So far, Flint and I had confined ourselves to killing soldiers, eroding the Osterway strength and degrading their morale. Now that I had a chance to get good look at the slaves and how they were handled, though, it was time to do some damage there. Not killing slaves, of course, but if we could set some free, it would further disrupt Egnor’s plans and, by extension, Venari’s. Still, we had to be careful. Just letting a bunch of slaves go free wouldn’t do much good if they weren’t able-bodied enough to take care of themselves. I doubted the Osterway forces would have dragged along slaves who were infirm, very old, or very young—but I wasn’t going to take anything for granted.
The slaves being kept in those locked wagons were probably the most dangerous because they were the strongest and most capable. So, we’d start with them.
That night, as we closed in on the encampment, I realized I’d been wrong. There were young people among the slaves, some of them very young. The reason for it was made drearily clear as I watched several young girls, and a couple of boys, being dragged out of a wagon and pulled—several screaming and kicking—toward the tents housing the soldiers. A few more were forced in the direction of Egnor’s tent, and several nearby used by Huntsmen and the detachment of Blackwings. I had to look at the ground and, for a while, just count my heartbeats and wait for the pounding rage to subside. Flint kept her distance and just watched out as I worked my way through it.
I hadn’t thought I could hate these Osterway scum any more than I did. But just when I thought they’d reached the depraved bottom of what men could do, they showed me new, even fouler depths below it.
As the moon rose, Flint and I set off. Searing rage had become icy purpose; I used it to concentrate my attention, focusing on one group of wagons that a small rise in the ground effectively separated from the rest. We got close enough to take one last, confirmatory look around. The whole force was on much higher alert, with more sentries deployed, and more fires and torches burning. What they didn’t seem to know or care about was that by illuminating everything with firelight, they’d blinded themselves to anything happening beyond it. I touched Flint and pointed off to the left. She nuzzled me once, then started that way, immediately vanishing. I shifted my own position a little, taking up the place I’d chosen to use as my jumping-off point. Then I waited.
Time passed, enough that I started to worry about Flint. The wagons I’d chosen stayed silent and locked; more children were pulled screaming from another, further away. I gritted my teeth. I desperately wanted to change my objective and rescue the young people in those other wagons, but they were too far inside the perimeter, with too many soldiers around them.
Shouts rose across the encampment. A scream. Gunshots. More screams.
“You get ‘em, Flint,” I muttered, then broke cover, moving low and fast toward a pair of sentries and the wagons beyond them.
As I’d expected, having their night vision ruined by the fires and torches, they didn’t see me until I entered the light. By then, it was too late. One of the sentries raised a shotgun; I grabbed it, tore it out of his hands, and butt-slammed it into his face. Blood spattered and bone crunched. Swinging the gun like a club, I smashed it into the other sentry’s head, then dropped it, swept out my knife, and stabbed both before they could recover. This time, I didn’t aim for necks or eyes. I drove the blade into one’s groin, then the other’s, doing as much damage as I could. The one I’d struck first uttered a gurgling cry that probably would have been a shriek if his mouth wasn’t full of blood and teeth. Tactically, it wasn’t a good move. I should have just killed them both, quickly and quietly. It wasn’t about being tactical, though. It was about making a point and indulging, just for once, how I felt about these fucking animals.
Fortunately, the man’s bubbling wail didn’t travel far; the commotion on the far side of the encampment held the force’s attention, at least for the moment. I heard troops moving this way, though. That meant they’d dredged up enough discipline to at least try and protect themselves properly, and not assume the first attack on them was the only one. I ran, reaching the first wagon, and jumped onto the platform at the rear.
The door was barred, not actually locked. It was good enough to keep the slaves inside from getting out but did nothing to hamper me. I pulled the bar away, flung the door open, and shouted, “Run!”
