by Aaron Pogue
"Untie my horse," I barked again. "And find my boots. And my purse!" I nearly forgot the last, and I meant it more to punish them than anything else. "Brady. Do it now. Old Jim, get over there."
The old man whimpered, but he didn't move. Brady took a half step toward me, hand extended in the sort of soothing gesture he might have used with a frightened horse. "Calm down, son."
"One more step and you lose that hand." It came out a growl.
He shook his head and took another step closer. "We can sort this out."
I put the arrow through the center of his palm. He screamed and fell, clutching his hand to his chest. I turned my next arrow to Old Jim, and forced my voice steady. "You're the only one left, Jim. Go and fetch my horse."
He nodded frantically, still sprawled on the dirt. Then after a long moment he pulled himself up to his hands and knees. Then to a crouch. He kept both hands extended toward me defensively and backed away. He didn't quite meet my eyes, either. Old Jim was treating me like the animal I was.
He scrabbled in one of their saddlebags for my boots and threw them to me. They fell with a plop about a pace short of me. I might have suspected it for a gambit, but Old Jim had already turned his attention to the horses. The other old man was still screaming.
Brady had calmed himself, though. I watched him. The arrowhead had torn cleanly through his hand, but the arrow had only gone a little more than halfway before getting lodged between the small bones. He stared at his hand with morbid intensity, jaw set like stone, and scooted two paces across the earth toward a large rock.
I saw what he intended about a heartbeat before he tried it. He meant to break the arrow's shaft so he could pull it free. He braced the fletching end of the arrow against the ground and the thin wooden shaft at an angle against the stone. Then he steeled himself. His whole body went rigid. He made a fist of his good left hand and swung it hard at the arrow shaft extending above the stone.
It didn't snap. It rocked with the blow, twisting his injured hand and grinding against the bone. We take pride in our craftsmanship at the Tower of Drakes. I listened to the sound of his agony even as I turned my attention back to Old Jim.
He had my purse in one hand and the reins of my horse in the other. He inched toward me like an old retainer, eyes still downcast, extending both hands forward in offering. I flicked my eyes to the other old man, but he was still writhing. I checked on Dal at my feet, but he was out cold. I met Old Jim's eyes, and he flinched as if I'd hit him.
"I should kill you all for what you tried to do to me," I said. "There shouldn't be men like you in the world."
Old Jim shrugged bony shoulders, eyes locked on the ground, and said, "There's far more like us than there are like you, little lord. You'll know that soon enough."
He waved his offerings toward me, the reins and the jingling bag of coins, and I could see he was anxious to be done with me. I wanted to be well clear of them, too. I didn't lower the bow, though. I jerked my head toward the other old man and said, "Money in the saddlebags. Then get over there by him." He did as I directed.
I flicked my eyes around the camp again. I had no desire to linger here, but I didn't much cherish the thought of turning my back on any of them, even beaten as they were. I heard a splintering crack from the direction of Brady, barely audible over his groans, but he'd finally gotten the arrow's shaft broken. He was hard as winter. I had to give him that.
I knelt over Dal and undid my sword belt with frantic one-handed gestures. I got it free and slung it into the same open saddlebag that held my purse. Then I darted forward to get my boots. They went in the bags, too. Brady and Old Jim behaved themselves, apart from the curses Brady spat at me. I scrambled up into the saddle, and when they still hadn't made a move, I finally breathed a long sigh of relief.
"You got less than you deserved," I cried. "I should have killed you all. If I ever see you again, I will. Know it."
Old Jim bowed his head. Brady tried to spit at me. I shook my head and pointed my horse north. The low ledge with its sad little tree stood at my left, the meandering bed of a dried old river some distance off to my right, and up ahead was nothing all the way to the Tirah road but scrub and boulders.
