by Cas Peace
They let the disguise settle before feeling confident it was as natural as it was going to get. Robin suggested they maintain it even when they were alone. If they should come across one of Rykan’s patrols unexpectedly, the disguises would already be in place.
“Will it last overnight?” asked Rienne.
Robin shook his head. “We need the Powersink to maintain the disguise and that would be an unnecessary drain. It’s going to tire us enough as it is. I suggest that whoever’s on watch keeps up their own disguise, it’ll be good practice. Who knows what might happen if we manage to join Rykan’s forces? It’s likely we’ll have to do some quick thinking if we’re not to get separated.”
He flicked both Taran and Cal a grim glance. “I’m not going to pretend this will be easy. Far from it. It’ll be risky and dangerous and we’ll be lucky to get out alive. The only way it’ll work is if we’re tight, sharp and swift. Ideally, I want to be able to ride in there tomorrow, use our cover as mercenaries to do a bit of reconnaissance—which shouldn’t be too difficult as the place will be in chaos—find out where he’s keeping her, and effect our rescue during the night.”
Noting Taran’s raised brows, his mouth tightened. “Yes, I know it won’t be as simple as that, but I have nothing else to offer until I know what we’re up against. One thing I can tell you. The longer we’re there, the greater the chance of discovery. Our only advantage lies in surprise, but it’s no guarantee of success. If anyone wants to back out, now’s the time to say. Bull and I won’t think any less of you.”
Taran traded glances with Cal and Rienne and then shook his head. Robin’s relief was plain.
“We need to be up early in the morning, so unless there are any questions, I suggest we grab some sleep.”
+ + + + +
It was damp and misty when they woke, but not as cold. Breakfast was a hurried affair, taken while breaking camp. They spent some time re-establishing the illusion and Taran was relieved to find that it was significantly easier than the night before. Robin organized them into something resembling a militia unit come to join the Duke’s forces, although his plan was to locate a patrol, sneak up on them and try to gain some intelligence before they rode in and announced themselves.
Since Rienne couldn’t pass for a warrior even if Andaryan women were allowed to bear arms, Robin decided she would be a healer attached to their party. Hopefully, a skilled healer would be acceptable to anyone’s war effort, whatever their gender. He asked her to ride in the middle, the place of greatest safety. This had the added advantage of placing her at the focus of the illusion.
They traveled warily for most of the day, the tree cover increasing the farther east they went. The hills were getting steeper and they soon realized they were climbing a substantial ridge. Harva had told them the palace was in a valley, and Taran guessed they were riding up its southernmost slope.
So far they had seen no patrols, but Bull had spotted signs of old campfires and the tracks of horses. Most of the tracks were heading toward the palace, but some seemed to be circling the area in a logical pattern. As they finally began descending the ridge, they entered the forest Harva had mentioned. It wasn’t far off midday and Robin called a halt.
He gathered them around. “I think the time has come to find out exactly what we’re walking into. There’s a thick stand of trees over there, large enough to hide in. I suggest Rienne, Cal and Bull wait here with the horses while Taran and I go forward on foot. I want to locate a patrol, see if I can do a spot of eavesdropping. There must be one around here somewhere, their tracks are everywhere. We’ll try not to be too long and I’ll report back to Bull now and then, but I don’t want to use too much power in case I’m overheard.”
Once they had dismounted, Bull, Cal and Rienne led the horses deep into the thicket. Robin checked that Bull and Cal could maintain three disguises, and that Bull knew to get the others away if Robin and Taran got into trouble. Then he led Taran away in search of a patrol.
They crept through the silent woods, the continuing absence of bird-song ahead a sure sign they were not alone. It wasn’t long before Taran saw Robin give a quick gesture and he followed the Captain as he worked his cautious way toward a clearing in the trees. Taran couldn’t see the signs Robin had spotted but once he was lying on his stomach near the edge of the clearing, concealed among bracken, he cautiously raised his head and saw the four-man patrol.
