Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) (13 page)

Just as Laine's stiff back relaxed, Ehren realized he could see the path. It was narrow but definite, and bore the crumbling imprints of hooves from the last rain. Up until now, the path had pretty much followed the riverbank, but now it angled away into a small stand of aspens and up a slope that foreshadowed the mountains to come.

"I didn't think they could keep it up for long," Laine said. "It must take a lot of effort to maintain an illusion that complete." He stopped his horse and moved her to the side of the path, looking expectantly back at Ehren. Ehren pushed Ricasso past, engaging in a few moments of shove and jostle— and not a little knee-banging— as the mare laid back her ears and rolled her eyes at the gelding.

"Live with it," Laine grumbled at her, moving onto the path behind Ehren.

Ehren led them forward at a slower pace than Laine had set; he doubted they were far from her now. When he heard the snatch of a voice above the quiet sounds of their movement, he stopped and dismounted.

There were other horses ahead; Ricasso's raised head and widened nostrils told him that much. Horses... and a mule. The braying neigh of greeting told Ehren and Laine both that they'd found Shette.

Ehren dropped his reins and sprang for Laine's mare, reaching her just in time to cover her nose and startle her out of her reply. "You'd best dismount and keep close to her head," he said to Laine's surprised expression. "I'll scout ahead."

"I won't argue with that." Laine dismounted and stood resolutely by the mare's head, the reins grasped close to the bit and his expression not nearly as settled as his words.

"I'll be quick," Ehren said. He eased past Ricasso, giving the horse an absent pat and a murmured reminder to
stand
.

Damp leaves layered the ground beneath the aspens, and Ehren had no trouble keeping his silence as he moved through the trees and up the slope. Slowly, he moved to the crest of the hill, flattening himself to the ground so only his head showed when he peeked over it.

It was a pleasant little spot for a camp, although worn from extended use— and the faint odor of human waste drifted in with the breeze.
An established camp, then.
The horses and mule were out of sight around the curve of the hill, and rude lean-to shelters lined the edge of the camp, gathered around the central fire area. A man slept in one of the shelters, and a woman sat on a log mending the sleeve of her shirt while she wore it.

And there was Shette.

She sat by a campfire comprised more from wisps of smoke than actual fire, her elbows on her knees and her chin jammed into the heel of her hand. She looked sullen and uncooperative, and if she'd been scared, she'd had time to get over it. They hadn't treated her kindly, though— it showed in the hair pulled free from her tie-back, and the rip in her trouser knee.

Still, there were no obvious bruises, no bloodstains. That would help put Laine's mind at ease.

The short woman looked up as she brought her mended cuff up to her mouth and bit the thread off. "You might as well wipe that look off your snotty little face," she said. "When we get you to Everdawn, no one'll buy you but the sort you don't want to belong to, if you look like that."

"I don't want to belong to
anyone
," Shette said, glaring at the fire. She'd apparently decided it wasn't safe to glare at the woman herself.

"Then you shouldn'ta been traveling that road by yourself."

"I
wasn't
by myself, I was with my brother. Just got ahead of him, is all. Your puny little spells aren't going to fool him, either. You might as well just let me go— he'll get me back, anyway." She flipped the stray hair back out of her face, but her voice didn't carry the bluff her words needed. Poor Shette. Her quiet upbringing had surely never prepared her for
this
.

Ehren scanned the area again to make sure he hadn't missed anyone; the sleeping man gave a great snort and rolled on his back, snoring in earnest.
Opportunity.

Quickly, Ehren moved back down the hill. Laine waited impatiently, letting the mare browse on nearby branches to keep her mind off the animals above them. "Was she there?" he demanded, as soon as Ehren was close enough that he could do it quietly.

"She's there, all right," Ehren said, snagging his helmet from Ricasso. "And unhurt, as far as I can tell. There're two others— a tough-looking woman and some fellow who's asleep in a shelter. He's snoring loud enough to deafen anyone within range."

"Then we ought to go
now.
" Laine took a step forward.

