by Bruce Blake
“Why was he here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because he joined them,” Suath roared, the unexpected volume and ferocity of his voice startling the guard, making him jump in his chair. The man’s eyes flickered to Suath, then away.
“How was I supposed to know?” The guard’s voice squeaked in his throat.
“It’s your job. You’re to halt anyone crossing the borderland without an escort.”
“But-”
Suath grabbed the man by the throat.
“You allowed an enemy of the king to cross the border into Vendaria. Incompetent fool. Do you know the penalty for treason?”
The guard’s eyes bulged, his face turned purple under Suath’s grip as he scratched at the mercenaries arm, kicked his legs. The grip tightened in response. The thrashing and struggling soon ceased, but Suath held on, twisting the man’s throat until he felt his windpipe crushed beneath his fingers. He released his grip and strode from the room leaving the border guard’s body sprawled in the chair. In the anteroom, he walked past five other guards without a look.
“What happened?” one of the soldiers called after him, but the mercenary didn’t answer.
His quarry was close. He’d found the horses they left behind, seen their tracks where they crossed near the guard towers, even noticed one of them had fallen and retraced his steps. He left the tower, mounted his horse and rode into Vendaria with no worry the other border guards would follow to extract revenge for their fallen comrade. They knew him.
They knew to face Suath was to peer into the eye of the reaper.
A circuitous route through dense forest lengthened what would have been a three day ride straight across the open valley. Trees grew so thick in places, they were forced to find their way around them. A river which would have been easily forded the previous week had flooded beyond its banks, precipitating a ride deeper into the forest in search of a safe crossing. The closer they got to the sea, the rougher and more treacherous the terrain became. A week had passed since they crested the hill and looked down on the Vendarian valley, yet Khirro felt no closer to their goal. Their food stores were low and game had been scarce.
“We will have to hunt today,” Athryn said pulling his horse up at the base of a huge cedar. He lifted Maes from his seat and then slid out of the saddle.
“What about the one-eyed man?” Elyea asked. “Can we afford the time?”
“We need our strength.”
“Maybe we lost him,” Khirro ventured.
“Doubtful.” Ghaul pulled the saddle from his mount. “He likely knows where we are going, so didn’t waste time touring the entire Vendarian forest. One person moves faster than five and a half.”
Maes shot Ghaul a look of disdain only Khirro noticed-perhaps the little man paid more attention than he thought.
“I’ll hunt,” Shyn said. “Make a fire and boil some water. I’ll return with food shortly.”
“Hmm, the great hunter,” Ghaul sneered. “How will you produce food for us all when we haven’t seen a squirrel for days? Perhaps you’ll pull it from your ass?”
Shyn looked at Ghaul, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Perhaps for you I shall.”
He strode into the woods, swallowed quickly by the thick foliage.
“The fool forgot his horse.” Ghaul wandered over to Khirro, crouched beside him as he cleared his horse's shoe of stones and said in hushed tones: “I still don’t trust him.”
“He’s done nothing to make us mistrust him.”
Khirro put down his dagger, tightened the fingers of his right hand into a fist then stretched them out. His shoulder had healed but stiffness remained.
“A man who wants what you carry might attempt to earn your trust first. It would be easier to relieve you of it if you weren’t expecting it.”
“But Ghaul, you could be describing Elyea or Athryn.”
The soldier glanced at the others. “True.”
“Or yourself.”
“I saved your life when it was surely forfeit. Do you forget how we met in the shadow of the fortress wall?”
“I’ll never forget.” Khirro shook his head. “But Shyn also saved my life. Do you forget what he did at the border?”
Ghaul grunted, his face hardening. “Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do.” His hand went unconsciously to the wound on his shoulder. “As I trust Shyn. No one has given me reason not to, and I need all of you if I’m to complete the task I’m cursed with.” He half-smiled. “At least none of the others have wounded me.”
“Don’t cross me and you’ll not get hurt,” he said, his words erasing Khirro’s smile.