And then, out of nowhere, I faced a dozen mounted men. They moved through the darkness with barely a sound, coming forward at an easy walk, but I saw the glint of starlight on steel among them. I wheeled my horse back toward the camp, toward the firelight, hoping to bolt south and lose them in the rougher terrain. Brady's eyes opened wide in surprised terror, and he dropped the battered crossbow he'd scooped up, but my attention wasn't on him.
Another squad of mounted men was coming up from the south. No louder than the rustle of the wind, but ten men armored and armed. They had us surrounded. I turned west, toward the last gap, but before I touched my heels to the horse's flanks, a stern voice shouted out from the north.
"Stay where you are!"
I turned in my saddle to face the dozen coming from the north. Half of them rode with shortbows ready, and something in the set of their shoulders told me I'd be a fool to risk running. They looked calm but ready.
In the heart of the line was their leader, the one who had cried out in command. He sat tall in his saddle, eyes sharp as a hawk's despite his bored expression. He reminded me somehow of Caleb. Blond hair, fair skin only lightly darkened by the sun, and dressed in far heavier armor than Caleb would have been comfortable with. He looked nothing like my solemn shadow, and yet he put me much in mind of Father's friend. He met my eyes, and I knew this man would not hesitate to kill me.
I swallowed hard and lowered my weapon. I glanced back over my shoulder, half expecting to see Old Jim rising triumphant, but I found another dozen of the armed men swarming silently over the camp behind me. They fell on Brady and Old Jim and the others with every bit as much suspicious malice as they aimed at me.
I turned back to the leader. He sniffed disdainfully and said, "Drop the bow."
"I won't," I said, "and I'm not afraid to use it."
"I know that," he said. "I've watched your handiwork closely."
A grunt from behind me drew my attention, and I found the other warriors kneeling over Old Jim, binding his hands tight behind him. Brady was already bound and looking bruised, and the still-unconscious Dal was being slung over one of the waiting horses.
I looked back to the leader. "Who are you?"
"I'll ask the questions," he barked. "And I told you to drop that bow."
I heard it in his voice this time, and I realized what it was about him that put me so much in mind of Caleb. It wasn't the accent or timbre, but the tone, all rich with righteously arrogant authority. A light touch from my boots backed my horse a step away, and I watched six arrowheads follow me. They didn't jerk. They didn't shake any more than mine had.
I sighed and dropped the bow in the dirt, then turned my hands palms up for him. "I'm unarmed," I said. "And if you've seen my handiwork, you must know I'm not the bandit here. And I know you're a lawman. So let's be reasonable."
He cocked his head, apparently surprised at my deduction. Then he turned his head slightly to the right and said, "This one's dangerous. Can you take him off the horse without killing him?"
I felt the sudden acid sear of fear shooting through my arms and legs. I shouted, "What?"
Then a quiet voice answered him from the shadows beyond the line of soldiers. "I think so, Captain."
"Good enough," the captain said. "Take him down."
The shadow raised a hand and barked a word of power. Invisible force slammed against my chest like a full-arm quarterstaff swing. I flew from my saddle, and while I yet hung in the air I felt new forces coiling around me like a snake. Fashioned air pinned my arms to my sides and bound my legs together at knees and ankles.
I hit the ground hard enough that pain stabbed through my hips and back. My skull cracked against the earth so silver-white lights flashed behind my eyes.
He had a wizard! It was senseless to ev
en try, but I strained against the invisible bonds, and to my surprise they tore apart like paper. I felt the magic fall apart. The shadowy figure grunted as I struggled up to my knees, all too aware of the arrows still trained on my heart.
A new layer of binding magic wrapped around me, more like a blanket than fashioned chains this time, but once again I flexed my arms and broke the restraining pressure.
"Have him bound, Captain," the wizard croaked. His voice sounded strained.
"He gives you trouble?"
"I've never seen anything like it. He's...I don't...."
The captain didn't wait for a full explanation. He shouted orders, and half a dozen soldiers fell upon me, wrestling my arms behind my back and binding them with strong cords.
"Is he a wizard?" the captain asked.
"Would he have used a bow against the others?" the shadow answered. "I do not know."