"Now it is. If you haven't had practice moving quietly, you'd better learn damn fast. I want you uphill of that shelter— if you can bring it down on the man, he'll be out of the fight."

Laine nodded, his face set with determination. "I'll do it."

"Tie your mare away from Ricasso— I don't want them fussing just as you're getting into position. And Laine—" Ehren broke off, his eyes hard, getting Laine's attention as he'd been about to turn away. "I don't know if you've ever killed a man. But if you're not prepared to do it now, I'm better off going up there alone."

Laine looked away. When he looked back again, his face was just as hard as Ehren's. "I'll do it," he said. "You just be sure you get Shette out of there."

They went up the hill together, crawling the last few feet before the crest. The woman had put away her needle and now rummaged in a stack of goods with the cover tarp flipped back out of her way. Shette ignored her— had, in fact, turned her back on the woman. But her face, hidden from the enemy, showed her desperation clearly.

Ehren caught Laine's eye and nodded.

With the thin undergrowth between the aspens, Laine would have to be more than quiet— he would have to be stealthy. For a moment, Ehren wondered if he hadn't made a mistake— if it would have been better to do this alone after all. But Laine had taken his cue and moved on with it.

Waiting while someone else took action had never been Ehren's strong point. He eased his sword from its scabbard and followed Laine's progress as the young man circled the camp.

Shette was the one who saw him. She stiffened, and her mouth dropped open. For a moment Ehren thought she would give her brother away, for she half-rose from the rock she was sitting on.

The woman noticed immediately. "Sit yerself back down again," she said gruffly. "Don't need to be worrying about you while I'm fixing supper."

Instead, Shette stood all the way up, walking to draw the woman's gaze away from Laine— and heading straight to where Ehren waited. "I have to go to the bathroom," she told the woman, sounding sulky.

"You just went. Sit down."

"I can't help it. I'm scared. I have to go!" And this time she sounded scared, for she must have realized what Laine was up to.

Just don't give him away
, Ehren thought.

She didn't. Apparently not trusting herself not to keep her face schooled, she turned her back on the woman and her brother.

And gasped when she saw Ehren.

The woman's head rose sharply, her gaze following Shette's with unerring accuracy.

Ehren surged up from the trees, grabbing Shette on his way past— shoving her back the way he'd come. She stumbled and fell as she hit the slope, sliding down in the dirt.

"
Run
!" he shouted after her, putting himself between her and the woman. On the other side of the camp, the crack of splintering wood announced Laine's arrival— but Ehren knew it hadn't been in time to catch the man asleep.

"Just let her go," he warned the woman, standing with his sword to the side, point down.
I'm willing to do this without a fight if you are
.

"King's Guard," she sneered, clearing her own sword of the scabbard.

No hesitation, then.

Ehren raised his sword to guard as she rushed to meet him, quicker than he would have merited. Eager enough so she probably felt she could best him.

The predatory grin on her face said the same.

She took the initiative and went high with a flurry of attacks, steel against steel and the distance much closer than Ehren liked. When they broke apart she was still grinning.

She'd found a way, it seemed, to deal with her short reach— come in so close he could barely cover himself, and attack first so she had the initiative.

But it wasn't the first time he'd seen it.

When she moved in again, his stop-thrust hit her just below her elbow, and she jumped back with a sound of anger more than dismay.

Behind Ehren, Shette screamed.
Still here?
Screaming at what?

The woman seized his moment of distraction and lunged, closing the distance and following when he backed, parrying so close to his body he could barely move fast enough to keep her edge away from him. Shette screamed on, but he couldn't so much as glance to ensure there was no one coming up on his flank— he could only continue to weave the pattern of parries that kept him whole.

Suddenly the woman dropped low, flashing down from fifth position to snap the blade at his thigh. He slashed a wild parry from first and found his opening, stepping into her lunge and bringing his elbow back and up into her face.