They must’ve halted for a breather because they hadn’t set a watch. All wore the black and silver of Rykan’s forces but none bore the scarlet flashing of an officer. Taran assumed they were guardsmen scouting the forest for stragglers and he soon realized their hearts weren’t in the task.
“Damn stupid peasants,” one of the swordsmen was saying. “You’d think they would be capable of understanding a simple command. What’s so hard about ‘make your way immediately to his Grace’s palace?’”
“Can’t think why his Grace wants such sheep shite anyway,” said one of his comrades, passing around a water bottle. “Half of them don’t even know their own names, let alone which end of a sword’s sharp.”
The others laughed.
“They’re arrow fodder, nothing more,” said another, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “They will be shoved to the front, to take the first wave of arrows. That’s all they’re good for—shielding proper swordsmen.”
“And the second wave will be for Marik’s rabble, if we’re lucky,” said the first one. “Bloody mercenaries. Think they know it all. I tell you, that lackwit Nazir’s going to feel my sword in his back just as soon as I can get behind him. Can you believe he had the bloody nerve to tell me my swing was unbalanced? I’ll give him unbalanced. Let’s see how balanced he is with his guts around his feet.”
“Still, at least he’s here,” said the last man. “I’ve just about had enough of raking this damned forest for bloody stragglers. Marik’s useless peasants can’t even walk a straight line, let alone obey a call to arms.”
Taran risked exchanging a look with Robin, knowing the Captain was thinking the same thing. If they could pass themselves off as stragglers from Marik’s province, their appearance at Rykan’s gates would be credible. They were already acquainted with Marik and had some knowledge of his lands, so their chances of being caught out were greatly diminished. He grinned at the Captain and was about to suggest they retreat when Robin put a finger to his lips. Taran turned back to the patrol.
“When’s his Grace expected back?”
Taran and Robin stared at each other; they had never even considered that Rykan might not be at the palace.
“Word is he’s due back sometime late tonight. Quartermaster says that now his Grace has issued his formal challenge, he just has to finish what he started with the human witch before giving the order to move out. Said he’d spoken to the jailer and that he reckoned she’s more’n half dead anyway, so one more session ought to do it.”
The men laughed, a deeply unpleasant sound.
“I reckon his Grace will enjoy that!”
They made lewd comments about Rykan’s “pet chained witch” and Robin went pale. He started sweating and might have drawn his sword had Taran not placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the young Captain shaking with rage and drew him away as carefully as he could. The patrolmen weren’t being particularly watchful but they still had ears.
They returned to the others as quickly as they could. Robin was still shaking, so Taran reported what they had heard. When Bull realized the reason for Robin’s anger, he took him by the arms. Taran really hoped he could calm down the Captain because he was worried by the dangerous glint in Robin’s eyes.
“You’re going to have to control your emotions better than this,” Bull told him sternly. “It’s highly likely we’ll hear more of that kind of talk inside the palace and if you react like that, you’ll give us away.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” said Robin. “It’s just … it’s so hard, you know?”
“Of
course I know. Don’t you think I feel it, too? I’m as frightened for her as you are. You’ve got to remember your training, lad, it’s more vital now than it’s ever been. Remember what she’s tried to drum into you these last two years. What’s she always telling you?”
“Humility, discipline, control,” Robin growled. “I’ve never been very good at any of them.”
“Then I suggest you get good real quick. Maybe luck’s with us at the moment but it’s still going to be bloody dangerous. All our lives are at stake, not just hers. You and I know what we’re doing, we can take care of ourselves, but Taran and Cal aren’t trained for this. And there’s Rienne to think of, too.” He shook his head. “I hate to think what Sully would say if she knew we were bringing Rienne in with us.”
He held Robin’s alien gaze. “You’re in command here, Captain. The responsibility’s yours. Think like Sullyan. You’ve seen her lead often enough and she’s taught you well. You showed that when you led the lads against the invasion. Do it like she would. This is your chance to repay her for all her hard work, your chance to prove her right and Blaine wrong. Make us proud of you, Captain. Make her proud!
