Dannen himself was out of practice on riding horses—much the same way he was out of practice in pretty much everything—and it made for an uncomfortable, saddlesore ride. By the time the sun began to sink below the horizon, he was gritting his teeth against the pain in his legs and back.
All in all, it was one of the most miserable experiences of his life—and that against some stiff competition—and he thought that there was no possible way things could get worse. Which, of course, was always wrong.
It was nearly dark by the time he spotted a likely clearing a short distance from the road and called for a halt. The others agreed quickly enough—or at least, Fedder did. The rest were too busy scowling, wincing, or making flirtatious comments to argue, and Dannen—his thighs and back aching abominably—decided to take that as assent.
He dismounted carefully, painfully, and it was only by a sheer act of will that he managed to keep his legs from buckling beneath him. The others followed suit, though if they were experiencing any of the agony plaguing Dannen, they hid it well. He led them into the clearing where they tethered the horses and prepared a campfire for this far north the air was cold enough that their breaths plumed in front of them in great clouds.
Soon, they were all sitting around the campfire, eating some of the dried meat and drier bread they had purchased in the village. They remained silent for some time as they ate, long enough that Dannen had cause to hope that the day, as miserable as it had been, might pass without a murder after all.
That was when the bandit woman spoke. “Well,” she said, stretching out her legs, “that was a fine ride. Do you enjoy riding?” she glanced at Tesler, a small smile on her face.
Tesler, though, the poor fool, seemed completely unaware of the woman’s innuendo, and he smiled. “Sometimes, though I feel badly for the mounts. It has been a long day, and they the ones who have done all the work.”
Dannen could have argued that point, for his legs and back felt like they had done work aplenty, but he didn’t get the chance, for the red-haired woman let out a tinkling, musical laugh, running a hand through her long fall of auburn hair. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them so much, Tesler. After all,” she said, her smile widening, “it isn’t always so bad—being mounted, I mean.”
Dannen figured the man would had to have been a complete fool to have missed the implications of that and, yet, judging by the way he nodded thoughtfully, he seemed to. Mariana, though, did not, and she let out a hiss of disgust.
“Been mounted a lot, have you?” she snapped.
The woman turned to glance at her with an effortless disdain, as if a dog had just had the audacity to sit down at a banquet table and begin licking the main course. She shrugged coquettishly. “From time to time. You should try it—it’s a great way to relieve stress, and you, my dear, seem to have more than your share.”
“I’ve got another idea of how I might relieve it,” Mariana hissed.
“Oh?” the woman asked, and though she still smiled, Dannen noted that her eyes flashed in challenge. “Please, share it.”
Mariana started to rise then—no doubt meaning to do just that—but paused as Dannen grabbed her wrist, pulling her back down. He didn’t much want to put himself between two angry women—if there was a better recipe for misery he couldn’t think of it—but Tesler was too busy studying the ground at his feet and Fedder too busy smiling and studying the two women themselves to do it, and so that left him.
“Enough, both of you,” Dannen growled. The two women spun to look at him, both clearly shocked that he would have interposed himself between them—and he sharing every ounce of that shock. “Look,” he ventured in a kinder tone as he met each of their eyes, thinking it was likely too late but still deciding to try his best not to get the shit kicked out of him, “it’s been a long day, alright? We’re all sore and tired and the gods know we’ve got enough problems without going looking for some more. So how about we just take it easy and get some sleep, sound good?”
The two women stared daggers at each other. “You’re right, of course,” Arabelle said.
“Sounds perfect,” Mariana snapped.
Dannen sighed. Well, he’d tried, hadn’t he? Nobody could say he hadn’t. And he was still alive, all his parts in their proper places, so he supposed it wasn’t a total loss. In fact, Mariana and Arabelle seemed to have forgotten his presence altogether. He rose, shaking his head tiredly. “I’m going to bed.”
No one said anything, Tesler too distracted trying to remain distracted, the two girls building up to killing each other, and Fedder grinning widely. Dannen sighed again, then walked toward his bedroll, clapping his hand on the mage’s shoulder as he did and drawing his attention. “Don’t let them kill each other, alright?”
Fedder glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know if I’m prepared to try to stop them if they do, Butcher. Still,” he said, grinning, “only thing better than a cat fight has to be bein’ in the middle of it, huh? Two pretty girls like that, why…a man could have a pretty good time of it, couldn’t he?”
Dannen didn’t think things were going to go the way the mage seemed to be imagining it, but he nodded. “Oh, sure, a great time.” If, of course, that person loved the idea of horrific physical pain. But he left it there, moving to his bedroll and lying down. If the women were going to kill each other, then they were going to kill each other. Either he and the others would be without a guide, or they would be without an incredibly skilled fighter only days before they planned on taking on an entire army of the undead. Either way, he figured he was going to need his rest.
***
Mariana seethed as she watched Dannen lie down in his bedroll, turning his back to the others. She wanted to scream. The man was so willing to close his eyes and rest when the woman who, only a few days ago, had accepted a job to kill them was sitting less than a dozen feet away. And as oblivious to the danger as Dannen was, Fedder was even worse, far too busy—even now—eyeing the woman like a piece of meat to see the danger she represented. It was as if they were both blind to it, as if only Mariana could see the woman for who she truly was.
