by Erin Beaty
The Kimisar captain led his squad along the river, following as swiftly as they could, catching occasional glimpses of the boat through the trees.
Another squire was with the prince, which was good. Huzar wasn’t about harming children, and an extra hostage could be handy. The boy could be sent back to Quinn, where he could explain how the Kimisar had been stranded and that they only wanted to go home.
Huzar had left the Norsari in chaos, but they couldn’t be far behind, and there were more soldiers on the road, maybe a day away. The Kimisar were outnumbered and cornered. There was no going back now, no more chances to hide. If Huzar couldn’t capture the prince and force Quinn to listen, it was only a matter of time before all his men were dead.
Downstream, the river bent in a U, and if they hurried, the Kimisar could get ahead of the boat. In his excitement, Huzar shouted orders in his own language as he ran.
Several of his men spread out on the bank, waiting for the boat to come around. One put an arrow to the string as the boat came into view.
No!
Huzar called to the archer not to shoot. His second-in-command held the bow taut as he looked back at him, obviously disagreeing. It had been he who ordered the Kimisar to aim at the prince last night as he fled on horseback, and Huzar had been furious. They were lucky the boy hadn’t been hit.
From the corner of his eye, Huzar saw the other squire stand up in the boat and wave his arm in a tight circle. Too late, Huzar realized what he was doing and shouted a warning. His second looked back at the boat just as a rock smashed into his face. The half-drawn arrow released, arcing weakly into the water, well short of the now-dead man’s intended target.
With a start, Huzar recognized the boy with the sling.
And he was no boy.
56
SAGE DROPPED BACK into the boat and lay flat. They may not have wanted to shoot her before—she’d heard a shout from somewhere that made the man with the bow hold his aim—but they probably wouldn’t hesitate now. A splash in the water nearby made her peek up. A man was swimming toward the boat.
No, two men. Fear of archers vanished.
“Grab the oar!” she yelled to Nicholas. “Hit him when he comes close!” The river was deep and the rocks at the bottom were slippery. As long as the men were in the water, she had the advantage.
The two men shouted a count to each other before lunging from opposite sides at the same time so the boat wouldn’t capsize. Nicholas stood up on his knees, awkwardly swinging the oar around with his one good hand, and brought it straight down on the man closest to him. He lost his balance and fell back in the boat.
Sage jabbed her own oar at the other man like a short spear. He grunted but held on. Flipping the oar over, she slammed it down on his fingers. One hand slipped but the other kept its hold. She dropped the oar to draw her dagger from her belt and stabbed his other hand. His fingers splayed out, releasing his grip, but he was pinned to the side of the boat. Sage wrenched the knife free, and he slipped into the water with a garbled cry.
The boat listed violently with the lost weight, throwing her on top of Nicholas, and his oar went flying into the river. Sage’s knife clattered to the bottom of the boat as she caught the prince by his tunic before he tumbled overboard and pulled him away from the man grabbing at him.
A wild fury rose in her. These men wanted Nicholas. They’d harmed and possibly killed many other soldiers. Her friends.
They had killed Alex.
Sage snatched the knife up and launched herself at the man now half in the boat, bringing the weapon down, striking him above where the neck and shoulder met. The dagger was buried almost to the hilt, and she pressed back to lever the blade forward. The man clutched at his throat, knocking her hands away. They struggled against each other to pull the knife free but only succeeded in driving it in deeper and under his collarbone. Sage pushed him back to get a better grip on the handle, and she saw his face for the first time. Saw his fear and agony.
Saw the life in his eyes go out like a candle.
Then his weight carried him over the side, and the knife was too deep for her to pull out before he twisted away, taking it with him.
57
ALEX KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the minute he saw the dying fire. It smoldered near the shore, a half-made spit and a dead squirrel lying next to it. The squirrel had been killed by a stone from a sling. All signs Sage and Nicholas had been there, but they’d dropped everything and abandoned the camp.
