The look on Warren’s face was priceless. He leaned forward to say something, but Heather shook her head. Whatever he had to say probably wasn’t that important, and she didn’t want to risk alerting anyone.
She drew her belt knife, sure that her sword wouldn’t be needed for this. Her plan was simple, kill the sentries even before they knew someone else was there.
For the first time, Heather really considered what she was about to do. She’d killed many times before and probably would again, but that was different. Killing a man in a fair fight is one thing, but stabbing a drunk man who doesn’t even know you’re there is something totally different.
Warren was watching her, studying her. He seemed to be able to read her thoughts. He leaned in close and whispered, “I can do it. I can do both of them.”
Heather considered letting him. It would be so easy, but then she shook her head. “No,” she whispered back to him, “you take the one that’s closest, and I get the other one. Give me a moment to work my way around and get in place.”
After a moment he nodded.
There was concern in his eyes and that was beginning to anger her. He might be a Fae, but she was a Guardian. She was more than capable of handling herself. She got up without another word and began silently moving around to the far side.
Time was of the essence, and Heather moved quickly through the brush. The fools made it easy for her by singing. She doubted whether they could keep singing if they suspected anything.
It only took her several moments to get into place and then she paused, kneeling down in the shrubs just behind the two sentries. She couldn’t see Warren and had no idea where he had gotten to. She silently cursed herself for not arranging some sort of signal. The Guardians were all taught different animal sounds that could be used as signals, but Warren wasn’t a Guardian.
She hovered there, unsure of what to do. She felt certain that she could kill her man, and she might even be able to kill both, but she wasn’t sure. She would hate for one of them to raise the alarm.
As she hesitated, she saw Warren’s form rise from the shadows near the road. She stared in confusion; there wasn’t enough bushes between the men and the road for him to hide. How had he gotten there without the men seeing him?
“What?” One of the sentries said, trying to focus his eyes on Warren.
The word spurred Heather to action and she bolted from her hiding place. Both sentries were watching Warren in mute astonishment and Heather didn’t hesitate. She drove her knife horizontally into her man’s back; aiming for the heart.
The man jerked and his head arched backwards. Heather was sure he was opening his mouth to scream and she instinctively wrapped her arm around him, covering his mouth.
Heather could feel his struggles weaken quickly, and only then did she really think about what she had done. She’d killed a man from the shadows. Disgusted, she let the man fall forward; he landed hard on his face and didn’t move.
She looked to her left, Warren had done his part – the second sentry was also dead. Warren hadn’t used a knife, but rather his sword. He’d swiped the man across the throat, nearly severing his head in the process.
For just a moment Heather thought she might be sick.
“Are you all right?” Warren asked.
Once again his words caused her to get her back up. She nodded at him. “Yes, he’s not the first man I’ve ever killed.”
“As you say. What now?”
Heather motioned with her bloody knife. “Go get the horses. I’m going to go ahead a ways and make sure the road is still clear.”
Heather moved quietly, trying to remain in the shadows. She didn’t expect any more trouble, but that was usually when trouble found her.
Several times she stopped and listened, but she heard nothing. She started to move forward but something held her back. She wasn’t sure where the feeling came from, but something just felt wrong.
She waited several long moments and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
She began moving forward again, albeit slowly. She was just passing a large tree that hung over the road when something detached itself from the shadows and moved toward her.
She reacted on instinct, drawing her knife and swinging it. The knife struck home and there was a muffled curse; then something plowed into her. She hit the ground hard and lay there, dazed.
“You bitch!” a deep voice called at her.
Heather raised her head, looking at the hulking form that towered over her. It was a man, but he was huge. Muscles bulged across his arms and chest. His head was bald and his nose looked flat, smashed in. A thin, bloody line ran across his left arm; the cut didn’t appear to be that bad.
He stared down at her for several long moments and then he looked to the west, toward where the two sentries had been. “Where are Dergin and Mickla?”
“Who?” Heather asked.
“There were two men back that way, along the road. Did you see them?”
Heather shook her head. “Uh-huh.”
The large man watched her and then he smiled. “Liar.”
Heather swallowed hard. The big oaf wasn’t as dumb as she had thought. She began scooting away on her back but the man took two quick steps forward. He was nearly upon her when Warren stepped between them.
Heather slumped in relief and then twisted her head, half expecting to see their four horses in the middle of the road, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Warren held up a hand as if to ward the attacker away.
Like Heather, the big man seemed surprised at Warren’s sudden appearance. “Where’d you come from?” he asked in confusion.
Warren’s answer was to drop his hand to his sword hilt.
The large man took that as a signal to charge. He rushed Warren with his head down sending the Fae sprawling.
Heather rolled over onto her hands and knees and tried to draw her knife. She was rewarded with a backhand to the face that sent her falling back to the ground.
