Sacred Knight of the Veil (17 page)

She asked, "Where are we?"

He shrugged. "No idea."

"You are lost?"

"We are lost."

Kerra sank down on the damp leaves, a picture of misery. "What are we going to do?"

"Well, we are not going to start blubbering, for one thing."

"I was not!"

"The waterworks were on the way, mark my words. If you are going to be a queen, you will have to learn to be strong, and not burst into tears at the first setback."

"I am a queen, and I was not tearful! And this is more than a mere setback, it is a disaster."

Blade took a long swig of wine. "It is an inconvenience, nothing more. Without proof that they are pursuing the right quarry, I think the Cotti will be more inclined to chase the Knights who harmed their dogs."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are lying, trying to placate me. They know that a woman left Jondar unseen, and we fled their approach. They cannot be such fools."

Blade chuckled. "I would not call you a woman, Kerra, and do not overestimate the Cotti. Chances are, these soldiers do not know about our disguise. Those two idiots in Jondar probably did as I recommended and kept quiet. Furthermore, you should be more certain before you accuse me of lying, it is not polite."

"I am certain. They would have given up much sooner if they had not known who I was."

He shook his head. "There is little a Cotti loves better than a good hunt, especially with human quarry at its end."

"I see why Chiana finds you so infuriating. Even when you are caught lying, you defend it with even bigger lies."

"You should never admit to lying, even when you are caught at it," he admonished. "Remember that when you rule one day."

"I do not tell lies!"

"Then you had better learn."

She snorted. "Why should I?"

"Because the best way to trip up a deceitful person is to tell lies of your own."

"I would never stoop to such a thing."

Blade took another swig from the wine skin. "If you suspect a lord of lying to you, you should pretend to believe him, then send your spies to learn the truth."

"Why?"

"Because if you tell him you know he is lying, he will hide the evidence or kill your spies. Without proof, you will not be able to bring him to justice."

She pondered this, looking doubtful. "Now you are trying to distract me from our situation."

Blade sighed. "And I had almost succeeded. Here is another tip. Do not accuse someone of lying if you are dependent upon them for your safety."

"But you were!"

"Not really. We do not know what they know, or who they are chasing now. They may have given up, and I certainly hope they have. But even if they have not, their horses are just as tired as ours, and it is too dark to travel, so relax."

She shivered, rubbing her arms. "How are we going to find our way out of this forest?"

"I am no woodsman, but I think if we keep heading in the same direction we will reach the end of it sooner or later."

"Where do you plan to go now?"

He gazed into the darkness. "I think Endor has forced Kerrion to send troops to aid in the search. That is why they were ahead of us. We need to find a big city to hide in."

"So it was not such a good idea to head south."

"If we had gone north, we would have been penned in from behind and to the west as Endor's men came in from Contara, with nowhere to run to except the frozen wastelands. We would have been forced to turn east into the marshlands of the mud people."

"So where will we go now?"

Blade plugged the wine skin and set it down. "I do not like making plans, they always go astray. We find the end of the forest and see what lies beyond, then decide what to do."

"You must have some sort of long-term plan."

"Yes, to keep you out of the hands of the Cotti."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Keep running and hiding. Hopefully we will eventually find a place or a disguise that will keep you safe for a while."

Kerra sighed, looking disconsolate. "I hope my father finds his wife soon."

"So do I, and I am glad you are no longer hoping for her death."

"That is a strange thing for you to say, who claim to care for nothing and nobody."

Blade smiled. "Chiana again, I suppose. I do not, of course, but you should, since you will one day be a queen."

"Caring for people only makes us vulnerable, like my father is now. If he did not care for his wife, he would not have this problem."

"True. But a ruler who cares nothing for her people will incur their wrath and ultimately lose her throne. Either that, or be forced to rule by fear and bloodshed."

Kerra shivered again, pulling her robe closer. "Could you light a fire?"

"No. I am not stupid enough to set a beacon for everyone to see. And you should take that robe off, it is white. I am going to change. Eat something."

