Something had happened to R’shiel.
Adrina prayed it was nothing serious. Tarja would not rest until he discovered the demon child’s fate. It was a pity she would never meet her. Although she was careful not to broach the subject, R’shiel fascinated Adrina. Damin spoke of her in such glowing terms that she might have been jealous, but for two very good reasons. The first was Tarja. He was so completely besotted with the girl, that if he thought Damin’s motives were anything but honourable, he’d have killed the Warlord long ago. The second was Damin. Jealousy would imply she had some feeling for the man, and of course she didn’t, so there was nothing to be jealous about.
Adrina unsaddled her mount and dumped her gear near the small fire that one of the Defenders had started. Tarja had ordered at least one night with a fire and a hot meal. If he was feeling the strain of the pace he set, then he knew some of the others would be at the point of exhaustion. Adrina had tried not to look too happy when she heard the news, but poor Tam’s expression had been pathetically grateful. The slave wasn’t accustomed to long hours in the saddle, and Adrina looked a picture of health compared to her faithful companion.
“Can I take your horse, my Lady?”
Adrina turned and smiled wearily at Damin’s captain. Almodavar was a fearsome-looking brute, but he was quite the gentleman underneath all that leather and chainmail.
“Thank you, Captain, but it’s every man for himself on this journey. I can take care of my horse. You have other things to do.”
“Aye, your Highness, but I have a few young studs with more energy than sense. I’ll see she’s cared for. You take the chance to rest while you can.”
Adrina was too tired to argue. “Thank you.”
Almodavar led the mare toward the picket line. He had sent someone for Tam’s horse too. She turned to find Tamylan by the fire, warming her hands and swaying on her feet.
“Sit down before you fall down, Tam.”
“I’ll stand, if you don’t mind. In fact if I never sit down again, it will be fine by me.”
By the time darkness fell completely, Adrina was feeling a little better. A hot meal and a warm fire eased her aching muscles. Damin and Tarja did not join them until long after they had eaten. Tam had already fallen asleep and Adrina’s eyes were drooping. The only reason she was still awake was her inability to find a comfortable position.
“Come on, sleepy. Time for some exercise.”
“Don’t be absurd. I can barely keep my eyes open.”
“I know, but trust me. If you stretch your legs now you’ll be much better for it in the morning.”
Damin reached down and grabbed her hand, hauling her to her feet.
“Leave me alone!”
“Stop complaining. You sound like a spoilt princess.”
“I am a spoilt princess,” she retorted.
“Who am I to argue with royalty? Are you coming, Tarja?”
“No. I have to check on the sentries. Enjoy your walk, your Highness.” She couldn’t see his face clearly in the darkness, but she could hear his amusement.
“I’ll bet he doesn’t laugh at R’shiel,” she grumbled as Damin pulled her along beside him. It was bitterly cold and the uneven ground made her muscles cry out in protest.
“Would you laugh at someone who could fry you with a look?”
“How can you possibly be in such a good mood?”
“I’ve still got my head on my shoulders. In this business that’s daily cause for celebration. Take longer strides. The idea is to stretch your legs out, not mince along like you’re at court.”
“I do not mince, thank you.”
“I do beg your pardon, your Highness.”
“Don’t patronise me either.”
“You’re in a right temper tonight. I thought you’d be happy to be free.”
“I’m cold and I’m tired, Damin. I feel like someone’s tied me in a sack and beaten me with a pole for an hour or two. I don’t have the energy to be happy about anything.”
He slowed his pace a little and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m tired too. And I’m cheerful because I’m a Warlord and nothing is supposed to bother me.”
“I’m not one of your hired hands, you know. You’re not morally obliged to keep my spirits up.”
He laughed softly, but did not answer. They kept walking through the darkness away from the fires, although they stayed within the ring of sentries posted around the camp. Adrina could make out the silhouette of a guard every fifty paces or so, their eyes fixed on the open ground beyond the trees.
It was much warmer with his arm around her and after a time her legs seemed to loosen up a little. The respite was temporary, though. Tomorrow they would resume their killing pace.
“How long till we reach the river?” she asked after a long period of companionable silence.
“Seven or eight days, I guess. Tarja could tell you exactly.”
“Are we going to keep this pace up for another eight days?”
“No. The horses couldn’t take it, even if we could. We’ll ease up in a day or so.”
“You think Cratyn will come after us, don’t you?”
He nodded, all trace of his previous good humour gone. “Jenga won’t tell him where you are, but there are plenty of people who know you were in the camp. We have to assume he’ll hear about it, sooner rather than later.”
“What if he catches us?”
“He won’t. We’ve got too big a head start and we’re not stopping for anything. Once we’ve crossed the Glass River, he’ll have no chance of finding us.” He stopped and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead lightly. “Stop worrying about it.”
She lay her head on his shoulder and stood in the circle of his arms, surprised at how comforting it was. It was a real pity he was a Hythrun. She could easily grow accustomed to this. To feel so secure, so...
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” he chided. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to carry you all the way back.”
She drew back from him, annoyed that he had disturbed her pleasant, if rather unrealistic, daydreams. “You are so rude sometimes! I’m sure you do it just to aggravate me.”
