Talon of the Silver Hawk (37 page)

For a moment, Tal was almost overwhelmed by three raiders who all turned to confront him at once so that he had to furiously parry three blows in blinding succession; but then the man on his left was struck from behind, the man on his right took an arrow in the shoulder, and once he faced the man in the center, Tal quickly dispatched him.

Dodging through the melee, he struck at two more men, missing one and turning himself around for an instant. He started to move to his left, for he had overbalanced and had an enemy behind him.

Detecting movement out of the corner of his left eye, he turned. Something exploded in his face, and the world turned a brilliant flash of yellow, then red. Then everything went dark.

Tal came back to consciousness as water was poured over his face. He blinked and found John Creed kneeling over him, a ladle of water in his hand. The sounds of battle were absent. There was shouting and some other noise, but no clash of arms, screams, or swearing.

“What happened?” he asked, trying to sit up. His head swam from the exertion.

“Easy,” said Creed as an Orodon woman helped Tal to sit up. “You got knocked out by the backswing of a sword. The bloke who brained you was rearing back to hit me. Caught you with the flat, else you'd be sitting up in Lims-Kragma's hall.''

At mention of the ill-fated deity, the Orodon woman said a word of prayer to appease the dark goddess.

“How long was I out?''

“Only a few minutes,” said Creed, helping Tal to his feet. “Steady.”

Tal nodded and put his hand to his forehead. He could feel the bump rising, and the tenderness told him he was indeed lucky to be alive. “I'd rather be lucky than good,” he said, thinking of Pasko for the first time in months. He glanced around, “It's over?''

“This time they broke for real. Most of the ones here threw down their weapons and begged for quarter. The rest broke outside the gate and were shot down by archers. A few made it to the trees and got away.''

“Raven?”

“He's riding south, I suspect, as fast as his horse can carry him.''

Tal looked around, and details began to resolve themselves. A dozen enemies were on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs. The raiders' dead were being carried to a place near the gate and stacked like cordwood.

Several women were in tears, having found their husbands dead, and more than one man wept for a dead wife.

Jasquenel approached reverently. “You have saved my people, Talon of the Silver Hawk.''

He spoke the Orodon language, so that John Creed didn't understand it, but he could sense the gratitude in the man's voice.

“I helped to avenge my people,” Tal answered in the Orosini language. Then in the Common Tongue, he said, “I need a horse.''

“It will be done,” said Jasquenel. He shouted to a boy to fetch Tal a mount.

“What are you doing?” asked Creed.

“Going after Raven,” said Tal.

“You've been addled by that blow to the head. It's night, he'll have half an hour's start on you by the time you get out of here, and he's probably got some men riding with him.''

Tal nodded. “I know, but I can track him.''

“Track him? At night in these mountains?”

Jasquenel looked at Creed. “If he says he can track him, he can.''

“Should I go with you?” John Creed asked.

“No. You'll only slow me down.” Tal placed put his hand on Creed's shoulder. “Thank you for everything, John. I would not have been able to help these people without your guidance.”

“You're welcome, Tal. You have the makings of a fair captain. If you decide you'd like to run a company again, let me know. I'll always be willing to serve with a man who's not afraid to be in the van.''

“My mercenary days are over. This was a one-time thing. In the baggage wagon you'll find a small bag of gold coins. Divide it among the men as you see fit and keep some for yourself. Play captain long enough to get the lads back to Latagore, all right?''

“I can do that.” Creed motioned to the dozen prisoners. “What do we do with them?''

“What do you normally do when opposing mercenaries surrender?”

“If it's up to us, we cut them lose with a parole they won't fight against us, but usually it's up to our employers.”

Tal turned to Jasquenel. “These are the men who slew my people. They would have burned your homes and murdered your women and children without mercy. You decide.''

Jasquenel didn't hesitate. He simply looked at the warriors who guarded the prisoners and said, “Kill them.''

Before the prisoners could attempt to stand, each man had his head yanked back and his throat cut.

Jasquenel looked at Creed and Tal, and declared, “It is just. They get mercy as they gave it.''

Creed looked uncomfortable, but he nodded. “Not a lot of sentiment for Raven's crew out there, but some of the boys won't like it. We'd best be for the south come first light.''

The horse arrived, and Tal said, “I need a full waterskin.”

A woman ran to her hut and returned a moment later with a full skin. She also held up a bundle. “Food, for the chase.''

Tal nodded. He gathered up his weapons—his sword and bow—and retrieved a full quiver of arrows. He waved, then put his heels to his horse's flanks and headed out of the gate and into the night.

Tal halted.