Blade offered her the journey bread, but she shook her head. He rose and went over to his horse, pulled his bundle from the saddlebag, then went into the trees to change. When he returned, he was once more clad in his black leather clothes, and almost invisible in the gloom. He ordered her to remove the robe, under which she still wore the dark riding habit from the palace.

Kerra insisted that she was cold, and wrapped the garment around herself, which defeated the whole exercise, but by then Blade was tired of arguing with her. He spread the Knight's uniform out on the ground and lay down on it, closing his eyes. After a few minutes the Queen followed suit, and he listened to the forest's night sounds, mingled with an occasional snort or stamp from the horses.

Chapter Eleven

Blade woke with a start, instantly alert. Whenever he jerked awake, there was always something wrong, and he listened for an alien sound. It came sooner than he expected; the soft, stealthy rustle of a footstep. Someone or something was creeping up on them. He rolled onto his stomach to watch the horses. Their ears were keener than his, and they could scent a predator's approach. They stood with their heads raised, but relaxed, each with one hind leg resting on the tip of its hoof. Not a predator then, which only left men. The horses' ears were pricked, and they had turned to face the noise, which gave him a better idea of where it had come from.

The Knights, if they had survived, would not creep around, and whoever it was knew where they were. That meant they had been tracked here, and that only left dog men. He groped for his crossbow, which was loaded and within reach, then crawled towards the nearest tree and set his back against it. The rustle came again, and he was able to get a more accurate direction. Closing his eyes to block out the distraction of the moon-dappled forest, he concentrated on the noise, finding its location. They were still some distance away, and he pondered his next move, wondering what to do about the Queen. If she awoke to a sudden ruckus, she may well scream or run about in a panic, getting in his way.

Easing himself away from the tree, he crossed the short distance to her huddled form and clamped a hand over her mouth. She woke with a gasp, and he leant down to whisper, "Be silent. Move slowly."

Blade pulled her to her feet and led her to the horses, hoping the sound of her footsteps would be interpreted as the horses shifting around. The horses obliged by stamping and snorting, which might be perceived as a disturbance or merely a normal part of their sleep cycle. He tightened their girths, then untied the reins and pressed them into her hands. She gazed at him, her eyes wide with trepidation. All she had to do was prevent the beasts from bolting, for there was no point in her fleeing if he was captured or killed.

Leaving her shivering, he crept back to the campsite and stood against the tree again, blending into the shadowy trunk. He strained his ears to make out the soldiers' location, finding them a little closer. They proceeded with extreme caution, hoping to surprise their quarry, but sneaking up on an assassin was impossible, especially for heavy footed soldiers. He would have sensed their presence even if they had made no sound at all.

A faint panting whispered in the hush, and he orientated himself on the sound. The crossbow was good for only one shot, since it took too long to reload, so he had to make it count. He waited for the shadowy form to reveal itself, the crossbow aimed at the source of the sounds. It seemed like an age that he stood motionless, his finger poised on the trigger. He had learnt patience in the first year of his training, however, and the wait did not impair his concentration.

When the first glimpse of movement broke the gloomy stillness, his eyes followed it, and he squeezed the trigger. The twang of the crossbow's string was followed by a brief hiss and a thud. A harsh grunt broke the forest's hush, and the darkness disgorged its secrets in a rush of thudding feet and growling dogs. Blade dropped the crossbow and drew the daggers from his belt, his hands cocked to throw. As soon as a running form became visible, he flicked a dagger at it, and it collapsed with a grunt.

Another man fell to his second dagger, and he drew the two from his boots, hurling them at the soldiers who ran towards him with drawn swords. Two more fell, one rolling and howling, impaled in the gut. Blade drew his last two daggers from the wrist sheaths as the four remaining attackers flung themselves at him. A dog sprang at his thigh, and he sent it rolling with a kick. A man lunged at him, his sword outstretched, and Blade swayed aside, slashing open the Cotti's throat. The soldier staggered past, blood pumping from his severed jugular, and Blade faced the one who was already upon him. The Cotti's sword scythed towards the assassin's neck, and his dog leapt at Blade's midriff.

