Nightrunners 03 - Traitor's Moon (67 page)

Looking down, he saw that the orbs were gone; in their place lay a square black banner stitched with the same intricate design. The blood droplets still falling from his hand clung to the material and turned to ruby beads where they fell.

"It is not complete, son of Korit," a voice whispered, and suddenly he was engulfed in searing pain and darkness
—

Alec woke with a strangled curse when something hit him hard in the face. Momentarily blinded by the pain, he struggled frantically against the weight pressing down on his chest and legs. It disappeared, replaced by a blast of cold air against his sweaty skin. The bright, hot taste of blood at the back of his mouth made him gag. Touching his nose gingerly, he felt wetness. "What the hell—?"

"Sorry, tali."

It was still too dark to see Seregil, but Alec heard scuffling in the darkness, then felt a tentative touch on his arm.

He spat in the opposite direction, trying to get the blood out of his mouth. "What happened?"

"Sorry," said Seregil again. Alec heard more fumbling, then blinked at the sudden brightness of a lightstone. Seregil held it in one hand and was rubbing the back of his head with the other. "Looks like my nightmare woke us both up."

"You can keep yourself warm next time," Alec growled, trying with limited success to pull the remaining blanket around him.

Seregil picked up the other and used a corner of it to staunch

Alec's nosebleed. His hands were shaking badly, though, and Alec pulled back to avoid further damage. "How long were we asleep?"

"Long enough. Let's move on," Seregil replied, widened eyes betraying some of the confusion Alec could feel radiating from him.

They dressed in silence, shivering at the unpleasant feel of damp wool and leather. Outside, the wind was still blowing, but Alec felt a change in the weather. Emerging from the hut, he saw stars showing through long rents in the scudding clouds. "Only an hour or two before dawn, I think."

"Good." Seregil mounted and looped the lead rein of his spare horse around the saddle horn. "We should reach the first guarded pass about then."

"Guarded?"

"Magicked," Seregil amended, sounding more himself now. "I could get through it in the dark, but I wouldn't want you doing it blindfolded. It's a bit tricky in places."

"There's something for me to look forward to," Alec grumbled, dabbing at his nose with his sleeve. "That, and a cold breakfast on horseback."

Seregil raised an eyebrow at him. "Now you're starting to sound like me! Next thing you know, you'll be wanting a hot bath."

Nyal had made a show of checking the Skalan's stables and searching out hoofprints, though he already had a fair idea of where Seregil and the others were headed. He'd shadowed them long enough to see them change horses at the way station and continue up the main road. Later, at the Iia'sidra, he'd overheard the Akhendi khirnari warn Nazien i Hari of a certain pass Seregil was likely to head for, one Nyal knew well for reasons of his own.

He took twelve riders with him for the chase, young bloods from some of the more neutral clans, including several of his own kin. He'd chosen carefully, wanting only youngsters who could be counted on to do as they were told.

Reaching the way station again before nightfall, he questioned the lad who watched the horses and learned that a certain signal had not been given by the last trio of dispatch riders, a fact that had raised suspicion almost before they'd ridden out of sight. That, and the fact that the Skalan rider had apparently understood more Aurenfaie than she let on.

The trail from here was not difficult to follow; the mare Beka had taken had a notch in her left rear hoof. Some miles on, though, Nyal

was surprised to see that they'd fallen in with several other riders. Seregil and Alec must be more brazen than he'd guessed, passing themselves off as Akhendi here. They were certainly taking no pains to cover their tracks, keeping to the main road instead of splitting up and losing themselves in the network of side roads that branched off from it. There were streams they could have ridden up to cover their trail, byways that doubled back on themselves. Then again, Seregil had no way of knowing most of these routes.

"Perhaps these other horsemen are conspirators?" said one of the Silmai with him as they paused at a roadside spring where the fugitives had dismounted to drink.

"If so, then they aren't being much help," Nyal said, studying the footprints in the soft earth at the spring's edge: two sets of Aurenfaie boots, one Skalan. The others had remained mounted.

"They can't know the area, or they'd have shown him ways of getting away from the main road and putting us off the scent," a Ra'basi kinsman named Woril noted.

"Not yet," Nyal murmured, wondering again what Seregil could be up to. It wasn't until the following day, when he finally found where the two groups of riders had parted, that he began to understand.

42

Misdirection

Beka rode steadily through the night, avoiding the few Akhendi villagers she encountered along the way. She made no effort to cover her trail, counting on misdirection to protect her friends.

The rain continued, a cold, inexorable mist that seemed to seep right down to her bones. As the mountains loomed closer ahead, she finally gave up the ruse and turned aside onto a side road that twisted away to the east through the forest. By late the next day she was exhausted and utterly lost.

Ambling along, she spotted a game trail leading up a slope and followed it, hoping to find some shelter for the night. Just before dark, she found a dry patch of earth beneath a fallen fir tree and made camp there. Lightning had struck the tree sometime recently, shattering the trunk but not severing it, so that the thick top hung to the ground at an angle, creating a sheltered den among the lower boughs. After dragging in her pack, she dug a pit with her knife and built a little fire to stave off the chill.

Just for a few hours,
she told herself, huddling close to the flames. The heat quickly baked the damp from her tunic and breeches. Wrapping herself in her blanket, she leaned against the rough bark behind her. A thin waxing moon showed itself between torn shreds of

clouds, a reminder that in just two days the Iia'sidra would decide the success or failure of all their work here.

"By the Four," she whispered. "Just let us get Klia home alive and I'll be satisfied."

As she drifted off to sleep, however, it was Nyal who filled her thoughts, tingeing her dreams with an uneasy mix of longing and doubt.

The grip of a strong hand on her shoulder startled Beka awake at dawn. There was just light enough to make out Nyal kneeling beside her, face inches from her own.