He followed running footprints back to the shore, where the bottom of the boat had left grooves in the sand.
No signs of anyone in the area around them. Across the river Cass waved his arms for attention.
“What do you see?” Alex called to him.
“Lots of men, moving fast over here. Two to three hours ago,” came the answer.
“Gather your team,” he shouted back. “We’re going after them!”
58
THERE WAS ONLY one oar left, and Sage used it as a rudder, directing the boat into the swiftest currents. Nicholas gripped the bow with white knuckles as he looked ahead to warn her about rocks. They’d hit one waterfall before entering the Beskan Gorge, but it was only about five feet high, thanks to the rain-swollen pool at the bottom, and they managed not to capsize, though they were nearly soaked.
Every once in a while, Nicholas glanced over his shoulder at Sage, like he didn’t recognize her. At first she thought it was shock. Likely he’d never seen a man die before.
The man on the boat had been the second man she’d killed—third, if the archer she hit was dead—but the first she’d really experienced. The first had been last year, in a desperate struggle for survival while she was on the point of blacking out—she did black out, and he’d bled to death while she was unconscious.
Alex had once confessed he was terrified all the lives he’d taken in battle had made him a monster. She’d assured him he was nothing of the kind, but as she recognized the look on the prince’s face, she truly understood Alex’s fear. Nicholas was scared. Of her. He looked at Sage like she was a monster. Perhaps she was.
She and Nicholas were safe in the canyon for now. High rock walls protected them from attack, but offered no shelter. They would need to eat eventually, too. Sage saw lizards and a few decent-sized rodents, but she didn’t dare stop. If their pursuers were smart, they’d try to catch her and Nicholas when they emerged on the far end. Their only chance of getting away from the Kimisar was to stay ahead, but beyond Beskan lay the impassable Yanli Gorge. She and Nicholas would have to leave the river at some point, and when they did, they would be in Casmun. The question was how deep into Casmun the Kimisar were willing to follow them.
As the sun slipped outside the canyon’s rim above, Sage made a decision: they would steer to the shore as soon as possible and forage for a few minutes before continuing downriver. As long as there was enough light to see, they’d stay on the water, but when they did stop, lighting a fire would be too risky. It would be a cold night.
Sage shivered in her damp clothes as they continued through the shaded canyon, praying they’d reach the south end before sunset.
59
ALEX’S LUNGS BURNED, and his legs begged for respite, but he would not stop. Every step was one step closer to her, to Nicholas. They found a place where the river plunged several feet, but there was no sign the boat had been wrecked. As the sun sank lower in the sky, Alex and his Norsari reached the entrance to the Beskan Gorge.
The sides of the river rose high, the water rushing into the narrow opening between stone walls. He paused to check for signs Sage and Nicholas had stopped, even for a few minutes, but found none. Across the river, Cass and his team combed the opposite bank for similar signs. He used hand signals to report over the river’s roar echoing out of the canyon. Nothing.
Rest and drink water, Alex signaled back, and gave the same instruction to the men around him.
Cass waved to him again with a report. One dead Kimisar, se
veral miles back. Stone in head.
Alex grimly acknowledged the message. Sage and her sling. He deduced the Kimisar were following along, probably harassing Sage and Nicholas enough that they didn’t feel safe stopping, but she’d nailed one of them. Good for her.
He looked into the gorge. Beskan would provide Sage and Nicholas several hours of safety from the Kimisar, but little chance to relax. Alex would kill for a boat of his own right now.
Sergeant Lance approached and offered some dried fruit and venison, left over from their ill-fated trip into the desert. Most of the Norsari’s provisions had been lost in the fire. Alex looked around at the dozen men who’d kept up with him over the last five hours. They looked tired, but determined. Good men, all of them. He’d never been so proud to be a commander.
“Drink up and fill your canteens,” he said. “It’s not over yet.”
