“But—”
“Either stay here or we don’t go at all,” snapped Andrasta.
Shadya scowled. “Fine.” Her face softened as it swung back to Rondel. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him down and kissed him. She whispered something in his ear, Andrasta could not make out.
He reddened. They kissed again and Rondel walked toward Andrasta, wearing a wide smile.
“I hope you close your mouth before we get to the ocean,” said Andrasta as she shouldered her pack, spun away, and began walking. “I don’t feel like pulling you free from drowning again.”
Rondel hurried up beside her. “That was different. We won’t be jumping from a third story building this time.”
* * *
Andrasta kept a cautious pace, and Rondel’s nerves returned. She still moved with a silent confidence, but the way she checked everything twice over before committing to a path made him realize just how much this job concerned her.
Before they had ceased communicating verbally, she made a comment in passing about it being their last job. Rondel didn’t have the chance to press the issue due to their proximity to Host scouts.
Does she know what Shadya wants? Of course she does. She’s not stupid. That must be the reason for the animosity toward Shadya.
Oddly enough, before he had left camp he was certain that he wanted to be with Shadya and only Shadya. But as he slunk through the dark with Andrasta, he hated the idea of leaving his current life behind.
Dangerous as it may be, it’s who I’ve become. Can I really invent myself again? Besides, why do I have to sever all ties with Andrasta just because I want to settle down with Shadya. I don’t. Maybe I can help her from a distance. Me the brains. Her the brawn. That was my original plan anyway. I never wanted to get involved in the actual killing. Yes. That’s it. The best of both worlds.
Of course, what did Kristoni say about pursuing such a path?
“Reach for one star
You may have success.
Reach for two
Only air you’ll caress.”
Kristoni did have a way with putting things into perspective. But by the gods, he couldn’t write a melody to save his life. Now Gersh, he knew how to—
A hand latched onto his arm as another cupped his mouth. He hit the ground hard. Andrasta lay next to him. She cocked her head to the side as if listening. Rondel heard fading footsteps. She relaxed her grip and gave him an icy stare.
“Get your head right,” she mouthed.
He frowned an apology.
She’s right. Weigh the options later. Worry about staying alive now.
They finally skirted far enough away from the Host’s sentries for them to resume talking. They went over a few last-minute tweaks to their plan, including their mode of escape. At first, they thought about leaving the way they came, and ideally that would be the way to go. However, such a path of escape would only work if they could slip in and out of camp unnoticed, something Andrasta didn’t think possible. Swimming after being discovered would be too slow a process, making them easy targets for an archer or sorcerer.
Their best option was to grab mounts from the Host and leave by way of the trail they had avoided on the way in.
I guess making it past the four sentries guarding the area won’t be as much of a challenge if they’re facing away from us.
CHAPTER 14
A sheen of sweat covered Melek’s body despite the cool night air. He just completed the twenty fighting forms taught to everyone in Hubul’s Host.
Said to come from Quam, the god of war, the ancient fighting techniques had been passed down for generations. The Host’s annals hinted that at one point there may have been as many as thirty forms. Some speculated that one of their number left without completely sharing the now-lost forms with the rest of the Host. It was hard for him to believe that Hubul would allow his chosen to lose knowledge of anything important to carrying out their mission.
Of course, it’s been thousands of years since our formation and we still have not fulfilled our primary purpose. Perhaps he no longer thinks us capable of succeeding. He bowed his head and said a prayer. I’m sorry Hubul. I should have more faith in you.
He had completed the forms alone in the confined space of his tent, a much more difficult task than out in the open. He did this as a new way to push himself. His skill had to be above reproach. The graceful swipes, rapid thrusts, and soft footwork of the twenty forms usually cleared his head for a good night’s rest.
Yet, rather than sleep, Melek sat inside his tent on a rug draped over the sandy beach. Across his knee rested his unsheathed scimitar. Stripped to the waist, he breathed deeply, waiting.
He had been elected captain of Hubul’s Host three years ago, the youngest to hold the rank. It was the first unanimous selection in centuries. His skill with a scimitar had helped him win over his younger brothers. But his gift of sensing danger and Khalil’s urging secured the votes of the older members.
Hubul’s Kiss is what the old timers call that sense of approaching danger. Previous captains had claimed a similar ability. Those with the highest sensitivity were often spoken of fondly in the Host’s annals.
That ability to sense danger kept him from sleeping. Earlier, he instructed Khalil to double the watch, check the wards, and keep everyone on high alert, but something told him it wouldn’t be enough.
He shifted his gaze from the opening of his tent to the golden mask that rested on his bedroll. The wards etched on its surface shimmered in the dim light.
He rubbed the jewel on the hilt of his scimitar. Khalil said the modifications he made to it would dampen any sorcery used against him.
Melek blew out the lone candle in the tent, allowing his eyes to adjust to the blackness inside.
He did not sleep.