There was movement inside, voices, but I didn’t wait. I raced to the next wagon, opened it, and shouted, “Run!” again. Then I went for a third. This time, when I threw the door open, a knife glittered back at me, sparking with firelight. Behind it was red hair, pale skin with freckles, and eyes that were strikingly green, even in the wan light. I deliberately looked past the knife at the face.
“Where’d you get that?” I asked. The blade drooped as she tilted her head to process my question.
“None of your business,” she snapped. “What matters is that I have it.”
“Want to stick it in someone who deserves it?”
She blinked. I could see realization dawning; I wasn’t a guard. Her lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile. “I’m listening. What do you have planned, and just who the hell are you?”
In answer, I pulled her out of the wagon, shouting for anyone else inside to come with us. “I’m Cus,” I said, as we headed for the darkness beyond the spill of firelight. “My hound and I are going to kill everyone in this army, free the slaves, and send these fucking people back over the hill. The ones that live, anyway.”
“Oh. I like big dreams. Good enough for me. I’m Nicolet. I’m a—well, I’m good at a lot of things.” A bullet cracked overhead. I noticed she ducked but didn’t actually wince. “You said you have a dog?”
“I do. A big one. But I don’t have her. We’re a team.”
We reached the gloom beyond the firelight and kept going. I heard more of the slaves I’d freed crashing into the brush and trees around us. I could only hope they got away and then could manage on their own in the wilderness. At least it was still glory season and the weather hadn’t turned yet.
“Can this dog be, um—can you pet this beastie?” Nicolet asked.
I glanced back at Flint as we pushed deeper into the bush. She was still raising hell well off to our left. A thin scream broke the night, and Nicolet raised her brow.
“Flint’s kinda busy at the moment,” I said, “but, yeah—she’s quite friendly.”
After another scream Nicolet grinned. “Not to these assholes she isn’t, I guess.” Looking in Flint’s general direction, she added, “Good girl.”
We rendezvoused with Flint just as the moon was starting to ride low. I never had to worry about that; Flint would always eventually find me. Nicolet gawked at her as I checked her out for injuries; she actually had a deep furrow ploughed through the skin of her right hindquarter, the track of a bullet. Just a touch to the left and it would’ve slammed into her fully, a serious, probably fatal wound. That caught me and made me give her a hug before cleaning her up. Nicolet dove right in to help, apparently not just unfazed by Flint’s imposing size and teeth, but outright fascinated with her. She stroked and petted Flint while I cleaned the wound; the surprised look on Flint’s face made me chuckle.
Nicolet glanced at me. “What?”
“She’s not used to people not being instantly afraid of her.”
“Afraid of her?” Nicolet grabbed Flint’s head in both hands and rubbed the sides of it. Flint just closed her eyes and enjoyed the attention. “She’s adorable! How could anyone be afraid of her?”
“Ask your recent captors.”
“Oh. Yeah. Well, fuck them.”
We moved on, heading generally west, toward Watermanse. We’d pass by Venari’s main body first, though, and I wanted to get a look at it, so we headed for high ground south of where she’d encamped. As we did, we encountered some of the slaves I’d freed, a few singly, and one small group. After working around their wary—and understandable—skittishness, I urged them to keep heading west, to Watermanse.
“You want to fight back against those scumbags that had you in those wagons?” I said to the group, as we crouched in a hollow among some old oaks. “Go to Watermanse. They’ll arm you and you can join them in the coming battle.” Then I looked at each in turn and went on, “Or don’t. It’s up to you. You’re free now. That’s the important thing.”
As one, they all decided to strike out for Watermanse.
Free people make good allies.
I made the same offer to Nicolet, but she shook her head. “I think I’ll stick with you for now, if that’s okay. I’m thinking I’ll get a chance to kill me some Osterway sooner, rather than later.”
She grinned as she said it, but there was pain behind it. I wondered what the Osterway had done to her.
But I didn’t ask.
15
I should have grabbed the shotgun, I thought, the one I’d used to smash and club the sentries. It would have made a handy weapon for Nicolet, who really wanted in on the fight against Osterway. And who could blame her?
