Krea chanced a glance at Sorin. He wasn't taking his eyes off the proth.
“Mashter takesss what ish his,” the beast growled, its voice so gravelly Krea could barely make out the words.
Sorin stepped toward the creature. “Then the master can get over here and deal with me.” The proth shook again. Its wings snapped in frustration, and it twisted its head around to stare at something over Krea’s shoulder. Long slits opened on the creature’s face where nostrils should have been. It sniffed the air, crouched low to the ground, and sniffed again. “Mashter will have it,” the faerie said. Then it gave a powerful kick with its huge, muscled hindquarters and leaped into the air.
Sorin lunged forward at the same time and hurled his sunball. The swirling light caught the faerie on its leg and sent it spinning in the air. The proth corrected midair and turned toward them. Sorin had only his sword as the dots of light began collecting in his hand. He backed away to a spot clear of bodies and stood ready. Krea grabbed the bloody axe and joined him. What help she could be, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to hide. With a great backward flap of its wings, the proth pulled out of its dive, claws extended, grabbed the dead horse that it shouldn’t have been able to carry, and disappeared over the trees. The body of the man she had killed dangled for a moment and then dropped to the ground not far from the hawthorn stand.
Krea shuddered. “Who is the master?” she asked, her heart trying to beat out of her chest.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to know.”
Her whole body trembled, and she wondered if she was going to retch again as she looked around at the bloody scene. One horse shuffled nervously to the side of the path, its rider dead at her feet. Another horse had bolted, but Krea knew well enough where that one’s rider lay. Then there was the one the proth had taken. That animal had been nearly twice the size of the proth. How had it managed to carry it off? For a moment, Krea stared at the axe dripping with the man’s blood and at the knife still clutched in his dismembered hand.
Sorin reached over and slowly pried his axe from Krea’s fist. He was bleeding. He had a long gash on his arm and another at his side where the dagger had scored. She thought about the cut on her leg and glanced over at the knife that had done it. Before she could lose her nerve, she pried the dead man’s fingers away from the knife. On shaky legs, she hurried over to where his body had fallen and used the man’s knife to cut his belt and slide the scabbard free. When she turned around, Sorin was staring at her with a curious expression, but he didn’t comment.
“Dane,” he called. “Go fetch that horse.”
Krea turned to see Dane standing slack-jawed by the trees with Caldir’s reins dangling from his fist. The boy nodded and walked off toward the skittish mare in a daze.
“Was it sniffing him?” Krea asked.
“I think so.” Still somber, Sorin crossed over to the first rider and started searching through the man’s meager possessions. Unsure what she was looking for, Krea did the same to the dark-skinned man, but other than his knife, she found nothing of value on him. Not even a small money bag.
Dane fared better. He returned, leading the two horses and carrying a small dagger, a meat knife, and a coin purse. Sorin’s search yielded nothing, but judging from his expression when he stood to collect the limping mare, he hadn’t been looking for the same thing that Dane and Krea had been. He frowned at Dane, as if trying to decide what to say.
Unsure what the problem was, Dane stretched out his arm, offering Sorin his finds, but Sorin just shook his head, finally smiling. “No, Dane. You can keep it if you want it. I’m looking for something else. I need the rope off that mare’s saddle.”
Dane worked to loosen the rope while Sorin searched the dark-skinned man again. The boy was on his tiptoes but making little headway, so Krea finally pulled herself together and went over to help.
“Bring her over here,” he said. Once the mare was where he wanted her, Sorin heaved her rider’s body up across the horse’s back and used the rope to tie him there. “Are you okay?” The question seemed so out of place that Krea wasn’t even sure he was talking to her.
“Aye,” she answered finally. “I have a cut on my leg, but nothing serious.” He was breathing hard from lifting the heavy men, and it suddenly occurred to her that he must be exhausted. Blood ran down his arm, where it had already soaked through the makeshift bandage he had tried to tie around it.