* * *
Andrasta sprinted in a crouch from behind a low rock into the lapping waves of the Madacan Ocean. The likelihood of anyone spotting them so far from camp was slim, yet her stomach clenched nervously as she searched for possible sentries.
Rondel came up behind her and the two waded into the salt-smelling water. The sensation should have elicited a shiver or at the least the formation of small bumps on her flesh. Yet, the water felt no cooler than the night air which had seemed uncharacteristically warm. She glanced at the stone hanging by the string from her chest.
Well it works, she begrudgingly admitted. Too well, she thought, unable to sense even the customary wetness from water soaking her clothes.
“What’s wrong?” Rondel whispered behind her.
“The amulet has a numbing feeling.”
“I don’t feel any different.”
“I do. I don’t like it,” she said, moving farther out.
“You’ll be able to take it off soon.”
“Not soon enough.” She paused. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you going to take yours off when we’re done?”
“Why should I? I don’t have the same affront to sorcery you do.”
“Doesn’t matter. The other one is always bothering you. Why not get rid of them both?”
“Shadya made this. I feel like I’d offend her by discarding them. Besides, it would be like throwing away a part of her.”
She paused in the water.
“What’s wrong?” Rondel asked. “Do you see something?”
Is that it? All his idiocy. Acting out of character. Could it be related to him wearing that dumb amulet? Why didn’t I think of that sooner when it’s so obvious? She thought back to when she woke in Shadya’s home and how he had already seemed infatuated with the woman. He didn’t have it on then. Of course, we were in her apartment. Who knows what sort of power she had over him with all those wards glowing on the walls. Or maybe there was some attraction on Rondel’s part and the amulet built upon it.
Though the reasoning made sense, a part of Andrasta wondered if she was grasping at the wind. She needed to know for su
re. I need to do this carefully. Otherwise, he’ll argue out of spite.
She touched his arm lightly as Rondel squinted in the dark toward shore. “Be still. We’re fine for now.”
“Then what is it?”
She chose her words carefully. “I don’t often ask you to do anything for me personally.”
“Almost never.”
“I want you to promise me you’ll do something for me when this is done.”
He gave her a wary look, talking slowly. “All right.”
“I want you to take off those amulets.” He started to protest and she squeezed his arm for silence. “I’m not telling you to get rid of them. Just remove them for a little while.”
“And then what?”
“Think.”
“Think?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her like she had lost her mind and a part of Andrasta wondered if she had.
“That’s it?” he asked.
“That’s it.”
Rondel’s confused look finally broke into a small grin. “I will. That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know. That’s the most serious I’ve ever seen you look. I thought you were going to tell me that if you died, I’d need to travel to Juntark to take news of your death to your father or something.”
She remembered the words they exchanged when she last saw her father. I doubt he’d even care. I need the blasted jewel.
She shook off the thoughts of her past. Now was not the time to dwell on them.
“Like you would have done that,” she muttered.
“Of course I would have,” he snapped back without hesitation.
Her breath caught for a moment, surprised at his certainty. “What about Shadya?”
“Look, I know you’ve probably thought about what’s going to happen after we get that mask back too. And once this is over, we do need to talk about that. I have some ideas that might actually work out for everyone. I hope. Regardless, you need to know that my feelings for Shadya are not an attack against you.” He paused. “Anyway, Shadya would just have to get over me doing something like going to Juntark for you.”
No one had ever said anything like that to her before. The unselfishness of that statement meant more to her than she could ever convey. Andrasta doubted that it would really happen as he said though. The second Shadya was near, Rondel would be unable to think for himself again.
Still, hearing him make the statement made her realize just how far she should would be willing to go to fight for Rondel rather than see him go off with the whore.
He’s acting almost like he did before we got into this mess.
* * *
Footsteps padded outside Melek’s tent. They stopped at the entrance.
“Captain?”
“Enter, Lieutenant.”
A hand shot through the slit in the tent and pushed the flap aside. Lieutenant Omar, Melek’s second, entered. Melek noticed the troubling look Omar wore beneath the wild beard that crawled up to his eyes.
“Shifts have changed and everyone has reported in.”
“No one noticed anything?” guessed Melek.
“No. Khalil hasn’t felt anything either.”
“Thank you.”
Omar hesitated. “Do you have any new orders?”
Doubting again?
“No.”
Omar bowed and began to leave.
“Lieutenant.”
“Captain?”
“They will come tonight.”
He bowed once more and left.
Time slipped by and yet, Melek remained still. His feeling about an attack had not changed. His eyes flicked to the mask. He thought about covering it, but decided it needed to be seen in order to draw someone completely into his tent.
He said a silent prayer to Hubul, begging his patron to give him the skills he needed to carry out his mission.
Within moments, a strange feeling came over him. He wasn’t sure if it was Hubul answering his prayers, but he liked to think so. He rose to his feet and padded to the entrance of the tent without opening it.
Melek crouched, using a half hung sheet as cover. Scimitar in hand, he waited.
