Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (51 page)

 
          
Anomius
studied him, still smiling, and shook his head.

 
          
"Your
ethics are ... less pragmatic ... than those of Cuan na'For, Calandryll den
Karynth. I doubt you're the man to slit my throat whilst I sleep, or slide a
blade between my ribs as my back turns."

 
          
"You
insult me," Bracht rasped.

 
          
"I
take no more than understandable precautions," Anomius replied evenly.
"After all, do you not betray Varent den Tarl? You need me to escape
Sathoman's vengeance, but after? What guarantee—other than your word, which you
no doubt gave to your former employer, too—do I have that you'll not betray me
likewise?"

 
          
His
argument—given that they had, not long ago, discussed his murder—was
irrefutable. Calandryll could think of no counter; Bracht's lips clamped tight,
his eyes blazing dangerously.

 
          
"This
is no time to debate the matter," Anomius declared. "We ride together
and I'll protect myself—accept it, or remain here. Likely Sathoman will
remember you when he sobers,- if you prefer to await his justice ..." He
shmgged. "If not, then let's be gone. I've horses waiting and I'd distance
myself from Kesham-vaj before my lord leams of my departure. Which is it to
be?"

 
          
Calandryll
glanced at Bracht: the Kem shmgged.

 
          
"We
ride."

 
          
"Then
come," said Anomius, beckoning: they followed the sorcerer from the shed.

 
          
The
fires, no longer fueled by Anomius's magic and damped by the steady rain,
smoldered fitfully now. Thick banks of cloud masked the sky above the plateau,
the moon losing its struggle to pierce the canopy, the ground before Kesham-vaj
dark. Those few of ek'Hennem's men not carousing within the town sheltered in
their tents, and the three fugitives reached the horses unnoticed. Bracht's
chestnut and Calandryll's roan snickered greetings as they stowed their gear
behind the saddles, the Kem taking time to check each animal before they
mounted. Anomius hauled himself laboriously astride a dark grey gelding and led
the way out of the encampment.

 
          
They
moved at a walk for fear of calling attention down on their escape, past empty
tents, the spitting remnants of a bonfire, a line of picketed animals stamping
fretful in the rain. Drizzle and darkness were their allies, those and the
victory that relaxed the brigands' vigilance, the slow clopping of the hooves
muffled by wet ground and the susurration of the rain, the handful of sentries
still posted along the perimeter huddling under cover, consoling themselves
with ale and wine brought them by sympathetic comrades. They circled the tents
to put Kesham-vaj at their backs, crossing fields deserted with the coming of
the rebel army, farmhouses standing dark and empty, the animals eaten by
ek'Hennem's army. When the town was no more than a blur of light behind, they
angled toward the road, quickening their pace.

 
          
"How
long before we're missed?" Bracht shouted through the rain hiss and hoofbeats.

 
          
Anomius,
none too happy with their speed, wiped a hand over his face and answered,
"Morning, perhaps. If we're lucky,
noon
or later."

 
          
"Shall
we be off this highland by then?" asked the Kem.

 
          
The
wizard nodded. "If we ride all night. And if we can pass the
sentinels."

 
          
"Sentinels?"
Bracht swung his chestnut closer to the grey. "What sentinels?"

 
          
"Sathoman
has twenty men posted at the western edge," the wizard said. "To
watch and warn against attack."

 
          
"Ahrd
damn you!" Bracht cursed. "You said nothing of watchers there."

 
          
"Can
you not use magic against them?" asked Calandryll.

 
          
"No
major conjuration." Anomius shook his head. "I raised fire demons
today, and that takes a toll. That and quelling my opponent's counterspells. I
can work no major sorceries until my strength is recovered."

 
          
"You
set a spell on me," Bracht said. "Or was that a
lie?"     _

 
          
"No
lie," Anomius returned, "but a small spell. To overcome a score of
men—or bring us past them unseen—is more than I can do now."

 
          
"Is
there another way down?"

 
          
Calandryll
saw their escape ending soon after it had begun as the wizard shook his head
again and said, "Not off this highland. Only the Tyrant's road. But
another way . . . perhaps."

 
          
He
loosed his left hand from its nervous grip on the saddle hom just long enough
to gesture at his pack.

 
          
"I
have a bow. By night ... they'll not expect attack from this quarter."

 
          
"You'd
see your comrades slain?"

 
          
Calandryll
stared at the sorcerer's face, glistening in the rain, feeling a loathing for this
unwelcome ally.

 
          
"I'd
have the grimoire," Anomius replied, unmoved. "If a handful of
outlaws must die for that, so be it."

 
          
"And
when Sathoman learns of it?"

 
          
Bracht
felt no compunction: Calandryll realized that Anomius had been correct in his
assessment of their ethical differences.

 
          
"He'll
not for a day, at least," said the wizard; then grinned maliciously,
"and when he does—and finds us gone—he'll likely assume you succeeded in
forcing me to free you."

 
          
"And
send men after us," snapped the Kem. "If we're alive to chase."