"I am!" I shouted. The rope did not give at all, so I sat back on my heels and focused on my bluff. "I'm a mighty sorcerer, like my father before me. Let me go, or I'll destroy you all."
The guards unhanded me, turning their attention to the captain. They didn't shrink away or quail in fear, but they waited.
For his part, the captain did not laugh. He narrowed his eyes, considering me, and asked without turning, "Is it true?"
"It could be," the shadow answered, slow and uncertain. "And yet...there are no sorcerers. None. But I have never seen my structures melt like that."
"Yes or no?" the captain snapped. "Is he a threat?"
"I could be a powerful ally," I said. "If you would only let me go."
"Dellis?" the captain asked again.
"He is something fearsome, Captain. I can say no more. But I notice he has not yet broken mundane rope."
"I am giving you a chance," I growled. "If you drive me to use my power, you'll regret it." I strove to make the words cold and dispassionate, but I felt a quiet frenzy bubbling in the back of my head.
The captain urged his horse a step closer, eyes still boring into me. His boots crunched on the earth, closer, and then he said almost offhand, "Even a sorcerer is no threat when he is dead. Guards!"
Steel flashed and sword tips pressed against the soft skin of my neck and through the singed fabric of my shirt. Four blades menaced me, and at least one was drawing blood. I felt the small, hot stain of it just below my collarbone.
I tried to shrink away without moving. "No! I'm no threat. I'm not a sorcerer. I'm not a wizard. I'm nothing."
"He's something," the shadow insisted, but the captain shook his head.
"Stand down," he said, "and get him on his feet."
He waited while one of the guards heaved me upright, then the captain came forward to address me from one pace away.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I come from the Tower of Drakes. I am returning there. These men ambushed me and robbed me—"
He waved that away, uninterested. "You are young. And you are a long way from your tower."
"I traveled with the king's train to Cara, and now I am trying to return home. These men stole my horse and all my gear."
"And your boots as well," the captain said. "And one of the strangest swords I've ever seen. Have you taken a look at the sword, Dellis?"
"It is...interesting, yes. There is no magic to it, but it is strangely made."
The captain nodded, unsurprised. "You are a question, young man, and one I am not important enough to answer. Put him on his horse, but move his bags to one of ours."
I tried my bonds again as one of the soldiers pushed me forward, but the rope offered no give at all. I saw no merit in fighting them now. It was an awkward climb into the saddle, but once I was up I felt somewhat safer. I could direct my horse without my hands. If they just turned their attention away for a moment—
"Secure the horse with a lead to my own," the captain added, almost in afterthought. "I would like to keep an eye on him."
"Where?" I asked. "Where are you taking me?"
He measured me with his eyes for some time, then answered. "Tirah. My lord has a keen interest in the affairs of the king, and keener still in the Tower of Drakes. And in the kind of men who live there."
His eyes cut briefly to the wizard Dellis, still in shadows, then he turned on his heels. "Watch this one close, boys. If he makes a wrong move, kill him."
11. The Lord of Tirah
The captain wasted no more than moments issuing new orders to the squad tending to the wounded bandits, then my keeper handed him my horse's lead and the captain secured it to his saddle. He sent one short, appraising look skimming over everyone in the dell—his own men and the bandits and me—then nodded sharply.
"Good," he snapped. "Tirah by dawn. Hup!" Then he wheeled his horse and set off north at a good clip. Even with the lead I had to urge my horse with my heels to keep pace with him.
Behind us, the other squad was still busily searching and tearing down the bandits' camp. He'd clearly intended to leave them to straggle along after us, but I'd expected the soldiers from the squad who had arrested me to form up behind the captain and me. Instead, they disappeared into the darkness. I did notice the shadowy figure of the wizard fall in on the captain's other side, but the others were nowhere near us.
The captain kept a close eye on me for perhaps the first half mile, just long enough to make sure I wouldn't fall from the saddle with my hands tied behind me. Then he visibly relaxed. He rocked easily with the motion of his horse's gait, and his gaze fixed on something far away ahead of us. I could almost believe he was staring straight at the city walls.