* * *
Approaching their destination, Rondel and Andrasta paused briefly. Since she had better eyesight at night, Rondel relied on her to give him the estimated number of men visible. By her count, three rows of ten soldiers formed a semi-circle around the tents nearest the mountains. Roughly twenty feet separated each row.
With barely their heads out of the water, Andrasta whispered, “They must suspect we’re coming tonight.”
“What do we do?”
“We do what we planned. Just make sure you don’t use all the confusion stones in the tents near the water. As alert as the camp appears, we’ll need a few when we make our escape.”
Rondel adjusted the long rope he carried over his shoulder, eyeing the flickering torches near the two openings that led to the center of the circle of tents.
He had an idea regarding the torches, but Andrasta had already begun moving again.
I can figure it out on my own.
Minutes passed before Rondel ran dripping onto the beach. Andrasta ran a couple strides ahead. Ocean spray tickled his face while waves lapped at their backs. Both stopped at the back of the tents, careful not to hit the support ropes used to keep the canvases in place.
They exchanged a look, silently wishing one another luck. Andrasta rolled a confusion stone under the flap of a tent and worked her way around the right of the circle of tents.
Rondel immediately went to work, first with a stone under the tent near him, then with the rope over his shoulder. He tied off the end around one of the outside supports. It was an awkward knot with his shortened fingers but it would get the job done. Satisfied, he went to the next tent in line and repeated the process while moving away from Andrasta, toward the western opening of the tent circle, closer to the Host’s mounts.
* * *
As Andrasta rolled the last of the warded stones under the tent to her left, she breathed a small sigh. She hated having to handle the things knowing who they came from. A part of her wanted to run back into the ocean to scrub her hands with sand just for having touched them. But she still wore the amulet. Just thinking about it made her neck itch.
She took a slow breath and peered around the tent she huddled by. Most of the camp was on alert, but just as she had hoped, they all expected them to come in from the mountains rather than circle around using the freezing ocean.
She waited at the entrance on the east side, hoping that Rondel had made it to his position on the west.
Cursing silently, she realized that if the rest of camp was on alert the center tent was likely under greater guard as well. I should have taken more of the confusion stones. But I couldn’t get over my own dislike for them.
She drew her sword. Oh well. I still have this.
Slipping inside the center of the tent formation, she came face-to-face with a man leaving a tent she had not been able to slip a stone under. His hand went to the hilt at his waist while his mouth opened.
Her fist snaked out and crashed into his jaw. She caught him before he fell, head back, eyes rolled upward.
A voice called a question.
Andrasta flung the man over her shoulder and dove into one of the dark tents she had used a confusion stone on. Inside, a man groaned on his hands and knees.
It works better than I thought.
Andrasta dumped the man on her shoulder atop the other.
They both lay still. She whipped back toward the tent flap, cracking it. The man who she assumed had asked the question stood in the open space of the circle, searching. Eventually, he ducked back inside.
She sprinted toward the center tent. Turning the corner, no one stood guard at the entrance.
Is this a trap?
A sliver of movement from her peripheral at the west ent
rance to the circle drew her attention. A shortened hand waved. Rondel appeared a moment later. He threw a confusion stone into the center tent and hid once more.
He raised his hand and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
She smiled. He realized I didn’t have a stone left and it could be a trap.
Her nerves eased knowing Rondel was in position.
She stepped inside.
* * *
Melek briefly felt dizzy but it quickly faded as the hilt of his scimitar warmed in his grip.
Sorcery.
Melek didn’t breath as the tall shadow slid into his tent like an apparition. It moved without sound, barely even parting the flaps in the process. The level of skill it took to move in such a manner impressed him. Sword low, the shadowed figure paused just inside and scanned the darkness.
The woman, he thought, recalling the descriptions provided to him. She’s bigger than I thought.
Her foreign background was obvious as no one woman from Erba had the skills or size she did. He already believed more of the stories about her.
What nation bred a woman like this?
A part of him wished to ask that question to satisfy his curiosity. The other part wanted to lash out and kill the woman, but he refrained from doing so until he knew for certain she could not flee.
He dropped a few inches lower in his crouch so she would not see him as her head swiveled his way. She was cautious.
A pity she must die.
She turned toward the mask while taking a step forward. Melek rose. A blur snaked out at his head. He barely managed to deflect the sweeping cut. He rolled quickly away from the follow-up strike that ripped through the side of his tent. Faint light from the torches outside spilled in.
By Hubul, that was fast.
He tried to rise, but the woman’s sword waited for him. He blocked the strike. The clanging impact shook his ears and pitched him off balance. Her boot came up and whooshed by his ducking head.
You’re underestimating her.
His free hand hit the woman’s retreating leg at the knee. In the air, it wouldn’t break as it would have on the ground, but the small grunt told him he had done some damage. Despite the success of the strike, Andrasta continued to press. She switched stances to protect her knee.
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