“Makes it easier for them to take cover in the forest if they’re pursued. Or if they see a traveler coming toward them and decide to ambush him.”
By contrast, the two Rangers rode down the center of the road, where the slight camber meant the surface was drier, as the rain drained off to the edges. That way, they left minimum sign of their passing. It was a habit deeply ingrained in them by years of practice and experience. Rangers, expert trackers that they were, left little sign for others to track them.
By the same token, they didn’t ride side by side. They were stalking a dangerous foe and while Will led the way, keeping an eye on the tracks left by the Black Vulture gang, Maddie stayed back thirty to forty meters, ready to support Will if there was any sign of an attack from the trees beside the road.
They had been on the side road for two hours when Will drew rein and gestured for Maddie to catch up. She rode alongside him and stopped as he pointed to a faint track leading off into the trees. It was barely discernible. Most people would probably have overlooked it. But Will wasn’t most people. And he’d seen that the jumble of boot prints they had been following went no farther down the road.
“They left the road here,” he told her in a quiet voice. “I’d say we’re getting close to their camp.”
He dismounted and followed the narrow trail through the trees for a few meters. Then he stopped and pointed to the ground, where a small puddle of water had formed in an irregularity in the forest floor. On the edge of the puddle, there was a clear imprint of a boot. He beckoned to Maddie to join him.
“We’ll leave the horses here,” he told her, “and follow this trail. Keep your eyes and ears open. Vincent is an overconfident type and I’ll wager he doesn’t expect to be followed. So they won’t go any great distance from the road before they make camp.”
Maddie nodded. She glanced around at the closely set trees surrounding them. There wasn’t a lot of room between them, which would make it awkward for her to use the sling—her preferred weapon. She unslung her bow, selected an arrow and nocked it to the string. Will did the same.
“Five-meter leapfrog,” he said. “I’ll go first.”
Again she signaled her understanding. It was a standard Ranger drill for moving through cover. Will went first, while she waited, her bow half raised, ready to draw, aim and shoot if there was any sign of danger. Then he stopped after five meters and readied his own bow while Maddie slipped forward silently, passing him and moving on another five meters before stopping in her turn. Once she was settled, Will moved again, leapfrogging her position and moving another five meters into the forest.
And so they progressed through the thick growth of trees, barely visible when they were moving, almost invisible when they stopped, as their cloaks merged into the shadowy forest background. It was the sort of maneuver that had given the Rangers their reputation for becoming invisible to other people, a skill they had practiced again and again until they had it perfected.
The fourth time Will ghosted past her, he stopped and turned to look at her. When he saw he had her attention, he tapped one forefinger to his nose, then slid into cover behind a tree.
Maddie sniffed experimentally, and caught the faintest whiff of woodsmoke. There was a fire somewhere up ahead. And in this damp woodland, it wouldn’t have just happened by accident. Someone would have lit it on purpose.
They were closing in on the Vultures’ campsite.
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Will leaned back and peered up through the tall tree cover, looking for some sign of the sun. The light filtered down through the trees, and judging by the angle it took, it was early afternoon.
“We’ll take a look at their camp,” he said softly, his head close to Maddie’s. “Then we’ll come back here and wait for darkness.”
After their successful raid the night before, it was most likely that the bandits would stay in camp this evening. There were no villages marked on the map in this direction, and if they had planned to raid another one farther along the main road, they would hardly have come all this way down the side track.
They set off again, maintaining the same five-meter-leapfrog pattern. Maddie was in the lead when she heard the low murmur of voices coming from ahead of her. She raised a warning hand and Will, instead of bypassing her, slid into cover beside her. She cupped a hand behind her ear and he pulled his cowl back and turned his head slightly.
There it was again. A low murmur, then a sharp burst of laughter. It sounded to be no more than twenty meters away. Will leaned toward her and whispered, “Stay here. I’ll take a look.”
She was content for him to do so. Skilled as she was at silent, unseen movement, Will had the benefit of many more years of experience. He left his bow with her and slipped away from the tree that sheltered them both, moving on his belly in a swift, silent serpent crawl. Maddie waited, staying low, keeping her face and eyes down. She pulled her cowl forward so that her face was in shadow. Lying inert as she was, and concealed beneath her cloak, she wouldn’t be spotted unless someone trod on her. She smiled grimly at the thought. That had happened before, and more than once.
It was some minutes before Will slid back beside her, his movement barely audible. He didn’t speak, but gestured with his thumb for her to follow him, then began to snake his way back the way they had come. She waited half a minute, then followed.
After twenty meters or so, Will rose from his belly and, moving in a crouch, continued to ghost his way through the trees. Maddie followed his lead until he stopped, near the point where they had first noticed the smell of woodsmoke. They knelt on the ground as he spoke. Even though they were well out of earshot, Will kept his voice low.
“It’s them, all right. They’ve got a camp there. The fire is a small one. My guess is that it’s a cook fire but they’ll build it up once it’s dark. They seem pretty confident. They haven’t posted any guards and they don’t seem worried that anyone will have smelled their woodsmoke.”
