Hidden Warrior (55 page)

Tobin went quickly, not giving himself time to think of the open space below his boots. Reaching the ground, he cast off the rope and ran to join the others.

Tharin had already taken stock. “We’ll have to stay clear of the road. They’ll be watching that and it’s bright enough for them to see us moving. There’s nothing to do but run for it and hope we find horses soon. Make sure your arrows are tamped.”

Tobin and the others checked the wadded wool stockings they’d stuffed into their quivers to keep the shafts from rattling.

“Ready,” said Ki.

“All right, then. Here we go.”

The first few miles were harrowing. The starlight seemed bright as noon and cast their shadows across the ground.

The steadings closest to the city had been overrun. They were not burned, but the livestock had been taken and the inhabitants slaughtered. Men, women, and children lay where they’d fallen, hacked to death. Tharin didn’t let them linger there, but hurried on to the next, and the next. It was several miles before they got north of the Plenimarans’ path of destruction. The steadings beyond were deserted, their byres empty. The farmland between was open fields, with only a few hedges and walls to shelter behind.

At last they spotted a sizable copse and ran for it, only to be greeted by the unmistakable twang of bowstrings as they neared the trees. A shaft sang by Tobin’s cheek, close enough for him to hear the buzz of the fletching as it passed.

“Ambush!” Tharin cried. “To the right! Get to cover.”

But as they ran that way swordsmen leaped out to meet them. There was no time to count, but they were outnumbered. Tobin was still reaching for his sword when Lynx let out his war cry and hurtled past him to charge the nearest swordsman. Men closed in around him as his blade found steel.

Then the others were on them. Tobin dodged the first man who reached him and swung a crushing blow across the back of his neck just below his helmet. He went down and two more leaped at Tobin. “Blood, my blood,” Tobin whispered without thinking, but Brother did not come.

Tobin fought on, flanked by Tharin and Ki. He could hear Koni shouting behind him, and the clash of steel off to his right told him Lynx was still standing.

The blood sang in Tobin’s ears as he met each attacker and drove him back. They were strong, but he held his own until there was no one left to fight. Bodies littered the ground around them and he saw others running away.

“Let them go,” Tharin panted, leaning on his sword.

“You all right, Tob?” Ki gasped.

“They never touched me. Where are the others?”

“Here.” Lynx strode out from the shadows under the trees, his blade black to the hilt in the starlight.

“That was a damn fool thing to do!” Tharin shouted, grabbing him by the arm and shaking him angrily. “You stay close next time!”

Lynx yanked free and turned away.

“Leave him alone,” said Tobin. “He acted bravely.”

“That wasn’t bravery,” Tharin snapped, glaring at the sullen squire. “If you want to throw your life away, you
wait until we have the prince safe in Atyion! Your duty is to Prince Tobin now. Do you hear me, boy? Do you?”

Lynx hung his head and nodded.

Tobin looked around. “Where’s Koni?” No one else was standing.

“Oh, hell!” Tharin began searching through the bodies. The others did the same, calling Koni’s name. The fallen men all wore the black of Plenimar and Tobin didn’t think twice about sticking a knife in the few still moving.

“Koni!” he called, wiping his blade on his leg. “Koni, where are you?”

A low moan came from somewhere to his left. Turning, he saw a dark figure crawling slowly in his direction.

Running to him, Tobin knelt to examine his wounds. “How badly are you hurt?”

The young guardsman collapsed with a groan. The others reached them as Tobin gently turned him over. A broken arrow shaft protruded from his chest just below his right shoulder.

“By the Light!” Tharin leaned in for a closer look. “Who the hell is that?”

Tobin stared down in dismay at the fair-haired youth wearing Koni’s clothes. His chest was soaked with blood and his breath came in short, painful gasps. “I don’t know.”

The young man’s eyes flickered open. “Eyoli. I’m—Eyoli. Iya sent me. I’m—mind clouder.”

“A what?” Ki drew his sword.

“No, wait.” Tharin knelt by him. “You say Iya sent you. How do we know that’s true?”

“She told me to tell Prince Tobin—” He grimaced, clutching at his chest. “To tell you that the witch is in the oak. She said—you’d understand.”

“It’s all right,” Tobin said. “Back in Ero, she told me to keep Koni with me. He must be a wizard.”

“Not—not much of one.” The stranger let out a weak chuckle. “And even less of a fighter. She told me to stay close to you, my prince. To protect you.”

