Midnight Quest

by Honor Raconteur

  Pursa gazed up at him for a long, wondering moment. “You don’t pity her at all, do you?”

  “Pity?” He snorted at the very idea. “She be no weak child, that one. I have seen her take on ministers, businessmen, and thrawn townsfolk—and win. The lass has the heart of a warrior. There be nothing to pity.”

  Pursa’s tight expression finally melted into a soft smile. “It’s true. Even when I dragged her from one end of the market to the other, she never once complained.”

  “Bad habit of hers, no complaining,” Rialt commiserated. “I have done my best to break her of it, but, well…”

  The matron stared at him oddly for a moment before breaking out into a soft laugh. “Rialt, I do feel better after speaking with you, I must admit. I do have one more thing I’m worried about, though. Are you sure it’s safe for her to live in Ramath?”

  “Eh, it be the safest place for her,” he assured her, glad to see her worries eased. “The Daath will no be a threat with the crystals fully up, and she will see to that. When we passed through, and my people met her and heard her story, they took her in as kith and kin. Quite upset they were, too, that I took her away again. I have no doubt that if any dastard raised a hand to her, he would get quite the drubbing for his efforts. When she does return and lives among them, the whole clan will look out for her. Do you ken?”

  “I ken,” she answered with a dimpled smile. “But if living in Ramath doesn’t work for her, for whatever reason, I want you to promise me that you’ll bring her down here. We’ll gladly have her.”

  Rialt frowned down at her suspiciously. “Sarvell put a bug in your hair, did he?”

  “He didn’t need to,” she responded primly.

  The door abruptly opened and Jewel stuck her head out in the hallway. “If you two are done talking about me, I’d like to have Rialt try on his new clothes. We need time to make alterations if need be.”

  Rialt blinked at her in astonishment. “You bought clothes for me?”

  “Well, of course! You only had two changes of clothes too. Besides, you’re going to need them. After you try everything on, you’re going to help me give Bortonor a bath. You’re going to need a fresh change of clothing after we get done wrestling with him.”

  Eh, likely he would. Dogs and baths were no generally friends. “Alright then, lass, lead on.”

  As he re-entered the room, he spied Bortonor lying flat on the wooden floor, dozing. If the dog knew what he did, he would make a quick exit out farrest door. He considered prodding the dog and giving him a warning…and then realized that he would be the one chasing Bortonor down.

  Well, a bath would no kill him.

  ~*~*~*~

  Sarvell found his father in his study, which was typically where the man chose to be at this time of the day. Pop had a very nice office in the Sorpan Trade building, but the older he got, the more he preferred to work from home. Everyone had adjusted to the boss’s preferences and simply sent runners several times a day with paperwork that needed to be assigned or with a list of goods to be checked.

  Maybe it was because of this that the office looked even more cluttered than before. Ever since Sarvell could walk, it had been a hodge-podge of maps tacked to the walls (and ceiling), stacks of reports covering half the desk, and trial goods dominating every corner of the room in a haphazard jumble. Only one chair had been kept clear, directly across from Stalton’s own, so that any visitor that stopped by would have a place to sit. Pop referred to his office joking as “organized chaos.” His mother called it a pig-sty.

  But to Sarvell, he didn’t really feel like he was home until he’d sat in his father’s office for a space. So while he had a very important question to ask, and information to gather, a smile broke out as he slung himself into that empty chair.

  “Have a minute, Pop?”

  “Sure, son.” Stalton tossed down the pen he’d been scribbling with and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “I can use a break from these lists. I swear, every year these thrice-cursed merchants are trying to peddle me the same products that are just called a different name.”

  Sarvell tried not to smile. His father had been saying that ever since he was knee high.

  “So, you’re here about the bounty.” Dropping his hand, Stalton leaned forward, bracing both forearms against the desk. “I’ve still got a few feelers out, but here’s the gist of it: the bounty’s a generous one. That’s going to attract a lot of attention from every two-bit scunner that wants to try a bit of bounty hunting.”

