Then Adder grabbed her around the waist and flung her to one side. She gasped in astonishment, before a hand clamped over her mouth.
They glared at each other. Then Kara noticed everyone in the group pressed up against the stone wall that housed the gate. Adder held her against his body, turned away slightly so that he could peer through the wrought iron into the street beyond. Kara forced herself to relax, then struggled lightly, until Adder looked back and let her go.
She pressed against the stone wall like the others. Outside the courtyard, their pursuers shouted, a few older voices giving out orders. Feet tramped back and forth, across the street at first, but then closer. Shadows bolted past the front of the gates. They tore up the street, calling out to other groups Kara couldn’t see.
“What have you got?” someone shouted, so close Kara jerked back against the wall. Pebbles rattled down from the top of the wall, bouncing off Kara’s head and clattering on the stone path of the courtyard. Adder shot everyone a harsh look, held his hand out and signaled them all back against the wall as he stepped deeper into the shadows.
Silence from outside the gate, where before there had been the noise of pacing feet and movement. A listening silence, broken only by the sounds of other groups searching farther away.
A shadow appeared in the gate opening again and paused. Kara could only see the top of the head, close to her feet, distorted by the wrought iron’s shadow. Adder’s hand shifted, grip tightening on his sword.
“Richten!”
The shadow shifted, head turned, then moved away.
Kara exhaled slowly.
“What?”
“The Underearthers have caught someone on the roof.”
Allan? The others? Did they get all of them or only some?
And then her skin prickled with horror. If they were reporting on the Tunnelers, that meant they were Rats.
Their leader cursed. “How did you let this happen?” A fist slammed into flesh and someone cried out. A scuffle followed, punctuated by whimpers, as if someone were being beaten or kicked.
The beating stopped, someone gasping from the effort, another moaning.
“Fletch isn’t going to be happy.”
“No shit.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
A considered silence, along with the crunch of grit as someone moved about. A street away, the battle between the Rats and Tunnelers escalated for a moment, then faded again.
The shadow reappeared, one arm rising to clutch at the iron before dropping.
“Mouse, head back to the main group and report.” The leader moved away again. “Vole, I want you to . . .” Richten’s voice dropped too low for Kara to make out.
A moment later, a group of at least three or four broke away. Kara shifted, but Adder held up a hand in warning, still listening.
“What do we do about him?”
“Pick him up and drag him back with us.”
More feet scuffling, followed by a groan and the sound of someone being dragged away. Richten shouted more orders to those still combing the street beyond, but the sounds of the search were fading.
Kara leaned her head back against the stone behind her, eyes closed.
After ten minutes, Adder finally moved, stepping away from the wall. Kara opened her eyes, but said nothing as he leaned toward the gate and checked the street. Kara hadn’t heard anyone for over five minutes, only the muted sounds of the fighting a street or more away.
A few of the others moved up to Kara’s side.
“Are they gone?” Dylan asked.
Adder shot him a glare, but straightened. “I think so.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
“What about Allan and the others? You heard them. The group from the ley station caught them. We have to help them.”
“We don’t even know if that’s true. Or how many they caught.”
“Kent’s right. We need to regroup back at the new safe house, as Allan ordered, see if anyone from the other group shows up.”
“What if no one else shows?”
“We’ll deal with that later.”
The group considered this in silence, Kara thinking of Allan and Artras.
“Where’s the new safe house then? I don’t know where we are.”
“This way. We’re at the edge of the Clay District now.”
Adder shifted toward the gates, peered out into the street as he spoke, Kara moving up behind him. She couldn’t see anything except debris, although her gaze fell to a section of the nearest rubble where a dark blotch of blood now stained the cobbles.
As he stepped carefully through the twisted opening of the gate, Kara asked, “How far is it?”
“About three blocks down. We’ll stay in Clay for a while, bypass the Rats and Tunnelers, then cut back in—”
“Well, well, well. I was right.”
Adder spun, sinking into a crouch, as a Rat rose from behind a toppled ley cart twenty paces distant. Kara’s hand reached for the knife in her belt. Behind her, Kent tried to squeeze between the iron gate and got caught, cloth ripping as he yanked himself free. Gaven, Jack, and Dylan were still in the courtyard.
The Rat smiled, his teeth surprisingly white in the dirt-smear of his face. He was tall and thin, his face narrow, like a real rat’s, his hair mussed and wild. His eyes were pinched and cruel.
He motioned with one hand and over two dozen Rats rose from their positions behind the scattered debris, all with weapons. All except the leader, Richten.
“Adder!”
Kara turned at Jack’s shout to see more Rats dropping from the lower windows of the building that framed the rest of the courtyard.
They were surrounded.
Cory hunched down in the dense foliage of the forest and cursed beneath his breath. He thought for certain that the group of men and women traipsing through the trees on either side of the spot where he and two other guards from the Hollow were hunkered would hear it. Sweat trickled down his forehead and he dashed it away with one hand, his other resting on the handle of the sword sheathed at his waist. He’d become more comfortable with the weapon in the long practices, enough that he’d been chosen to help with the patrols surrounding the Hollow, but it still felt foreign to him when he was wielding it. Others in the training group were naturals; he was only passable. But they were younger than him, and most had been trained for more strenuous physical labor. Cory had been a candlemaker’s son, then a student at the University. Everything about the sword felt unnatural.