“Don’t worry about Shyn.” Khirro stood and saw Elyea hunting through the nearby brush, searching for dry wood, beautiful in spite of her unkempt appearance. He gestured toward her. “We all work toward the same cause.”
Ghaul grunted again and left him to help Elyea in her search. Kindling would be difficult to find. Although the rain had ceased, the mossy forest floor remained damp. Khirro put his knife away and let his horse wander to find food, a task far easier for the animals than for the humans of the party.
Athryn and Maes returned from their own search for suitable wood, adding what they found to the meager pile Elyea collected. Ghaul crouched over the accumulation and fashioned the twigs and leaves into a small pyre. A soft thump on the ground nearby startled him.
“What?” He nearly fell over as he pulled his sword.
The others stopped what they were doing and went to him. They halted short, staring at the rabbit carcass lying on the ground a yard away from him, its throat torn out.
“Good work, Ghaul. Where did he come from?” Athryn poked at the rabbit with the toe of his boot.
“I didn’t kill it.”
“It is certainly dead.” Athryn stooped, picking the hare up by its ears. “Make your knife useful, Maes.”
He tossed the carcass to his brother; the little man picked it up and took it to a rock where he began skinning it with a practiced hand.
“It fell from above,” Ghaul said scanning the trees. “It might be a trap.”
Khirro laughed. “Are you saying some unseen enemy flings poisoned rabbits at us?” Again, Ghaul didn’t share his companion’s humor. Khirro’s laughter quickly fizzled. “Well, I for one am willing to take the chance.”
“Me too,” Elyea agreed, smiling.
Maes made short work of the rabbit, skinning and gutting it, then cutting it into pieces suitable for the pot. By the time he finished, steam rose from a pot of water hung over a blazing cook fire. As the water began to boil, Shyn burst out of the brush, two more rabbits in his hands. Ghaul sprang to his feet at the sound, drawing his sword once more.
“Careful you don’t cut Khirro with that thing,” Shyn said with a smile. He extended his arm so they could see the rabbits he held dangling by their ears. “Tonight we eat fresh meat.”
Maes took the rabbits from him and dealt with them as he had the first. He put all the meat in the pot, then added a selection of leaves and roots he and Athryn had collected. While the others waited hungrily, he tended the pot, stirring the concoction.
“You wouldn’t believe what happened,” Elyea told Shyn as the aroma of the cook pot wafted to them on a light breeze. “While you were gone, food fell from the sky.”
“Really? The Gods truly must smile upon us.”
He saw Khirro looking at him and winked. Khirro smiled back, unsure what the border guard meant by the gesture.
“There must be some explanation,” Ghaul grumbled. “Rabbits don’t fall from trees.”
“Perhaps it wanted to be a squirrel.” Shyn laughed and all but Ghaul joined in his mirth. “Don’t burden yourself, Ghaul. Unexplainable things happen all the time. Given the nature of our trip, I’m sure this will not be the last time we wonder how something has come to pass.”
Maes signaled dinner was ready by banging his spoon against the side of the pot. The savory
stew held the tang of a herb Khirro didn’t recognize, complimenting the gamy meat. They devoured it hungrily, except Ghaul who started by taking only small tastes. Khirro considered poking fun at him over it, but decided it would be wiser not to. The outstanding flavor quickly convinced Ghaul the rabbit wasn’t poisoned and he ate two helpings.
A full belly did wonders to rejuvenate Khirro. He hadn’t realized how much energy had been missing until it crept back into his limbs, returning strength to his wounded shoulder. The food affected his companions similarly. After cleaning up, they set the watches and chose spots for sleeping. Shyn took the first watch and Khirro went to where he sat before lying down to sleep.
“Can I ask you something, Shyn?”
“Of course.”
Khirro paused. “How did you find rabbits when we’ve seen no animals in a week?”
“One need only know where to look,” the big man answered with a shrug. “I’ve been hunting rabbit longer than I can remember.”
Khirro nodded, satisfied, though Shyn hadn’t really answered his question.
“And what about the rabbit from the sky? How do you think that happened?”
“Sometimes the Gods provide, Khirro.”