Once again, Warren saved her. Somehow he found his feet and jumped between Heather and the man. The man aimed a blow at Warren but somehow the Fae caught the man’s wrist. Warren twisted it and then, something strange happened.
For several heartbeats, time almost seemed to stop. Heather couldn’t explain it any better than that. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion and a feeling of falling came upon her. Then, as if by sorcery, the large man was picked up off his feet and thrown hard against the large tree. He hit with such force that Heather thought he might snap the tree in two, but he simply fell to the ground accompanied by the sounds of snapping bones.
“What did you do?” Heather gasped. In her surprise she spoke louder than she meant to, but there didn’t appear to be anyone in hearing distance.
Warren didn’t answer. He remained standing but he began to sway.
Heather hurriedly climbed to her feet, her face still stinging from where the man had slapped her. She barely got to Warren in time as he almost fell flat on his face.
“Warren?” Heather repeated. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” he answered softly, so softly that she nearly didn’t hear him. “Get me to my horse,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Heather started to steer him back toward their camp, where the horses still waited.
“Wait,” Warren said, “leave me here. Go get the horses and we’ll leave from here.”
“Leave? What do you mean leave? You can’t travel.”
“I have to. Did you forget about the other men at camp?”
In truth Heather hadn’t really forgotten about them; Warren’s health had driven the thought of them from her mind.
Warren pushed her away and stumbled a few feet off the road, where he sat down in the shadows. “Hurry,” he said.
Heather ran toward their camp, all thoughts of being quiet gone. It was possible the third man had simply been checking on the two drunk sentries, but she simply didn’t know.
&n
bsp; She ran down the road a short distance and then half-ran, half-stumbled through the brush to their camp. All four horses watched as she slid to a halt next to the picket line.
She was immensely relieved that the horses were saddled and their packs were tied up on their remounts.
Casting one more look around their camp, Heather was pleased to see nothing amiss. Nothing was unaccounted for and the fire had gone out.
Not wanting to waste a single moment, Heather whipped out her knife and cut the line that the horses had been tied to. She then grabbed their bridles and lead lines and led the horses to the road.
The trip back through the brush went much slower than her mad dash to the camp. The whole time that she patiently led the horses to the road, thoughts of Warren being found by the other mercenaries kept playing through her mind. She wasn’t exactly sure what had happened in their fight with the third man, but somehow Warren had probably saved both their lives.
Reaching the road, Heather jogged back eastward. The horses reluctantly broke into a slow canter behind her.
She was still a ways short of where she thought she had left Warren when he rose up from the shadows on the side of the road.
Surprised, Heather skidded to a halt quickly. So quickly, in fact, that the horses either couldn’t or simply didn’t stop in time. They cantered past her, jerking her forward and nearly making her fall flat on her face.
Warren raised both hands and grabbed the nearest bridle, whether to steady himself or to stop the horse, Heather was unsure.
“Whoa,” he called quietly. He spoke nonsense in a reassuring way to the horse.
Heather noticed with disgust that the damn animal seemed to like his friendly mutterings. “How are you?” she asked. He still looked wobbly, but he seemed to be more stable on his feet.
“Fine,” he answered. “I’ll be fine. I’m just really exhausted.” He reached for his horse’s saddle horn and took a deep breath. “Let’s get mounted and get past those other mercenaries.”
Heather watched Warren struggle into the saddle and then she quickly mounted her own horse. She nudged her horse closer to Warren’s. “What did you do?” she asked for the second time since the fight.
Warren didn’t look at her, but kept his eyes on the road. He gave his horse a soft kick with his heel and they started forward. It didn’t appear that he even intended to acknowledge her question.
“Warren?” Heather said, starting to get annoyed. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” he said softly. Finally he did glance her way. “What I did is not something that we talk about to others. I will not say more.”
Heather opened her mouth to say that wasn’t good enough, but at that moment Warren kicked his horse for a second time, this time much harder. His horse sprang forward and the other three followed quickly.
They gave their horses their heads and let them charge down the road. Running flat-out at night wasn’t something that Heather would normally do, but they were traveling the Eastern Road and it was one of the four main roads of Telur. It was nothing if not well-maintained.
The horses responded well and ran at a great pace for nearly half an hour. At that point, Heather thought the risk of meeting mercenaries from the camp had diminished enough to walk the horses to give them a brief respite. They remained in the saddle, but just slowed the pace down.
The walk probably lasted for a mile or two, Heather hoped it would be enough for the horses to cool off. When it came time to speed up, they only got their horses into a gallop not a sprint. It was a steady pace, and one that the horses could maintain for a long time.
They rode for the next several hours until the sun came up, then they paused and ate a small, cold breakfast from their supplies.
Heather was beginning to worry about Warren. He rode slumped over in his saddle like he was ill. On several occasions, Heather thought he was about to fall off his horse, but he never did.