“Let’s go. We’ve got to get in there, do what we have to do, and get out safely before Rykan returns. We won’t get a second chance.”
Robin gripped Bull’s shoulder and turned to the others. His stern expression softened when he saw Rienne’s pale face. The patrol’s comments concerning Sullyan’s state of health had frightened her and her gray eyes glittered with tears. “I hope we’re not too late,” she said.
“We won’t be,” said Robin. “Everyone, form up as we agreed. Let’s not run into any patrols if we can help it, I don’t want any delays. Rienne, pull up the hood of your cloak and keep it there. I want you concealed as much as possible.
“Ready? Let’s go.”
They made good time in the failing light, managing to avoid two more patrols. Convenient as it was, Robin was disgusted at the ease of it; his opinion of Rykan’s regulars went down considerably.
“No one would be able to approach the Manor like this if we were on a war footing,” he said. “Our patrols are much more alert.”
“Well, good for us that Rykan’s aren’t,” said Bull. “Look, that’s the main gate ahead. We’d better ride up in full view as we’re supposed to be joining up. Keep alert, everyone, and remember, you’re demons now. Rienne, a word of caution. Women are much more subservient here so keep your head down. Don’t say anything if you’re addressed, let us do the talking. You might not like it, but men are the masters here.”
“Yes, you love that, don’t you?” muttered Rienne from under her hood. Taran knew the sarcasm was to mask her fear. “Don’t worry,” she added, “I can do subservient when I want to.”
Cal snorted but didn’t comment.
They rode openly to the gates and two guards holding loaded crossbows stepped smartly in front of them. Robin held up his hand to halt his party. Dismounting, he flung his reins to Taran, who fortunately was alert enough to catch them. Dismissive of the crossbows, Robin stalked toward the two guards.
“Is this the welcome we get after riding for days to join his Grace’s assault force?” he sneered. “We left our homes and livelihoods to come here. It had better be worth it.”
His high-handed tone seemed to distract the guards, who lowered their crossbows. “Whose men are you?” one of them said.
Robin looked down his nose. “Our lord is Count Marik.”
“Oh, priceless! More crack troops.” The demon rolled his eyes and spat at Robin’s feet. “Much good you’ll be.”
“Who commands the patrols in the forest?” asked Robin, giving him a venomous look.
“They’re Lord Rykan’s personally trained troops,” snapped the demon.
“Well if they’re so good and we’re so useless, how come we’ve just evaded three patrols? I could have marched a whole company through that forest without being seen. They were more concerned with getting back in time for dinner than they were about security. They wouldn’t last a day under my command.”
“You can tell his Grace that when you see him. Perhaps he’ll put you in charge of the van if you’re so bloody good,” the guard sneered.
Irritably, he scanned the rest of Robin’s group, his pale brown eyes widening as he spotted Rienne. The healer had lowered her cowled head and was staring at her horse’s mane but her hands, visible on the reins, were unmistakably a woman’s.
The guard turned to stare at Robin, a sly grin on his face. “I know you was told to bring your own supplies, but I don’t think that’s what his Grace had in mind. The other lads will be grateful, I’m sure.”
He shoved past Cal’s horse and strode up to Rienne. Taran could see her trembling. The guard laid his hand on her thigh and Taran tensed, ready to defend her. He needn’t have worried. Before anyone could speak or react, Robin’s sword was out of its sheath, the point resting solidly between the guard’s shoulder blades. The demon stiffened, his slit-eyes narrowing.
“Take your hand off her, friend,” said Robin, his tone softly menacing. “She’s our healer and a damned good one. I’m not giving her up to the likes of you. We might need her skills before too long and I want her left undamaged. Now, are you going to tell us where we can put our gear? We’ve come a long way for this, but we can just as easily ride away if our swords aren’t welcome.”
The demon’s eyes held a promise of retribution but Robin’s sword dissuaded him from action. He stepped slowly away from Rienne, glaring at them in dislike.
