The Traitor’s Ruin

by Erin Beaty

  “Sage!” gasped Nicholas. He pulled the weapon back and grabbed the horse’s lead to keep it from running off, then helped her to her feet, whispering urgently. “They’re after me. Lieutenant Gramwell told me to make a run for it, but then I heard what was going on. I can’t just leave them!”

  “You can and you will,” she said. “They’re making a stand so you can get away—we can’t waste it.” The loose horses would hopefully cause a diversion and break up the crowd surrounding the Norsari. “Get on the horse.”

  “Come with me, Sage,” Nicholas begged. “Please.”

  Combined, the two of them probably only weighed as much as a fully armed soldier. “All right,” she agreed. Sage pointed to the staff in his hand with its small ax and hook under the spear tip. “Is that all you have?”

  Nicholas nodded. “It’s all I could find in the dark, and even it’s broken.” He held up the lower end so she could see the last couple feet had splintered off, making the weapon only as tall as him.

  “It’s better than nothing,” Sage said. “You swing it, and I’ll drive.” The horse was saddled for someone much taller, and she mounted with difficulty. Once she was upright, she took the halberd so Nicholas could get up behind her. Then she swung the horse around, an idea taking shape. Her boot slipped out of the too-long stirrup when she gave the horse a kick, and she had to clamp down hard with her thighs to stay on. They sprinted through the camp, heading for the fire she prayed was still burning at the medical tent.

  Luck was with her again; the fire was still going and had spread to the supply tent next to it. Sage nudged the horse around, squinting through the smoke for what she wanted. There—and close enough that it might work. She had to hurry—it sounded like they’d been spotted.

  “What are you doing?” said Nicholas. “We need to go!”

  “Calling for help.” Sage directed the horse to back up against a short stack of casks containing lamp oil. “Make him buck, Nicholas.”

  “What?”

  “Poke him in the ass and make him kick, dammit!”

  Nicholas swung the halberd around, and the horse whinnied and bucked, breaking at least one of the small barrels open and sending several flying. Sage barely managed to stay on as the prince whiplashed into her from the movement. She caught a glimpse of men rushing at them, bows raised. Then she and Nicholas were flying out of the camp and into the night, the orange glow of a raging fire lighting up the sky behind them.

  52

  THEY MADE IT through a brief shower of arrows, but Sage and Nicholas were less than two hundred yards out of the camp when the horse suddenly reared up, screaming. As Sage clutched the mane to stay on, the prince slipped off the back with a cry and then a grunt as he hit the ground. The horse went back to all fours, and Sage urged it forward, yanking the reins around to keep it from trampling Nicholas. “Are you all right?” she called, searching for what had spooked the horse.

  “I think so,” he answered. “But the horse was hit.”

  Sage felt around on the side the horse was favoring until she found the arrow buried in its thigh. How deep it went she couldn’t tell—the shaft had been broken off by Nicholas’s tumble. Hot blood spilled over her hand as she tried to get a grip on it enough to pull it out. The horse screamed again, its hind leg buckling. Sage threw her leg over the withers and dismounted, trying to soothe the beast with gentle words. She reached for the arrow again, but now her angle on it was even worse.

  “We’ve lost our ride,” she told Nicholas. “And they’ll be on us in another minute. Can you run?”

  “I think so.” The shadow that was the prince lurched to its feet. “Ow. I think my wrist is broken or sprained.”

  “We’ll deal with it later. I’m just glad it wasn’t an ankle.”

  Nicholas wobbled a little. “Yes, well, now that I’m standing my knee doesn’t feel so great, either.”

  Sage looked back at the fire that was probably consuming all the Norsari’s supplies. She felt bad about that, but it would definitely serve its purpose. “Captain Quinn will be here soon. We have to stay hidden until then.”