He had pushed his horse through the night and let the animal have a short break. Since leaving the village of Queala he had dismounted three times to ensure that he wasn't losing Raven's trail.

As he had suspected, Raven chose speed over stealth and kept to the main trail south, the most direct route to the city of Coastal Watch. Tal looked to the east, where the rapidly approaching sun had turned the sky steel grey, and knew that dawn was less than minutes away. He guessed that Raven would make camp and set up a sentry and rest before moving on, probably at midday. At least that's what Tal would do if he thought no one was following him.

He decided to take a short rest himself; then he would start down the trail slowly, looking for sentries or ambushes. He found a small, grassy clearing, less than two
hundred yards across and perhaps twice that long, unsaddled the horse, and staked her out with enough room to graze. Then, using the saddle for a pillow, he lay down under a tree.

He checked the position of the sun, then closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Two hours later, as he had planned, he awoke. The sun beat down with unexpected intensity for the time of year. Tal could feel the air suck the moisture out of his skin even before perspiration could form. It would be hot and dry for days, if these mountains were anything like his homeland.

He saddled his horse and set off down the trail. After a while, he found a small brook and let the horse drink at it while he refilled his waterskin. Then he continued on. Half an hour later, he smelled campfire smoke.

Tal dismounted, tethered his horse, and set off on foot. Moving through the trees just a few yards off the trail, he found the going slow, but he knew he would be far less likely to be seen as he overtook his quarry.

Quickly and quietly, he wended his way through the trees, stopping to listen every few hundred feet. The fourth time he paused, he smelled horse dung and could just make out the faint sounds of horses moving around and cropping grass.

Slowly, he made his way through the trees, each cautious step bringing him closer to his enemies. In the distance he saw that the tree cover was thinning, and he anticipated a small meadow or clearing ahead where Raven and his surviving riders would most likely be resting.

He moved cautiously from one tree to the next, his bow clutched in his left hand, an arrow held alongside the bow, so that he could draw and shoot in an instant. Every nerve was drawn taut as he expected the raiders to sound an alarm at any moment. At last he could see the horses, staked out
in a picket line a short distance from the trees, near a small brook that bubbled down a narrow dale. The horses lifted their heads as he neared, so he paused and waited until they returned to their grazing.

A fire had been allowed to burn out, but the smoky smell still hung over the area. Five figures lay near the cold campfire site, while six horses grazed. Tal glanced around, trying to find the sentry.

He crept along just inside the trees, the thick boles hiding him from view. He saw a flicker of motion near the point at which the path entered the little dale, and he froze.

Someone was standing so close to a tree that he was all but invisible in the dark shadows cast by the branches overhead. Tal knew that he must be tired, for otherwise he would surely have spotted the man critical seconds earlier. He took a deep breath and crept forward.

The sentry was watching the trail, his back to Tal. Tal glanced back toward the camp and saw that the other five figures remained still.

He considered his options. He could kill the sentry, but could he do it silently? Slowly, he nocked his arrow and drew the bowstring. The sentry leaned against the tree, but Tal waited.

Then the sentry stretched, flexing his shoulders, and Tal let fly the arrow. The shaft struck the man at the base of the neck, and he went down without uttering a sound. But he hit the ground with enough of a thud that one of the horses shied, whinnying. As soon as the scent of blood reached them, the other horses also looked to where the body had fallen.

Two of the mercenaries were light sleepers: they were up with weapons drawn in seconds. “Garth!” one shouted. “What is it?''

Tal assumed that was the name of the man he killed, so
he retreated deeper into the woods. As he lost sight of the camp, he heard a man shout, “Raven!''

Tal hurried, dodging through the woods as he heard Raven's voice clearly for the first time. “Fan out! Find him!''

Tal knew he couldn't stand and fight. He was too fatigued and not thinking clearly. He had missed an opportunity to kill the two men who were awake, and perhaps finish off the other three before they could have got to cover. He had made a mistake, and it could cost him his life.

He heard movement behind him and knew that at least one of the raiders was able to track. He saw an outcropping of rock, a ridge that ran for a hundred yards before it rose to be too high to climb, and he leapt up onto it. As if walking a tightrope, he hurried along it as fast as he could, then where the rock became impassable, he jumped down and took cover.

He drew another arrow and waited.

Whoever was tracking him was good, he was forced to admit after a few minutes of waiting. He heard nothing and saw nothing.

He continued to wait.

After a few more minutes had passed, something changed. It was difficult to assess exactly what it was, but one moment the noises in the woods—the air rustling through the branches barely more audible than a whisper, the fall of leaves and needles—changed.