  He nodded sourly. “Yes, I thought as much. Do they have more than that basic description I gave you?”

  “A bit more, yes. They know that the other man with her is Brynian. They know that she was placed in the dungeon by Thornock’s ministers, hence why they want her back so badly. But no one knows your names or has much of a better description.”

  Well, at least that was going in their favor.

  “Your main problem is going to be the Thornock Guard,” Stalton added with a troubled frown. “They’re being dispatched as we speak, going to every corner of Evard. Those men have actually seen Jewel before, after all. They don’t need some half-witted description to recognize her.”

  “True enough.” Sarvell had no idea how to get around that, either. “How far have they come?”

  “Oh, they’re in every major city by now.” Stalton sounded quite confident about that. “And for some reason, they’re hanging about the temples. Especially Elahandra’s?”

  Sarvell grimaced and answered his sire’s unspoken question. “In order for Jewel to be able to do any work in a clan’s territory, she has to first get the permission of that clan’s god and she also has to make a formal visit to the nearest Temple of Elahandra to report what she’s doing.”

  Stalton stared at him in dismay. “That’s like painting a target on your back!”

  “I know,” Sarvell groaned. “But there’s no way around it. Both Chizeld and Jewel insist that this has to be done.”

  “Under the circumstances, I think protocol can go hang, don’t you?” Stalton responded in exasperation.

  “I really wish it was just that. But if Jewel doesn’t gain the permission of that clan’s god, she literally cannot do anything. And because she is not a worshipper of that god, the only way she can contact him is by going to his temple. Maybe she could skip the visit to Elahandra’s temple, but the problem is we don’t know where the crystals are. We have to visit the temple anyway and check their records just to get an idea of where to start looking. She can sense them, but only when she’s about twenty miles away from them. So far we’ve been lucky that the crystals have been easy finds, not needing to do research for them.”

  Stalton’s eyed closed in resigned understanding. “So visiting the temples are not an option. Dross and dreck, no wonder they’re just hanging about the temples! It’s a sure thing that you’ll show.”

  “We’ve managed to trick the watchers so far, but I don’t expect our luck to hold forever.” Sarvell added plaintively, “Pop, I came to you for good news!”

  “Well, son, I wish I had some to give you.”

  There was a quick knock on the door before Sarvell’s mother strode inside. “Oh good, Sarvell, you’re here.” She didn’t look surprised to find him sitting there, which indicated she’d had a good notion of where he’d be to begin with. “You did tell your father that we had to dodge some Thornock soldiers today, didn’t you?”

  Sarvell rubbed at his chin. “Actually, I forgot to mention it.” To his father he added, “We ran into a few of them while shopping today. With their uniforms they’re fairly easy to spot. We were able to take Jewel out of sight quickly each time, so I don’t think they saw her.”

  “I’m not sure if Jewel even realized they were there,” Pursa added thoughtfully. “You re-directed her so smoothly each time, as if it were just normal to be pulled this way and that.”

  “I didn’t want to worry her,” Sarvell admitted. Especially after last night, he di
dn’t want to place another worry on those thin shoulders.

  Pursa’s mouth was in a flat, worried line. “Sweetie, I don’t like the idea of just having you three to protect her. Those soldiers are running around in groups of six or more. What happens when they see her and a fight breaks out? You’ll be outnumbered!”

  “We’re heading straight for Rounsefell from here,” Sarvell answered soothingly. “Chizeld tells me that the Center for the Red Guard is in that city. We’ll be able to get reinforcements there, don’t worry.”

  “Well, that does make me feel a little better,” Pursa agreed although the worry didn’t leave her face. “But that’s such a long ways away!”

  No choice. They had to go anyway. “That new disguise we picked up today will throw them further off our trail, I think. With a little caution and some quick traveling, we’ll make it safely to Rounsefell.” I hope.

