Mage Hunter Omnibus (Complete 5 Book Series) (26 page)

Guthrie realized he had been grinning, dark thoughts of his own situation nearly making him laugh. He erased the smile. “I was thinking of my own future, of how short it is likely to be.”

“
Come back with me,” Kroff said. “I stand by trying to get you into the Order. We could use a man like you.”

Guthrie jerked back in his saddle. “Are you mad? The second I ride out of here, Zanbra is likely to cut open my throat, if you don’t beat her to it.”

The Spear shook his head. “No, Guthrie. I won’t allow that to happen. Oh, there’s no doubt Zanbra wants you dead, but ... well, the truth is we could use a mage. It would make our job much easier if there was a member of the Gauntlet who could utilize magic.”

“
That goes against everything the Order stands for.”

“
Not necessarily,” Kroff went on. “There are those within the church, within the Order, who have suggested magic used to the church’s benefit is not a sin, but a miracle allowed by Ashal. I’m one who thinks this possible.”

“
But Zanbra is not.”

“
True, true. But I have her talked down, I think.”

“
You
think
?”

“
It’s one of the reasons we rode out here. We wanted to see what you could accomplish, and to find out if you were willing to combat other spellcasters.”

The sergeant let loose a coarse burst of laughter. “The woman was about to slay me! It would have been an arrow in the back for sure if I had not vanished in the snow.”

Kroff grunted, then pulled himself into the saddle behind Zanbra. “I have no time to talk, must get her to camp, but I wish you would go with me. Guthrie, we can work this out, I swear.”

The sergeant shook his head. “I am sorry, Kroff, but no, I will not go with you. If it were only you, I might consider, but with Zanbra involved ... I’ll take my chances here in the wilds.”

For a moment the two men sat in their saddles and eyed one another. Each suffered a pang of longing for the other, a man each considered a friend, or nearly had. But that was not to be.

“
Until we meet again, sergeant.” Kroff spun his horse away and slapped it on the rear, exhorting the animal to take toward the trail’s exit back to the forest and the plains beyond.

Guthrie sat and watched the Spear’s back until the man disappeared around the bend in the path, then he sighed and stared about. At least he would likely find some food on the Dartague horses, perhaps even a few coins among the bodies. He had planned to flee on his horse, thinking Kroff might try to capture him, but now the knights were gone and Guthrie faced the facts of survival alone.

The snow began to trickle down again, flakes dripping onto the Ursian’s helmet.

Chapter 4

Survival would not come easy. That much Guthrie knew. After gathering food, coin, and other minor gear and supplies from the dead barbarians, he rode out of the mountains and into the northern forest, the snow not touching him beneath the long, dark limbs of the trees. He had no set plan other than to ride west. There was no safe place for him, not for hundreds of miles, but he supposed he should try to make for Jorsica. It briefly occurred to him to try to make a port city and then purchase a place aboard a vessel headed elsewhere, but the nearest port of any size would be that in Mogus Potere, the capital of Kobalos, and even that city was at least a couple of hundred miles distant; he also did not want to take a chance on being discovered by King Verkain or his soldiers.

But west it was. What other option was available? For nearly a thousand miles in all directions lay what was enemy territory for Guthrie Hackett, who now thought of himself as a
former
sergeant of the Ursian military. He would not miss the military life, though he believed his future would likely be tough and short. He had no family nor friends living. He had no particular ties to Ursia or anyone in the capital, Mas Ober. He would be leaving little behind other than memories and a sense of failing in his duties as a member of the army. But survival is the basest of all instincts, and Guthrie would not turn himself over to his own countrymen simply because he had the ability to do magic, a power he had never wanted in the first place.

Riding beneath the shadows of the trees, he did not press his horse. They had far to ride and he did not want to tire the animal. Besides, he wanted time to think.

It occurred to him he might try to use his magic to transport himself to Jorsica, possibly like the old skein weaver had done to him earlier in the day or Ildra had done to him and the knights in the mountains. He also thought he might be able to summon wings for himself or his horse, or he might be able to bring to him some magical creature of flight, a dragon or some such. He discarded such notions quickly, however, realizing he did not know how to properly go about making use of such magic. His talents were wild, unpredictable, and though they had saved him and others several times, he did not trust his own powers, expecting them to turn on him or to place him in worse danger than he already faced.

No, he would ride, take the long path. If at some point his situation grew dire, then he would reconsider his use of magic, but not until then.

When night finally reared its dark head, he camped beneath the trees, hobbling his horse and building a lean-to shelter from tree branches he cut away with a hatchet taken from a dead Dartague. He dug a shallow hole for a small fire, not feeling safe enough to build a cooking flame on the ground’s surface; at least the flames were enough to bring some warmth and to cook the food he had. More than once during that cold night, Guthrie was thankful to the Dartague for their heavy, bearskin cloaks, which kept him from freezing.