“Probably not used to being followed,” Maddie said.
Will nodded. “I suppose that’s it. They’ve been preying on ordinary villagers and farmers for years. I doubt anyone has ever gone after them. People just seem to pay up and take it as part of the cost of life. It’s what keeps bandits in business.”
“Are they all there?” Maddie asked.
“Yes. All eight of them. They’re sprawled around the camp. They stole some wine from the tavern last night and they’re all drinking.” He smiled fiercely. “That’ll be handy for us later.” He moved to one side, found a convenient tree and leaned back against it, pulling his cloak around him.
“For now, I’m going to get some rest. You can take the first watch. Wake me in an hour.”
She smiled to herself as his head dropped onto his chest and he began to breathe deeply and evenly. Vincent and his gang might not bother to set a guard. But that wasn’t the Ranger way.
* * *
• • •
Darkness fell over the forest. Once the sun had dropped below the treetops, the shadows crept quickly in. There were only occasional glimpses of the stars when Maddie peered up. With Will leading the way, they moved silently through the trees, back toward the camp. In the darkness, there was no need to serpent crawl. They walked carefully, placing their feet delicately and feeling with each step for any twigs or fallen branches that might snap underfoot and give their presence away.
Not that there was much chance of that, Maddie thought scornfully, as she listened to the noise coming from the bandits’ camp. Their voices were loud and careless, as they talked over one another and shouted each other down. From time to time, they joined in the chorus of a raucous song. Then the singing would die away and they would laugh loudly.
Will caught her eye after one particularly loud chorus and mimed drinking from a glass. The meaning was obvious. The wine they had consumed over the afternoon was having an effect.
/> They had built up the small cooking fire as well. Now the flames rose high among the trees and the flickering light was visible through the close-set but narrow trunks for thirty meters or so.
The two Rangers moved closer, still making no sound and staying in the uneven shadows. As they reached the edge of the small clearing where the camp was situated, Will did a quick count of the figures sprawling and sitting round the fire. He turned to Maddie and held up eight fingers. All of the band were here. Nobody was on sentry duty.
Will pointed to himself, then made a semicircular motion with his hand, ending up pointing to the far side of the clearing. Maddie could tell what he meant, even if they hadn’t discussed this before setting out. He was planning to circumvent the camp and approach from the other side. Maddie would stay where she was and provide cover for him if he needed it. And with eight armed men in the camp, she thought he might.
Maddie took stock of her position. She was at the edge of the clearing, and with the darkness of the forest behind her, she was able to move into the open, which gave her room to use her sling. She slung her bow over her left shoulder and loaded a lead shot into the pouch of the sling, letting the leather thongs dangle down from her hand.
She nodded once to let Will know she was ready and he set off, gliding through the trees like a wraith. Even though she was watching him as he set off, she soon found it difficult to see him. Then she realized that she was supposed to be watching the noisy, drunken group around the fire, making sure that none of them had noticed Will moving through the trees.
Not that there’s any chance of that, she smiled to herself. When she darted a quick glance in the direction he’d taken, she could see no sign of movement.
She set her attention back on the gang of bandits, letting her eyes rove over them, taking care not to stare directly into the glare of the fire, and making sure none of them was about to raise the alarm or reach for a weapon. Vincent was sprawled on the soft ground opposite where she was concealed among the trees. He was propped up against a fallen tree trunk. She noticed his crossbow was close by, already cocked and with a bolt set in place. She sniffed derisively.
Your string’s not going to last long if you leave it cocked and loaded all the time, she mentally told the robber chief.
Not that Vincent seemed to have any concern in that area. He hoisted himself up against the log so that he was sitting upright, and took hold of a half-full bottle of wine that had been standing on the grass by his elbow. He raised it now in a mock toast.
“Here’s to our good friend Michel!” he said, and the Vultures responded with an ironic cheer. “So kind of him to insist on giving us all these bottles of his very finest wine.”
The drunken group laughed at his words. Several of them had bottles of their own and they reached for them now to join him in his sarcastic toast. He held his bottle up prior to drinking from it.
Will’s arrow smashed through it, showering the drunken bandit chief with wine and shattered fragments of glass, before thudding, quivering, into a log lying ready by the fire.
Vincent let out a yelp of fear, quickly followed by an angry snarl as he saw the arrow and his foggy wits worked out what had just happened. He whirled clumsily around, his hand reaching for the crossbow.
“Don’t touch it.”
Will’s voice was low, but it carried clearly across the open space of the campsite. Vincent, his night vision blinded by the fact that he had been staring into the heart of the fire for the past hour or so, squinted and shifted his head from side to side as he tried to make out who had spoken. Whoever it was, he reasoned, was armed. Moreover, the interloper was at an advantage as he could clearly see Vincent, whereas the robber couldn’t see him. His hand stopped moving toward the crossbow and he lurched up onto his knees, still peering into the shadows.