  Chapter Seventeen

  They left the Sorpan house and the city of Hawleywood early the next morning. They drew lots to decide who would lead Jewel’s horse for the day and then mounted up. The extra horse actually came in handy—Pursa and Stalton had loaded them with so many new supplies that only a merchantman would be able to tie it all on.

  Rialt silently decided that all of the packing and unpacking for the next week would be done by Sarvell. They would no stand a chance otherwise.

  The roads were clear and hard after a week’s absence of rain. As the day wore on, they exchanged the sweeping emptiness of grasslands for more fertile land spotted with groves of trees here and there. About mid-afternoon, Rialt noticed that Jewel was standing in her stirrups, or shifting about in the saddle with an uncomfortable grimace to her mouth. An expression caused, no doubt, by cramping legs that were no used to riding astride.

  Most of the traffic in this season on the road had gone north, towards Zarraga. They’d gone south, towards Parod’s Ford, and so the roads were largely empty. Rialt saw no harm in dropping their guise for the space of an afternoon on a deserted highway.

  They changed up so that Jewel was once again riding with him, her horse being led by Chizeld to give Sarvell a break. Rialt was secretly pleased by this but was no about to admit that he preferred Jewel riding with him.

  Evening started to creep up on them, the sun taking to its bed, but with no city or town to speak of, they were left to looking for a good campsite. At least, with all of the supplies on board, they’d have a better camp this night than any time Rialt could remember.

  Rialt had his hopes on a stretch of forest up ahead. The trees there looked nice and thick, perfect shelter from the wind, and with lots of deadfall for a campfire. It would have to be this place or another soon after, as the sun was nearly gone, the shadows stretching long and deep over the land. A chill was starting to set in too, and he knew from experience that Jewel would soon be freezing without a warm fire to huddle next to.

  Bortonor was the first one to sense the danger.

  He stopped dead in his tracks, head turned to look directly into the woods on their right, and his mouth curled up in a menacing growl.

  Rialt reined in and gave the woods the same suspicious look. His eyes were no as good as the dog’s, but he could make out shadowy movement in between the trees.

  “Ho,” he murmured to his companions, “it seems we have company. Chizeld, how much experience do you have with assassins?”

  “Not a bit,” Chizeld admitted.

  “We will leave it for another time then.” Rialt could feel Jewel’s tension as she took in his words. “You take her, and I will take them.”

  She latched onto his coat, rapidly shaking her head. “Rialt, no! It’s just like the dream—”

  “It will no be,” he corrected her. “I know they be there, see? So it can no be a surprise this way. This will no be like the dream.” He put a soft kiss against her forehead. “Go to Sarvell, now.”

  She did no budge. “You’re not facing them alone!”

  “Who says I planned to?” he refuted mildly. “Bort, you have my back.”

  The dog let out a short bark, sounding eerily like agreement.

  “See?” he gave her a quick, hard embrace before he handed her over to Sarvell. As he did, he met the other man’s eyes. Sarvell clearly did no like the situation any more than Jewel did. Rialt gave him a nod of reassurance. “It will be fine,” he promised. “This be no the first time I dealt with Daath assassins. I know their tricks.”

  Sarvell clearly did no buy this reassurance completely. He let out a resigned sigh. “Just remember, if anything happens to you, Juven will come after Jewel’s head.”

  “Eh, I mind it.” With his hands free, he slid the axe from its holder on his back and comfortably hefted it. “Now, go along at a good pace and steer clear of the woods.”

  He breathed a soft sigh of relief when they obeyed him. He no doubt would get an earful from Jewel later for this stunt, but she could never be put at risk.

  When they stated moving away from him, the assassins realized that their ambush was foiled. Without a sound, three of them burst free from the woods and started riding full out for the group. Rialt had expected this and placed himself squarely in their path.

  “Bort,” he called to the dog as he tapped his heels to the stallion’s sides, “harry the horses!”

  The dog darted forward in a streak of white in the twilight, going for the legs of the first horse he could reach. Warhorses were trained to either dismiss or handle almost anything on a battlefield, but no one really used dogs in war, so they reacted as any other horse would: they crow-hopped to the side and panicked.

