As they sat at a table, nothing they did made them appear remotely interested in finding escaped mages. Even so, it was best to stay clear of them. Brant would have to be careful to not draw attention to himself as he pumped the locals for news.
On the other hand, soldiers were likely to know more than anyone else about both Lady Ashley’s kidnapping and whatever troubles the innkeeper had referred to. What was the likelihood those three were on the lookout for Brant and his friends?
Maybe he should risk it. Obtaining the best information could be all the difference to avoid making the wrong choice. How many wars had been lost because the general didn’t have the facts right?
Dylan would tell him it was too dangerous. So would the asshole. That settled it. No guts, no glory.
As the men ordered their food, Brant considered his best strategy for getting them to talk. All armies constantly searched for good recruits. Playing that role should get him started at least.
After they finished eating, Brant carried his ale to their table and set it down. He held his arm so the calluses on his sword hand faced the soldiers. “May I sit?”
Three gazes measured him as if he was a slab of meat, taking in his muscles and the hilt showing above the scabbard hanging from his belt. None looked all that happy to see him.
Perhaps approaching them might not have been Brant’s best ever idea. “I’m considering joining an army. Will you tell me about your unit?”
The sergeant gave a curt nod and introduced himself as Pruitt. “We’re not with just some outfit, son. We represent Duke Asher. You can’t get more elite unless you go all the way to Escon to join the Queen’s army.”
“Sounds perfect.” Brant took a seat and put his flagon on the table.
The sergeant barked a harsh chuckle. “Even if you’ve got as much skill with that sword you’re wearing as you think you do, best get some experience under your belt first.”
Brant fingered his hilt. Maybe a brief lesson was in order as to exactly how much skill he possessed.
“Cheer up, lad,” Sergeant Pruitt said. “What with the war coming, there are plenty of opportunities. The duke’s called in his retainers. Any number of them will be looking for recruits.”
Brant wanted nothing more than to wallop the guy. After trading a few strokes, these sorry excuses for non-coms would beg him to join.
But that would accomplish nothing. He grimaced. Best to get back on point. “War?”
“Haven’t you seen all the refuges on the road?” the sergeant said.
Besides the disheveled man with his family, Brant hadn’t seen anyone meeting that description. He shook his head. Maybe they hadn’t reached as far as Dobinshire yet.
“Asherton is preparing for a siege,” the larger of the two corporals said.
The last time Brant’s dad had received orders from the duke, there had been no mention of anything of the sort. How had things gotten so bad in a couple of months? Vierna had the largest standing army of all the duchies and wielded more influence with the queen than most. How could anyone think they’d actually take its capital city? “Who would attack us?”
It was the sergeant’s turn to grimace. “Duke Irdrin of Truna.”
“That’s the duchy to the southeast of us, right? Dastanar borders it to the south?” Brant had never heard of an Irdrin, though. “What happened to Duke Whiteknapp?”
Sergeant Pruitt cocked his head. “You know your geography, son.”
Crap. Brant needed to be more careful not to call attention to himself. Most mercenaries didn’t exactly have a lot of schooling. “Had some temporary work as a merchant guard. Feller talked a lot about his travels.” He shrugged. “Listening got me better pay.”
“Uh huh,” Sergeant Pruitt said.
An awkward silence fell across the table.
Brant gulped down a long swallow of ale. Retreating would be just as suspicious as pressing forward. “So Duke Whiteknapp?”
“Terrible, terrible tragedy, it was,” the smaller corporal said. “His wife and son died when their carriage tipped. A few weeks later, the duke passed on of heartbreak. Just took to his bed one day and didn’t get up.”
The accident could have been caused by a kineticist and the illness by a death mage. Then again, Brant could have been spending way too much time with a certain person who saw plots everywhere.
The sergeant shot the smaller corporal a look. “Guess it’s not exactly a secret.” He sighed. “Irdrin was the duke’s councilor. With the ruling family out of the picture, he stepped right into power. Ever since, he’s pushed to expand his border. The real trouble began about a month ago. What with all the posters, surely you’ve heard about Duke Asher’s daughter going missing?”