Her head snapped back; blood spurted from her nose and lips. He repeated the motion, jamming the basket hilt into her jaw, whipping the sword around to fourth position and slashing it down across her body from shoulder to opposite hip.

Her sparsely studded cloth brigandine did nothing to stop his blade.

She fell back with a grunt of disbelief, staring down at herself. Ehren didn't pause to check her fate; he knew it well enough. And Shette was still screaming—

Because Laine had gotten caught in the shelter wreckage, doing his best to avoid his enemy's knife while trying to disentangle himself. His sword lay just up the hill— and out of reach. Shette bolted back up the hill toward him.

Ehren intercepted her, not bothering to be gentle as he wrapped an arm around her waist and flung her back the way she'd come and then sprinting for Laine himself.

Laine's arm bled, his expression that of pure concentration rather than panic. Ehren could see, then, that both men were trapped in the wreckage— but only one of them had the expression of a man willing to kill, and the weapon to do it with. And then Laine lost his balance and fell, easily within reach of that knife.

Without slacking pace, Ehren took the man from behind, overshooting the shelter before he could stop, twisting back around—

But it was over. His blade, with all the power of his run behind it, had taken the man deeply over one kidney. Arterial blood gushed brightly across the ground as the man collapsed over the wreckage of his shelter.

Abruptly more panicked now than before, Laine fought to free the leg that still trapped him.

Ehren crouched beside him, keeping an eye on the dying man only an arm's length from them both, and moved the green-cut branch that had flexed around Laine's ankle. Laine stumbled backwards, almost fell, and lurched into a tree— which he grabbed as though
it
had been the one to save his life... or was saving it now.

If Laine thought he was going to get a respite, he was wrong. Shette ran to him, connecting with full force to wrap her arms around him. She seemed to have forgotten she was an independent young woman who knew all she needed to know, and settled for sobbing into Laine's shoulder.

Over her head, Laine watched the dying gasps of the man who would have killed him, his face pale, his expression aghast. When his attention shifted to Ehren, it held new awareness.
Who Ehren was…what he could do…what he was willing to do.

"Did you have to— couldn't you have—" But he didn't finish the thought.

He didn't need to.

Ehren didn't have time for it— this camp had been set up for more than two people. He jogged around the bend of the hill to find a corral of slender, fresh-cut aspens lashed to standing trees. From within, Laine's mule regarded him with long ears pricked straight upright. There were two other horses in the corral— a small, round black mare and a hard-used grey gelding. All were loosely saddled with their bridles tied to the saddles, and Ehren didn't bother with niceties. He brought his sword down against the lashing and kicked away the poles that fell, reaching for the lead rope that had been tied back up around Clang's throatlatch. These people kept themselves ready to move out quickly, that much was obvious.

He gathered up the two horses as well, ignoring their distrustful snorts. The remaining bandits would no doubt move on before Ehren could report their position to either Lorakan or Solvan guards— but there was no point in leaving them extra mounts.

When he returned to the camp, Laine was guiding Shette away from the dead man, and just discovering that Ehren had disemboweled the woman. He looked worse than Shette at the sight.

Ehren didn't coddle him. "Let's go," he said. "Every moment we're here increases the chance we'll meet someone coming in on that path."

"Right," Laine muttered. He jammed his sword back in its sheath and wrapped his arm tightly around Shette's shoulders, reaching for Clang's lead to let Ehren lead the way.

~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER SIX

Laine concentrated on the little things as the trio returned to the road. The blood trickling down his arm to drip off his fingers. Shette's little sniffles. Keeping Clang off his heels.

No one spoke until they were back on the road. Then Shette, her voice still edged with tears, said, "I came out here for a reason. There's this guy—"

"We know about him," Laine snapped, still reeling inside— as much over what he'd seen Ehren do as the terror of being snagged in the wreckage of the shelter— unarmed— against a man with a ferally predatory eye and a knife.

He thought he'd been prepared to do what had to be done. He'd
thought
he could be tough and hard if circumstances called for it. After all, he'd defended their cattle often enough.