  With Bortonor throwing the horses into confusion, Rialt had an edge over their riders. He could feel the adrenaline in his blood flow, the world coming into clearer focus as he gave himself over to battle-hardened instincts. He met the first assassin with an overhead swing, which the other man ducked.

  The assassin knew better than to stay on a half-panicked, bucking horse and try to fight an experienced Ramathan at the same time. He quickly threw himself off the horse and got his own feet under him. When he did, he took a swipe at Rialt’s mount.

  Rialt would put up with a lot of things in the heat of battle, but having his favorite stallion crippled did no appear on the list. With a growl of anger, he threw a leg over the stallion’s head and jumped quickly to the ground. The warhorse would still guard his back, as he was trained to do, but this way he had a better chance of fighting anyone that came near him.

  The assassin took a swing at him, which he blocked with his axe handle. Quickly throwing the man off, he swung the axe up and around again, narrowly missing the assassin’s head. The Daath soldier came at him with his sword held off to the side and low, no doubt intending to slash Rialt’s gut wide open. Rialt stepped into the attack and checked the action, then threw him bodily off. With a grunt of impact, he flew back, landing on the ground in a sprawl.

  Rialt knew he only had bare seconds to deal with the other assassin that had joined his companion on the ground. Bortonor still had one occupied, barking and snapping at the horse’s legs so that the other man could no dismount without risking being kicked by his own mount. He did no expect the dog to be able to handle two opponents at once.

  So he turned and faced the second assassin that had been trying to close in on his unprotected left side. With two hands on the haft, he swung the axe upwards, closing on the other man’s chin. The assassin ducked backwards, his balance upset, but he quickly came back in. Rialt detected the sly movement of the man’s hand as he reached in his pocket for some devilry trick. He had been waiting for just such a movement—this was what he had meant earlier. The Daath always had some shenanigans up their sleeves. Anything from a powder bomb to a flask of poison could be tossed in Rialt’s face.

  In the same movement, he dropped the axe and used it like a battering ram, knocking directly into the man’s sternum. All of the breath in the Daathan exploded in a whoosh of displaced air as he crumpled backwards, struggling to br
eathe.

  No forgetting the man that had only been temporarily knocked down, Rialt whirled to confront him again. The man closed in with a ferocious battery of swings, which Rialt met instinctively, paring each with the hilt of his battle axe. As he parried, he stepped into the man’s reach, closing the gap between them, giving him enough leverage to catch the hilt of the sword with the haft. When he had a good lock on it, he jerked the axe’s haft up and over, yanking the sword out of the assassin’s hands. With the man neatly disarmed, Rialt slammed his elbow into his nose.

  With a grunt of pain, the assassin dropped heavily to his back. With no hesitation, Rialt brought the axe up and around again, ending the assassin’s life with a sickening crunch.

  One down. Rialt spun on his heels, looking at the other two. The one he had hit in the chest earlier was blowing blood bubbles from his mouth. Rialt had apparently hit him harder than he had realized—the man’s lung was punctured. He would no survive the night.

  Bortonor’s prey still could no manage to get off the horse without risking his own life in the process. But his blood had been fired up seeing his companions so neatly dealt with by Rialt. Choosing to risk it, he kicked both feet free of the stirrups and threw himself to the ground.

  With his sword free in his hands, he landed lightly to his feet and darted straight for Rialt. He did no make it more than three feet before Rialt’s stallion charged him and ran him down.

  Rialt let out a breath he did no realize he was holding as the last assassin died. Daath assassins were generally deployed in three man teams. He had no doubt that this group had been dealt with. But they could have deployed two teams… Worried, he whistled for the horse and dog. Both obediently trotted to him.

  Rialt bent enough to give Bortonor’s head a pat before he gave another pat to his horse’s neck. They both seemed to preen a bit under the silent praise. Keeping the axe in hand, he quickly remounted and turned back toward the road.