Blade ducked, lunging under the man's arm to plunge a dagger into his ribs, and stabbed the dog in the neck with the weapon in his left hand. The animal fell yelping, and Cotti recoiled with a cry, dropping his sword. The last pair halted and eyed him, swords ready. A brace of growling war dogs stood behind them, ears pricked. The other dogs lay beside their dead bondsmen, whined and tried to rouse them by licking their faces or tugging at their clothes, pawing at them pitifully.

The men sidled away from each other, trying to flank the assassin, and he stepped back against the tree once more. These two now knew he was not easy prey, and took the time to plan their attack. Cotti usually employed a mass attack strategy, overpowering their foes through sheer force of numbers, but it had not been effective against him because he had thinned their numbers so drastically before they had reached him.

Since they were not waiting for reinforcements, he deduced that this was the last of them. It became difficult to keep them both in sight. He had to turn his head from side to side, and he knew that one would attack in the moment when his head was turned. The dogs crouched in front of him, ready to spring, but he concentrated on the greater threat of the men. One of the dogs charged, and he whipped around to slash the beast across the chest. It recoiled, yelping, as the soldiers attacked, and the remaining dog rushed at him.

Blade dropped into a crouch to avoid the sword that should have taken off his head. The weapon chopped into the ironwood tree behind him, and its owner tugged at it in vain. He lunged for the man's gut, but the dog crashed into him, its jaws closing on his throat. His dagger slashed the soldier's leg as he was thrust aside, then the other man's sword descended in a flashing arc. Blade stabbed the dog in the chest and rolled over to try to use it as a shield. Its weight hampered him, and the sword bounced off his chain mail, making him grunt.

The wounded man gave up trying to tug his weapon free and picked up a fallen sword, returning to the fray as Blade struggled to dislodge the dog that worried at his throat. The animal's teeth could not penetrate the reinforced leather of his high collar, but the strength of its jaws crushed his windpipe. He stabbed it repeatedly with both daggers, and its bondsman grunted each time his blades struck home. The other man raised his sword for a killing stroke, and Blade prepared to drag the dog into the path of the descending blade with the last of his waning strength.

A length of steel emerged from the soldier's belly, and he coughed and fell to his knees, his sword dropping from lax fingers. The dog released Blade's throat and collapsed. Gasping and shaking his head to clear the spots from his eyes, the assassin rolled away. Rising to his knees, he turned to face the last Cotti. The man fought a Knight of the Veil who staggered with exhaustion, and Blade stared at him in surprise. The Knight retreated from the Cotti's stronger strokes, barely holding his own against the younger, fresher man.

Blade cocked his arm, waited for an opportune moment, and flung the dagger. The soldier staggered sideways as the blade impaled him through the throat, dropping his sword to clutch his neck. The Knight stepped forward and ran him through, although he was already dead, but for a little coughing and gurgling. The soldier's wounded dog whimpered and thrashed in the leaves as it died. The others continued to whine and paw at their dead companions, save for one, which lay with its muzzle resting on its friend's chest, watching him die.

Blade sat back on his haunches and clasped his bruised ribs, where the Cotti's sword had glanced off his chain mail. The Knight sank to his knees, using his sword as a prop, then sat down and eased his legs out beside him. For a minute, they gasped clouds of steam into the bitter air. Blade raised his head to study his rescuer, whose white tabard was soaked with blood. Sir Raylin met the assassin's gaze, and his mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"You fight well, for an assassin."

Blade grimaced and coughed, rubbing his throat. "How many did you kill?"

"Four. Five, including that one."

"Where is Sir Favan?"

Raylin shook his head. "He did not survive. We injured two of their dogs, so eight of them came after us, and we killed them all. Then I came after you."

Blade noted Raylin's hunched posture and the rasp of pain in his voice. Rising to his feet, the assassin winced and rubbed his ribs. The dying Cotti's dog whimpered beside its friend, the man he had impaled in the belly. Wiping his dagger on a Cotti's tabard, he retrieved the others and cleaned them before putting them back in their sheaths. He stopped beside the dying soldier, who would live for some time yet, and saw no reason to let the dog suffer more than necessary.