When they stopped for breakfast, the sun was just rising over the eastern horizon. She led them a short way off the road and they dismounted in a small grove of trees. Well, she dismounted while Warren seemed to do a controlled fall.
“Are you all right?” she asked. It was the first thing they had said since they began their late night run.
Warren’s answer was a wave of his hand. He took his pack and moved farther into the grove.
Heather remained with the horses. She moved the saddles from the two they had ridden through the night to the two remounts, just in case they needed to leave quickly. Then she gave all four horses water and a small amount of oats.
The horses taken care of, Heather moved farther into the grove, looking for Warren. She found him seated with his back resting against a tree trunk. His eyes were closed and he looked to be asleep, or perhaps dead. She opened her mouth to ask about his health again, but closed it before speaking. He insisted he was all right, and he refused to discuss whatever it was he had done last night. So be it.
Heather moved over and sat down a few feet from Warren. She had brought her pack with her and she opened it and began digging through it.
Warren’s eyes opened and he blinked at her.
“Were you asleep?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m exhausted. Are we going to make camp here?”
Heather shook her head. “No. We have to go on.”
Warren groaned.
“Those mercenaries had to find those dead sentries by now, and they might be on our trail,” Heather added. “We have to ride until at least the afternoon.”
Sighing, Warren nodded. “As you say.”
Heather watched him for a moment, but all he did was close his eyes and recline his head against the tree.
Shrugging, Heather started eating her meager breakfast. The bread was stale and she dearly wished for a fire; toasted, stale bread was much better than just stale bread, but a fire was out of the question.
Heather ate her food and then quietly got up to go find some water. Warren didn’t eat, but he seemed more in need of sleep than food anyway.
Heather remained on the edge of the grove, watching the road for travelers. She allowed them nearly half an hour of rest – it was the most she felt they could spare. In that time, she saw two farmers’ wagons heading east, but no sign of the mercenaries; for that she was immensely grateful.
Figuring they could waste no more time, Heather returned to the small grove and shook Warren awake.
He quickly climbed to his feet and seemed almost his old self. The clumsy stumbling was gone from his walk, or mostly anyway, and his eyes seemed the most alert since the fight last night.
He stood and stretched, groaning as his body creaked. “How long did I sleep?” he asked.
“Not long,” Heather answered. “I gave you as long as I thought we could spare.”
Rubbing his eyes, Warren yawned. “Any sign of those mercenaries?”
“No, but I still think we should be moving out.”
Warren nodded and moved stiffly toward the horses. He moved in a gingerly manner, like his whole body was sore. Nevertheless, he managed to climb into the saddle and sit nearly straight.
They rode throughout the day. Now that the sun was up and there was little worry of the mercenaries finding them, they traveled at a much more sedate pace. There were others out on the road, much to their delight, and Heather and Warren were just two more travelers. They stopped several times for short breaks to stretch their legs, but they ate lunch while in the saddle. It was late in the afternoon, as they rounded a curve of the road and pulled up short. Still several hours journey away, was the city of Goldwater.
Heather turned in astonishment to Warren, who was smiling broadly at her. “I thought we were at least another day’s ride from the city,” she said.
Warren’s smile only broadened. “I’m glad you were wrong.” He turned back to the east. “Do you think we can reach it before nightfall?”
Heather looked again. “It’d be tough,” she said. Wa
rren’s mood was infectious. The thought of a bed after sleeping on the ground for over a week was mighty uplifting. “If we picked up the pace, we might make it,” she said after a moment.
“By all means,” was Warren’s cheery reply.
Chapter 22
Heather and Warren pushed their poor horses, reaching the trading city of Goldwater at dusk. The guards were preparing to close the gates, but were allowing the late stragglers entry into the city. Just a bit later and they would have been locked out. Heather was sure that she could have forced entry, after all she did carry letters from the king, but she preferred to not draw attention to themselves. If Zalustus put sentries on the Eastern Road, then it was a good bet that he also had sentries inside the city of Goldwater.
The guards at the gates looked them over and waved them on inside.
Heather and Warren rode their horses slowly down the main street that led due east from the city gates and hadn’t even made it a hundred yards when they heard the gates creak closed.
“Fortuitous,” Warren said.
Heather agreed but didn’t bother replying. Instead, she kept her eyes forward, looking for a suitable inn for the evening. She fully expected that all the inns near the gates would be full and she wasn’t disappointed. It took them nearly an hour to find two rooms, and by this time they had gone into the heart of the city.
Goldwater was a large, spread-out city, but it had a relatively small, permanent population. A large portion of the buildings were for the trade goods that flowed through the city. In addition, large pens along the southern stretch of the city housed the enormous herds that were brought here and sold. With such a transient population, there was a sizable detachment of Telurian soldiers to maintain the peace.
The inn that Heather found was called The Horny Barbarian, and it immediately made her think of Enton. She pretended to cough several times as she covered her snorts of laughter.
A Gathering of Armies Page 21