"But surely you killed the Prathians, did you not? Is that not compensation enough for whatever crimes they committed against your people?"
"They escaped by sea in the company of an Irrylian."
Menleco's eyes went wide. "Escaped? Escaped to where?"
"To Gyriece. Where else? They were last known to be traveling with the Epirian band of Gorgeo--"
"By the gods, no! Lyssa, collect our things! We're leaving! We're leaving at once!"
Menleco shoved the yellowwood aside and began scampering around in circles. He grabbed some papers from his desk and began rolling them up quickly. His eyes darted from one side of the tent to the other, landing finally on Lyssa who had not budged an inch.
"Lyssa!" he called. "Hurry! We must not tarry, for he is coming here. I know he is."
"I hope he is," she said coldly. "And when Xanthippus comes, I hope he kills you."
Menleco froze and as Xanthippus watched his face, he thought it seemed as if a flame had been suddenly snuffed out. For an instant, Menleco was an old man, defeated and afraid. His plan had failed so spectacularly that Xanthippus almost felt sorry for him. Not only had he failed to kill the man he so feared, but that man stood in the very room with him and he did not even know it. If the man he had so wanted dead was not Xanthippus himself, he might have felt pity for him.
Lyssa, on the other hand, smiled in pleasant reverie and Xanthippus thought his heart might break. "Xanthippus lives…" she mused softly. Had he ever seen her smile before? The beauty of it lit up the room.
"The Prathian is the least of your problems, General," the Mejadym man said. "We will be back and I'm afraid things will not go well for you."
The three blue men turned to leave.
"Oh, but it is you who are in for a tough time, my friends," Menleco snapped. "For you will not leave the camp of the Shadow Riders alive. Seize these men!"
No one moved. The blue men kept walking. Menleco looked about in confusion.
He rushed up to Xanthippus and Nydeon, pointing at the blue men and shouting into their masked faces. "Seize them! I command you!" He grabbed them and tried to fling them bodily towards the Mejadym. Then he dashed to where the guard stood sullenly near the door, an angry knot on his forehead where his skull had met a yellowwood staff. "Seize them, I say!" But not even the young Prathian Guardsman would move for him now. He came back to his Shadow Riders and cursed them at the top of his lungs.
Xanthippus slowly removed his helmet. Menleco fell silent, gaping in horror as the familiar face gradually came into view.
Xanthippus caught Lyssa's eye.
And for only the second time in his life, he saw her smile.
Chapter 27
"How many of us did she kill?"
The man held the spout of the wineskin over his mouth and squeezed. The next snatched it from his hand and the stream pissed all over him. He swallowed, sputtering, and flailed at the thief, toppling him backwards off his log. The other men howled with laughter.
"She did in five of us."
"Five! That oughtta be worth a fair bit of retribution. What say you, Raulon?"
"Retribute all you like," the man named Raulon said. "Just keep your pants on while you do it."
Another round of laughter filled the clearing.
Gonatas counted fifty men altogether, ten each around five fires. Gonatas and Asander peered at them from the shadows of the treeline. Their faces were ruddy with firelight and strong drink. Their skull-faced helms grinned at their feet. Though he could not see her, Gonatas knew of whom they spoke: Coronea. After two days of hard riding, he had found her.
"She almost did in Menleco, the way I hear it," one of the Riders said.
"Oh, I would have loved to've seen that!"
"He begged for his life, is the talk."
"Better not be the talk around him. That's a good way to get a dagger shoved up your ass."
"I'd like to shove something in the Huntress."
The men hooted as they passed wineskins freely. There was not a sober man among them. Gonatas only hoped he was not too late. He motioned and Asander followed him as he crept through the bushes around the perimeter of the clearing, looking for her. They froze when one of the Riders, with his back to them, turned and peered in their direction, attracted by the sound of a rustling leaf. Satisfied it was nothing, he spat into the darkness and went back to his merriment.
Then Gonatas saw her. She was sitting on the ground near the man called Raulon, her hands bound behind her back. He moved until he could see her face. Gonatas had fallen in love only once in his life and that was the first time he had laid eyes on Coronea. He could see now that it had been no fluke.
