Ruby Guardian (15 page)

Reluctantly, the priest removed his holy coin and tossed it toward the mercenary leader. Then he helped Velati up so the young man could stand with Kovrim’s help.

“Let’s go,” the man said, motioning for his two prisoners to begin walking back the way they had come.

As the pair of Crescents began to march in the direction they had been ordered, Kovrim spotted a large column of soldiers, all of them wearing the same silver raven insignia that his captors displayed, coming down the beach in their direction. He frowned, wondering why an entire mercenary company would be in the middle of nowhere.

“Where, pray tell, are you taking us, and why are you treating us as hostiles?”

“My orders were to capture as many of you as I could. Anyone who refused to surrender, I was to kill. I didn’t question why. Now be quiet.”

Kovrim shrugged but nodded. As he walked along, helping Velati keep a steady pace, he considered why someone would have issued such orders to the men escorting them. It didn’t seem likely that they would have known the Crescents would be there—unless they are in league with the pirates, he realized. Perhaps they are working for the same people. But who?

Then the priest’s eyes narrowed. Lavant, he thought. To get me and Vambran out of the way. Why else would I have been ordered to serve as quartermaster at my age?

The thought that the Grand Trabbar would go to such lengths to eliminate threats made Kovrim’s blood run cold. He knew that the high priest had influence, and the evidence he had found suggested that Lavant was putting together an army. But the notion that he would sink an entire ship and destroy a whole company of mercenaries just so he could get two men out of the way was astonishing.

If Lavant ordered our deaths, Kovrim thought, then it’s only a matter of time before these men, or those they answer to, realize who I am and try to finish the job.

‘ As the priest considered that, he began to go over other options in his mind. Even without his holy coin, he still had magic at his disposal that could aid him in his escape. But Velati did not, and there was nothing Kovrim could do to assist him that way. No, Kovrim decided, I’ll stay with him until there’s no other choice. But did I save him only to let him die later?

With such a realization fresh in his mind, Kovrim’s thoughts turned once again to his nephew. He wanted to hold out hope that Vambran had somehow escaped, that he had been resourceful enough to evade the pirates and reach the shore, but he feared the worst. The attacks on Lady’s Favor and the number of troops scouring the beach were so powerful, had been so well coordinated, that it hardly seemed possible that any Crescent had managed to escape.

Kovrim prayed he was wrong.

• • •

As Vambran moved stealthily through the trees, nearing the edge of the forest, he could hear the sounds of a large gathering of troops, just beyond sight. He picked his steps carefully, trying to avoid

snapping twigs or rustling leaves, but he knew he was no woodsman, and every time he scuffed his feet, the lieutenant held his breath, waiting for sentries to come charging through the underbrush toward him. They did not. Finally, when he reached a point where he could begin to see beyond the ground cover that marked the boundary of the forest proper, he crouched down behind the trunk of one of the last sizeable shadowtops and just listened for a few moments.

The typical sounds of an army wafted through the screen of plant life toward him, of some men shouting orders and others laughing. He could hear the sounds of horses whinnying, and those of wagons creaking. The one sound he did not hear, thankfully, was that of prisoners being tortured. He hoped it was not because they had taken no prisoners.

It was growing toward dusk. The seven remaining Crescents had spent the better part of the day evading the enemy forces, and though the army had been thorough, its command had seemed reluctant to drive too deeply into the interior of the forest. Only after his foes had given up and returned to open ground had Vambran crept back to the edge of the woods to scout. The other Crescents had orders to remain well away from the border. If he didn’t get back to them by nightfall, they were to march through to the other side and get back to Arrabar as best as they could.

He decided that he had to get closer, see what he could determine of the fate of the Crescents who had not escaped into the woods. He considered trying to sneak into the perimeter of the gathering, but he dismissed that idea again. There would be sentries. If the mercenary officers of that army were worth their salt, they would know that the few who had escaped might at least try to rescue their companions, and

the soldiers would be ready. Vambran did not like the idea of getting caught by himself in the open, where a handful of spellcasters could easily overwhelm him. There had to be other options.