  The halberd lay on the ground, its staff broken again so now it was as short as an ax. Sage picked it up and jabbed it at the limping horse to urge it farther down the river path. Then she pulled Nicholas’s arm over her shoulder and helped him into the woods. After a few uphill yards she set him down and went back to cover their tracks as best she could. Not a moment too soon she dodged off the path as three men came running down it. They carried no torches, and they missed any signs that were left and continued past her. It wouldn’t be long before they caught up with the wounded horse.

  Sage crawled back to Nicholas. “Give me your wrist.” The prince held out his left arm, and she gently felt along it. No bones sticking out, but it was swelling rapidly so it was difficult to tell. Nicholas whimpered, and she whispered an apology. “How’s the knee?” she asked.

  “Better now. I can probably run.”

  “Not yet.”

  The sound of weapons clashing came from the east, in the direction help should come from. Half a minute later the noise ceased. Sage put a finger to Nicholas’s lips and closed her eyes to concentrate on listening. A horse was coming toward them—an unwounded one. Spirit above, please be who I think you are.

  Light from the distant fire reflected off a drawn sword. The rider was moving swiftly but cautiously, and her eyes had adjusted enough to recognize the dark form through the trees. Sage stood and ran down the hill before he could pass. “Alex!”

  “Sage?” The relief in his voice was too much, and she cried as she threw herself at him after he dismounted. He felt her all over. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she sobbed. “Nicholas is, too. We’re all right.” She was babbling now.

  “Your arm is covered with blood.”

  “It’s the horse’s,” she explained, trying to bring herself back under control.

  “I found that horse. Several Kimisar, too.”

  “There’s more back at camp,” she said. “They’re after the prince.”

  “How many?”

  “Couple dozen, sir,” answered Nicholas, sliding down the hill behind her. “At least.”

  “Cass is a few minutes behind me, bringing a platoon. I came ahead.” He still held her with his free arm. Sage leaned into him, savoring the closeness. Alex was here. Everything would be all right now. “Did you set that fire?” he asked, looking down at her.

  “Yes.”

  “Good job.”

  There was genuine pride in his voice. “Alex,” she began. “About everything—”

  “Not now, Sage.” The heat of his body vanished as he released her, but at least he didn’t sound angry. “They’re coming at us from all sides. I need to get the two of you out of here.”

  “Where?”

  “The river,” said Nicholas. “The boat isn’t far from here.”

  Alex nodded. “Good idea.” He handed his horse’s lead to Sage. “I go first. You stay back in case I run into someone.”

  They made their way back down the path quickly, Nicholas grunting a little from keeping up. Apparently his knee was worse than he’d thought. The boat was easy to find in the firelight reflecting off the river, but it was in plain sight from the camp. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw them.

  “Get in.” Alex jammed his sword in the soft ground to free his hand and began untying the rope. “It’s dark and smoky. Just lie low and let the current take you.”

  He wasn’t coming with them. Sage tried not to panic. “Where should we stop?”

  “Use your judgment. Better too far than too close, though.”

  Nicholas tossed the broken halberd in the boat and clambered in. Sage waited until he was seated before climbing in behind him. Shouts echoing from the forest and camp told her they’d been spotted. The rope came loose, and Alex tossed it in the boat. When he reached for the bow to push it into the current, she placed her hands on top of
his.

  “Alex.”

  He looked up into her eyes. There was fear, but all for her and none for himself. Alex shoved the boat out into the water as shadows bearing weapons came running down the slope behind him. At the last second he lifted a hand to her neck and pulled her face to his, kissing her desperately. Her free hand slipped around his neck and gripped his hair, and then she was sliding away with the momentum of the boat.

  “Go,” he whispered.

  She nearly fell out reaching for him, but the prince pulled her back by her belt. Alex waded up the bank to Surry and pulled his sword from the ground. Quickly, he mounted and turned to face the men closing in.

