The Bloodbound (22 page)

Suddenly, thralls began to stagger and fall. It took Alix a moment to understand what was happening; then she spied the arrows raining down from above, and she looked up to find the top of the bluff studded with archers. A war cry sounded, then another, and Kingswords poured down the embankment with sword and axe and mace.

“Thank the gods,” Alix breathed.

Erik's men slammed into the enemy like an avalanche, driving them back into the water and down the riverbank. But it wasn't over yet. Liam was still locked with a huge thrall, his face contorted with exertion as he tried unsuccessfully to push the Oridian back. Their swords were crossed; the Oridian leaned into Liam with all his considerable weight. Over his shoulder, an even bigger thrall loomed, a fearsome war axe clutched in both hands. Alix watched in horror as he twisted his body, ready to deliver a swipe that would fell both combatants in a single blow.

Crying out, she threw herself at Liam's knees, toppling him and his foe both as the axe groaned uselessly overhead. The two men crashed down on top of her in a heap of armour and agony. Luckily, she didn't have to endure it for long. Somehow, through a struggle she couldn't see, Liam slew both of his enemies without even getting up.

Alix groaned as Liam rolled off her. Pain throbbed in her back, and she felt a warm, sticky wetness. Gwylim would not be pleased.

They lay still in the mud, regaining their breath as the Kingswords finished off the enemy. “Thanks for that,” Liam said. “You're getting pretty good at the saving thing.”

“Lots of practice.”

He heaved himself up, then helped Alix to sit. “Right, let's have a look.” He lifted the back of her shirt and peered underneath. “Not good, Allie.”

She winced. “I figured.”

“Wonderful.”
A shadow spilled over them, and Alix looked up into the angry face of her brother. “Missing the leisurely rides in the supply wagon, were you?”

“Hello to you too, Rig. Glad to see you're all right.”

Liam drew back, smiling awkwardly at being caught looking under Alix's shirt. “Er, hi.”

Rig flicked him a glance, but his attention was all on Alix. “Did it occur to you at any point while you were wading through a sea of Oridians that there was an entire army right on the other side of this bluff?” He pointed with a bloodstained blade.

Alix opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment, Arran Green appeared, looking no more pleased than Rig. Liam swore softly.

“You disappoint me again, Liam. It is precisely this kind of recklessness that has delayed your knighthood for so long.”

Rig looked sharply at Alix's companion. “
You're
Liam?”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Pleased to meet you?”

“And you just let her march straight into an entire raiding party?” Rig gestured impatiently at Alix. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Liam had gone first. He knew his sister too well.

“Wait, how did this become my fault?” Now Liam was the one waving irritably at Alix. “She wouldn't listen to me. She never does!”

Alix threw her hands over her ears. “Argh! Enough! I'm sorry, Rig. I'm sorry, Liam. I'm sorry, General. Are we through here?”

Rig sighed and shook his head. “You are
impossible
, Allie.” He adopted a thoughtful look. “I blame Father.”

Alix grinned. Rig never could stay angry with her for long. Arran Green, though, was not so easily appeased. “Your carelessness could have cost many lives, including your own. The fact that you both sit here alive and well is down to luck and no more. If you cannot exercise better judgement than that, you do not belong in the Kingswords, still less at the side of the king. Am I understood?”

“Yes, General,” Alix and Liam said in unison.

Liam leaned over to help her stand. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and the corner of his mouth curled in a hint of that grin that had snared her so long ago. “Some things never change,” he whispered in her ear.

Alix shivered warmly. He was right about that.

“I
don't understand it,” Erik said, surveying the carnage. He looked ill, and Alix couldn't blame him. Bodies littered the riverbank. Blood swirled in nooks and eddies, and limbs could be seen poking out of the water like driftwood. Only a handful of the dead were Kingswords, but it was a sickening sight all the same. “What did they hope to accomplish?”