Brant nodded. “On the inn door.” Though unlike what Xan saw, that one didn’t have a sketch.
“This next part isn’t close held, but it’s not wide knowledge either.” Sergeant Pruitt lowered his voice. “Days after the kidnapping, Duke Asher received a letter from Irdrin pledging his assistance in ‘finding’ the girl in return for Vierna being surrendered.”
“Duke Asher loves that girl. Dotes on her, he does,” the larger corporal said. “But would our duke sacrifice the duchy even for the light of his life? Not a chance!”
“We got word a week ago. Truna’s army is headed Asherton way.” The sergeant spat. “The duke ordered preparations be made and still nary a word on his daughter.”
Brant sipped his drink. “If the city’s going to be attacked, aren’t you needed there?”
“The blood was still warm when we found the bodies of Lady Ashley’s guards,” the larger corporal said. “The duke dispatched the entire castle guard, five hundred men, and the standing army, another thousand, to find her. Sent riders and birds to the border stations. Had roads in all directions closed.”
He leaned toward Brant. “Now, it’s possible they got the niskma through the lines, but the smart money is on them being craftier than to try it. They’ve likely hid her someplace.”
“Which is why we’re scouring the countryside praying for a miracle instead of doing something useful back at the castle.” Sergeant Pruitt reached into a satchel and brought out a sketch of a comely young lady. “If you see anyone looking like this girl, find any of the duke’s men.”
Wow. Xan had good taste but man, did he shoot for girls way out of his reach. Brant almost laughed.
“Something funny, son?” the sergeant said.
Brant’s mood sobered quickly. “No, sir. Just had a funny thought about something else.” If only he had Xan’s way with coming up with clever stories. “Guess I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
Sergeant Pruitt humphed. “There hasn’t been a number put to the reward for her safe return, but the talk is it’ll involve lands and a title. Someone who knows something and doesn’t speak up, on the other hand ...” He drew a finger across his throat.
“Sorry, sir.” Brant gulped before standing. “I don’t know anything, sir.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” the sergeant said, “but if you did find out something, you’d tell us, right?”
Brant nodded vigorously.
“I thought so.” Sergeant Pruitt smiled. “There’s an outpost about halfway between Ruferburg and the city on the Asherton road. You’ll always find troops there, and we’re headed there ourselves in a few days. I’ll keep a lookout for you.”
Brant backed away before turning. He had to stay calm. Drink and chat with other patrons like he had nothing to hide. Maybe the sergeant wasn’t as suspicious as he’d seemed.
Or maybe Brant had gained them a whole new enemy.
39.
Sleep had been a long time coming for Xan, and a knock at the door wasn’t a welcome sound. “Who’s there?”
“Probably the serving girl I tipped to bring us breakfast,” Brant said.
No light penetrated the window, meaning that the sun had yet to dawn. Xan groaned, but as much as he hated to admit it, the early wake-up call
was the right move. The sooner they got moving, the better. “Good thinking.”
Using a tiny flow of magic, he lit the lamp in the corner of the room in time to see a glare from Brant. How had a compliment set the idiot off? The attitude was getting on Xan’s nerves.
In the bed next to him, Lainey threw off the covers and revealed she still wore her clothes from yesterday. “Is it morning already? I missed my chance for a bath.”
She should have taken one last night if it were that important to her. But she sounded so disappointed.
Xan sighed. Maybe they wouldn’t lose too much time if they saddled and loaded for her. “Do it now but be quick about it.”
Lainey grinned at him before bolting out the door. Smart of her to go before he changed his mind.
The serving girl entered with four steaming plates smelling of biscuits and bacon. Xan’s stomach rumbled. Eating sounded good. But it would also give Brant the chance to tell them what he learned the previous night. Probably that Ashley wasn’t in trouble, that the dream was a trap.