And all that was before you even began to consider the flirtatious comments and inviting glances—about as subtle as a hammer to the face—that the woman kept shooting in Tesler’s direction, the man himself smiling like a fool, his face flushing the way it did. A handsome face, she had to admit, but one that she would have liked to have put her fist into just then.
Even now, the woman was staring at him, licking her lips for the gods’ sake, and as Mariana watched, she said something too low for her to hear. Tesler laughed, and the woman reached over, putting her hand on his thigh.
“How far did you say we are?”
Tesler, Arabelle, and Fedder all turned to look at her, a surprised expressions on their faces which confused her until she realized she had shouted the question. The woman’s surprise faded a moment later, and she gave Mariana a small, knowing smile. “I’m sorry, what’s that, love?” she asked.
Mariana gritted her teeth. “I’m not your love. And I asked you how much longer until we reach the capital.”
The woman seemed to consider that, taking her time, then shrugged. “A few days, I suppose.”
“And then you’ll leave.”
It wasn’t really a question, but the woman chose to treat it like one. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, then paused as if to consider again. “Although, might be I’ll stick around for a little while longer.” She turned and glanced at Tesler with an innocent expression on her face. “Would that be alright?”
The man cleared his throat, glancing between her and Mariana. “I…that is…”
“Well, of course you can stay,” Fedder said, grinning, “just as long as you like, how’s that?”
The woman nodded, her eyes never leaving Tesler—indeed, staring at him as if he’d been the one who’d spoken. “I might like that,” she said, smiling that damned inviting smile that showed off her damned perfect teeth
.
Gods, how Mariana would have liked to knock some of those perfect teeth down her throat. “No,” she said, or growled, really, the word out of her mouth before she even realized she’d meant to say it.
The woman arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her. “No?”
“You heard me,” Mariana snapped.
“Well,” the woman said slowly, an apologetic smile on her face, “I’m not certain that is your decision to make, dearie.”
“Dearie?” Mariana growled. The next thing she knew, she was on her feet, her hands on the handles of her weapons. “How dare you—”
“Relax, young one,” the woman said, and never mind the fact that she was perhaps, at most, five years older than Mariana. “I’m sure I don’t know what it is that I’ve done to offend you,” she went on, her voice oozing with false innocence, “but I’m sorry, truly.”
“Don’t know what you’ve done?” Mariana demanded. “You tried to kill us!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” the woman said, waving a hand. “Of course I wouldn’t have killed you.”
“No,” Mariana spat, “probably one of your men would have.”
“I’ll admit I’m not perfect,” the woman said, then paused to shoot an apologetic look at Tesler who was staring wide-eyed between the two of them. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, but I’m a bandit, not a murderer. We would have simply made it appear as if we killed you, taken that old bastard’s money—yours too, if I’m being honest, though considering I had to pay for the horses I’m thinking I would have been disappointed—then sent you on your way.”
Mariana snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“As I said,” the woman repeated, shooting Tesler a pleading look, “I’m a bandit, not a murderer.”
Mariana hissed. “Tell that to the innkeeper your men killed.”
Arabelle frowned and this time her expression, at least, appeared genuine. “I had nothing to do with that and, as I believe I said, the man who did was to be punished.”
“A man who wouldn’t have even been there if not for you!”
Mariana and the woman glared at each other, Mariana’s hands on her weapons, the woman’s fingers playing at the hilt of the sword sheathed at her waist, a sword Dannen had allowed her to keep despite Mariana’s objections.
“Well,” Fedder spoke into the tense silence. “I guess that’s me to bed then.”
Mariana watched out of the corner of her eye—she didn’t dare take her gaze away from the woman who would likely take such carelessness as an invitation to attack—as the mage moved to his bedroll and lay down.
“Perhaps,” Tesler ventured, “I should—”
“And what about you?” the woman demanded. “Are you so innocent? Some perfect woman who has never made a mistake? Yes, I’m a bandit, I’ve admitted it. And what about you? What’s your profession?”
Mariana winced, even through her anger. “It doesn’t matter what—”
The woman interrupted her with a harsh laugh. “Doesn’t it? Oh, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you move, the way you keep fingering those weapons at your side. Unless I completely miss my guess, you’re an assassin.”
“And so what if I am?” Mariana snapped.
The woman rolled her eyes. “And how many people have you killed for money, then? You’re no better than me, dearie,” she went on. “In fact, I’d say you’re a damn sight worse. Sure, we both get paid to do people harm, but at least when I’m done with them, they’re still alive!”
“That’s it,” Mariana hissed, drawing her weapons. She started forward, toward the woman who drew her own blade, a grim smile on her face as she waited.
“Enough!”
The voice echoed through the clearing, powerful, authoritative, and Mariana spun, thinking at first that it had been Dannen, the man woken from their argument. A moment later, though, she realized that it hadn’t been Dannen after all, but Tesler. He’d risen and was standing between them, a hand held out to each of them as if to keep them back.