“An excellent question, Your Majesty,” said Arran Green. “They could not have thought to deal much damage with so few men. Even if they were thralls.”

Impossibly, Erik paled even more. “What—all of them?”

“All of them. According to Liam and the captain, at any rate.”

Erik's gaze snapped to Alix and Liam, and she caught the briefest flicker of fear before he mastered himself. “You're certain?” he asked her.

“Positive. They came at us like a starving mob after the last loaf of bread. I've never seen anything like it.”

“Keep your voice down, Captain,” Arran Green said with a frown. “You will sow panic among the men.”

Rig, who had observed the exchange in silence until now, said, “There's your answer, Erik. What they hoped to accomplish was fear. They're flaunting the Priest's power. They want us to lie awake at night terrified that we'll be set upon at any moment by a horde of thralls.”

Green gave a thoughtful grunt. “If that is their goal, they may well have succeeded. Some of the men may have recognised the signs, just as the captain did. If so, word will spread through the ranks, and if the Kingswords are infected with fear, they will bring that disease into the city as well. All of Erroman will succumb.”

“We must not let that happen,” Erik said. “A frightened people is a broken people.”

Rig leaned on the crossguard of his greatsword, head bowed in thought. The garnets embedded in the hilt threw bloody droplets of light over his breastplate. “If we strike back, it might placate the men somewhat.”

“But it will take time,” Erik said, “and we need to get to Erroman. The fifty thousand at the border must have begun their march by now.”

Liam stirred. He was standing right next to Alix, but he'd been so quiet that she had almost forgotten he was there. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot; he obviously had something to say, but he hadn't been given leave to speak. Fortunately, Alix no longer suffered from such reservations. “What is it, Liam?”

He blinked at her, half amused, half mortified. “Well . . . er . . .” He glanced at the king, but Erik only returned his gaze expectantly. “It's just . . . Based on the enemy's last known location, they're too far away to have staged that raid. A smaller group must have broken off and followed us. A very small group, or our scouts would have spotted them.”

“True enough,” said Arran Green, “but even so, His Majesty is right—we cannot spare the time to deal with them. The whole of the Oridian strength might even now be making its way to our doorstep.”

“What if it's worth our while?” Liam said, uncharacteristically bold. “They can't be far, and if those raiders were thralls—”

“Then the Priest is probably with them.” Rig's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. “By the gods, he's right. If Madan has left himself so exposed . . . We'd be fools to pass up this chance, Erik.”

“We cannot be certain the Priest is nearby,” Green said, but the protest lacked conviction. Even the commander general was tempted.

Erik eyed both knights appraisingly. He glanced again at the wreckage of corpses at their feet. His jaw set grimly. Alix knew what his answer would be. “You're right, we cannot afford to ignore this opportunity. Destroying the Priest would deal the enemy a massive blow. But I'll not throw my men against an unknown foe. Green, you will take a scouting party and track them down. If you see a chance to kill Madan, take it. Otherwise, report back to me, and we will decide what to do from there.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty, but this mission will not be easy. We must do more than determine the enemy's location. We must confirm that the Trion is among them. For that, we will need to get close—very close. Stealth is of the utmost importance. I will need our best.”

“Of course, I assumed . . .” Erik paused, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you saying that you wish to take Alix with you?”

“She is the stealthiest of all the scouts—or at least, she was. Assuming her skills have not grown dull, she is the best we have.”

Alix struggled to keep her surprise from showing. She had thought her scouting days done forever.

“I don't think so,” said Erik.

“Out of the question,” said Rig.

“She'll do great,” said Liam.

Erik regarded his brother in mild disbelief. “Pardon?”

Liam fidgeted, but he stood his ground. “I've been on loads of scouting missions with Alix, and there's no question she's the best. She can get within slapping distance of the enemy without being seen. Plus, she's a great fighter. It would be crazy not to take her.” Alix couldn't decide what amazed her more—Liam's confidence in her, or his confidence in himself.
What's gotten into him?
He had always been so awkward in front of Erik.