“Rude I might be, but I’m still not going to carry you,” he said with a grin.
“A true nobleman would.”
“That’s because most true nobleman are inbred morons with more brawn than brains. I could cite your husband as a prime example.”
“I didn’t choose him, you know.”
“Which says something for your good taste, I suppose. Come on, we’d best get back before Tarja sends out a search party.”
Stifling a yawn, Adrina took his hand and they walked back towards the fire and the welcome prospect of a good night’s sleep. She glanced at him as they walked back through the darkened trees and reminded herself sternly that Damin Wolfblade might be very disarming when he wanted, but he was, first and foremost, her enemy. His desire to keep her from Cratyn was nothing more than political, and she had better not forget it.
They were on the move by first light the next day. Poor Tam was on the verge of tears as she struggled to mount her horse, but Adrina found she was much better than she expected. Although she would have preferred to ride with Damin or Tarja, she took her usual place in the very centre of the column surrounded by Raiders, Defenders and Fardohnyans who had orders to die before any harm was allowed to befall her.
They kept to the road that wound south towards Cauthside, in part because it was the fastest route, and in part to disguise the size of their group. They had left the border in significant numbers and there was no need for any pursuing force to think that had changed. Scouts ranged ahead and behind them, scouring the countryside for signs of pursuit, or unexpected danger. Now that Medalon had surrendered, any Defenders they met heading north would be enemies and both Tarja and Damin agreed that in this case running was more prudent than fighting.
She had heard them discussing their plans late into the night as she lay by the
fire, her head resting in Damin’s lap and he unconsciously stroked her hair. She drifted into sleep listening to Tarja explain his plans for the men who waited for him in Testra.
She understood now why Jenga had wanted Tarja to resign from the corps, why he wanted him to escape the border while he still could. It had little to do with the Lord Defender’s affection for him. Tarja was an expert guerilla fighter and Jenga wanted him to do to the Kariens what he had done to the Defenders when he led the heathen rebellion. He didn’t have the men to take on the Karien invaders directly but he would make life very difficult for them.
Adrina fell asleep and dreamt of ambushes, and sabotage, and hit-and-run raids on places she had never heard of.
They stopped just after midday at a small brook that tumbled over moss-covered rocks beside the road. The water was icy, but the horses seemed grateful. Adrina stood by her mare as she drank her fill, munching on a wedge of hard cheese, when one of the forward scouts came thundering through their midst. He skidded to a halt in front of Damin and Tarja, turning his mount sharply to avoid barrelling them over.
“Defenders!” he panted. “A thousand at least. Headed this way.”
“How far?” Tarja demanded.
“Five leagues. They’re not moving very fast, but if we stay on the road, we’ll ride straight into them.”
Tarja grabbed his mount and swung into the saddle. “Show me.”
The scout turned his mount and galloped off with Tarja on his heels.
“Almodavar!”
“My Lord?”
“Get everyone off the road. Make camp in that stand of trees we passed a league or so back. No fires, no noise. You know what to do.”
Damin was mounted and racing down the road after Tarja before Almodavar had a chance to acknowledge the order.
Adrina patted her mare with a weary sigh then climbed back into the saddle. Almodavar got them organised in a very short time, the urgency of their situation not lost on a single man. They rode back along the road at a canter, until Almodavar called a halt when they neared the trees.
The copse was a fair way back, separated from the road by a broad stretch of long brown grass. The captain studied the tree line for a while then stood in his stirrups to look over the surrounding countryside. Then he turned and cantered back in the direction they had come from.
“What’s the matter?” Adrina asked the guard on her left.
“If we ride through that grass, your Highness, we might as well put up a sign telling them where we are. The captain’s looking for a way to reach the trees without leaving any tracks.”
Adrina nodded, rather impressed by the Hythrun eye for detail. They waited for another few minutes before Almodavar returned.
“There’s a gully back that way that leads toward the trees,” the captain announced in Medalonian, for the benefit of the Defenders among them. “But we’ll have to lead the horses, it’s too treacherous to ride through. Once we clear it, we’ll have a bit of open ground to cover, so we’ll cross it in single file.”
He did not ask for questions, or expect any. Adrina followed her guards and picked her way through the gully after the young man who had told her of Almodavar’s intentions. A bubbling stream coursed through the centre, perhaps a tributary of the brook where they had stopped earlier. The rocks were slick and the icy water splashed over her boots. She was dressed in trousers and a warm jacket, as was Tam – there was no point in advertising their presence by dressing like ladies – but her feet were starting to numb by the time she led her mare out of the gully and mounted for the ride to the trees.
There was no respite when she reached them, either. Almodavar ordered no fires to betray their presence so she settled down for a long cold wait until Damin and Tarja returned.
Adrina was sitting with her back to a tall poplar, Tam’s sleeping head resting on her shoulder, when the sound of galloping horses woke her from a light doze. Expecting to find Damin and Tarja returning, she gently moved Tam’s head onto the cloak they were using as a rug and struggled to her feet. She found Almodavar waiting at the edge of the trees as a Defender and a Raider galloped toward them through the grass, making a mockery of his effort to conceal their hiding place.