The other seven bandits were silent and frozen in place as well. Then Will stepped out into the clearing, at the fringe of the circle of firelight. He appeared to Vincent’s blurred, drunken vision as a spectral, indistinct figure. His face was hidden in the shadows of his cowl and the cloak, with its irregular pattern and woodland colors, caused him to merge into the background in the flickering firelight, so that one moment he was visible and the next, he seemed to fade away.
Vincent felt his muscles freeze with fear. To his superstitious mind, the indistinct figure seemed to be some spirit of the forest—otherworldly and supernatural. The bandit chief opened his mouth to speak, but his throat was dry and no words came. The only distinct thing about the ghostly figure facing him was the massive longbow, and the deadly iron warhead that caught the firelight and glittered evilly.
“Who are you?” he croaked, finally finding his voice. The figure didn’t move or reply. Vincent tried again. “What do you want?”
This time, he had more success. That calm, quiet voice replied.
“I want you to pay back the money you stole last night. You picked the wrong village to rob.”
There was growl of anger from the other bandits and Vincent came up onto one knee. Will had picked the one emotion stronger than the robber’s superstitious fear—his greed.
“Pay it back? Why should I pay it back?” he challenged.
“Because if you don’t, things will go badly for you.”
Vincent’s mind was working fast, forcing him to think rationally in spite of the befuddling effects of an afternoon spent drinking. So far, the cloaked figure had threatened. And he had put an arrow through the wine bottle Vincent was drinking from. But he had done Vincent no actual harm. In his place, Vincent would already have shot him, without further warning. Coming to the conclusion that the stranger was unwilling to shoot, he grabbed for the crossbow on the ground beside him and stood, bringing it up to his shoulder.
And realized he had made a mistake.
Maddie whipped the sling up and over and the lead shot hissed through the air across the clearing, striking Vincent’s skull behind the ear with an ugly thud.
The bandit’s eyes glazed and he let out a sickly little moan. Then his knees gave way and he crashed to the forest floor, stunned. A slow trickle of blood ran down the back of his head.
“I warned you,” Will said.
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It said a lot about Maddie’s training, and her intelligence, that she continued to scan the campsite, watching for any sign of rebellion or danger from the other bandits.
Nine out of ten people, in that situation, would have had their attention riveted on Will and the fallen bandit leader. But she knew her task was to protect Will, to forestall any attempt to defy him. And with seven men capable of offering such defiance, the task was an important one. She had already loaded another shot into her sling and the weapon dangled loosely beside her, swinging gently back and forth, ready for instant action.
So while Vincent lay facedown and semiconscious, moaning softly on the forest floor, she kept her gaze moving quickly over the other figures spaced around the campsite.
Will himself, trusting in her to cover him, had his attention fixed on the bandit leader. On his right, across the clearing, one of the other bandits was also armed with a crossbow.
Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw a flicker of movement as the man rose onto one knee and leveled the crossbow. Maddie saw it too. She realized that Will was a second away from death and her arm went back, preparing to whip the sling over and send its missile humming across the clearing.
But Will was too fast for her. Before she could launch the projectile, his right hand flew to his double scabbard and in one smooth movement, he drew his throwing knife and sent it spinning across the clearing. The bandit’s hand was beginning to tighten on the trigger when the knife hit him in the center of his chest. He gave a strangled grunt of pain, then everything went black for him and he fell to one side. His hand convulsively squeezed the trigger lever. The crossbow released with an ugly thump and the bolt flashe
d upward. Maddie heard it glancing off tree trunks as it went, until it finally lodged in the thick canopy of one of the trees.
The rest of the gang were silenced for a moment, staring at his crumpled form. Before they could act, Will’s voice cracked out like a whip.
“Everybody stay exactly where they are. Anyone who moves, anyone who reaches for a weapon, will get the same treatment from my companion.” He nodded toward Maddie, who had moved forward a few more paces and was now standing clear of the trees. Six pairs of eyes now swiveled in her direction. She had replaced the sling with her bow, with an arrow ready nocked, as it was more visually threatening. The sling, after all, looked like two leather thongs hanging from her hand. The bow was a weapon they could recognize, and the iron point of the arrow’s warhead gleamed in the firelight.
Like Vincent, the bandits had spent the evening staring into the bright light of the campfire and their night vision was ruined. They saw a dark blur of movement as Maddie trained the bow back and forth across them.
“Perhaps you might demonstrate, Matthew,” Will said.
They had discussed this deception earlier in the evening, before approaching the camp.
“We need to subdue them quickly. And that means they have to fear us. If they realize you’re a girl,” Will had said, “they’ll feel a little less threatened.”
Maddie had opened her mouth to remonstrate and he raised a hand to forestall her.
“You know it’s nonsense, and so do I,” he said. “But their tiny brains have been conditioned to think like that, so let’s not take the risk. Otherwise, we may have to shoot three or four of them to make the point.”
He’d paused and looked meaningfully at her. She nodded. It was annoying, but she realized he was right. Men like these would not have the intelligence to credit a girl with the skill or courage to face them and defeat them. And Will was right. If they showed any sign of defiance, he and Maddie would probably have to shoot several of them—an outcome neither of them wanted.
The Royal Ranger: The Missing Prince Page 16