  Smoke over the water enveloped them, but Alex was still visible. Sage clutched the sides of the boat as it reached the center of the river and picked up speed, carrying them deeper into the haze as the number of Kimisar around him grew. To her right, downriver, Norsari approached on foot, Casseck in the lead on his stallion, but she didn’t know if Alex could hold out that long. The boat turned with the current, and she lurched to the other side to keep from losing sight of him.

  Alex’s sword flashed, but now Casseck was almost there. Sage raised up to her knees, straining to see as the boat began to pass around a bend.

  The last thing she saw was Alex tumbling backward and off his horse, an arrow buried halfway into his chest.

  53

  ALEX HIT THE ground hard, but he’d had enough practice throwing himself off a horse’s back that he knew how to land without breaking anything. Surry responded to his sudden shift in weight by stepping to the opposite side, clearing an area on the ground. Within seconds he was on his feet, his back pressed into the mare’s flank. Mounting the horse had been stupid—it made him a clear target, but thankfully he’d seen the archer in the trees in time. A dozen Norsari ran onto the beach, cutting their way through the Kimisar.

  He waved to his friend, and Cass grinned in relief, having seen him fall. They fought their way to each other as waves of soldiers poured into the fight. At some signal Alex couldn’t see or hear, the Kimisar turned as one and scattered into the woods.

  Casseck trotted up to him, shaking sweat from the blond hair matted to his scalp. “I think it’s over. From what I saw before we left, they’re running out there, too.”

  “It was all a diversion to get Nicholas,” said Alex. “I found him and Sage and put them on the boat and sent them down the river. We’ll go find them at first light.”

  Cass nodded, and then grinned wryly and pointed at Alex. “You are the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.”

  Alex lifted his right arm to see what his friend was talking about. An arrow dangled from his jacket, the head jammed into a metal ring in the leather below the armpit.

  “Impressive, though I doubt he was aiming for that spot.” Alex bent the shaft and broke it off, tossed the fletching aside, and reached for Surry’s reins so he could remount. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got a mess to clean up.”

  * * *

  Alex held the torch high and kicked charred canvas aside, looking for survivors and the supplies he would need in tracking Sage and Nicholas down. They’d found six bodies so far, not counting two by the river, but none were Demoran. Confident as he was in his Norsari, it struck him as strange. It was as if the Kimisar had avoided killing.

  A glimpse of fabric made him stop. Bending over, Alex pulled out an undergarment that could only have been Sage’s. A flush crept up his neck as he glanced around, verifying he was in the spot her tent had stood. He pushed the tarp aside and inventoried her things. There wasn’t much—she’d traveled lightly. Alex pried up the table and found her open trunk and an untitled leather-bound ledger. Curious, he picked up the book and opened it.

  Pages and pages of her handwriting in Demoran, Kimisar, and a language he didn’t understand, phrases circled and underlined, notes in the margin. After that, it was words and phrases in Demoran and the third language paired up, with comments on grammar. Then she’d moved on to attempts to build her own sentences. I’ve been studying old Casmuni trade agreements and treaties for weeks. He’d believed her when she said it, but seeing her work was something else entirely. It was brilliant.

  One last section contained a dated account of all Sage had learned and observed as well as some of her conclusions. Corporal Wilder in particular had been a wealth of information. Though it contained nothing personal, he could sense her increasing frustration. The last entries were written during the desert mission.

  Darit and Malamin had been the names of the Casmuni he’d captured. She and Nicholas had “shared water” with them and talked. The desert men said they lost their companions in the sandstorm, and while they were headed for the border, they were adamant that they had not and never would cross it. There were no more notes after that.

  Under the back cover was a folded piece of parchment that looked like a letter. Alex opened it to find one of his own to her from months ago. He remembered this one, remembered panicking the moment the dispatch left with it, because he’d written it in the throes of longing, and surely his words would be too much for her. When she’d never mentioned it, he’d assumed it was lost.

  The worn creases told him it had not only been read, but read often.

