Green Rider (19 page)

"One must have a bottom of steel to ride this beast," Jendara declared. "I suppose he will serve as a pack animal."

The Horse tossed his mane at the insult. Karigan smiled smugly to herself—his gaits were smooth as butter when desired.

They continued down the road as thunder drummed low and far away, over some distant part of Sacoridia.

The mercenaries were not very generous with
her
food supplies, Karigan thought. They crouched beneath some trees by the road at midday. The rain had dwindled to a steady drizzle and the last bit of storm had rumbled away an hour ago. Already the biters were stirring to a frenzy in the damp.

Karigan's stomach growled as she picked pieces of mold off the crust of hard bread Torne had tossed her. Torne smacked his lips over dried meat as if it was a feast. Jendara was a bit more dainty, but not much. The two must not have eaten in a while. What kind of mercenaries were they if they couldn't hunt up the occasional hare or squirrel? Even she had learned a thing or two about trapping and hunting from the cargo master, though it wasn't a skill she used often.

"What are you glowering at, girl?" Torne demanded.

"You look hungry. Didn't they teach you wilderness survival in mercenary training?"

Tome's eyes blazed. "Jendara and I were soldiers of the highest order. We had no need."

Karigan raised a brow. "What order might that be?"

"We weren't always mercenaries, girl. It's none of your business."

Karigan guessed they had not been mercenaries for very long, and the fact they were no longer a part of this "high order" was a sore point, at least for Torne. She thought hard about what the two could have been before they became swords for hire. Guards, she supposed, but even guards were subject to survival training… unless they never left a specific post, or were of so high an order they were waited upon by servants.

"The Mirwellian fools told us you can disappear," Jendara said. "When are you going to disappear?"

Despite the mercenary's mocking tone, Karigan perceived a hint of uncertainty. It wouldn't hurt to play on it, but it also renewed her concern for the brooch. Torne had taken to wearing it on his cloak. "I'll disappear when I'm good and ready to."

Torne guffawed. "Those idiots lost her in a heavy fog. Disappeared, indeed."

"Immerez is no idiot," Jendara said quietly, "though he thinks it was some Greenie trick, not a spirit rider."

"Is that so, Greenie girl? You know some Greenie tricks?"

"Maybe. You might not take me as a spirit rider, but a spirit rides with me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Karigan shrugged innocently, a twinge of pain tugging at her ribs.

"I won't have any of this spirit stuff!" Torne was over to Karigan in a bound, and he cuffed her across the face.

She fell to her side and shook her head, tasting blood from a cut lip. What was left of her midday meal was a mess of crumbs on the ground. She forced herself back into a sitting position.

"You're nothing but a ruffian," she told Torne, "and a coward."

Torne only laughed. Karigan had the satisfaction, however, of knowing she had planted a seed of uncertainty in his mind. If only she could get her hands on that brooch. At present, however, it did not seem likely.

They passed through numerous settlements cut out of the woods. They were too small, really, to be called villages. Woods folk in plain dress worked about their cabins. They hung laundry in the sweet spring air, tended gardens where enough sunlight crept through the forest canopy to nourish vegetables, and they split wood.

Torne used some of the coppers he had taken from Kari-an's pockets to purchase meat and bread, boasting all the while to the settlers about the thief he and his partner had snared. More often than not, food was offered the mercenaries for free when they heard this fabrication.

Karigan received nothing except scowls and curses about thieves who preyed on law-abiding Sacoridians who were trying to scrape out a living in the wilderness. Some looked her up and down, disbelieving one so young and innocent looking could be a notorious thief.

"That's part of her method," Torne explained at one settlement. "She seems innocent, but when you are not looking…" He spread his hands wide, allowing the settlers to come to their own conclusions. "Do you see this horse, and the coat she wears? Murdered a Green Rider, she did."

Disturbed exclamations passed among the settlers. Just about everyone in the tiny community stood around the mercenaries and their captive. Visitors came seldom and they were hungry for news.

Karigan guessed these were all very decent folk, and she couldn't blame them for their accusing, if not fearful, expressions. They had probably been victims of brigands more than once. Seldom did the king's law pass through these isolated spots, except at tax time.

Torne was an adept storyteller, too. Despite the blatant lies, Karigan didn't dare breathe a word. Jendara held her close with a dagger tip digging into her back. It was frustrating having people so close who could help her, but they had been turned against her by Tome's words.

"Bad 'nough with groundmites crossing the borders," one man muttered. He removed his leather cap and smoothed his hair back. "Don't need our own kind killing and thieving."

"Groundmites?" Jendara asked in surprise, echoing Karigan's own thoughts. "Crossing the borders?"