60
SAGE STEERED THE boat to the right shore, where a tangle of trees extended south. When they’d exited the gorge, a blast of hot desert air hit them, which felt good after so many hours of shade and damp, but her anxiety shot up at how exposed they were. It was another hour before she felt secure enough to land. This area had promise—a fallen tree leaned out and created a natural eddy and a place out of sight from the other shore.
She and Nicholas jumped out in shallow water and towed and pushed the boat onto the sandy pebbles. The first thing they did was find a place to relieve themselves. When they regrouped, Nicholas described a tree with some kind of fruit hanging from it, but it didn’t sound like anything Sage recognized as safe. A bird’s trill made her grab his arm. She wasn’t sure the source was an animal.
As if on cue, a man wearing a scarf wrapped around his head and loose tan clothing stepped out of the trees, leveling a bow and arrow at them. Sage swept Nicholas behind her and looked around. There had to be more.
Six additional men revealed themselves, holding various weapons. The leader of the group she identified immediately by the way everyone deferred to him. As she met his eyes, he swept his head scarf back, revealing the narrow white scar across the forehead of a familiar face.
Sage raised her hands to show she wasn’t armed. “Basmedar, Darit Yamon.”
“Basmedar, Saizsch Fahler.” Darit smiled ironically. “Though from the look of you, I think your fortune has been bad,” he said in Casmuni.
“We are agreed,” she replied. Eyebrows went up at her use of what was probably a formal and antiquated phrase.
Darit said an unfamiliar word, and the men around them lowered their weapons. He addressed her again. “Is your bad fortune due to your help to us?”
Sage shook her head. “Kimisar attacked us.”
The Casmuni leader didn’t look as though he quite believed her. It probably did seem awfully convenient. She wasn’t sure she had enough words to explain.
One of his companions shouted and pointed at the river. A body had drifted into the eddy pool.
Sage took a step toward it, and weapons went up. After a glance at Darit, she continued to the water’s edge. Wading into the river, she grabbed the man by his arm and dragged his body onto the shore.
She recognized the soldier even before she rolled him onto his back. The hilt of Alex’s dagger still protruded from his throat, his face frozen in an expression of desperation. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of taking the man’s life.
Darit walked up behind her. “Your work?” he asked, pointing at the knife.
“Yes,” she said. Sage pulled the dagger out and wiped it on the dead man’s shirt, then tucked it back in its sheath on her belt and stood to face Darit. “More will come soon.”
Darit gestured for his men to lower their weapons, but noise from the west made them turn in that direction instead. Another Casmuni man burst from the trees, shouting and pointing upriver.
His meaning was plain: the Kimisar were coming. At Darit’s nod, two men left the arc around Sage and Nicholas, and followed the man back into the forest, weapons in hand.
Darit stared at the dead Kimisar for a few seconds, then looked back to Sage, who had gone to stand by Nicholas again. He nodded as though making a decision. “Come with us,” he said. “We will protect you.”
“What is he saying?” Nicholas asked.
“He’s offering us protection.”
“What do we do?”
She doubted the Casmuni would force them, but the better choice was obvious. It would be several days before the Demorans found her and Nicholas. If they found them. “We go with them,” she said.
61
HUZAR’S TEAM LOST precious time crossing the river, but their prey would be foolish to stop on the side they’d been attacked from. The Kimisar were famished, exhausted. He began to worry that if they caught the prince, they wouldn’t be able to hold on to him. Huzar’s only chance of getting home was slipping through his fingers like sand.
Damn that woman. Not for the first time, he wondered what role she’d played at Tegann, other than killing Dirai, his black-tailed hawk—the last means of communicating with the men he’d been separated from last summer. Now she was back. Capable as Demoran squires were, the young prince would probably have faltered on his own eventually, but she drove his escape. If not for her, they’d have him, and Huzar wouldn’t have left the bloody mess of his second-in-command behind.
Shouts ahead. Had the Demorans gotten around them? Three of his men came running from the trees. They stopped and bent over, hands on knees as they tried to catch their breath.