“That’s not Damin and Tarja,” she pointed out as the horsemen drew nearer.
“The Raider is Jocim, one of the rear scouts,” Almodavar agreed. “I don’t know the Defender.”
They waited until the men had almost reached the trees before waving them down. Jocim stayed in his saddle, but the Defender jumped down, almost collapsing with exhaustion as he hit the ground. Almodavar reached out an arm to steady him, but he waved it away.
“Where’s Captain Tenragan?”
“He’s not here.”
“Who’s the ranking Defender officer then?”
Almodavar looked a little annoyed at the man’s insistence on following Defender protocol.
“If you have news man, out with it.”
The Defender looked as if he was going to argue the point, but weariness won out over procedure.
“I have a message from the Lord Defender,” he said. “The Kariens crossed the border two days after you left. The Defenders were ordered to throw down their arms. The Kariens have control of the Keep.”
Almodavar nodded, unsurprised by the news. “Jenga ordered you to founder a horse just to tell us that?”
He shook his head. “No. He sent me to tell you that two hundred Kariens were dispatched south at the same time. He thinks they know about the princess. Cratyn is leading them himself.”
Adrina’s heart skipped a beat. Surely they had enough lead on them to escape? The Kariens could not travel as fast as their troop and they were making excellent time.
Almodavar nodded and glanced at Adrina. Her expression must have betrayed her thoughts. “They’ll not catch us, your Highness.”
“Not if we keep moving,” she agreed.
Adrina left the rest of it unsaid. Almodavar knew, as well as she, that a force of a thousand Defenders was blocking the way south.
Chapter 59
From a distance, the northern plains looked as flat and featureless as a tabletop. The view was deceptive, though. In reality the plains were a series of low rolling folds that concealed as much as they revealed. Tarja, Damin and the Hythrun scout, whose name was Colsy, dismounted some distance from the Defenders. They led their horses off the road for quite a way, before leaving them to fend for themselves as they scrambled up a low hillside, dropping on their bellies as they neared the summit.
“Gods!” Damin muttered as they reached the top.
Tarja studied the scene below, forcing down a wave of despair. The column of Defenders was stretched out along the road in a snaking line that stretched for half a league or more. At its head, rode a Karien knight, displaying a coat of arms on his shield that he could not make out from this distance.
“Do you have your looking-glass?”
Damin nodded and handed Tarja the instrument from the pouch he carried on his belt. Tarja aimed it at the knight’s shield. As the three silver pike on a red field slowly resolved into focus he swore softly, then handed it back to Damin.
“Well, at least that answers the question about the whereabouts of the Duke of Setenton.”
Damin took the looking-glass and followed Tarja’s pointing finger.
“And where the order for the surrender came from,” Damin agreed. “What’s he doing leading half the damned Defender Corps north?”
Half was a gross exaggeration, but that near a thousand Defenders marched under the command of a Karien knight was cause enough for concern.
“If he was waiting at the Citadel when R’shiel arrived...” Tarja did not finish the sentence. He was afraid to put his thought into words.
“I wonder who’s in the carriage,” Colsy added, pointing at the elaborate vehicle drawn by six matched horses, which trundled along behind the Kariens.
“That’s the First Sister’s carriage.”
/> “That’s all we need,” Damin groaned. “Joyhinia Tenragan, in all her vicious glory. I thought you destroyed her wit after Dacendaran stole it?”
“So did I.”
Damin returned the looking-glass to its case and rolled onto his back. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the pale sky for a moment then looked at Tarja.
“They’ll be on us by nightfall.”
“Or so close it won’t matter.”
“I’ve always fancied myself a brilliant warrior, Tarja, but odds of ten to one are a bit much, even for me.”
Tarja nodded. “There’s nothing to be achieved by engaging them.”
“So what do we do? Hide until they ride by? Head overland?”
“If we turn off the road, it’ll take a lot longer to reach the river and even more time to find a place where we can cross. Cauthside is the only place with a decent barge this side of Testra.” He didn’t add that going overland meant turning west. Damin knew it without having it spelled out for him.
“Then it seems we have no choice. We hide until they pass by.”
“That may not be as simple as you think. Terbolt might be in command, but the Defenders won’t let that interfere with their normal routine. They’ll have scouts out, you can be certain.”
“I didn’t see any,” Colsy objected.
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t out there,” Tarja warned.
Damin nodded in agreement. “The reputation of the Defenders is well earned. All the more reason not to take them on.”
“If we’re careful, we should be able to avoid them,” Tarja suggested.
The Warlord smiled wistfully. “Remember the good old days, Tarja? When you and I knew exactly who our enemies were? I miss them.”
“I remember them well. You were the enemy, as I recall.”
“And you were always one step ahead of me. I always meant to ask you how you managed that.”
“I probably shouldn’t disillusion you, but it was luck as much as anything.”
Damin grinned. “I don’t believe you. Nobody could be that lucky.”
“Alright, if it makes you happy, it was my sheer tactical brilliance.”
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