“I appreciate your faith in my sister's talents,” Rig said coolly, “but she's wounded.”

Alix shrugged. “I'm not worried about myself—”

“What else is new?” Rig snapped.

She ignored him. “—but I
am
concerned about the king. I don't like the idea of leaving His Majesty alone, even for a short while.”

Erik locked eyes with her, his gaze full of the unspoken. She could read his frustration. There was no argument he could make that would not mark him a coward or a lover, and he wouldn't risk appearing to be either. He gave a tiny shake of his head, his lips pursed in displeasure. “Go, then, but we will need to discuss arrangements for your absence. Come by my tent when you're through here.” Alix watched him go with a heavy feeling. She was not looking forward to that conversation.

Green gave the scouts two hours to prepare themselves. Though Erik had instructed her to go directly to his pavilion, Alix sought out a healer instead. She had no desire to face the king until she was whole. She sat in sullen silence while the healer stitched her back up, only half listening to his lecturing. She would have to find Gwylim too, and get more of that gods-forsaken poultice, but even that would be pleasant in comparison to the conversation that awaited her in the king's tent.

All too soon, Alix found herself standing outside the royal pavilion. She hovered there a moment, gazing unenthusiastically at the tent flap, but she'd put it off as long as she dared. Steeling herself, she called, “Your Majesty?”

“Come in.”

He sat at his desk, a book laid out before him. Alix knew him to be an avid reader, but it didn't look like he'd been deeply engrossed. The book was pushed away from him, as though he'd given up on it, and when he looked up at her, his expression made it clear he was in no mood for reading.

Alix sighed. “You're angry.”

“What did you expect?”

“I'm sorry, Erik, but I can't just sit back and stay out of trouble. Anyway, I'll be fine. I was a scout before I was your bodyguard.”

He was unmoved. “I wonder, do scouts generally consider thirty-to-one odds favourable?”

“Ah. That.” Alix looked away. “There may have been a lapse in judgement there, I admit.”

“
May
have been? One of these days, your recklessness is going to cost you dearly. Cost all of us, perhaps. Do you not realise what's at stake here? We could be conquered. Gods, we're half conquered already! By a man who knows how to
enslave men's minds
, no less. This is not a game!”

“I know that.”

He sighed. “I know you do. But you cannot afford to slip into old habits anymore. Neither of us can.” He got up and started to pace, his gaze trained on the ground. The gravity of his countenance sat oddly on a man of his youth, and Alix was struck yet again by how much Erik had changed these past months. Much of it was undeniably for the better. He was a subtler creature, more inclined to take counsel, more critical of himself and those around him. He no longer trusted so easily, or made decisions so quickly. But it had been a long time since Alix had seen a glimpse of Erik's sunshine. He smiled, he laughed, but it wasn't the same. His youthful optimism was spent; in its place was worry and doubt. Alix knew it was for the best, but part of her was sorry for it.

Erik stopped before her, his expression resigned. “It's futile, isn't it? No matter what I do, you will be in danger.”

“And so will you.”

“It seems we're doomed to worry about one another.”

Alix looked down at her boots. “I suppose we are.”

He lifted her chin gently, and Alix found herself swimming in the blue sea of his eyes. He brushed his thumb over her cheek, setting her blood thrumming. He was so near, but he didn't close the space between them. Instead, he held her gaze intently, as though searching for something. They stayed like that for long moments, neither of them moving. Then Erik's eyes clouded over, and he dropped his hand, turning away.

“I can't wait for you forever, Alix,” he said quietly. After a pause, he added, “I will have to move out in three days. I've told Green that if you're not back by then, we start for Erroman without you.”

“All right.”

“I don't want to do that.”

“Understood.” She started to reach for him, thought better of it. Her hand dropped to her side. “Farewell, my king.”

