, M’Whan,” she replied. “The mere fact you worry that you aren’t good enough is reason to send you. The last person we’d want out there is someone like Jers—someone so full of himself that he’d wind up tripping over his own feet and putting everyone else at risk.”
A familiar voice spoke up just ahead of her. “Someone mention my name?” Jerdren asked. “Just making sure my co-captain is all right,” he added cheerfully.
Eddis rolled her eyes. “Save the sweet concern for your merchants’ women,” she replied crisply. Jerdren laughed and strode off toward the lead again.
M’Whan bit back a chuckle. He still looked tense when she glanced his way but not as bad as he’d been. “Thank you, Eddis,” he said quietly. “If he does ask, I’ll go, and I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will.” She smiled. “You don’t think I’d risk your life, do you? You’re important to me, and I value your skills and your presence. Your sense of humor. Good enough?”
He nodded.
“Good. It looks like we’ve found someplace to stop,” she added as they came into a clearing—this one longer than the previous one, with a shallow creek running along one side. She dropped her pack next to the water and knelt to bathe her face.
M’Whan went in search of his father.
* * *
The sun was near setting when M’Baddah led M’Whan, Willow, and two Keep men across the road and into high, frost-crisped grass. The air here was damp, and fog was beginning to pool in low places. They followed the west riverbank for some distance, then struck out due west as the shoreline became mucky and rank. The last of the tussocks behind them, M’Baddah again turned south and met up with the river almost at once, but now the ground was firm, sandy, and smooth and the bank lined with willow trees and bushes. Berry bushes, aspen, and the tall reeds blocked his view of the water, though he could now hear it, very close by.
The outlander signed for his men to stay where they were while he and the elf eased silently through the underbrush, stopping only when they could make out the ruddy light of sun on the water. It moved slowly here, a broad stream but shallow, the pebbly bed clearly visible. Partway across, massive black stones twice his height reared skyward, and the water boiled white around them. Not a good place for a man to walk, M’Baddah knew, unless he wanted the feet swept from under him.
There were two large islands midstream, the larger directly across from him. He couldn’t tell much about the second because it was west, in deep shadow. Smooth water there, and he thought it might be deep.
The sandy bank was marked with prints, but none of them belonged to men or horses: there, the deep, pointed prints of deer, and beyond them a large bear.
The nearest island was nearly flat, and wooded, but not thickly. A long look told him it was uninhabited. From here, he could just make out the far bank of the river, and beyond it, rocks and trees climbing steeply toward the darkening blue sky. If they crossed now, there would be enough light for them to be seen, if there were any watchers, but they would need what light there still was to pick a safe way across and to see any prints on the south shore. M’Baddah thought this over as his eyes searched upstream and down once again. Nothing and no one in sight, and aside from the sound of water moving slowly over stones, he could hear nothing but the distant cry of a hawk. He still withdrew as quietly as possible, Willow right behind him. Once in the open, M’Baddah beckoned his company well away from the water and into brush before he whispered a description of the riverbanks, drawing a map in the soft dirt with his finger.
“I say we all cross to the island, but only two of us go on from there. Whoever has the best eyes among you, I want you on the island to keep watch, with Willow as your leader. That way, if the two meet trouble, someone will be left to carry news back to the camp. With me, I want the best ears among you.
They discussed this briefly and quietly and chose one of the spearmen. M’Baddah turned and led the way back to the riverbank.
Silence, except for the burbling of the river around the standing stones. The wind had died away completely, and the colors of sunset shone on the water’s surface. M’Baddah took up a slender stick about half his height, removed his boots, and tucked them under his arm. He led the way into the shallows, feeling his way with the stick first, the Keep man a few paces behind him.
As he’d hoped, the water was merely cool this late in the season and never deeper than his ankles. The two men reached the small island without incident. There were a few willow trees here and a few thorn bushes covered with bright red berries. The outlander signed his companion to stay where he was, in view of those waiting on the north shore, and crossed the island barefoot, squatting behind low bushes to study what he could see of the far bank.
By the currents, the water was deep to the east but noisily shallow just to his left. He picked out what seemed the best crossing, eyed the opposite bank and the hillside. Still quiet, there. He backed away from the bank before standing and signing to his companion, who turned and waved to the others. The two men waited long enough to be certain the others were safely on the island before stepping into the water once more. Much later and it would be too dark to make out prints.