An idea came to him. Only a few days before setting out upon Lady’s Favor, Vambran had become aware of a new arcane trick he could perform. The concept seemed to come on him without warning or thought, as a flash of inspiration. He understood what he would need to do to conjure the magic, and it would happen.

He began to rummage around in a small pouch On his belt, producing a tiny vial with a wax-coated stopper. The container held a bit of black, sticky substance. He squatted down and stirred his finger through the dead leaves and other debris at the base of the tree, looking carefully. When he overturned a small stone, a small brown spider scurried out from its disturbed hiding place, and Vambran snatched it up.

Vambran still found the intuitive nature of his arcane power unsettling, but he ignored the sensation and did what came naturally. Eyeing the spider for a moment, he steeled himself and tossed it in his mouth, and followed that by unstoppering the vial and dripping a bit onto his tongue. Ignoring the foul taste of the tarry substance and the wriggling of the spider, the lieutenant swallowed both at once then uttered a phrase that had popped into his head only a few tendays ago.

He waited a moment. Then, when he was certain the magic had taken effect, Vambran turned and began to climb the tree behind which he had been hiding. It was remarkably easy, as he found he could scamper along the surface of the trunk as a spider might, traveling straight up to the top almost as quickly as he could walk the forest floor. When

he reached the first branches high in the tree, he stopped and peered out from behind the trunk toward where he believed the mercenary army to be.

Vambran had chosen a good tree, for it was one of the last really tall ones that bordered the woods, and from that vantage point, he could see beyond its sheltering leaves to well beyond the limits of the forest. The army was arrayed below him, groups of soldiers milling about, as though waiting for the order to move out. By Vambran’s judgment, there appeared to be perhaps one hundred foot soldiers and half that many cavalry. It was not an overly large force, but certainly sizeable enough to overwhelm the company of Crescents he had commanded, even at full strength.

In a small depression in the land surrounded by armed guards, numerous members of the Crescents sat. They were huddled together, perhaps talking, but it was clear that they were prisoners, for their captors watched them carefully, bowmen with their weapons held casually but ready, and others with swords or axes also watching.

Vambran was both relieved and angry. He wished once again that he had his spyglass with him, so he might get a closer look and determine who was’ there, but it would be difficult to see faces very clearly in the fading light of day. He could, however, count the figures gathered on the ground, and it appeared that there were approximately two dozen Crescents altogether. That number made him smile, for it meant that others who had not managed to join him on the beach had survived the sinking of Lady’s Favor. Even if they were prisoners, at least they were alive.

For the moment, anyway, Vambran thought. The pirates certainly weren’t interested in taking prisoners. If these soldiers answer to the same masters as

the corsairs did, then they must have orders to slay the Crescents, too. But then, why hadn’t they?

Vambran considered that bit of information, wondering if his previous assessment had been faulty. Perhaps the mercenary army was not operating under the same guidance as the pirates. Perhaps the Crescents had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, that seemed almost as illogical. Something was going on, but he could not yet piece it together.

In due time, he thought. In due time.

Vambran spent a few moments more in the tree, peering as best he could at his men huddled under the watchful eyes of their guards, trying to make out faces despite the distance and growing darkness. He realized he could pick out a few after all, though not all of them were looking in his direction. There was no sign of Kovrim, however, and it was fast growing too dark.

The lieutenant was just about to scurry back down the tree and return to his companions deeper in the forest when the activity of the mercenary army suddenly changed. He could hear orders being shouted, and the soldiers formed up into units. Most of the foot troops began to assemble in column formation, preparing to march, but a handful had stayed near the tree line, milling about and talking. They looked to be the better armed, perhaps most veteran of the troops.

No, not merely soldiers, Vambran realized, trackers and bounty hunters—professionals. They’re sending their best back in to get us.