My first thought had been to escape, but now I saw a better option. The captain clearly didn't fear me, and if he'd hated me he wouldn't have given me a horse. He had captured me to end a violent quarrel, but perhaps in the quiet calm of this long ride I could win him over. My gaze kept drifting to the saddlebag that held my sword. I heeled my horse a pace closer to his.
"Captain," I said softly. "I think perhaps I owe you an apology. I should not have threatened your men back there."
He only grunted in response, and it was half a laugh.
I ducked my head. "I owe you my gratitude, as well. I'd gotten myself into a dangerous situation—"
"We know Old Jim's crew well." He said it offhand, as though he hadn't even heard me. "Rumor has followed them all the way from the north coast, but we never got close enough to spot them before. Seen plenty of the corpses they left beside the way."
"And, again, I express my gratitude—"
"The fire caught our attention. Six days on the trail of this crew, and we'd long since lost the scent. Then a nuisance fire on the Cara road pulled us away."
"They robbed me there," I said. "They left me at the inn."
"And you hunted them across wild plains, ready to cut them down in the dark."
I turned to meet his eyes and dropped my attempts at meek submission. "I have suffered more than one misery in the last week. I want only to return home." I licked my lips and nodded to the pack that held my sword. "With what is mine."
"I hate to say it, but I cannot let you go."
"I am no threat to you or your lord. I will not harm anyone. I will not even stop to rest, only ride south until I am gone from your territory and safely in my own."
The captain turned his gaze back to the far horizon. "I hear the sincerity in your voice, but this matter is beyond me."
"I found you your bandits. You'd been hunting them for days, and I led you to them."
"And it will not be forgotten," he said gravely.
"Who would blame you if you let me get away? Take those men to justice, and you'll be praised."
He shook his head, cutting me short. "You've got an earnest spirit, child, but I cannot be swayed. I know what my lord wishes."
"The Lord of Tirah? I know about these lords. He would likely welcome me as a friend."
"You?"
"Oh, yes," I said. "My father served your city well."
"Did he, really? What service was this, then?"
Before I could answer, the wizard Dellis spoke from the captain's other side. "Enough! Interrogate the prisoner if you wish, Tanner, but do not let him plead his case. I am bound as much as you to see the Tower traitors brought back to Tirah."
"Traitors?" I snarled at him. "Those are strong words from a weak-willed magician slinking in shadows. My people are heroes and saviors."
The captain dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder. I hadn't realized I'd moved so close to him, but he pushed me out to arm's length. "Right now, you are a prisoner. And we have lords and Justices to settle matters such as this."
"Justices? In Tirah?" I asked.
"My master Seriphenes is as good as one," the wizard said. "And he shall see to you."
Seriphenes. The name hit me like a thunderclap. He was a villain out of my father's stories, not a real man, not someone I might meet. The captain watched me recoil in terror and then struggle to regain control, but his expression told me nothing. He only waited, apparently curious to see what I would do next.
I nearly tried to break and run, but this man would ride me down. I knew it for a fact. He looked kind and compassionate right now, but he would not lapse in his duty. There was too much of Caleb to him.
But staying with them only left me a trial before Seriphenes. Even a slim chance of escape—even a quick death at the captain's hand—might be preferable to that. Still the captain hadn't blinked. Still he watched my eyes.
I swallowed hard and asked, "Your lord is not a cruel man?"
"He is firm and fair. These times would brook no other."
"And this Justice Seriphenes—"
"Is three days' ride from here, at the Academy. And he is not an appointed Justice, but he will come to offer advice if my lord has need of him."
I closed my eyes and took an easier breath. "He will have no need. Your lord will set me free."
"Perhaps," the captain said. "That would be best for all."
"That will not happen," Dellis said with gleeful malice. "This boy defeated my workings in a way we've never seen before. The Masters will want to know more of that."