Krea ran to the man draped over the horse and cut several long strips from his pants. Sorin waited quietly while she tied one bandage around his ribs and the other to his arm, then thanked her with a ruffling of her hair. “Why did you lift that man onto his horse?”
“I’m not leaving them here,” he said. “They were sent here to kill us. No point in letting whoever sent them know that they failed. You did well,” he assured her with a sardonic smile. “Get up on Caldir. Both of you. I need you to carry that saddle and some other things in just a minute.”
Sorin had already led the mare over to where the second man lay dead, and was searching through his things when they got there. Once again, his search yielded nothing, and with considerable effort, he heaved the assassin onto the horse with the other. The horse staggered sideways before finding her footing, and for a moment Krea wondered if she could bear the weight.
Once he had the bodies tied down, Sorin tossed the dismembered hand closer to the trees and collected the three fallen swords and two daggers. He gave them to Krea to carry, an arrangement that didn’t amuse Caldir in the least. They were heavy and awkward, but with Dane’s help, she managed. When they finally left the scene, all that was left were pools of blood already soaking into the soil.
The mare carrying the dead bodies had suffered a leg injury, so the remainder of their trip into the Nayli was agonizingly slow. Animals of opportunity were already circling the air above them. A raven jumped into the air, dropping the dismembered hand in the process, and Krea forced herself to quit looking back. Through the entire scene, Dane remained utterly silent. Krea understood exactly how he felt.
When they walked through the wall of trees that marked their entrance into the Nayli Forest, Krea felt the difference as if it were a cloak wrapping around her shoulders. The atmosphere wasn’t oppressive, just thick with magic and forbidding. Sorin seemed undaunted as he pushed forward, coaxing the injured horse along with her heavy burden. They proceeded without comment, until the path narrowed down to little more than a deer trail. Sorin finally stopped.
Dane slid off first, dropping the daggers in the process. He then grabbed the bundle of swords from Krea once she convinced her numb fingers to release them. Sorin pulled one gruesome body after the other off the sweat-soaked horse and into the woods. Finally, he stripped the saddle and bridle off the mare and sent her away with a slap on the rump.
“Why ain’t you keeping her?” Dane asked.
“She was injured,” Sorin explained, dragging the tack off the path. “Besides, even sound, she would have never made the journey. That old woman has seen too many years as it is. She needs to spend the rest of her days grazing in the sunshine.”
“She’ll be havin’ to go the other way, then,” Dane said. He had a point. The sun had to filter through so many trees that only tiny dots managed to find the ground unhindered.
Sorin didn’t comment. “Bring the weapons.”
“You ain’t keeping them neither?”
Krea couldn’t have agreed more with Dane’s sentiment. No matter where they may have come from, those swords would fetch a price from the right person. It went against her nature to leave them there. They should probably take the men’s boots and any clothing that could be salvaged as well.
“No,” Sorin said, going to great effort to hide the tack in the bushes. “We don’t want those swords following us to Shaylith. Give them here.”
Onin’s comment about the bed knob flashed through her mind. It seemed like years ago. “That there fits someone’s bed same as a key fits the lock
to my prison cell,” he had drawled, warning her away from things that could be so easily traced back to a single owner. She glanced again at the swords as Dane shuffled forward, his reluctance more than obvious. Each cross guard was clearly stamped with a similar circle of woven knots ending in an arrowhead. Even though the swords appeared plain, they were finely crafted and obviously forged for an intended few. She hurried to check the knife for a similar symbol, but the blade was plain and wholly unremarkable.
Sorin finally struggled out of the underbrush and leaned on his horse for a moment while he caught his breath. “We need to stop early tonight, but we can’t stop here. Not this close to the edge.” He looked over at Dane. “Have you ever seen those men before?”
Dane nodded. “I seen two of them lotsa times. They is always talking to Belt. I didn’t think he would send the likes of them to get me, though. I swear, else I woulda told you.”
“No, child. They weren’t coming after you. They were coming after me. They were mercenaries hired to kill me.”