No help for it, though.
Xan grabbed a plate and planted himself on the bed, ready to hear his worst fears confirmed. As Brant took advantage of Lainey’s absence to eat and talk simultaneously, his story sounded less and less like Xan expected.
“The kidnapping is legitimate?” Xan said when the story was complete.
Brant shrugged. “I talked to a lot of people in the common room, and everything the duke’s men said checks out. Not to mention that it’s hard to believe they’d go through so much trouble just to catch a few mages.”
They lapsed into a silence as they finished the meal and packed their gear. Xan’s mind whirled. If the kidnapping wasn’t a lie, could it be Xan’s relationship with Ashley wasn’t either?
He barked out a harsh chuckle and disguised it as a cough. As if a beautiful young woman could fall for him. That was less likely than the niskma falling for a commoner. Wasn’t it?
She had kissed him. He wasn’t nearly an expert on girls, but everything about the way she acted indicated some level of affection. Unless she was toying with his emotions. But that explanation didn’t fit with what he’d observed of her essence inside the magic. He was certain that, at her core, she was good.
Ashley couldn’t like him. But her actions made it seem like she did. And she was too good of a person to be fooling him. It made no sense. Why couldn’t women be like medicine or math or science? Or anything that followed any kind of logic?
Unless …
Crap. He should have thought of it before. Ashley didn’t remember her real life when in the dream. She didn’t know the difference in their stations, that she couldn’t possibly feel for him.
In that meadow, she wasn’t the niskma and he a lowly apothecary. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman in existence, and he wasn’t the loser every other girl he’d ever fancied thought. They were simply Xan and Ashley.
He fingering the carved oak leaf in his pocket and grinned. She did like him! Dare he imagine they could be together? Him married to nobility?
His smile disappeared. The thought was absurd, especially considering that how he or she felt didn’t matter much. When he finally met her outside the dream, she’d be Lady Ashley, daughter of the duke. He’d be a fugitive fleeing a death sentence. Duty demanded she reject him.
He crammed a pair of pants into an already stuffed saddlebag. Dylan, meticulously folding a cloak, would advise to cut losses. Brant, polishing his sword, would tell Xan to go for the kill, that aggression would make everything work out in the end. Somehow.
Xan’s way was neither to give up nor to proceed blindly ahead. Find a solution. If two people wanted to be together, nothing else should matter. Though rarely done, one’s station could change. The Ashers hadn’t always been royalty. The duke’s who-knows-how-many great-grandfather saved the king’s life during a hunting trip.
That was the solution. Xan had to save Ashley.
Instead of some awkward, commoner apothecary panting after her beauty, he’d be her savior. And for his heroic act, the duke would pardon him and raise him to nobility. Xan could be with her.
He’d personally fight off a dozen men to get to her. Kick down the door to her cell. Cloak flowing behind him, rush to her. She’d cling to him as her hero.
“I have to rescue her.”
“No.” Dylan didn’t look up from his packing. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You promised you’d follow my—”
“That reasonably intelligent fellow I knew back in Eagleton? Him, I’d reluctantly follow,” Dylan said. “A complete moron pursuing some ridiculous fantasy? No way.”
Fantasy? Like romantic fantasy? Did they all know?
“All we have to do is figure out where she is,” Dylan said, “go get this Pruitt guy, and have them get her. She’ll be safe. We’ll get our reward. Everybody will be happy, and we don’t have to risk anything.”
Brant barked out a laugh. “No risk? You’ve got to be kidding. That’s the most dangerous option I’ve heard.”
Dylan raised his eyebrow.
“The sergeant already thinks something’s up with me,” Brant said. “He’d have the nearest catcher hang us before we got two words out.”
“There’d be no need to mention magic until she was safe,” Dylan said. “We just say we happened across her.”
Xan had to find a way to convince him. Personal reasons aside, there really was only one way out for all of them. “Remember Master Hillaway’s dog?”