He turned around and took her shoulder. His lips brushed her forehead. “May the gods watch over you,” he said, and he let her go.

*   *   *

Alix struggled through
the undergrowth, doing her best not to sound winded. She hadn't been on a trek this long in months, and it showed. Or rather, it felt. Even in leather armour, her limbs were starting to feel heavy and awkward, and her lungs protested noisily, though she tried to hide it. Meanwhile, just ahead, Kerta sprang lightly through the brush, as graceful and silent as a deer. Sullenly, Alix mimed drawing a bow at her back.

“Not nice,” said a low voice from just behind her.

Alix flushed. She'd thought she was bringing up the rear, but obviously not; Gwylim appeared beside her, a wry grin on his lips. “Not her fault you're out of shape,” he said with his usual tact.

“Have I told you how much I missed having you around? No? Must have been an oversight.”

“Must have.”

“Quiet,” Arran Green snapped over his shoulder.

Just behind him, Liam turned around and feigned a scowl, pointing severely at Alix and Gwylim. He'd been in a playful mood all afternoon, delighted at having been asked to join the mission. Like Alix, he was technically no longer a scout, but he had more experience than any of them, and Green wanted him along. Erik hadn't been happy about that either, but he couldn't very well intervene, not without raising eyebrows. Besides, he probably knew his brother wouldn't welcome his interference. For all his jests, Liam valued Arran Green's good opinion above all else.

“We can't be far now,” Gwylim whispered. “There isn't much forest left before we reach the fields again.”

Alix nodded in agreement. If the Oridians had been camped on open ground, they would have been spotted by one of the routine scouting missions. The terrain was too flat to hide them. Only the narrow strip of trees around the river offered any cover, and it ran out a few miles ahead, where the river bisected Anderly town. Unless the Oridians had turned back, they were almost certainly nearby. Arran Green must have had the same thought, because he came to an abrupt halt.

“We will fan out,” he said, “in the usual pairs.” That meant Alix and Liam, Gwylim and Ide. Nik had been slain at Boswyck, leaving Kerta to pair off with Green.
One light, one heavy
, the commander general called it, reflecting his old-fashioned views. Women were stealthy but weak; they needed strong men to protect them. Alix wondered how he accounted for a small man like Gwylim, or an ox like Ide, or if he even bothered to think about it.

Alix took the point position, as always. Liam fell in behind wordlessly, both of them settling back into the old routine as easily as if no time had passed. That was why Green had put them together, in spite of everything; a military man knew better than to disrupt a good team. And they were a good team. The best. It felt so natural that for a moment Alix forgot to be afraid. She listened to the soft crackling of Liam's footfalls, felt his reassuring presence at her back. It was like scratching an itch she hadn't known was there, and something inside her relaxed. She wondered if he felt it too. Her thumb drifted instinctively to the ring on her little finger.
Should I say something?
But it was hardly the time. The enemy might be . . .

“Wait.” Liam's whisper cut through the trees.

Alix froze, silently rebuking herself for letting her attention wander.

“Do you smell that?”

She drew a deep draught of air.
Smoke.
If Liam hadn't said something, she would have missed it altogether. Licking her finger, she held it up to the wind.
Northeast
, she decided, pointing. Quietly, she unsheathed her dirk and scanned the gloom between the trees. This too felt familiar, bringing to mind the raid they'd stumbled on only hours before. Liam's thoughts must have taken a similar turn, because his lips pursed grimly. He cocked his head upwind, and they started out.

Alix picked her way carefully through the brush. She had donned her old scouting gear, trading her heavy boots for doeskin, her plate and mail for dark leather that blended into the shadows. Liam wore similar garb. Only the blades of their dirks, barely longer than daggers, risked catching the light, and Alix kept hers tucked close to her body as she had been taught. Every few paces, she stopped and listened, straining to hear through the subtle din of wind, leaves, and birdsong. She closed her eyes, the better to shut out distractions.