She kept her eyes glued to the ground, seeming not to hear the banter around her. Shadow Riders are cowardly killers. Gonatas had always thought so. Taler hired them at the behest of the witch to sow terror in the hearts of the rebellious Epirians. He was not surprised that Coronea had dropped five of their number. If he were to judge by the look of it, he would have said it was the Huntress who had sown the terror. For even surrounded by fifty Riders, they dared not unbind her hands.
"I wonder if the Ghost has his way with her."
"I bet she keeps the whole crew happy."
"Well, what about this crew?" one of the Riders bellowed above the rest. He set aside his wineskin and stood. "Do we not deserve a little happiness, too?"
"Yes! Why should the Epirians have all the fun?" asked another.
Heedless of their fellows' yelling and chortling, the two slavering dogs began to weave their way toward Coronea, their eyes glazed over with lust and drink. Gonatas tensed. Besides Asander, he had his five men with him, but he had left them by the road holding the horses. Still, there were fifty of them. His rank alone would have to see them through, but he was not at all sure if even a prince of Irrylia could stare down fifty drunken Shadow Riders.
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword when the man named Raulon stood and pulled Coronea to her feet. He clutched her arm and, with his free hand, knocked one of the approaching Riders flat on his back. Coronea stared at her feet, her honey-colored hair concealing her face. Gonatas relaxed his grip.
"You fellows find your own," Raulon snapped. "This one's mine. Menleco gave her to me."
"Fuck you, Raulon," one of the Riders shouted back, standing. "Who are you to tell us--?"
Raulon whirled. "No, fuck you," he said. "I'm the one has to tolerate that bald-headed prick day and night, I might as well get some satisfaction out of it."
"Menleco's lady is not enough for you, Raulon?"
Raulon spat on the ground. "You touch Menleco's lady and see what happens to you!" He yanked on Coronea's arm and jerked her towards the trees that lined the clearing. He must have been a ranking officer of some sort, Gonatas thought, for the other men watched him go, however grudgingly, without further protest.
He got her to the edge of the firelight when she swung around and with a deft kick knocked his legs out from under him. Raulon's face still wore a look of surprise when her foot connected with his nose, bloodying it. She turned to flee, but while he screamed in pain, he swiped at her and caught her heel. She slammed to the ground and lay with her face pressed to the damp grass, her hands behind her back and her feet digging for purchase. A pang pierced Gonatas' heart. It was all he could do to stay his hand. The men howled with laughter. Raulon grabbed her by the arm and yanked her to her feet.
"You'll wish you hadn't done that," he said.
She spit in his face. "I wish I had done more."
"Oh, you will now." Blood smeared his nose and mouth and now a wad of saliva oozed down his cheek. Amid gales of laughter, he pulled her by the arm towards the woods.
Gonatas and Asander shadowed him. When he disappeared into the trees, the two men, crouching and silent, darted in after him. Raulon made no attempt to conceal his tread and he crashed through low leafy branches and underbrush. The Irrylians followed him by sound for a few yards and then found hi
m in a small clearing, lit only by the moon.
They watched as Raulon pushed Coronea to the ground. Without arms to break her fall, she toppled over onto her side. Raulon dropped to his knees and began pulling up her tunic.
Gonatas leapt out of the shadows and delivered a sharp kick to his chest. An instant later, Raulon lay on his back staring at a blade quivering under his nose. Asander rushed forward and, kneeling, helped Coronea to her feet. "Not a word," he said. She recognized him and stared at him with a puzzled look. "I am not the man you take me for," Asander added in a whisper.
When she saw Gonatas, her eyes lit up.
"What is this?" Raulon asked. "Who dares assault a Shadow Rider?"
"A man who believes there is too much evil in the world," said Gonatas. "Now, stand, but hold your tongue or I will cut it out and feed it to you."
Raulon frowned defiantly, but said not a word. He rose cautiously, never taking his eye from the blade.
Once on his feet, Raulon flashed an arrogant little smile. "You'd better be fast with that sword, chum. A word from me and you'll have fifty men falling on you."