“How do you know they weren’t just out to steal something?” Krea asked.
“Because they knew I would take the Nayli. Had they just been thieves, they would have waited on the road that led down to Sra. Besides,” he added, adjusting his mount’s girth strap, “they had the Nasari seal stamped onto their swords.”
Dane sucked in his breath. “Nasari,” he whispered.
“Nasari?” Krea asked incredulously. “As in the secret mercenary guild? You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” Sorin assured her.
“The Nasari can kill someone just by looking at them,” Dane informed her, glancing almost reverently into the trees as he made a sign of protection in the air.
Krea gave him an exasperated sigh and pointed in the direction of the dead bodies. “Dane. I don’t know if any of them were looking at you, but one of them was sure looking at me, and I’m not dead.”
“How come you think you know everything?” Dane snapped, glaring up at her. “You didn’t even know they was Nasari.”
“Neither did you,” she pointed out, leaning into Dane to make her point.
Dane held his ground and was about to retort, when Sorin cut in. “Stop fighting,” he demanded. “The point is, they were Nasari, which means someone sent them.”
“The noble from the inn?” Krea asked.
Sorin shrugged. “Could be. Except that they weren’t surprised to see us headed for the Nayli. I think I surprised the noble with that move. Whatever it is, something just isn’t right.”
“Will them proth come back?” Dane asked.
“It's possible. Proth don't like the Nayli, but that doesn't mean they won't come. If they do, they do; we can only deal with what we have. Ready?”
Krea nodded and climbed up on Caldir. By the time she pulled Dane up behind her, Sorin was already heading down the narrow trail. “Remember what I told you,” he called back. “No running off. I don’t care what happens; you both stay with me and stay on the path unless I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”
Krea and Dane mumbled their assurances, but Krea couldn’t think of a more useless comment. She wasn’t going anywhere.
###
As the day waned, Sorin became more and more fatigued. The bandages she had provided finally stopped the bleeding, but not before far too much blood had leaked out. Dane, who was now fast asleep against her back, hadn’t been much for company, either. He would not tell her one thing that happened with the mage after they left. He wouldn’t even tell her what he had eaten that morning. The fact that he hadn’t slept last night was obvious enough, though.
To make matters worse, she was hungry; but more than that, she was curious. She wanted to see her new clothes and to know what the gold thing was wrapped inside the leather.
Finally, Dane’s soft snores started mingling with the crushing sound of running water, and Krea looked to Sorin, trying to will him to stop. To her surprise, he did, but not before cutting through the thick underbrush and winding his way through fallen branches and moss-covered roots.
The forest had long since closed in around them. It felt like an eternal dusk. The white-barked aspen that had been so prevalent on the forest’s edge had now given way to thick, thriving groves of oak, towering elms and, near the water’s edge, amazing willows. The ground was so moist under Caldir’s feet that she hardly heard his hooves fall and a whole under forest of ivy, grape vines and flowering brush flourished under the protection of the larger trees. Krea wasn’t sure how Sorin managed to navigate the thick brush, but like before, the forest seemed to welcome him into her arms like a child who had come home from a long stay away.
At last, Sorin reached a small clearing within walking distance to the stream and called them to a stop. When he slid down from his horse, it wasn’t with his usual catlike grace, and Krea could see that the man was beyond exhausted.
She woke Dane, then jumped down to loosen Caldir’s saddle. “Are we staying here?” she asked, praying he would say aye.
He nodded and motioned for Dane to pull off Drindoc’s burden. “You two stay right here and don’t let the horses go until I get back.”
Krea didn’t like the sound of that at all. Until he got back from where? He had better not drag them into the bowels of hell and leave them there, or, for that matter, die from blood loss. She intended to voice her profound objections, but Sorin was already halfway to the brook. Curious and more than a little fearful, she handed Dane her reins and snuck down after him.