It was so uncharacteristic of the man, not just the action itself, but the anger she’d heard in his voice, that Mariana froze in her tracks, staring, her eyes wide.
“Tesler,” she said, “she—”
“Enough, Mariana,” he said, not shouting, but nearly so. “Just stop, alright? She’s a bandit—so what? You’re an assassin and what difference does any of it make? She’s helping us, and Dannen’s right. We’ve got enough problems already without fighting with each other.”
“I’m sorry, Tesler,” Arabelle said softly, “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. Perhaps it would be better if I left. Probably if I go back the others won’t take me—the attack on the village was a failure, and they’ll blame it on me.” She gave a soft laugh. “Probably, they’ll kill me. Still, I could try. I don’t want to cause any trouble between—”
“Of course you’re staying,” Tesler said with a voice that brooked no argument. “It’s best for you and best for us too. After all,” he went on, frowning at Mariana, “without Arabelle’s help, we’d probably walk right by the capital without ever knowing it.”
Mariana had never heard the man speak so, not since she’d known him, had come to think of Tesler as a quiet, soft-spoken man, shy. But he did not look shy or soft-spoken now. “Tesler,” she began, surprised by the hurt in her voice, “I didn’t mean—” She cut off when she saw the woman smiling a knowing smile at her, and her anger came rushing back.
“Damn you—” she said, starting forward again, and this time Tesler stepped directly in front of the woman, turning so that both of his hands were in front of him, blocking Mariana.
“Stop it, Mariana!” he shouted.
She winced at the anger, the disgust in his voice. A mixture of emotions ran through her then, shame and anger and regret. She opened her mouth, meaning to apologize, to maybe say more than that, but the woman was still smiling that confident, arrogant smile at her, so instead she let out a hiss. “Fine,” she spat, surprised by the thick emotion in her own voice. Then she turned and stomped to her bedroll, slipping inside and turning away.
Mariana was not a sentimental person—few assassins were, something that was likely not a surprise to anyone—and so when she felt wetness on her face she glanced up at the sky, thinking that it must have started raining.
It had not.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The next few days were a special kind of misery for Dannen. He wasn’t sure what had transpired between the two women and Tesler, but whatever it had been, it hadn’t done much to quell the obvious dislike and distrust between them. In fact, he thought it a wonder that they both managed to sit their horses without constantly falling off, so distracted were they by the murderous glares they shot each other, always when Tesler wasn’t looking. That was bad, of course, but what was more worrisome for Dannen were the looks he saw Mariana shooting at Tesler from time to time.
Not just angry looks these, but ones full of regret and something else, something he hesitated to call love, not because he didn’t think it was true but simply because he hoped it wasn’t. Still, as uncomfortable as it all was, he decided that it was better not to get involved. Partly because he didn’t care but mostly because he thought that he had plenty of people trying to kill him already and there was really no need to go out and recruit more.
So the three traveled on in near silence, only speaking when they had to and that as little as possible, the tension seeming to grow so thick in the air with each day, with each hour that passed, that Dannen began to feel as if he had to chew each breath he took. As the days dragged on he grew increasingly concerned, but unfortunately there was no one to share his concerns with. For Fedder, like always, remained completely oblivious of the deteriorating morale of the others, whistling and laughing and telling crude jokes, completely undaunted by the fact that no one laughed.
By the third day, Dannen was beginning to think that death to an undead horde might not be so terribl
e after all. That was when they reached the battlefield.
He smelled the bodies before he saw them.
“Oh, gods,” Mariana said, bringing a hand to her nose and mouth, “what is that?”
It was the most the woman had said in three days, and Dannen frowned. “I don’t know.” Only he did, and a quick glance at Fedder’s grim expression showed that the mage knew as well. There was only thing that smelled like that—the dead. And based on the thickness of the smell, there were a lot of them.
Dannen remembered that the undead, too, had smelled as badly, and he turned around, sure that he would discover an undead horde behind them. But he saw nothing and—considering the treeless fields surrounding them in all directions and the fact that they stood halfway up a rise in the road, he could not have missed one had it been near.
“Best the three of you stay here,” he said to the others before turning to Fedder, motioning with his chin at the second part of the rise, the one that would lead them to the top of the hill and whatever view might await them there. “Ready?”
Fedder’s expression was grim, but he gave a nod. “Ready as I’ll be, I reckon.”
Dannen grunted. “Good enough.”
“You don’t…shouldn’t we come with you?” Tesler asked, clearly not wanting to.
Dannen pretended to consider. “Nah. Best you all stay, keep a lookout.”
“A lookout for what?” Tesler asked.
Dannen bit back a curse. Here he was, trying to save the man from what he thought they were likely to find, and, like a drowning man kicking and punching his would-be savior in his panic, Tesler was making his job all the more difficult. “Well. You know,” Dannen said, “anything bad.”
And then, before the man could ask him another question and force the truth from him, Dannen started away, the broad-shouldered mage beside him. They said nothing as they walked, both trying to prepare themselves for what they would find. They reached the top of the hill quickly, far quicker than Dannen would have preferred, and he grunted, feeling as if the air had been knocked from him as he stood surveying the land below the hilltop.
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