Scion Rising (The Guardians of Light Book 2)

by R. Michael Card

  “There’s a sentry on the next hill. If it isn’t their rear guard then…” What was he guarding? A slow grin spread over her face. “How fast can you run?”

  “What, why? They haven’t seen us have they?”

  “We’re not running away. We’re running toward.”

  His face fell. “You’re crazy!” he hissed, keeping his voice low.

  She was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to the voice in her head but her unorthodox plan. At least she hoped.

  “Look, if their front lines are still far to the west then this fellow must be guarding a supply depot or something else of value. I want to get a closer look. I might just have a plan for an easier way to get us through the front lines, or at least something that might help us if we got caught.”

  “What are you thinking?” His tone made it clear he really didn’t want to know. It was fairly obvious he wanted to be far away from anything to do with The Blacklord.

  “I’ll take down the guard. I have a clear shot, and at this distance, it shouldn’t be a problem. But just in case anyone happens to be looking for that soldier standing on his hill, I need you to run over there once he’s down and pick up his spear and stand there, looking guard-like. You’re dressed in dark colors. From a distance, you should pass for a Blacklord soldier.”

  “I can’t say I really like this plan. We don’t need to do this. Why don’t we just keep moving?”

  “I’m the one paying you and I say we investigate. If we can get our hands on some Blacklord uniforms, that might help us later on.”

  He nodded halfheartedly. “I suppose…”

  I just want to say that I’m against this plan. That guard is just doing his duty and…

  Shut up. You get no say in this.

  Again, she got the impression of Eaglewing sighing and shaking some nonexistent head.

  “Are you ready?”

  Tirol grimaced. “Sure, as ready as I’ll ever be to go charging toward a Blacklord camp.”

  “Good. Go!”

  He did, scrambling over the top of the hill and staying low.

  She drew out an arrow, one of three remaining. That was another reason she wanted this raid. She needed ammunition.

  You wouldn’t need any ammunition if you bonded with me.

  What? Really? How? Actually, never mind and shut up. You’re distracting me.

  She stood, nocked, and fired in one smooth motion. The arrow flew true to its target, taking the guard just under his chin, where little armor protected. He fell.

  It seemed like an eternity before Tirol scrambled up to take the guard’s place, but it had been only a minute or two, so hopefully they were safe.

  She jogged over to join him, staying low in the grass lest anyone happened to look their way and see two figures on the hill.

  She peered into the next valley and smiled. “I was right, a supply dump.”

  “Great. So?”

  “So now we resupply!”

  “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”

  “You like food don’t you? Food that doesn’t require hunting? Well, that’s what’s down there. Hopefully along with some uniforms and other things of use.”

  He grunted, not sounding pleased. “So what? We just march down there and take it? I don’t think they’ll like that.”

  “I need a moment to think.”

  He sighed and waited.

  She studied the layout and distribution of men. “There are five men that I can see, possibly more inside the tents. Also probably a few more sentries on other hills.” She peered around at the hills surrounding the camp and indeed picked out three other figures with her exceptional distance sight. “It’ll be easiest if we wait until nightfall. We can use the darkness to sneak in.”

  “Great, so I have to stand here for several more hours? Why didn’t you wait for nightfall before you attacked the sentry? Then we could sneak right in.”

  “I…” That would have been wiser. Oh well. She always had been a little quick to act. “You’re probably right, but we’re here now so we have to make the best of it. All you have to do is stand there until sundown. Shouldn’t be too hard.” A thought occurred to her. “Unless they send someone to relieve you. In which case, you’d have to go down earlier.”

  “Care to explain that plan in a little more detail? How would them sending someone out to relieve me mean I go in?”

  “Because if they send someone out, they’ll expect someone back.”

  “Ah, and what will we do with the someone they send?”

  “Same thing we did with this guy,” she said plucking her arrow, still good, from the body of the sentry. She cleaned it and put it back in her quiver. “I’ll take him out and take his place, standing on the hill, but you’ll need to go down in the place of the sentry that was to be relieved.” She took another look at the dead body before her and stripped off its sword belt. “Here, this might help.” She handed it over to him.

  “Why can’t you go?” He strapped on the sword belt. “It’s not like I know how to use one of these particularly well. I’m a hunter not a warrior.”

  “I could, depending on how dark it gets, but you’re much more likely to pass as a random man than I am.”

  “I suppose. Have I mentioned how much I don’t like this idea?”

  “Yes. Now shut up and wait.”

  Tirol grimaced.

  Chapter 4

  The sun hovered just over the horizon in the west. Not too much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity to Tirol, standing exposed on the top of the hill.

  He was beginning to rethink his arrangement with this warrior woman. Perhaps she’d spent too much time alone in the wild. This whole idea of attacking and raiding an enemy camp where they were outnumbered at least five to one and their only real weapon was her bow didn’t sit well with him. Sure he had a sword now, but he’d never felt all that comfortable with such a weapon. He preferred stealth and subtlety to confrontation.

  He was starting to think he should have listened to his self-preservation when it warned him not to get involved with her. He was not his father, after all. He wasn’t about to sacrifice himself for anything. He couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a thing. Why would a loving father abandon his family to fight in a war he couldn’t win? What sense did that make? Why would any man care about anything other than himself and his kin?