The prisoners also got to their feet, apparently also having been ordered to ready themselves to move. He watched as the Crescents formed a line, still watched over by their guards, and the cavalry mounted up. Together, the cavalry and the infantry began to move off, flanking the prisoners.

Shortly afterward, the trackers began to enter the forest to hunt for the remaining fugitives. The lieutenant was mildly surprised, given the fact that it was nearing the end of the day, but the growing dark did not seem to deter them.

Vambran scurried back down the shadowtop, disappearing into the foliage, and when he reached the bottom, he darted away, weaving through the trunks of the trees in an effort to gain a lead on the impending pursuit. Already he could hear the soldiers beginning to push forward, entering the woods. As he trotted, the lieutenant began to formulate possible plans to evade the new group of hunters. Unlike before, when there were more men hunting, he did not think it would be too difficult to hide from the trackers and wait for them to pass, especially in the gloom of twilight. But Vambran suspected they had effective magic employed to prevent just such an occurrence.

I guess we’ll find out soon enough, Vambran thought, nearing the location where he had parted ways with the other six Crescents. They were not there.

Good, the lieutenant thought. They didn’t wait around.

Vambran pulled his holy coin free and uttered d quick prayer, visualizing Adyan’s crossbow in his mind as he did so. Once his divine magic had taken effect, Vambran could sense the direction in which the crossbow—and by extension, Adyan and the others—lay, and he began to move that way.

Just based on the limitations of the magic, Vambran knew his companions could not be too far ahead of him, and as he drew closer to their position, he could hear them well before they came into his view. There was quite a bit of shouting. Frowning in anger over their lack of stealth, he was ready to scold his sergeants as soon as he caught up to them.

The lieutenant’s admonition died in his throat as he rounded a barrier of several tangled suth trees and spotted the six Crescents.

The mercenaries were bunched together, fending off nearly half a dozen very large vipers. Even as he sprinted toward them to aid in the fight, another snake slithered out of the deepening shadows, from beneath the suth entanglement. The serpent blocked Vambran’s path as it reared up, towering higher than Vambran himself. As he drew his sword free of its scabbard, the snake hissed and opened its ,mouth, sending a gout of liquid right at the mercenary officer.

Kovrim and Velati were forced to walk for most of the rest of the day, escorted by their captors along the coast of the

Vilhon Reach. Their path followed an old road, presumably an abandoned logging route, for it cut inland after a while, penetrating the forest as it angled almost due east, with the setting sun sinking low behind the group. At several intervals along the way, they came upon other groups of soldiers, more members of the mercenary company that sported the silver raven for its symbol. Each time, new prisoners joined, more members of the Order of the Sapphire Crescent who had made it to shore after the sinking of Lady’s Favor and were subsequently captured.

Though he was sorry to see the Crescents taken, Kovrim was glad to see them alive

and well for the moment. They were ordered in no uncertain terms not to speak, so the priest got little information from any of them. Each time a new handful of prisoners was added to the ever-growing collection of mercenaries and their charges, Kovrim was both relieved and worried that Vambran was not among them.

As nightfall came, the prisoners—who numbered twelve Crescents by then—and their escort arrived at a large encampment. Numerous tents had been set up, gathered in small clumps around campfires. Even in the failing light, it was easy for Kovrim to see that the place was more than just a rest stop for the troops. A large, ruined tower stood in the middle of the open area, most of its stones tumbled and scattered. A newer but no less abandoned cottage, perhaps once belonging to a woodsman or hermit, had been built with some of the stone from the much older tower. It, too, had fallen into ruin, with only one partial stone wall still standing and a chimney leaning haphazardly against it. Stunted trees and tall grasses filled the clearing as the forest did its work, taking back the lands once cleared by men.

The captured Crescents were led over to one side of the camp, near the edge of the clearing. There, an old barn still stood, crafted from rough, natural logs. The building still looked stout enough to keep prisoners confined. The Crescents were led to the makeshift jail and ordered inside.