He stopped at the stream’s edge. At first, it looked like Sorin was talking to himself, but then he swung his hand out over the small stream. Small beads of light drifted over the water. They looked like a dusting of stars in the night. As the little dots of light drifted down to cover the creek, he knelt and pulled some fallen sticks and a small branch out of the water, carefully laying them beneath a nearby sycamore tree that leaned out over the stream’s edge. Once the stream was clear of debris, he pulled his empty flask off his shoulder and filled it from the creek. No sooner was it filled when he began pouring it out at the base of two nearby oaks and one hawthorn struggling near the streambed.
Krea shook her head at his strange behavior and jumped when he turned and looked at her. She hadn’t intended for him to know she was there.
“Did you get all of that?” he asked as he walked by after refilling his flask.
“Not really,” Krea mumbled to herself, following Sorin up the small hill.
“What’d he do?” Dane asked when Krea came back to take her horse from him.
“No idea,” she said.
She and Dane exchanged glances when Sorin dumped the entire contents of his water flask at the base of a large hawthorn near the edge of the clearing. Nobody spoke as they stripped the tack off the horses and sent them off to forage their own dinner.
Sorin pulled his sleeping roll from the pile of bags that Dane had left on the ground and tossed it down under the tree he had just watered. “Krea. Do you remember how to hang the food?” he asked, his tone curt and strained.
“Aye,” Krea assured him, frowning.
“Good. See to it, then. That looks like a solid branch,” he said, indicating a bare branch that overhung the clearing at the opposite edge. “The river should be safe now, but don’t linger by it after nightfall. Get yourselves some dinner and keep your mind on those horses. Don’t let them stray too far.” As he spoke, he was carefully peeling his bloodstained tunic away from his bandages and pulling it off in tattered pieces.
“Aye,” Krea returned, ignoring Dane’s worried glances.
“Okay,” he said, finally slipping into his bedroll. “I’m going to sleep. I expect I’ll stay asleep until morning. Don’t wake me unless you have to. And Dane.” He cast a dark look at the boy. “Do what Krea tells you.”
Dane glared back for a moment and rubbed his burl, tucked under his tunic, but finally nodded his consent. Then the two stood side by side and watched in perplexed
worry as Sorin closed his eyes and slipped off to sleep right in front of them.
“Now what d’we do?” Dane asked, still absentmindedly rubbing the lump at his chest.
Krea shrugged. “We set up camp and eat dinner, I guess.”
“You think he’s gonna die?”
“No,” Krea said, but she didn’t feel the confidence her words projected. “He just needs to sleep, so he can heal. I don’t understand why he doesn’t heal himself, though.”
Dane squinted up at her, his suspicion as obvious as if he had stated it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he healed me easily enough in Trasdaak. I don’t know why he doesn’t heal himself. Come on; go fetch those bags and let’s get some food. I’m starved.”
At the mention of food, Dane was on his feet and following orders without complaint. They arranged the bags, refilled their flasks, made a fire, and were settling down to a dinner of salted meat and flatbread before Krea finally pulled the stolen treasure out of the bag.
In an instant, Dane was at her side, his eyes gleaming as he bent over the leather wrapping to see what was inside. The leather was butter soft and as thin as silk. With great care, she unfolded the layers until she finally reached its core.
Dane gasped. Lying at the center of the pile was a gold-hilted dagger stretching the length of her forearm and cased in a jeweled gold sheath. It was the most exquisite thing she had ever seen.
She reached out to touch it and hesitated. What had happened to the noble in the alley when he touched it? Something had made him drop it. But how could she not touch it?
She brushed the tips of her fingers over a row of blue, green, and black stones running along the front of the sheath. They glinted in the waning light, reminding her of the moon on a slow-moving stream. She shivered. The cross guard, like the scabbard it bumped against, was gold. It spread out on either side of the blade in the shape of a dragon’s arms, and in each golden claw, the dragon held a perfectly round black stone. Like a twisting vine, the dragon’s body and tail wound around the black hilt, its golden scales meticulously detailed, and looped around another black stone holding it securely to the end of the hilt.
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 24