  His logic won.

  “Wyllea, I’m done. I can’t—”

  “Hush, someone is coming.”

  He’d waited too long. Now he was committed. He just shook his head and sighed. “What do I do?”

  “What you’re doing. Just stand there and answer if this guy calls out.”

  “Easy enough.” Too bad it was all still crazy.

  Wyllea crouched, drew an arrow from a quiver on her hip, and nocked it. She only had two other arrows in the quiver. Yup, she was crazy.

  “You expect to pull this off with only three arrows?” He tried to put as much scorn and incredulity into his voice as possible.

  “Shut up, he’s getting closer. And yes, I do.”

  “Ho there, Ylvin!” Came a call from behind Tirol. “Sundown’s nearly upon us. Time to go and get some food and rest.”

  “He sounds nice,” Tirol whispered.

  “Say something back,” Wyllea hissed.

  “Sounds good!” Tirol called out, half turning.

  “Ylvin?”

  Wyllea drew back the arrow and let fly. Tirol heard a wet thunk, then the thud which he assumed was a body hitting the ground.

  “Get him over the hill, quickly!” she said, drawing another arrow and scanning the camp and surrounding hills. Tirol did as commanded, turning and running down the hill to the fallen man who was most thoroughly dead, then dragging him up the hill and over. Gods, but he wasn’t used to this level of exertion! He was panting hard by the time he dropped the body.

  She swore. “You didn’t even try to preserve the arrow, did you?”
/>   “What?” Gods, but she was infuriating.

  “Never mind,” Wyllea said, stripping the sword belt off the new body and strapping it on. Then she stood, taking his spear. “It’ll be dark soon. The sun is almost down. You go down into the camp and look around, scout things out. I’ll be down as soon as it’s dark enough. Find the supply tent, we’ll meet there.”

  “I said two words to this last guy and he suspected me. What makes you think I’ll last two minutes down there if they can actually see me?”

  “You said you were a hunter. Hunters are skilled at evading prey and not being seen, so do that.”

  “I wasn’t really the best hunter, actually. I—”

  “Are you going or not?” She was gazing at him with those large green eyes again. There was something about her, an intensity that seemed to sing through her body and everything she did. It was in her eyes now, holding him. Gods, but it was intoxicating.

  His anger faded. “Yes,” he said.

  No! His ingrained self-preservation screamed at him to run, but he wouldn’t. He had no clue why, but he would have done anything for Wyllea in that moment.

  He made his way down the hill, grumbling all the way, arguing with himself. He took the sword he’d stolen from the first guard out of its sheath and tested it. It was fairly well-balanced and didn’t feel too awkward. He’d been forced to use similar swords before. He could hold his own with one but would prefer not to have to.

  So he kept his eyes open.

  There were three men at one end of the camp, two by a cooking fire, another moving back and forth between the fire and a single small tent. That was good. With the growing dark, the night vision of those by the fire would be horrible. If he could keep out of sight until full dark, he’d be fine.

  Reaching inside his tunic, he drew out a small pouch. It was light, almost empty, causing him to grimace and sigh. This was his preferred means of dealing with confrontation. A potent powder that, when blown in someone’s face, caused them to become disoriented and fall asleep. He’d purchased it from a witch-woman in Vohrial. Not only was the city hundreds of miles away, but it had been destroyed by The Blacklord’s armies. So this powder would be very hard to replace once gone, and judging from the weight, there were probably only two or three uses left. Still, he’d rather use it than a sword, so he sheathed his weapon and kept the pouch in his hand, ready if needed.

  He’d kept the existence of his powder a secret just as he hadn’t been fully honest with Wyllea by saying he was a hunter. Sure, he’d been a hunter. He’d done many things. But before the war, the prey he’d been hunting were the precious items the wealthy kept locked away. He’d had a good run, amassing a small horde of goods pilfered from the richer residents of Vohrial. His sleeping powder had helped him escape more than one angry lord or persistent city guard, and he hoped it would help him survive this night as well.

  He chided himself again. Now that he was away from Wyllea, it was easier. If he survived this raid, he was going his own way. He’d be his own man once more. He didn’t need her or her reward whatever it may be.

  He should just walk away right now.

  He should… but he didn’t.

  Tirol had made his way around the camp to the opposite side from where the three men shared a fire to one of the large tents which he hoped held food and supplies.

  He was nearing the opening when it was pushed aside and a guard walked out. The man hadn’t expected anyone to be there and almost walked into Tirol. This gave Tirol the chance to pluck some dust from his bag and blow it in the man’s face.

  The guard looked surprised, then his eyes drooped shut and he slumped to the ground.

  Tirol was left shaking and breathing hard. Gods, but this was such a stupid idea.

  He turned to walk away but took no steps.

  He turned back.

  Then turned away again.

  Why was this so difficult! He was his own man. He was not going to sacrifice himself like his father. He would not abandon all he held dear for some cause! Especially not for those brilliant green eyes… or that slender neck and dark hair… or those full lips and that curvaceous body.