The sun woke him, glittering in his eyes. He lay there beneath the furs, enjoying the warmth, knowing it would not last once he got about his business for the day, more traveling. Closing his eyes for a few minutes more of continued warmth, he sensed his horse nearby, the animal stamping, nervous. There was someone close.

Before Guthrie could move, the touch of cold steel against his throat brought him up short. His eyes flicked open again, this time revealing more than the blue sky above and the sun sneaking through the tree limbs. Kroff was leaning over him from one side, the knight extending a hand which gripped a dagger, the weapon’s blade touching the flesh of Guthrie’s neck. A moment before the knight had not been there. The man was good, silent even in his heavy armor.

“
Just shut up and listen,” Kroff said.

Guthrie did as he was told, laying there, his eyes locked on those of the knight.

Kroff actually chuckled, surprising the sergeant. “Damn you, Guthrie, you had us tracking all through the night. I figured you would head south, but Zanbra said west, toward Jorsica. Seems she was right.”

The sergeant had nothing to say, not with a razor’s edge to his throat.

The knight’s features tightened. “But despite what you might think, I’m not here to kill you, nor to bring you back for trial. We want you to join the Order, Hackett. Having a mage on our side, it would more than even things out from time to time, help us finding other wizards and the like. I know you have no love for others of your kind, especially since you don’t want to be one, and that’s what got me to thinking. It took some doing, but I
did
manage to get Sword Zanbra to see my point. With you in the Order, cleaning up the last of the wyrd women will be relatively easy. Then we would take you back to Mas Ober for proper training. What do you say?”

The knife moved away a fraction from Guthrie’s neck.

But before the sergeant could speak, Kroff jumped in, “Keep in mind, if we had wanted to kill you, I could have done so while you were asleep.”

Kroff was right, of course, but that didn’t mean Guthrie had to trust the knight. Oh, to some extent he trusted Kroff, but Zanbra? No. Never. Guthrie expected the woman was only waiting for the right moment to kill him. Being the superior officer of the Gauntlet present, she could have legally done so at any moment, but apparently she was allowing Kroff to play out his idea, or she was truly interested in making use of Guthrie against the Dartague wyrd women, those who remained after Ildra had been slain. Either way, Guthrie did not like his chances with the female knight.

“Go ahead,” Kroff said. “Speak.”

Guthrie coughed away his morning breath, then, “So I take it Zanbra is not nearly as hurt as she appeared yesterday?”

The knight chuckled again, glanced off to one side, probably to wherever the woman was stationed. “You could say that, yes.”

Guthrie tried to look without raising his head, but he could not spy the other knight. “I suppose she has a crossbow trained on me at the moment.”

This time Kroff did not look away. His lips grew into a tight smile. “You have grown to know her well.”

Guthrie went on. “Then I have little choice in the matter, what with your dagger on me and her crossbow ready to pin me down.”

Kroff squirmed somewhat. Guthrie’s words had made apparent the delicacy of their situation. Guthrie could agree to whatever the knights wanted, but he could also attempt to flee whenever an opportunity presented itself.

“
Tie his hands,” Zanbra ordered from one side. “When he’s in the saddle, we can tie his legs, then one of us keep hold of his reins. If he should manage to get away, we can always kill his horse underneath him.”

The woman had it all figured out. Guthrie grimaced at the thought.

Kroff smiled again, looking to the sergeant. “I don’t think we’ll have to go to all that trouble, will we?”

“
I’ll be good,” Guthrie promised, and he meant it. While he did not like the idea of riding with Zanbra, he would play this game through to the end. Obviously his fate was tied in with these two, and he would no longer fight it. If he could find a way to safely escape, then he would do so, but he would not tempt the woman with the crossbow.

Kroff looked to Zanbra. “I don’t think he’ll give us any trouble.”

The Sword stared hard at the two men for a moment, then she shrugged. “If he runs, I will not hesitate to bring him down.”

“
Good enough?” Kroff asked the sergeant.

Guthrie gave the briefest of nods.

The dagger was withdrawn and Kroff stood, offering a hand.

Guthrie stared at the hand for a moment, then decided to take it, soon finding himself on his feet once more. As he slowly turned about his small camp site, he found Zanbra in a saddle on the other side of his own steed, her crossbow resting atop his saddle and still aimed at him. Beyond the woman was another horse, apparently one Kroff was riding and the knights had managed to gather from those left behind by Guthrie and the dead Dartague.

“So where do we go from here?” Guthrie asked. “What is our next step?”

“
As planned,” Zanbra said, waving back the way she and Kroff had traveled. “In camp we received word there is a gathering of wyrd women at some village in Dartague beyond the mountains near here. We will go there, spy it out, then take out as many of these witches as we can.”

“
A village? Beyond the mountains?” Guthrie asked.