“How could I forget?” Dylan said. “That old skinflint cheated us out of a silver each!”
Leave it to the little guy to still be angry. Under less dire circumstances, Xan would have thought it funny. “The reward was for finding the dog, which he meant as returning the stupid mutt to him. We’re the ones who assumed telling him where to find it would be enough.”
Dylan shook his head. “The duke is a good and honorable man!”
“You’re willing to risk our lives on his reputation?” Xan said.
Brant nodded. “Showing up in Asherton with the niskma in tow is a different thing than simply telling her father where she is.”
“What happens if we get her killed?” Dylan said. “Have you thought of that?”
Xan ran his hand through his hair. Risking his life was one thing, but he wouldn’t put her or his friends in danger. “Look, I’m not advising we charge in blindly. Maybe she’s guarded by a hundred men and a dozen mages. How could we possibly get her out?”
“What do you suggest then?” Dylan said.
Xan considered. “That we figure out where she is, like you said. Then we scope the place out. If we can come up with a good plan, we proceed. Otherwise, we take our chances with the duke.”
Dylan took a little more convincing before he finally spread a map on the floor.
Xan found Dobinshire and traced the road leading from the town. His finger stopped at a city named Ruferburg on the Quantan River. “Ashley is roughly north of us, and there doesn’t look to be much on the other side of the river. Unless I miss my guess, we’ll find her somewhere near there.”
They could be there by nightfall.
As they left the room, it felt, for the first time since Xan’s arrest, like everything was going to be okay. He couldn’t wait to see Ashley.
All he had to do was find her, fight who knows how many men in order to save her, and get her to Asherton without getting anyone hurt, including the bad guys, and all while evading Justav.
No problem.
40.
The sun dropped steadily behind Brant, casting long shadows. To the left, the swollen Quantan River flowed nearly at the road’s level. Hopefully, they wouldn’t encounter any low spots, especially after dark. “How far to Ruferburg?”
Xan, fidgeting in his saddle despite a full day of riding, stilled. His eyes glazed for an instant before he spoke. “Three or four hours.”
How did he check for fires so quickly? Was it that easy
for him to access the magic or did he just stay connected? Brant couldn’t imagine being able to do either.
Regardless, he’d hoped they were closer. With Ruferburg so far away, they wouldn’t have time to set up a base of operations at an inn before scouting to find Ashley.
Not an hour later, Xan tensed and pointed a bit east of due south. “Ashley’s that way! We’re so close!”
Strange. Brant had figured she’d be held in the city, not in a random farmhouse somewhere. Thinking about it from the enemy’s vantage point, though, there were a lot fewer nosy eyeballs in the woods than on busy streets.
Over the next half hour, they passed no houses but did see two lanes—one a narrow, overgrown cart path with traces of recent use and the next wide and heavily traveled. Shortly after passing the second, Xan reined Honey to a full stop. Lainey and Dylan nearly plowed into him.
Brant had to wheel Spear around. “What the blast are you doing?”
“She’s all the way back there!” Xan pointed to the southwest. “Considering how much her position changed relative to ours, she can’t be more than a mile or two south of us.”
“For the sake of the Holy One, don’t stop!” Brant hissed. “Don’t you think they’ll have sentries?”
A stricken look crossed Xan’s face, and he urged his horse forward. He was so out of his league leading a rescue. Surely, he’d ask for advice soon.
Nope. They rode another mile with the asshole looking over his shoulder every five paces and nary a word asking for help. That wouldn’t make anyone watching suspicious at all.
A limb fell in the woods to the right, and Xan jumped in his saddle.
Brant groaned. The genius was going to get them all killed. “Do you have a plan?”
Xan jerked a finger at the two riding behind them and lowered his voice. “Settle them in an inn, and you and I find Ashley.”
Brant stifled another groan. What an idiot! “Sneaking through the woods will take a long time. Getting to town, finding an inn, and coming back will take a good four to five hours.”
Rise of the Mages (Rise of the Mages 2) Page 20