Gonatas could hear them laughing and shouting on the other side of the trees. Some of the men were yelling for Raulon, giddily urging him to hurry.
"So if you're here to rob me," Raulon went on, "you better make it quick. I'll give you a five-count. If you're here to have a go with the girl, you'll have to wait your turn."
Gonatas drove his fist into the man's stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath.
"Bow when you speak to a prince of Irrylia," Gonatas said.
Bent double with his arms crossed over his gut, Raulon lifted his head. He peered out from under his creased brow. "Prince?"
Two men crashed through the underbrush. Laughing at first, they saw Gonatas' blade and sobered instantly. Gonatas whirled on them.
"You look…less a prince to me than…one man…against fifty," Raulon gasped haltingly with a sneering smile.
"Make that two," said Asander, stepping forward.
Raulon straightened and coughed when he tried to laugh. "Forgive me. I failed to count…the high lord there."
His companions had drawn daggers and they stood flashing them at the edge of the clearing.
"I used to gut pigs like you for breakfast," Asander said, taking another step.
"If I am your…idea of breakfast…remind me, then, never…to dine with you."
Gonatas held up his hand, silencing both men. "I am Prince Gonatas of Irrylia," he said in as regal a tone as he could muster. His opportunity was gone. He should have just run Raulon through and made off with Coronea, losing the drunken Shadow Riders in the night. He did not know these men. He would rather Menleco had been with them. Menleco he knew; greed ran him. These men were brutes and ruffians of the first order. Who knew what controlled them? "The crown will not tolerate this sort of villainy on its soil."
Raulon coughed a chuckle. "Are we thinking of the same crown? You did say Irrylia... didn't you?"
Gonatas was relieved to see that the men had stood down. The two at the edge of the clearing had lowered their blades and Raulon made no move for his. Gonatas had to seem in command - Prince of Irrylia, son of Demetrius, heir to the throne.
"The girl belongs to the crown. I am taking possession of her."
With a deep inhalation, Raulon regained his breath. "That's where I draw the line, Prince." He brushed Asander aside and grasped Coronea by the arm. "I can see by your garb that you may be who you say you are, though your face means nothing to me. But you should know that we are not Irrylian, and the Huntress is our captive."
"The Huntress!" Gonatas feigned surprise.
"A captive of the Shadow Riders, sir, bound for the spymaster Taler, by order of General Menleco. There is payment due for this one, Prince, and she does not leave my side."
Gonatas sheathed his sword, smiling. "Then we are bound for the same destination, friend. I mistook you for common bandits. But you are Prathians, Shadow Riders, no less. I will fetch my men and we will share your camp. On the morrow, I shall escort you to the palace at Myssene and introduce you to my father, King Demetrius and his queen, Pylia. No more than a day's ride from where we stand, I shouldn't think."
Raulon blanched. "Pylia? But we are ordered to report t-to Taler. T-to the spymaster," Raulon stammered.
"Ah, but Taler is Pylia's man," Gonatas explained brightly. "If Taler requests the Huntress, it is Pylia who wants her - and she wants her intact." Gonatas approached Raulon and wedged himself between him and Coronea. He put his arm around his shoulders, keenly aware of the feel of Coronea at his side. "Raulon was it?"
Raulon nodded.
"Very good. Raulon it is then. You see, Raulon, Pylia will want the girl unscarred, unhurt and untouched. Do you understand me?" Raulon nodded again. "After you deliver her, she is going to root around inside that pretty little head of hers and she will uncover everything within. Believe me, you would just as soon not have your name in there. At least, not in any bad way."
His words, though intended only to frighten the Rider captain, sent chills through him, for every syllable he spoke was true. Saving her from the attentions of rapacious thugs was one thing, but once delivered into Taler's hands nothing short of open bloodshed would get her back. The simple fact was he could not allow her to enter Pylia's presence. If he failed to orchestrate her escape, he must then begin to contemplate the unthinkable.
"I want nothing to do with the witch," Raulon said. So simply stated, so redolent with meaning,
"In a way, you're lucky I came along when I did. Asander! Go fetch our men. We're bedding down with the Riders tonight."