Zanbra nodded.

The sergeant chuckled. “You should have told me about the village earlier. We were traveling the wrong direction the whole time.”

Zanbra’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

Guthrie pointed due north. “Most of Dartague is made up of mountains, most of the villages small by comparison to our own. The only place around here for a village for miles is some little flatlands across the mountains near Kobalos.”

“
You know of this place?” Kroff asked.

“
I’ve heard of it,” Guthrie said.

“
Then take us there,” Zanbra nodded.

For a moment the sergeant and the woman traded hooded looks, but then Guthrie nodded. “As you wish.”

Chapter 5

It took three days of travel, through the forest then along a mountain trail Guthrie recognized from regimental maps he supposed no longer existed after the destruction of the northern army and his own post along the northern road. All that while, the weather was favorable, not quite warm but melting all the snows but for the white caps of the surrounding, towering mountains. At the end of those three days, the sergeant and the knights saw signs of either a camp or village. In the distance rose a sizable amount of dark smoke drifting above where Guthrie knew the mountains ended and prairie began once more. There was too much smoke for this to be a camp or other temporary shelter.

“That must be the place,” Kroff commented, drawing a nod from the sergeant.

They tied their horses to the strongest scrub brush they could find, then readied their weapons and moved ahead along the trail. At one point Guthrie called for a halt and went to investigate what appeared to be a smaller trail bearing off to their left, the west. Zanbra bristled as the sergeant disappeared for a few minutes, but he returned and motioned for the others to follow.

What they had found was a natural ridge that rose into the heights of the mountains, much of the pathway hidden by rows of tall stones that almost appeared as menhirs, as if they had been placed long ago by some forgotten race. From their elevated position, the sergeant and the knights could spy down upon the flatlands that stretched beyond the mountains.

Following the smoke they witnessed in the sky led them down and down, beyond the end of the trail, beyond the mountains, to where a creek ran from a line of green in the far west, through a village of stone and log cabins, then on beyond their sight, more trees and mountains distant on the eastern horizon.

The village was a dozen structures, most only big enough for one or two rooms, but one building at least three times as long as it was tall. Outside this largest of buildings were tied dozens upon dozens of horse, a handful of young men or children watching the riding beasts. Here and there throughout the village men and women went about their daily tasks, carrying goods, retrieving water, working on tools, working
with
tools, and so forth. Of Dartague warriors, there were few to be seen, perhaps a half dozen here and there throughout the small town.

Even from their distance, the knights and sergeant whispered when they spoke.

Kroff pointed. “This must be place. But where are the rest of the warriors?”

“
In the ale hall,” Guthrie said, also pointing, his finger aimed at the largest building. “Such places are reserved as living quarters for the most powerful regional chieftain, and for larger gatherings. My guess is the wyrd women are inside along with at least a few chiefs and perhaps fifty or so warriors.”

“
You are making a lot guesses,” Zanbra pointed out.

Guthrie shrugged. “I’m going by the number of horses I can see, and the number of fires burning in the chimneys. There’s obviously a large number of people to feed, what with all those chimneys belching smoke.” Here he paused to glance around the plain. “And I see no one else approaching from a distance, just a few scouts here and there.”

“Scouts?” Kroff asked.

The sergeant shifted his pointing finger. “There.” He gestured toward a pair of riders far to the east. “And there.” He pointed to a similar pair of riders to the west. “There are probably more riders farther north, beyond what we can see even this high up. Why they aren’t watching this mountain trail, I don’t know.”

“Perhaps they expect us,” Zanbra said. “Perhaps they have prepared a special welcome for us.”

Guthrie glared at the woman. “I suppose you think I somehow gave us away.”

The woman said nothing, only glared back.

Sighing, Kroff shifted and leaned forward, staring down the mountainside beneath them. “No warriors down there.” Then he leaned back and sat on the stone floor of the trail. “You’re right, Guthrie, no scouts around here.”

“What’s the plan?” Guthrie asked. “We going to charge in and kill everyone?”

Kroff allowed a brief guffaw, then raised a hand to cover his faux pas before his fellow knight and superior.

Bristling yet again, Zanbra pointed toward the village. “No, we do
not
rush in like fools. We will wait until dark, then see what transpires. If the Dartague split up, returning to their various camps or villages, we can follow one group with a wyrd woman. Then we can catch them out in the open.”

“
And what if they do not split up?” Guthrie asked. “I mean, they must be here for a reason, probably discussing what to do now that Ildra is gone.”

“
If that is the case,” Zanbra said, “then we will strike in the middle of the night.”

“
Wouldn’t it be a good idea for one of us to sneak in after dark and figure out where the wyrd women are sleeping?” Guthrie asked.

For the first time in some while, Zanbra grinned. “That is why we have
you
, Sergeant Hackett.”