"Aye," the man growled. "Killed a family not five miles from here on the Putnal Trail. And not a sign of king's soldiers anywhere. We sent one of our lads to the city to find help. The rest of us sleep uneasy with what weapons we have close at hand, and keep watch during the night."

"Wise precautions," Jendara said. "Groundmites crossing the borders…"

"Aye, worse still, some of our hunters found the carcass of an unnatural creature and its spawn." Karigan snapped to attention as she listened. "We wouldna believed it were they not our finest woods folk who found it, and honest to the core. Whatever slew the creature must be even more dangerous. Sank its great fangs into the creature's belly, it did. Makes you wanna believe the old minstrel tales of Mornhavon and the Blackveil Forest."

Karigan wanted to laugh out loud. Maybe she ought to name her plain saber "Fang" the way the great warriors named their blades, or carried blades bearing long lineages and ancient names. If they only knew who had really slain the creature!

The crowd babbled about the old evil, ancient prophecies, and the Long War. Karigan became absorbed in her own thoughts. Estral, ever the fountain of information, had mentioned trouble on the borders. But groundmites? She had scarcely believed groundmites would dare leave their dens in the far north after they had been slain and scattered after the Long War with the fear of the League driven into their hearts.

Now she felt no disbelief that the groundmites, legendary minions of Mornhavon the Black, which were not quite human, but beastlike creatures that were terrible in battle, were roaming across Sacoridia's borders. There was no room for disbelief—not after Immerez. Not after the creature of
Kanmorhan Vane
. Things were happening in the world, and her beloved Sacoridia no longer seemed very secure.

A tug on her coat snapped her out of her reverie. A little boy with tousled sandy hair gaped up at her with solemn brown eyes. He couldn't have been more than six years old.

"You really kill someone?" he asked in awe.

Karigan glanced about. The settlers and the mercenaries were too deep in discussion to notice. She then looked down at the little boy. "No."

"You lying?"

"No."

"Din" think so." He grinned at her brightly, then ran off to join his mother who stood off a ways with a cluster of other women. She put a protective arm about his shoulders and scowled at Karigan.

Jendara and Torne were invited to share dinner with the settlers. Visitors bearing news from abroad were enough cause for celebration. The feast was held outdoors, for no dwelling in the area was large enough to hold more than a small family. Pots of priddle cream were passed around and smoke candles lit to stave off ravenous biters.

However, no one passed Karigan any cream, and she was tied to an ash tree out of range of the smoke candles, her mouth securely gagged with an old rag. As if to augment her misery, the smell of roasting meats drifted all around her. Her stomach roiled. The hard heel of bread Torne had tossed her earlier had done little to ease her hunger pangs.

One of the settlers stood guard a little ways off. He seemed more intent on watching the festivities, his notched and rusted blade loose in his hand. She could hear music, mostly a simple pipe and drum, and laughter and clapping from dancing folk.

She allowed a few tears to trickle down her cheeks. If only she still possessed the winged horse brooch or the bunchberry flower.

How she missed the Berry sisters. And Estral, and her father. Where was he now? What was he doing? Was he searching for her, or did he assume her dead? Would she ever see him again? The tears poured down her cheeks now and she sobbed hard, gasping for air through the gag. She was so alone! How did she ever get into this mess? She would never wish for adventure again—she just wanted to go home.

Under different circumstances she might have found the night quite pleasant. A milky moon rose far above the trees, and stars speckled the sky. The laughter of the settlers had a homey feel, but only made her more lonely. She took a deep, rattling breath and blew it out her nose slowly. A soft breeze dried her tears and whispered of summer yet to come. It would have been easy to feel happy here, comfortable, if she hadn't been tied to a tree and gagged.

I wish I could help you
.

The words drifted to her as if upon the breeze. She looked wildly about her and strained to see behind the tree, but no one was there.

I wish
—
help you
.

Karigan sat up alertly.

—
you
—
danger
—
the rood. We spoke
—
ger
.

Karigan grunted through the gag, unable to respond.

—
no strength
—
help now. Wish
—
could
—
elp
.

Karigan squirmed, fighting against her bonds. Was it F'ryan Coblebay trying to communicate with her? Was she crazy to think she heard the voice of a ghost?

—
not
—
er
—
wish
—
help
.

"Mmff fog elp wone ga me anna wheah!" was all she could say through the gag.

There was giggling all around her. Karigan looked up and all the young children of the settlement gazed at her the way they might at some intriguing beast at the Corsa Zoo. In the forefront was the little boy who had spoken to her earlier that day.

"Are you a muhdrer?" asked a tiny girl with her forefinger hooked in her mouth. "What's a muhdrer?"