Tal knew it wasn't important to understand what the change was, only that it meant he was not alone. He hunkered down behind the outcropping of rock and sniffed the air, looked for shadows that didn't belong, listened for anything that would reveal the whereabouts of his pursuer.

Time seemed to drag past, but Tal knew that whoever was behind him was playing the same game, waiting for him to make a mistake.

There came the faintest noise, the tiny grinding of a boot sole against rock, and Tal sprang up and whirled about. For a brief moment, his enemy's face was in his sights. Time stood still while Tal ordered his fingers to release his arrow, and as he did so, he was able to take in details he would not have been able to imagine before this moment. The man's hair was black, dusty from having rolled on the ground at one point, perhaps fearing another arrow shot after Tal had killed the sentry. He was dark-skinned, perhaps Keshian in ancestry, for his eyes were almost black. There was a slight flicker of recognition in those eyes: a mix of fear and resignation, as the arrow left Tal's bow. The man's muscles began to tense, as if he was about to cry out or try to move, but before whatever act he had begun could complete itself, the arrow struck him through the throat.

The man's eyes widened in shock, then the light in them went out before he crumpled and fell away out of Tal's sight.

Tal scrambled over the rocks and quickly examined the man. He carried only his weapons. Tal kept his own bow, but added the tracker's arrows to his supply.

He glanced around to see if any of the other raiders might be close by, but he saw and heard nothing.

Leaving the dead man for the carrion-eaters, Tal hurried away.

Now there were only four left.

Tal slept. He had found a small notch cut by a stream, and there he had left his horse tied. It would take horrible luck or an excellent tracker to find him. Tal trusted to luck: he had killed their best tracker, he was certain.

Besides, he suspected Raven would wait for only an hour or two before gathering up his remaining three companions and fleeing south. For all the raiders' captain knew, Tal had been an advanced scout and two dozen Orodon warriors might be riding fast to overtake him.

He had rummaged through the bag of food given him the night before and found hard cheese, bread almost as hard as the cheese, and some dried fruit. Nourishing if lacking flavor. He ate it all, knowing that saving food now would be a mistake. He could pass out from hunger after he had killed Raven.

He had rolled up as best he could under an overhanging rock, ignoring the damp and cold, determined to rest for a few hours. In his sleep he dreamed, and in that dream he was on top of the mountain peak of Shatana Higo again, waiting for his vision, filled with anticipation for his coming manhood ceremony. When he awoke, he rose and made ready to begin the chase again, even though he was still tired to his bones. The cold had got into his joints, and he had to move around to force some warmth back into his body. He gauged it was less than two hours to sunset, and knew he must have slept for almost three hours.

He had given Raven a lead, but he was sure he could make it up. It would take the raiders three more days of hard riding to reach the flatlands on the road to Coastal Watch. Tal knew if he could find forage along the way and keep his strength up, he would have them before they reached the city.

And if it was necessary for him to enter the city and search them out there, he would.

Tal saddled his tired horse and moved off down the edge of the stream, until he could ride up the bank and head across a clearing for the trail. He turned south on the trail and set off at a slow walk. He knew where Raven's last camp was, and he was almost certain Raven wouldn't still
be there, so there was no need to hurry at present. He let the horse warm up at a walk for a few minutes, then urged her into a comfortable canter.

As he neared Raven's camp, he took the horse inside the trees and dismounted. Although he would be shocked if Raven had stayed there, he decided he'd rather be shocked than dead.

He quickly covered the ground to where he had killed the sentry and found the man still lying where he had fallen. Tal knelt over him but could see nothing to provide a hint as to his identity. Another nameless soldier of fortune hired to kill for pay. Tal checked to see what he might be carrying with him and found that only a dagger in his belt remained. His purse had been cut from his belt—what use would gold be to the dead?

Tal walked to the clearing and looked around. The campfire remained where he remembered, but nothing else had been left behind. They had taken the extra horses, which was logical. Raven wouldn't risk being hunted down just because a steed had gone lame.

Tal looked at their tracks and saw they had not even bothered to disguise their choice: back on the trail to the south.

Tal hurried back to his own horse and mounted, then set off again in pursuit.

The day was ending, and the sounds were changing, as they always did when the diurnal denizens of the mountains gave way to the nocturnal. Tal knew that this was when both worlds overlapped, when hunters of the night stirred early and occasionally preyed on day's creatures who were slow to find safe haven.

Tal looked down the trail and tried to anticipate what Raven would do next. After the surprise and losing two men, Tal doubted he would be careless enough to camp out in the open and post only a single watch. He would be holed up somewhere—a cave or under an overhang of rock—keeping a cold camp, and he'd have two men awake at all times.