But the Hollow needed guardsmen. These intruders were proof.
Reiss, crouched ten paces away, hissed to catch Cory’s attention, then signaled with a flash of his fingers, almost too fast for Cory to follow.
How many?
Cory scanned the group, raising his head tentatively above the brush to do a quick count.
Five south, seven north.
Weapons?
Bows. Swords.
Reiss shifted his weight so that he could converse with Joss, bow across his knees. Reiss was Cory’s age, Joss a few years older, but he’d taken control of the patrol without saying a word. He knew the woods better than any of them.
Cory turned back to the intruders. The men were all rough, fitted out in bits and pieces of armor, most of it matching, but not all. They picked their way through the forested hillside, staying clear of the dense brush beneath the trees, following deer trails or staying near the narrow stream that trickled between the hills to either side. Cory, Reiss, and Joss were on the southern hill just above the stream, the five intruders on their side on the bank above them, where a ridge of land made it easier to climb. The other seven were on the far side, scattered, all of them moving steadily to the west. None of them looked comfortable, cursing when a booted foot slipped in the matted leaves or earth. Most we
re sporting full beards, one or two with the narrow faces of Temerites. Two were women.
Cory startled when someone touched his shoulder, twisted to find both Reiss and Joss beside him. He hadn’t heard them approach.
“They’re following the stream.” Reiss’ voice was barely audible. The others were making so much noise moving through the trees they couldn’t possibly hear it. Reiss’ eyes shifted constantly, both forward, where the intruders had passed them, and back the way they’d come. “Do you recognize them?”
“No, but I wasn’t on any of the expeditions to the plains.”
“They come from the plains, though. Look at how they’re moving through the woods.” Joss motioned toward those on the northern bank.
“I’d bet they’re part of the group that attacked Bryce’s wagon a few months back. The ones that killed Terrim and nearly got Claye.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Looking for us.”
“What should we do? Go back and warn the Hollow?”
Reiss considered, then shook his head. “We’ll follow them. See where they go. The Hollow is far enough south there’s no chance they’ll find it the way they’re headed. But if there are more of them, Bryce will want to know.”
They waited until the last of the group had been gone ten minutes, then followed, Reiss scouting ahead. Cory and Joss stuck close to the stream, where the sounds of the running water would help mask their movements.
An hour later, the sound of a starling cut through the natural sounds of the wood and both Joss and Cory halted and dropped into a crouch.
Reiss trotted toward their position. “They’ve halted near a small waterfall ahead of us. They’re arguing about what to do next. I think they’re going to cut back this way. Joss, I want you to head back to the Hollow. Warn Bryce and the patrols.”
“What are you and Cory going to do?”
“Continue following them. I want to see where their camp is.”
Reiss gripped Joss’ shoulder before he took off in a low crouch, weaving his way up over the top of the southern hill between the trees.
Ten minutes later, once again hunkered down in a stand of thick brush, Cory and Reiss watched the dozen bandits backtrack, many of them grumbling. One of them—a hard man, face scarred with pox, beard rangy—passed within five paces of them. He reeked, the stench assaulting Cory’s nostrils, making him gag.
As soon as they passed by, Reiss and Cory followed, Reiss skipping across submerged stones in the stream to track them on the far side. Cory knew little to nothing about tracking, but skill wasn’t necessary. The bandits were being less cautious on their way out than in.
The sun had begun to set, casting a significant portion of the valley in shadow, when Reiss raised a hand in warning. Cory dropped immediately onto his heels, then shifted toward a split-bole tree for cover. Between the break, he watched Reiss edge forward, then sidle left and draw up behind a ridge of granite jutting up from the soil. He peered over the boulder’s edge, then drew back and motioned Cory forward.
Cory skirted a stand of reeds, splashed through the stream as silently as possible, then came up behind Reiss, settling down next to him, both using the boulder as cover.
“They’re camped below. Take a look.”
Cory raised his head high enough that he could see the camp. There were at least forty men in the hollow, including the group of twelve they’d been following. They’d set up tents to either side of the stream, near where the running water had formed a large pool. Based on the number of tents, Cory guessed there were at least a dozen others missing from the camp; another party like the one that had led them here. Horses were hobbled in a group east of the camp, not enough for all of those present. A firepit had been set up near a larger tent at the center, and a few men stood cooking food over the flames, another off to one side, gutting and cleaning game.
The group they’d followed broke up as soon as they reached the camp, most ducking into tents or greeting the others with backslaps or grins. Two—a man and a woman—headed toward the main tent, pausing outside and speaking through the flap before entering.
Movement much closer to their hiding place forced Cory to drop down. Reiss gave him a questioning look and he mouthed, “Patrol.”
Reiss nodded, glanced over the boulder once, then brought a finger to his lips. He nocked an arrow, but didn’t draw, leaning back into the lichen-covered stone.