 
          
"Of
course," Anomius agreed, "but by then we'll be off this highland and
there are places to hide below. And my strength will be restored—you need only
concern yourselves with the men ahead."

 
          
"You've
much faith in my sword skill," Bracht grunted.

 
          
"We'll
find a way," Anomius replied evenly. "Between us, we'll find a
way."

 
          
Bracht
mouthed a curse that went unheard in the night. Calandryll, riding on Anomius's
left, looked across the sorcerer at the Kem. Bracht's face was cold and hard,
resolved, as if the attacking of twenty men was already accepted and he thought
only of the doing of it, that and the need to get down off this open plateau to
the hiding places of the land below.

 
          
They
rode on, Bracht setting the pace, Anomius bouncing uncomfortably in the grey's
saddle, a miserable bundle of dark, rain-sodden clothes, silent now that the
decision was made. Calandryll thought of his words: "I can work no major
sorceries until my strength is recovered." Perhaps that offered some hope
of escaping his clutches—if the working of conjurations exhausted him to the
point at which he could fashion only simple spells, then perhaps they might
flee him at some time when his occult powers ebbed low. Perhaps: for now there
was the problem of passing the sentinels to consider. Twenty, Anomius had said.
Bracht could hardly take twenty men with the bow: likely it would come to
swordwork. It came to him that he had never killed a man. He began to wonder if
he could.

 
          
As
the night gave way to dawn he found out.

 
          
Kesham-vaj
lay lost in the darkness behind them, the land around stretching flat,
broken only by the half-seen shapes of windblown trees, the plateau's rim was
hidden in the softening grey that marked the transition between night and day.
The rain had ceased, the air cool, fresh with the pleasant scent of wet grass.
Anomius slowed his mount, raising a cautious hand.

 
          
"We
approach the descent. Sathoman's men may hear the horses."

 
          
Bracht
reined in, Calandryll following suit as the Kem swung to the ground.

 
          
"Give
me the bow."

 
          
Anomius
groaned as he hiked an awkward leg over his saddle and slid down, reaching up
to slide the bow from its wrappings on his saddle. It was heavy-curved, like those
Denphat and Jedomus had carried, short enough to be used effectively from
horseback. Bracht took it and bent it against his knee, settling the loose
string in place. Anomius passed him a quiver of twelve arrows and the Kem
examined each one, sighting down the shafts and checking the fletching. He pronounced
himself satisfied and turned to the wizard.

 
          
"Where
will they be?"

 
          
"The
road's edge is marked by a pillar," Anomius said, "Like that where
you found Arrhiman and Laphyl. Beyond the pillar the road descends steeply,
through a cut. Before the rim, the ground is open for half a bow shot. They'll
be there."

 
          
"Armored?"

 
          
"Yes,"
Anomius nodded, "but that bow can pierce armor."

 
          
"Not
fast enough," Bracht grunted, "but perhaps enough to divert them. Is
there any magic you can use against them?"

 
          
"Some,"
the wizard admitted. "But minor spells that I can work only at close range
against single men."

 
          
"Then
we must ride through them." Bracht's face was grim in the pale grey light.
"Calandryll, your task is to scatter their horses. Likely they'll be on a
picket line— get close and send them running. Then return here. Sorcerer,
you'll wait with our mounts ready. When Calandryll returns, you both come
fast."

 
          
"And
you?" Calandryll asked.

 
          
"I'll
do what I can to confuse them and meet you on the rim. Come forward at full
gallop. Anomius—you'll use what magic you can then."

 
          
The
wizard nodded. Calandryll said, "What if you're ... delayed?"

 
          
Bracht
grinned, shrugging. "Leave that worry to me, my friend," he advised.
"Once the horses are scattered you need only make the road. If worst comes
to worst, I'll meet you lower down. If not... go on." He cut short
Calandryll's protest with a curt gesture, turning to Anomius. "Wait here,
sorcerer. Keep the horses quiet if you can."

 
          
He
beckoned to Calandryll, nocking a shaft. Calandryll flung the black cloak
across his saddle and drew his sword. His mouth was dry and in his stomach
something rebelled, fluttering nervously. Bracht smiled, tightly, and began to
move down the road.

           
A little way along they heard the
muted sounds of a waking camp,- the snorting of tethered horses and the
lowvoiced conversation of the guards; saw the dull glimmer of a fire; the dark
bulk of a stone column thrusting against the brightening sky. Bracht raised a
hand, pointing to the road's edge.

 
          
"The
horses are there. Use Varent's spell if you must, but turn them loose and set
them running. I'll come at them from the farther side."

 
          
Calandryll
nodded silently. Bracht placed a hand on his right shoulder, staring at his
face.

 
          
"They'll
not let us past, do you understand?" His voice was soft, but urgent.
"Likely they'll be grouped tight— when I fire, they'll scatter, and some
may come after the animals. Kill them. Those left will be on our heels—or carry
word to Sathoman."

 
          
Calandryll
ducked his head once, not trusting himself to speak.