“Casmuni!” one finally managed to gasp.
“A half mile ahead,” said another. “Attacked us.”
The third man fell to his knees, clutching a bloody hand to his thigh.
“Are they following you?” asked Huzar.
“No,” said the first man. “They went back where they came from. There must be more.”
Huzar’s hands clenched into fists. To be so close to his goal only to meet another obstacle. “And the prince and his companion?”
“No sign we saw, Captain, and we lost Gispan.”
Though he thought things could not get worse, Huzar was proved wrong by a yell from behind. Demorans had been sighted along the rim of the gorge. The only thing that offered mercy was the setting sun and the promise of another moonless night.
Failed. Huzar had failed.
He looked up into the eyes of the men who awaited his command. “We must withdraw. Let the Demorans deal with the Casmuni.”
62
ALEX PRODDED THE corpse with his foot. Dead about a day. The cause of death was obvious—his throat was ripped open, but the lack of blood told Alex it hadn’t happened here. He crouched down and fingered the wound. It was a clean, narrow cut made by a blade about the length of his handspan. Could have been any dagger, but Alex would have put money on one with a black-and-gold hilt.
Casseck approached from behind. “The trail from that fight back there led into the desert. Three to four men, at least one was wounded. From the blood, it was yesterday evening.”
Alex nodded as he pushed to his feet. They’d lost a lot of time last night. He hadn’t wanted to stop, but he’d been near collapse from not having slept in over two days, and it became too dark to track anymore. The Norsari took shelter near several large boulders at the east end of the canyon and slept for a few hours. As soon as the twilight was enough to see by, they were on the move again. Three miles downriver, they came across bloody footprints and trampled foliage. Cass had taken a team to investigate, but Alex had continued along the river until he found the boat and the dead man.
His friend barely glanced at the body; it had been dragged out of the water and was obviously incidental. “So they stopped here. Then what?”
Alex pointed to an arc of heavy footprints in the sand. “They were surrounded.” He moved to where she’d faced them, standing between Nicholas and about eight men. Sweet Spirit, she was brave.
“Then she and Nicholas went this way.” Alex followed her
steps into the trees. Tracks in dry sand were difficult to interpret, but he was able to determine she wasn’t running or stumbling. When her footprints and the others reached the edge of the vegetation, they narrowed into a single line leading southwest, into the dunes.
While the order of events was a little confusing, the conclusion was obvious. Sage and Nicholas had been found by Casmuni and gone with them into the desert. They hadn’t put up a fight, but he trusted her to have made the best decision at the time.
As he watched, a strong wind swept across the sand, beginning the process of erasing the only clues he had to find her.
“What are your orders, Captain?” said Casseck.
Uncle Raymond would want Alex to go after Nicholas, but the Norsari with him had brought very little food along, thinking they’d be gone only a day. It would take at least two days to get provisions from the camp. Thanks to the fire, there might not even be enough to gather until Colonel Traysden arrived. With the prince now in the hands of the Casmuni, Alex losing command was inevitable, but it was nothing compared to losing her.
Somehow that gave him a tremendous sense of freedom.
“You’re going back,” Alex said finally. “Inform Colonel Traysden of everything that’s happened and turn command of the Norsari over to him.”
“What about you?”
“I’m going after them.” Alex pivoted to address the Norsari gathering behind them. “I need all the canteens, every scrap of food you men have, and two volunteers.”
63
DARIT LED THEM through the sand well into twilight before stopping in a copse of trees surrounding a spring of clear water. The sun was high overhead when Sage woke the next morning, though she lay in the shade. Nicholas was sprawled on the sand nearby, still asleep. She groaned and stretched, noticing the smell of cooking drifted across the pool. Malamin sat by a small fire, stirring a pot that was the source of the delicious scent. He smiled at her and touched his forehead with his fingers in greeting, and she returned the gesture.