They crossed as quickly as they dared. M’Baddah emerged between two tall, bushy willows and slid into shadow behind smooth boulders, the Keep man right behind him. He stayed hidden, an arrow loosely held to his bowstring, while the outlander began moving slowly eastward, bent low, so he could study the damp, sandy bank.
Cat tracks here, plenty of deer once again, and what must be a sow bear, with at least one cub. He thought two, more likely. A bare space, where a rock ledge came far in to shore, and beyond that… M’Baddah crouched down and peered at the ground. Horses and horse droppings. Shod horses had come down to the water and gone away again, and there were enough overlaid tracks to show they’d come this way for many days. With them, boot prints—at least three men, possibly more.
They may be other men, and not those we seek, M’Baddah told himself, but it’s not likely. He eased to his feet, but before he could sign to his companion or those across the river, he heard the soft plod of heavy, hooved feet behind and above him—up the steep hillside and still among the trees—and the low voices of at least two men. He slid back along the rock shelf, ran sideways along the harder, drier sand above the waterline, and went down flat in deep shadow under a low bush just as the men came into sight. They were leading three horses each and grumbling.
A splash along the bank, farther to the east—M’Baddah held his breath as both men turned to look. Finally one of them sighed gustily.
“Just a fish. Let’s get these brutes their fill and get back to camp. I’m bored with horse duty.”
“Fish?” the other replied gruffly. “Big for a fish, wouldn’t you say? Besides, all the noise the horses make, we’d scare off a bear—and I didn’t hear anything big running away.”
Silence, as the two men listened intently. M’Baddah, scarcely daring to breath, slowly eased one hand to where he could reach his dagger hilt, and waited.
It was silent next to the river for some moments. The horse waterers were apparently listening intently. M’Baddah could hear his heart beating, the sounds of horses drinking and shifting their feet on the bank, the faint gurgle of water flowing by. Finally one of the men spoke again.
“It was a fish, like I said. You know what this country’s like. There’s no one about between here and the Keep, especially after sundown.”
“Fine,” the other said. His voice was reedy and sounded sullen. “These brutes done drinking? Because we still got another string to bring down tonight.”
“You’re forgetting o
rders. Captain doesn’t like it when his black stallion gets restive up there in camp, on account he didn’t get to drink his fill. You don’t want the captain mad at you for neglecting his horse, not if you’re planning to stay here. And you remember what he tells all you new men if he decides you don’t get to stay.”
“I remember. He said we earn his trust before we get to go on any raids, and if any of us tries to leave on our own, we get tossed off that cliff up yonder.” He grumbled under his breath. “You’d think I was a spy from the Keep or something,” he added resentfully.
“Happens I believe you aren’t,” the first man said.
“Well, then—”
“I said I believe you. The captain may be my brother, but he makes up his own mind about things.”
It was quiet for a long moment. M’Baddah shifted his weight cautiously.
“You don’t like how things are, that’s too bad. At least with us, you don’t have to walk perimeter guard that last cold hour before sunrise.”
The sullen man replied, but too quietly for M’Baddah to make out what he said.
“Thought you understood that,” the captain’s brother said. “Fewer men we have wandering around the hillside, less chance the Keep men will see ’em. Besides, we’ve got a sentry box way up high on the mountain. You’ll see for yourself, one of these days, but I can tell you that anyone goes into or comes outta the Keep gates, someone up there sees it.”
M’Baddah could hear the stamping of restless horses, and the captain’s brother spoke again, his voice unexpectedly warm.
“Get enough there, Night? Good horse.”
The ground under the outlander’s body vibrated with the thud of hooves on hard-packed sand, and he heard the scrape of a shod hoof on stone. Sounds of men and horses gradually faded.
M’Baddah counted time with his fingers against one leg. At twenty, he cautiously got to his feet. No one and nothing—then another scrape of hooves against stone, far enough away and above him that he barely heard it above the sound of running water. He crossed back to the rock slab and cautiously waved upstream. The Keep man must have been waiting for that because he immediately came downstream. He was dripping wet.
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