He returned to his sleeping spot no less uncertain about what had happened than when he approached Shyn. If the Gods truly did provide, he’d be heading to his bed to sleep beside Emeline, anxious about the impending birth of a child, not bedding down on the forest floor worried about a one-eyed mercenary pursuing him through a foreign country. If the Gods truly cared, the blood of the king would never have passed into his hands.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Be quiet,” Ghaul growled over his shoulder.
Khirro’s stomach churned and twisted so much, stillness became a discomfort. He might have taken it as illness, but the feeling had become familiar. It was the place where the Shaman’s curse resided in him.
“Something’s wrong,” he said; Ghaul hushed him again.
Khirro tried to settle himself and peer through a space between two kegs. On the other side, some yards away, Elyea stood speaking with two men. She wore the simple, clinging shift she’d worn when they met her instead of the doeskin breeches and loose chemise she donned when they left Despina’s. The men’s demeanor was easy and laughter spilled from the group occasionally. Elyea’s deportment matched theirs as she laughed and smiled and brushed her hand on the arm of one man and then the other. Jealousy added to the knots in Khirro’s gut brought on by the curse and his reticence about their plan.
The final two days of their ride, travel became easier as the land smoothed near the coast, but more difficult in other ways. Ghaul and Shyn were at each other constantly, jibing and bickering so much it surprised Khirro they hadn’t come to blows. The soldier’s mistrust for Shyn tainted everything the border guard did, and his refusal to engage Ghaul except through sarcasm and jest added to the soldier’s ire. They’d argued to an impasse over how best to proceed when they reached the edge of the forest, each with a hand on their swords until Athryn’s wisdom prevailed.
Under the cover of night, they again set their horses free and stole across the short plain to the town of Sheldive, where they planned for Elyea to use her womanly charms and a bag of coins to acquire transport across the Small Sea. Spying from behind the stack of kegs and crates, they saw her using her assets while the bag of money remained on her belt.
One man grabbed Elyea by the waist, pulled her close and kissed her hard on the lips. Ghaul’s hand went to the hilt of his sword, but Athryn stayed him with a touch on his forearm. The discomfort in Khirro’s belly increased. He knew Elyea could take care of herself, possibly more so than he could, but the thought didn’t relieve his disquiet.
If she needs help, she’ll signal.
When the man pulled his face away, Elyea laughed again, then turned to lead them behind a pile of sacks. The other man swatted her ass and she giggled while subtly waving to her companions, letting them know she was all right. They disappeared behind the pile and Khirro held his breath. Maes stood beside him, his back to the scene, eyes closed as though in prayer or meditation, or perhaps sleep, Khirro couldn’t tell which.
Minutes passed. Elyea’s giggles floated to them on the salty night air. A cramp developed in Khirro’s leg and he shifted to alleviate it; Ghaul looked at him but said nothing this time. On Ghaul’s other side, Athryn crouched absolutely still, unmoving as though a carven image. Khirro wondered how he remained so while such a feeling of unease twisted his own gut.
“Too much time has passed,” Ghaul grumbled and began to rise, but sounds stopped him.
First they heard Elyea’s voice-a moan that made Khirro’s heart jump into his throat. Ghaul reached for his sword but this time Shyn stopped him. The look of disdain Ghaul gave the border guard would have shivered Khirro’s spine had it been intended for him and he worried Shyn might take exception. After a second, Ghaul relented.
They heard other sounds. The voices of the two men joined Elyea’s and they quickly realized they weren’t hearing the sounds of a struggle. Khirro blushed, embarrassed and angry.
She’s a harlot. This is what she does.
Still, he felt disappointed. In the weeks they’d traveled together, he came to see her as so much more than her profession.
After a minute, the noises ceased, a fact that brought a quiet chuckle from Shyn. Ghaul favored him with a contemptuous look that the border guard ignored. Khirro strained to listen over the caress of water lapping against the dock and the creak of ropes and boards as boats floated nearby. It seemed to him he heard sounds of a scuffle, but he couldn’t be sure. Shyn didn’t react, so he assumed he must be wrong. Then one of the men cried out, a short bark of alarm quickly cut off. Shyn and Ghaul both came instantly to their feet, hands on weapons, but Athryn stopped them again, barring their way with his arm as he stood, too.