"What are you doing here?" she gasped, wondering if she was still dreaming.

"I'm sorry, talia," he murmured, and Beka's heart sank as she saw the armed men behind him.

She pulled back, berating herself bitterly for being so easily caught.

"Beka, please—" Nyal tried again, but she shoved him away and scrambled to her feet. How had they gotten so close without her hearing them?

. "Their horses are here, but there's no sign of them," a Ra'basi told Nyal.

"You son of a bitch!" Beka snarled, rocked to the core as realization sank in. "You led them here!"

"Where are they, Beka?" he asked.

She searched his eyes for some sign of hope but found none. Leaning closer, as if to confide in him, she spat in his face. "Garshil ke'menios!"

Nyal's mouth set in an angry line as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve. "There are others out looking for them, Captain, Haman among them."

Beka turned her back on him, saying nothing.

"We'll get nothing out of her," Nyal told the others. "Korious, you and your men get her back to the city. Akara, you wait until it's light enough, then scour the surrounding area for signs of them. I'll backtrack, then catch up with you."

"Very efficient, Ra'basi," Beka muttered as they stripped her of weapons and tied her hands.

"I assure you, Captain, you'll be treated with respect by these men," Nyal assured her. "As for your friends, it would be better for everyone concerned if I'm the one to find them. They're both in danger: Seregil and your almost-brother."

Beka sneered at him, not allowing him to play on her fears. "Go to hell, traitor."

The mountain road grew worse as Seregil and Alec went on. Bare stone peaks loomed ever closer, stark against the cloudy sky.

They reached the second village just before noon and found it as deserted as the first. No people meant no fresh horses, and Seregil's mare was limping badly.

Dismounting in the overgrown square, he ran a hand over the back leg she was favoring and found an angry swelling at the hock.

"Shit!" he hissed, gentling her as she shied. "She's bog spavined."

"The gelding is still sound," Alec told him, inspecting Seregil's other horse. One of Alec's horses, a bay mare, was cow hocked and probably wouldn't cover much rough country without coming up lame sooner or later, too.

Seregil shifted his saddle onto the gelding, then pointed up toward a distant notch between two crags. "We should hit the trail I want a few miles further on, inside the magicked area. You can't see it yet from here, but our pass is right up there. There's a Dravnian tower near the top. If these nags hold out, we might just make it. I don't want to be sleeping in the open tonight. There are wolves up there, and bandits."

"And smugglers?"

"If so, I hope they're smuggling horses. I suspect the war's put an end to that, though. Not much point in hauling goods to the coast if there aren't any Skalan night ships waiting for them."

"Too bad. I was hoping to meet that uncle of yours I keep hearing about. What are you going to do about that lame horse?"

In answer, Seregil smacked her hard on the rump and watched as she trotted awkwardly out of sight between the deserted houses. "Come on. Let's see how far we get before we lose that bay of yours."

A mile or so past the village Seregil spotted a carved post half hidden by twining creeper and brush. "This is where you get blindfolded, my friend."

Alec took out a strip of cloth and tied it over his eyes. "There, I'm in your hands, Guide."

"Not in quite the fashion I like," Seregil smirked, taking Alec's reins and setting off again.

Alec leaned forward and braced himself against the stirrups as the ground grew steadily steeper. He knew by the smells around him that they were still in the woods, but the echoes of the horse's hooves spoke of a narrow gap. From time to time he heard the rattle of loose stone, and for one heart-stopping moment his horse stumbled, scrabbling wildly for purchase. He clawed at the blindfold, terrified of being thrown off or crushed under a fallen horse.

"It's all right." Seregil's hand locked around his Wrist, drawing his hand away.

"Damn it, Seregil, how much longer?" Alec gasped.

"Another mile or so. It levels out soon, I think."

The riding did get easier, but presently Alec noticed that he was hearing echoes only on their left. A cold wind sighed steadily against his right cheek. "Are we by a cliff?" he asked, tensing again.

"Not too near," Seregil assured him.

"Then why aren't you talking?"

"I'm looking for the cutoff to the pass. Keep quiet and let me concentrate."

After another small eternity he heard Seregil let out a pent-up breath. "I found our trail. It won't be long now, I promise."

The air grew cooler around them, and Alec smelled the spicy resin of pines and cedar. "Can I take this blindfold off?" he asked, as his earlier fears gave way to outright boredom. "I'd like to see what it looks like, with the magic."

"It will make you sick," Seregil warned. "Just hang on a bit longer. We're nearly—oh, Illior! Alec, get your head down!"

Before Alec could obey, his horse wheeled sharply and he heard a sharp buzz close to his ear. Then something struck him hard in the chest and thigh, knocking the breath from his body in a startled grunt. Seregil yelled something and Alec's horse reared. Then he was falling, falling—

The moment Seregil spotted the ambushers, he knew it was already too late.

Rounding a bend between two large outcroppings, he and Alec had come out into a narrow stretch of trail cut into a steep, sparsely wooded slope that slanted down to a riverbed several hundred feet below. Just ahead, the narrow cut up the mountainside that lead to the pass was gone, obliterated by a massive rock slide. The archers had taken positions up among the rocks, where they had a clear view of the killing floor below. Unable to go right or left, Seregil

could only retreat the way he'd come and hope to get around the bend before they both got an arrow in the back. But as he wheeled his mount, dragging Alec's around by the head rein, he saw more men standing on the stones he'd just passed. The trap was sprung.

"Get your head down!" he shouted again, but it was too late for that, too.

Alec's bay reared, screaming, with an arrow protruding from its chest. Still blindfolded, Alec was thrown off, falling toward the downhill slope. Seregil just had time to register the shafts embedded in his friend's shoulder and leg before Alec disappeared from view.