“Get inside the compound. We’ve just about had enough of waiting for you lot. We’re likely moving out tomorrow, so you’d better look lively. The count’s rabble are billeted over by the dung pile where they belong. I’m sure you’ll find some old friends over there, if they haven’t already deserted.”
Turning, he flung open the main gate and the other guard did the same. Taran could feel their venomous gazes boring into his back as he followed the others into the compound. He heard Bull whisper, “Well done, lass,” and saw Rienne flash him a wan smile. The gates slammed shut behind them.
They were inside the enemy’s lair now and needed all their wits.
The vast area was seething with men, horses, gear and weapons. Momentarily overawed by the sheer numbers around them, they came to a halt to get their bearings.
“Get out of the way, you idiots,” yelled someone behind them. “Get those horses to the stables and sort yourselves out. You part-timers are more trouble than you’re worth.”
To avoid further confrontation, they quickly found a space by the wall of the stables. Most of the men around them seemed to be from Marik’s province, judging by the lack of black-and-silver uniforms. Marik’s people wore ordinary combat leathers if they were trained fighters, or an assortment of whatever they had on hand if they were of peasant origin. Being only a count, Marik didn’t have the funds to outfit a dedicated fighting force and clearly relied on mercenaries and a few of his landholders to supply men when he needed them. This was very convenient, thought Taran, as it wouldn’t seem odd if no one knew them.
As Robin had predicted, the atmosphere in the compound was one of seething chaos and no one gave the newcomers a second glance. Their disguises were holding, so Robin accosted a passing swordsman and asked for the Quartermaster. Beckoning to Taran, he followed the directions he was given and they eventually located the man. There were many others clamoring for the Quartermaster’s attention but Robin pushed through them, rudely demanding stabling for their horses.
He asked where the training ground was and who was in charge of supplies and feeding. His overbearing manner seemed to be having the desired effect as the Quartermaster, an older, harassed-looking man with an irritable air, eyed them distastefully.
“No one’s in charge of much here, mate,” he said. “Welcome to the arse-end of warfare. No one’s going to bother with you ’til the Duke’s generals form the regulars up tomorrow. Then you’ll b
e divided up among the existing companies. You’re arrow-fodder and nothing more. You ought to be grateful his Grace is giving you the opportunity to prove yourselves. If I had my way, you’d all be lined up and shot. So if you didn’t bring your own supplies like you were told, you’ll have to go without.”
Taran heard Robin chuckle under his breath as they returned to the others. “It couldn’t be better, so far,” the Captain said. “No one knows anyone else, no one’s in charge, and no routine’s been set up. They’re all too busy with the regulars to worry about a worthless bunch of peasants, which is why we’ve all been penned up in here. This could work in our favor, Bull. If we go for a stroll now and then, no one will notice. We only need to make sure our horses and gear are safe and that we can get out when we need to.”
“And how are we going to do that with guards on the gates?” asked Cal. “Aren’t we trapped in here? Someone will definitely notice if we go thundering out in the night, especially if we’ve got the Major with us.”
“We’ll think of something,” stated Robin. “At least we’re in. Rykan’s not here and we’ve a few hours, by the sounds of it, before he returns. Bull, are you alright with the disguises?” The big man nodded. “Good, I think it’s best if you wait here with Cal and Rienne in case there’s trouble. Taran and I will take a look round. Rienne, keep out of sight as much as possible, pretend to be asleep or something. We’ll be as quick as we can.”
Taran followed him into the throng of men, trying to look as if he had every right to be there. Robin was a veteran of many campaigns and knew the workings of military camps. The grumbles and grudges of soldiers, he told Taran, were much the same wherever you went. By a judicious remark here, and keeping their ears open there, they learned much about the situation and what might happen tomorrow. No one, though, could tell them much about the Major, why she was so necessary to Rykan’s plans, or where she might be held. Like the patrol in the forest, though, they were happy to make bawdy comments, most of which were highly unpleasant. Robin’s face grew tighter and tighter as he held himself in and his lips were gray by the time he and Taran made their way back to the others.