I stared at the patrol creeping through the darkened bush a dozen paces away. There were four of them, all Huntsmen. I hated to admit it, but their fieldcraft was pretty good; they moved quietly, but not slowly, kept themselves aware of their surroundings, and communicated with quick, efficient hand signals. We’d been following them for a while now, with Nicolet hanging back, Flint with her, shepherding her along after me. I let the Huntsmen gain some ground, opening distance, then gave a soft whistle, bringing Flint and Nicolet forward. We had a brief conversation, the essence being for Nicolet to wait here while Flint and I did what we needed to do.
It took a while to set up, but Flint and I were able to maneuver to put her behind them, me slightly ahead and to one flank. When Flint lunged at the rear man, taking him down, I moved in fast and got stuck among the other three. After a brief whirlwind of combat, all four were down and we were on our way back to Nicolet with serviceable carbine. I’d also grabbed a machete, which I offered to her.
“Not as easy to hide as that knife of yours, I’m afraid.”
She examined the machete with a wicked smile. “Oh, I’m done hiding weapons. This is perfect.”
Her smile had an edge to it as keen as the machete’s. I didn’t envy any Osterway men who crossed her path.
I’d also learned another useful fact—the Huntsmen were skilled stalkers and trackers, very stealthy and quick, but if they were any better as warriors, it was because they were better disciplined and more attentive. Their actual fighting skills were good, but not great. Venari obviously did favor quantity over quality. I’d actually been thinking about breaking contact entirely and returning to Watermanse with everything I’d learned, but I decided to spend another day out here, doing whatever damage we could before heading back.
Once Nicolet had strapped on the machete and had a chance to check out the carbine, we got moving again.
I was mindful of the fact that we were now essentially pinched between two Osterway forces—Egnor’s camped to the south and east, and Venari’s main body hunkered down near the shore of Le’kemeshaw to the north. We moved in on the latter, because I wanted to know about it.
We got close, and right away I could tell it was a lot larger than Egnor’s detachment. Just the number of watchfires burning was enough to tell me that. Moreover, they weren’t camped in a circular, all-round defense, but were extended along the lakeshore, probably still in their column of march. It would allow them to get moving much faster when they finally set out.
I had to tell Nicolet to stay here, while Flint and I went in. She balked and glared at me, but I held up a hand. “You’ll get your chance. Right now, though, Flint and I need to concentrate, without distractions.” I gave her a smile. “And you’re definitely a distraction.”
She was. Something about how she was cute, rather than beautiful, and charged with a fiery anger that said she generally didn’t put up with shit. Captivity must have been hell for her. Probably for her captors, too.
She glanced down at herself and, despite her flash of anger, gave me a thin smile back. “You can’t be serious. I’m filthy.”
“So we’ll get you a bath. Meantime, though, wait here. Oh, and if we’re not back by sunrise, head to Watermanse . . . or wherever else you might want to go. Just don’t stick around here.”
She finally gave a quick nod, and Flint and I set out, heading for Venari’s encampment.
I saw Flint almost bite clean through the arm of an Osterway sentry; the one I’d just stabbed in the throat went down without a sound, but Flint’s man screamed.
Everything suddenly went to shit.
I knew Flint had meant to tear out his throat, her favorite kill, because it was quick and quiet. Somehow, though, Flint’s man had been able to react—he’d caught some incidental noise, or even just happened to turn at the wrong moment. It happened. The scream became a chorus of shouts, then a gunshot. Then we were taking fire from at least three different places just inside the perimeter. Venari’s troops were ready and responsive in a way Egnor’s hadn’t been. Either Egnor had gotten word to her about Flint and me, so she’d set up better security, or Venari was just more diligent.
A bullet cracked past my head, leaving my ear ringing. Those questions were going to have to wait.
Flint and I turned and ran.