Elyea emerged from behind the sacks, a sheen of sweat on her naked skin shining in the moonlight. Gazing at the hang of her breasts and the curve of her hip silhouetted against the night sky, Khirro forgot his worry. The feeling in his stomach remained, but he paid it no heed. When she bent to retrieve something from behind the sacks, he saw the dagger in her hand. She wiped it with the shirt she picked up, then bowed her legs and wiped herself. The action might have seemed rude to some, but Elyea made it appear natural and business-like, something she’d done many times before. She discarded the soiled shirt and disappeared behind the sacks, reappearing moments later, clothed. Khirro brushed his disappointment aside as she crossed the dock, gesturing with a sweep of her arm toward a small sloop.
“Gentleman, your ride awaits.”
She replaced the knife in her boot, then pulled the pouch from her belt and tossed it to Athryn. It jingled as he caught it.
“And it cost them a lot more than it cost us.”
“Are you all right?” Khirro stepped forward, but Ghaul spoke before she answered.
“Never mind that now.” He pushed past Elyea toward the boat. “Others will come. We must leave now.”
Shyn, Athryn and Maes followed Ghaul to the boat; when Khirro went to follow, Elyea caught his arm. He faced her, gazing into her green eyes.
“I’m fine, Khirro. Thank you for your concern.” She smiled but he found he could only return it half-heartedly and she saw his unease. “It was business, nothing more. I did what needed to be done.”
Khirro nodded and allowed her to take his hand and lead him to the boat where the others waited.
“Now we’re here,” Shyn said, “does anyone know how to sail a boat?”
Athryn nodded. “Yes. Climb aboard and I will cast off the line.”
Ghaul boarded first. Shyn picked up Maes and passed him to Ghaul, then climbed on and offered Elyea his hand. Khirro came next, wavering unsteadily as he stood on the boat’s swaying deck. Athryn freed the line and pushed the boat from the dock, then jumped aboard, landing softly beside Khirro.
“We must go quietly
,” he said plucking an oar from the deck. He placed the tip against the dock and pushed them away. “We will drift with the tide until we are far enough away to put oar to water without raising alarm, but then we must cross the sea as quickly as possible. When they notice the boat missing and the men slain, they will look for us.”
“I’ll take the first watch,” Shyn said before Ghaul could volunteer. “The rest of you get some sleep.”
Athryn nodded. “Wake us when the city lights are distant.”
Khirro gathered some empty sacks littering the deck to fashion a pillow and settled down beside a canvas tarp at the stern. He lay on his back, trying to find comfort in the stars peeking through wispy clouds, but irritation still churned his gut. His muscles tensed as Elyea lay close beside him.
“You were very brave,” he whispered without taking his eyes from the sky. He felt her turn on her side, facing him.
“What you do is important. The fate of the kingdom is at stake. That makes me braver than I truly am.”
Khirro sighed. Why doesn’t it make me feel braver than I truly am?
Water lapped rhythmically against the side of the boat as the tide slid them silently away from the port town. Elyea settled in, resting her head on his shoulder, and his body tensed. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t move away. Her touch made him feel warm, safe; it blocked the uncomfortable feeling in his midsection, but it also stirred up guilt and longing.
Khirro closed his eyes and willed thoughts of Emeline to mind as he dozed. He saw her standing before the farmhouse that would one day be his if he lived to return, her stomach swollen with child. Her sad expression turned to anger and he tried to comfort her, but she turned away. Grabbing her gently by the arm, he spun her toward him and took a step back. Emeline no longer stood before him, but Elyea instead, her strawberry hair lit by the sun. Khirro looked at her, at the way her bosom stretched the bodice of her white dress. Sun shone through the thin, summery skirt, outlining her shapely legs. She bent at the waist, grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up to exposes the patch of red hair between her legs.