Cory heard a twig snap. Ears straining, he picked out footfalls, coming closer. His hand fell to the sword strapped to his side.
The footsteps halted on the far side of the boulder. Cory glanced toward Reiss, the tracker perfectly still, head lowered, eyes squinted in concentration. He didn’t appear nervous at all, merely tense. His fingers tightened to either side of the arrow, the bowstring taut. Muscles flexed in his upper arm—
And then the guard grunted and the footsteps retreated.
Cory let out the breath he’d been holding.
They waited another ten minutes, then pulled back to the stream, Reiss picking up the pace as soon as they were beyond the camp’s patrols.
“Where are we going?” Cory asked as they ran through the trees, sunlight slanted through the foliage at a sharp angle overhead.
“The Hollow. Bryce needs to know they’ve moved into the hills.”
It was dark when they reached the outer edge of the Hollow. When they passed over the patrol line Bryce had set up after the attack on the plains and weren’t challenged, Reiss broke into a half sprint, slowed only by the terrain.
The buildings of the Hollow were quiet, nearly everyone retired for the night. Candlelight glowed in a few windows—Sophia’s and Logan’s most notably. Figures near the barns were settling in the last of the livestock. A few dogs barked as they passed. Cory didn’t see any of Bryce’s Dogs, or the alpha himself anywhere.
Reiss bolted for the refugee camp, racing through the trees.
They burst from the trees to find the refugee camp as sedate as the Hollow. Men were still working on the cabins by lantern light, and Reiss headed straight for them.
“Bryce. Where is he?”
“His tent, I think.”
Reiss spun and trotted carefully through the cluster of tents, moving as fast as possible without tripping over ties and stakes.
Two of the Dogs and one of those in training huddled over a small firepit, chatting. One of them, the oldest, lurched upright as Reiss and Cory emerged from the shadows into the firelight, sword half-drawn before recognition hit.
He spat to one side, letting his blade snick back into its sheath. “Gods above, Reiss, you startled me.” He began to sit back down.
Reiss crossed the distance between them and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him back up. “Where’s Joss, Braddon? Did he check in?”
The other two men glanced toward each other, eyebrows raised, as Braddon’s hands automatically gripped Reiss’ wrists. “Let go, or I’ll break your wrists.”
Reiss had already released him, wresting his wrists free with a curse. He stalked toward Bryce’s tent, the other two men jumping up in protest as he flung back the flap. “Bryce! Wake up, damn you. We have a problem.”
“What in hells—?”
“We have a problem!”
“Give me a second.”
Reiss let the tent flap fall back and turned again to Braddon. “No one has heard from Joss? He didn’t report in?”
Braddon wiped his mouth. “We’ve heard nothing from Joss. You’re the first to report back.”
“What about Joss?” Bryce asked as he emerged from the tent, belting his sword. He’d obviously dressed quickly, but he appeared alert.
“We ran into a group of the bandits, as you predicted. They’re searching the hills. I sent Joss back to report while Cory and I followed them to their camp. He should have checked in an hour a
go.”
Bryce eyed Reiss, then Cory, before turning to Braddon. “We haven’t heard anything?”
“Nothing from any of the trackers.”
“Wake the others. Everyone, even the trainees. Get them geared up and ready. Have them meet in the center of the village. Send a runner to the patrols, have them pull back, tighten up. Do it as quietly as possible. If the bandits are out there, I don’t want them knowing we’re onto them.”
Braddon motioned toward the other two, all three of them trotting out into the darkness in different directions. Within moments, Cory could feel the nearest part of the refugee camp stirring.
Bryce focused on Reiss. “What did you see?”
“A group of twelve, out scouting. We followed them halfway up the Kipsy stream, but they turned back. We let them pass us, which is when I sent Joss back to report. Cory and I followed them to a base camp. The group had been there a while. They had tents, a campfire, hitching posts, patrols. They were settled in.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-eight.”
Bryce glanced to Cory for confirmation.
“There were signs that at least a dozen others were missing.”
“Out searching, no doubt.”
“Maybe they ran into Joss.” Cory realized Bryce and Reiss had already thought of it, were already ten steps ahead of him.
Both of them ignored the statement.
“How much time do you think we have?”
“Depends on whether they know exactly where we are.”
“If they have Joss, they know. It wouldn’t take much to break him.” Bryce glanced around at the mostly sleeping camp. “Warn Sophia and Paul. Tell them to wake whoever they think can help defend us.”
Reiss acknowledged the order by vanishing into the darkness, leaving Cory with Bryce.
“What about everyone else? Should we send them to the caves?” While planning the defense of the Hollow, one of the Hollowers had mentioned caves to the northwest. They weren’t easily accessible, the two main entrances covered by growth and some deadfall, but the interiors were large enough to hold everyone in the Hollow and the refugees combined, with a pool of fresh water in a deeper chamber and room for storage. After protesting that the caves had never crossed their minds, both Paul and Sophia had organized the Hollowers and started sending supplies to the caves for storage, in case they were forced to retreat to them at some point.
Threading the Needle Page 13