There wasn’t anything elegant about it. Sometimes, though, running away was really the best option. I always made sure I had a route out of trouble as clear in my mind as the routes into it, so we raced back into the bush, bullets snapping and cracking around us, splinters and bits of bark erupting from the trees. Again, the Osterway force had lit liberal fires and torches, so once we were outside the ring of light, they were shooting blind. Still, a lucky shot—unlucky for us—could ruin the day, so we kept going, zigging and zagging a bit as we moved, plunging downhill through bush along the route I’d already chosen. The shooting behind us stopped.
Shouts replaced it, followed by the racket of thrashing leaves and snapping branches.
They were chasing us.
Ballsy. Chasing at least two, clearly dangerous opponents—and, as far as Venari’s troops knew, there could be more—into the bush, at night. Flint had already slowed, anticipating me, ready to go to ground and spring an ambush on our pursuers. I slowed, too.
But it was too risky. Venari was either really aggressive, really pissed, or both. We had no idea how many had come after us. It might itself be a set-up, maybe intended to get us engaged while the much stealthier Huntsmen moved to cut us off. Flint and I might be far superior to these thugs one-on-one, but as I’d heard a trader say, quoting some ancient general, quantity has a quality all its own.
I gestured to Flint and we kept moving. And, sure enough, I caught site of a squad of Huntsmen closing in from the east, my tech showing their body heat glimmering against the cold bush. There was some coordination here—a plan. Again, Venari was ready for us.
If there’d been only a few Huntsmen, we might have taken them on, but there were eight. Flint and I kept going, stealthy but fast, pushing a ways south of where we’d left Nicolet before splashing into a stream, turning, and doubling back.
“I heard a lot of shooting,” Nicolet whispered when we reached her.
I was already gesturing for her to follow; we weren’t staying.
“I’m assuming you two were the cause of it?” she said.
“That we were,” I said, then we got moving again.
Right away, Nicolet stopped us. “Wait,” she said, “aren’t we heading the wrong way, east? I thought you wanted to get back to Watermanse. That’s west.”
I shook my head. “West is the direction they’ll expect us to go. And Venari’s obviously a lot smarter than Egnor. I could see her already having patrols and observation posts out that way, to keep an eye on Watermanse, if nothing else. For now, we go east.”
She made a hmph sound, then nodded. “Makes sense.”
When we got to the rear
of the column, I heard more commotion. Finding a high spot, we were able to see what was going on inside the ring of Osterway firelight. A massive, bull-like man on horseback roared orders at a throng of what must be slaves and overseers. Somebody important, I thought, but I wasn’t sure who.
“Fucking Zagros,” Nicolet hissed.
I glanced at her. Zagros—Kai had mentioned him. Venari’s chief lieutenant and advisor, and Egnor’s father. Venari hadn’t held anything back from this little expedition of hers, had she?
“You sure that’s him?” I asked.
She nodded. “Certain, yeah. He and Egnor argued over who . . . who would get to have me.” She stopped and swallowed. “Fucking animals, acting like I’m some scrap of meat they can squabble over.”
She stopped again, wiped her eyes, then glanced at Flint and forced a smile. “Sorry, girl,” she said. “Calling them animals is an insult to you.”
Flint leaned in and licked her face, making her laugh. I touched her arm.
“You’re away from them, Nicolet. And, more than that, you’re out here, looking in, and you’re armed. Time’s coming when you’ll get your vengeance.”
She gave me a tight nod. “Vengeance. Yeah. That would go a long way to improving my mood.”
I looked back at the Osterway force; as I did, I caught more lights, past the encampment and out in the lake. I pulled out the spyglass and looked at them; the device didn’t just magnify things to make them easier to see, it also seemed to gather more light at night. Lights, yes. There were several small boats anchored just offshore from the encampment. They were right on the edge of my tech’s apparent limit of being able to see heat. So Venari had a navy, too—a small one, anyway, all of the boats much smaller than the ones they’d tried to steal. Okay, here was another new factor to consider.
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