  He turned back. He was a fool, and that was it. A fool for a pretty face.

  He hefted the guard’s body and dragged it around to the side of the tent. The guard should be out for a good few hours. Then Tirol went back and entered the supply tent.

  And froze.

  “Pollan, is that you?” said a guard sitting at a desk not five feet away. The man started to turn. “Back with supper so soon?”

  But Tirol was quicker and ducked behind a shelf piled high with sacks and small crates without a sound. He stood deathly still and waited.

  “Pollan?” Between the sacks, Tirol watched the guard.

  The man peered at the opening of the tent for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to his desk.

  Tirol allowed himself to breathe again. Though he had to admit his situation wasn’t good, stuck in a tent with at least one guard whose hearing was fairly good.

  Great.

  He should have walked away. But he was in it now and might as well follow through. Carefully he drew the short sword Wyllea had given him. He would have preferred to use his sleeping powder, but with the man facing away from him, it might not work as well, and the last thing he wanted was to make the guard turn around in order to get a better angle on him. Too much could go wrong with that idea. No. As messy as it was, it would be better to stab the guy in the back or some other unsavory attack: quick, quiet, and deadly.

  He snuck from behind the shelf and stalked to the man at the desk, who seemed intent on some ledgers in which he was scrawling away. Many years as a thief had honed Tirol’s ability to move without a sound.

  Tirol was so quiet that he had a moment, standing behind the doomed clerk, to ponder his actions. The man wore no armor, though he wore the uniform of The Blacklord. Tirol knew that many of The Blacklord’s minions were once just ordinary people of far-flung lands, conquered and given the choice to serve or die. And yet these were the people who had killed his father so many years ago. This man didn’t seem to be forced to do his duties. Tirol couldn’t fathom what it would take for someone to give up freedom so easily.

  Perhaps he’d give this man a chance.

  With one quick motion, he reached around the man’s head with both arms, one clamping over the man’s mouth, the other bringing his sword to the man’s neck.

  The man struggled, but only for a moment, until the surprise must have worn off.

  Tirol leaned down, his mouth close to the man’s ear. “Do you serve The Blacklord willingly?” he asked, keeping his voice low, husky, masked so that if this man survived and someone didn’t see Tirol, he might avoid detection.

  The man shook his head.

  “Then you have two options, my friend. Either I kill you now, or I grant you your freedom. You can run, keeping quiet, and live free. I know we’re behind the front lines and there are Blacklord men everywhere, but at least you’d have a chance out there in the wild. So what will it be? Nod if you want to live.”

  The man nodded, vigorously.

  “I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. Make a sound or any quick movement, and you die. Understand?”

  Another nod.

  Tirol removed his hand.

  The man began to turn, but Tirol stopped him with his now free hand, pushing his head back facing forward. “I would prefer if you didn’t see me.”

  “I won’t look,” the man whispered. “What should I do?”

  “Do you have any family?”

  “No.”

  “Then go where you wish. There are enough gaps in the front lines you should be able to sneak through if you can keep yourself hidden. Go ahead, steal some food, and run. Keep low in the valleys close to water, and you should be fine. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  Tirol moved his sword, sliding it carefully back to the man’s shoulder, then down his back
, always keeping contact.

  “Stand.”

  The man stood. Tirol kicked his stool aside.

  “Move slowly. Grab what you will and then get out. I’ll be right behind you the whole way. If you make any move to yell, I’ll run you through.”

  “I won’t,” the man said, taking his time to turn. Tirol kept tension on his sword and followed the man as he moved to a shelf. He opened a bag and grabbed several small parchment-wrapped items, took some slices of dried fruit from another bag, a small wheel of cheese from yet another. Then he turned to the door and moved carefully toward it.

  This was the perilous part. Once outside, the man could do as he wished. Tirol could only hope the man was smart enough to run.

  The man stopped at the flap to the tent and said only, “Thank you,” then moved out into the night.

  Tirol waited for a call, some alarm, but none came.

  Apparently, luck was on his side tonight.

  He turned, now knowing where food was located, and started toward the shelves, but the flap on the other side of the tent opened and a guard stepped in.

  “Handar, is that you? Hadn’t seen you or Pollan at supper and…”

  The light was dim, only two candles on the desk burning, and Tirol was of a height with the man he’d just freed, but he knew any confusion wouldn’t last long, so he charged the guard.

  The man didn’t call out, just stood there stunned as Tirol bowled into him. The motion knocked them out of the tent, and they ended up on the ground.

  Tirol was no stranger to a rough-and-tumble brawl and got in a few good punches to the man’s face before the other recovered from his surprise and began fighting back in earnest. He was larger than Tirol and hit harder. The first hit stunned him, the second left his head ringing, and the third threw him off the guard, rolling to the ground.

  Great.

  This was how he was going to die: so close to so much food, in the dark, far from home.

  The other man stood and kicked Tirol in the gut, doubling him over and making him cough. The guard moved his foot back to kick again and—

  —fell limp to the ground next to Tirol, an arrow in his back.

  A moment later Wyllea was next to him. “Can you stand?” she whispered. He could swear there was genuine concern in her voice.