So fearful had Raulon become that he did not notice when Gonatas began to shiver.
He did not sleep well that night. Perhaps he did not sleep at all. From what he could tell, Coronea did not either. Only once did he have an opportunity to talk to her, when Raulon wandered into the bush to relieve himself. The camp was full of snoring men.
He crept to where Coronea lay on the cold ground. He found her eyes wide open. When she saw him, she gave a start.
"Shh!" He covered her mouth with his hand. "We will arrive tomorrow. I will get you out of here before then. Do not fear."
She shook her head, freeing her lips to speak. "Don't let me be taken to the witch. You must kill me, if you have to."
"It will not come to that."
"Gonatas--" They froze. One of the Riders laying beside the glowing embers of the burnt out fire, turned onto his side and groaned. When he began snoring again, Coronea went on, "You must promise me."
"I tell you, it will not come to that."
Her expression softened and he sensed that she wanted to say something more. He leaned in close.
"Gonatas--"
"Say nothing!" Raulon was coming. Gonatas turned quickly and crept back to his place and lay down. He closed his eyes wondering what it was she had been going to say.
He must have fallen asleep sometime before the dawn, for he was awakened abruptly by the soft skitch of an arrow striking a patch of sandy soil close by. His eyes snapped open to find a quivering shaft protruding from the ground just inches from his head. He rolled away from it as if it were a snake. He heard howls of pain and alarm as the entire camp came awake around him. The sun was up. Gonatas could see more arrows slicing through the air from the woods. One struck a Rider in the shoulder. With a growl like a bear, he fell writhing to the ground. Gonatas flung himself behind a log. A shaft followed him, splintering bark and burying itself in the meat of the wood. He inspected the fletching. Epirians! The time drew near, he knew, and the rebels grew bold. Less than a day's ride outside of Myssene itself, he would never have expected an attack. The Shadow Riders certainly hadn't either. They had not even set out pickets. He could not think of a better way to rouse them from their drunken slumber. If Epirian arrows did not seek him as eagerly as they sought Riders, he would have stood and cheered. As it was, he kept his head down behind the log.
He turned and found Asander right beside him.
"Where is Coronea?" he asked.
"Raulon has her."
Gonatas peered out and saw Raulon in a running crouch with Coronea scampering along beside him. He clutched her by the arm. Her hands remained bound. Both were exposed to fire and arrows flew past them. Riders were running in every direction. Raulon was shouting, rousing his men to attack. He found a man lying on his side behind a large stone and grabbed his shoulder, exhorting him to rise. Instead of jumping to his feet, however, the man's head lolled lifelessly to one side. Raulon tipped him over onto his back and saw a shaft protruding from his chest. Raulon and Coronea scurried on.
Gonatas started to rise, but Asander pulled him back down.
"It is by sheer luck that they have not been hit yet," he said. "Your death will profit her nothing."
As if to emphasize his point, another arrow whacked the log in front of his face, sending splinters of bark into Asander's eyes. He ducked down, wincing.
Gonatas wondered if the attackers knew who she was and could recognize her amid the confusion. At the very least, could they see that her hands were bound? Surely, they would focus their aim at the black cloaks and leave the woman alone.
Raulon was hit. An arrow grazed his calf and he fell rolling on the ground, clutching at the wound. Gonatas' heart leapt when he saw Coronea wrench herself from his grasp and dash back toward the dead man, free of Raulon at last. Gonatas felt helpless as he watched her. She threw herself beside the corpse. Turning her back to it, she began frantically working her hands behind her. Gonatas saw a flash of metal and knew at once what she was doing. She had found the dead man's exposed dagger in his belt and was sawing through the leather straps that bound her hands. In a moment, she was free. She grabbed the dagger and from behind the stone began looking for a way out.
Gonatas saw there was an opening to the south from where no arrow flew. Most of the action had moved in the opposite direction as the Riders rushed the woods and streamed towards their horses. She would have to bolt, however, for where she crouched was still a killing ground. The woods were full of shouting and screaming.
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