  In 812 days I will hold you to your promise to be mine. In most cases you are the stubborn one, but on this I refuse to negotiate, for nothing is more vital to my survival, you must understand. And when I say over and over how I want you to be mine, it is only because I am already completely yours.

  Fresh tearstains smeared the ink. She’d been reading it last night.

  Alex shoved the book and letter into his jacket and called for Casseck to gather three squads of volunteers. Sunrise was over an hour away, but he wasn’t waiting for it.

  54

  THE SOUNDS OF battle had died away long ago. Sage kept her head low, clutching the sides of the boat as it rocked and fishtailed in the current. The image of the arrow striking Alex in the chest, of him tumbling backward, played over and over in her mind.

  Alex was dead.

  Maybe he could survive the wound. Maybe the arrow hadn’t struck his heart, maybe it had missed vital organs.

  But she’d seen how far it had gone in—halfway through him, meaning it had slipped between the ribs. If his heart was pierced, he would bleed out, or worse, bleed into his lungs, and he would drown in his own blood. If only the lung was hit, breathing would become impossible as it collapsed.

  It all ended the same, with him dying, gasping and alone, as his enemies closed around him. Without knowing that she understood. That she was sorry. That she loved him.

  Somehow the tears wouldn’t come.

  She had no concept of time until the river of the stars faded with dawn’s approach. Nicholas was curled into a ball in the bottom of the boat, dozing restlessly, his swollen hand cradled to his chest. The wrist needed to be bandaged, but she let him sleep. As soon as there was enough daylight, they’d find a place to go ashore and camp to wait for Alex to find them.

  Reality punched her in the chest.

  No. Alex would never come for them. And Casseck and the others wouldn’t even know where to search, but the Kimisar might. She and Nicholas were on their own.

  She gazed down on the sleeping boy at her feet. Alex had died for his prince. If necessary, she would do no less.

  * * *

  Nicholas squatted by the fire and warmed his hands as Sage searched the riverbank for smooth stones. She pocketed over a dozen and headed back to the prince. “Are you hungry, Nicholas?”

  “Aren’t I always?” he said with a weak attempt at humor.

  She tried to smile back, but she couldn’t. “We’ll stay here until they find us. We can forage until then.”

  “I don’t have anything but the halberd and my knife,” Nicholas said apologetically.

  “That’s all right, I have my sling. Fancy some squirrel?” Other than some flint and wadding, the sling was the only thing she
’d had in her belt’s pouch. Sage laced the knotted leather strips between her fingers and pulled a stone from her pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sage stepped into the trees and returned ten minutes later with a black squirrel and tossed it at Nicholas’s feet. “Skin it, and get it on the spit. I’ll go find a couple more.”

  As she turned back to the forest, a shout came from across the river.

  Nicholas dropped the squirrel and jumped to his feet. “They’re here!” He waved his uninjured hand in greeting.

  Sage lunged at Nicholas’s raised arm. “Wait!” She looked around. They were too exposed, but she hadn’t wanted to stray far from the boat, as it would be both a beacon to the Norsari and the fastest means of escape, should they need it.

  Two men stood on the opposite shore, pointing to them. Three more men appeared upstream. Weapons came out.

  “I don’t recognize any of them,” said Nicholas.

  Sage scooped up the halberd and shoved the prince toward the boat. “Run!”

  55

  “THEY ARE GETTING back on the river, Captain!”

  Huzar burst out of the trees just as the two boys pushed the boat off the opposite shore and jumped in. Damn.

  Everything had gone as planned until the fire started. Suddenly there were horses everywhere, and someone saw the prince and another boy riding away. Sometime during the pursuit, Quinn appeared and put the prince and his companion on a boat and sent them downriver.

  Then the Norsari arrived, and Huzar ordered his men to fall back. Once he understood where the prince had gone, Huzar left without waiting for the full casualty report. None of it would have been in vain if he could get to the boy before the Demorans.