“Where’s Koni, then?” Tharin demanded.

“Killed, before the gates went down. I took his place and caught up with you before you were cornered at that inn.”

“He’s dead?” Grief-stricken, Tobin turned away.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way to stay with you. She said stay close,” Eyoli gasped. “That’s how she knew we were trapped. I sent word.”

“Does she know where we are now?” asked Tobin.

“I think so. She must not have been able to get out.”

Tobin looked back at the burning city. There was no question of waiting for Iya now.

“How badly is he hurt?” asked Ki.

“The arrow and a sword cut to his side,” Tharin replied. “We’ll have to leave him.”

“No!” cried Tobin. “He’ll die out here alone.”

“Go, please!” Eyoli struggled to sit up. “Iya will find me. You must go on.”

“He’s right, Tobin,” said Tharin.

“We’re not leaving him to die. That’s an order, do you hear me? He helped save all of us today. I won’t leave until we’ve done what we can for him.”

Tharin let out a frustrated growl. “Lynx, go find something for bandages. Ki, water bottles and cloaks. We’ll wrap him well and leave him in the trees. I’m sorry, Tobin, but we can’t do better than that.”

“I’m sorry to leave you a man short,” the wizard whispered, closing his eyes. “I should have told you—”

“You did your duty,” Tobin said, taking his hand. “I won’t forget that.”

Ki came back with the cloaks and bottles, as well as several bows. Dropping them beside Tharin, he said, “What do you make of these?”

Tharin picked one up, then another. “They’re Skalan made.”

“They all were, every one I saw. Swords, too, as much as I could make out.”

“Indeed?” Tharin set about cutting the arrow from Eyoli’s shoulder. The wizard clutched Tobin’s hand, trying not to cry out, but the pain was too much for him. Ki put a hand over his mouth and muffled the cries until Eyoli fainted. Tharin bandaged the wound, then picked up the bloody arrowhead and examined it closely for a moment. “Ki, Lynx, bundle him up as warm as you can and find a good hiding place for him in the trees. Leave him all the water you can find. Tobin, come with me.”

Tharin went to the nearest body and began feeling over the dead man’s chest and back with his hands. He let out a low grunt, then did the same with several other bodies. “By the Flame!”

“What is it?”

“Look at this,” Tharin said, sticking a finger into a rent in the dead man’s tunic. “Put your hand in it and tell me what you feel?”

“There’s no wound. He died of this sword cut to his neck.”

“The others were the same. And Ki’s right about the weapons, too. These are Skalans in Plenimaran clothes.”

“But why attack us?”

“Because they were ordered to, I’d say. And ordered to make it look like we were killed by the enemy.” He got up and hunted around for a moment, returning with a handful of arrows. They had thick shafts, with four-vane fletching rather than three. “Skalan bows, but Plenimaran arrows. Easy enough to come by after the fighting we saw today.”

“I still don’t understand. If we don’t get to Atyion, the city will fall!”

“It had to be someone who knew we were going to Atyion, by what route, and when. And know it in time to have this set up.”

“Not the king! Even if he wanted me killed, he wouldn’t sacrifice Ero.”

“Then it would have to be someone with him tonight. Perhaps it wasn’t Erius’ idea to send you.”

Tobin thought back. “Not Hylus!”

“No, I’d never believe that.”

“That leaves General Rheynaris and Lord Niryn.”

“And Prince Korin.”

“No! Korin wouldn’t do that. It had to be Niryn.”

“It doesn’t matter now. We’ve still got a long way to go and horses to find.”

Ki and Lynx had made Eyoli as comfortable as they could in a nest of cloaks under an oak just inside the copse.

“I’ll send someone for you,” Tobin promised.

Eyoli freed one hand from his wrapping to touch his brow and breast. “Go, my prince. Save your city.”

J
ust beyond the copse they came to a large steading. A low stone wall surrounded it and the gate hung open on its hinges.

“Careful, boys,” Tharin murmured.

But the place had been abandoned. The barn doors were open, and the corrals empty.

“Bilairy’s balls!” Ki panted, coming back from the barns empty-handed. “They must have driven the stock off rather than leave it for the enemy.”

Tharin sighed. “Nothing to do but keep going.”

They’d just reached the gate when they heard a strong, rushing wind.

Tobin looked around in surprise. The night was still, with hardly a breath of breeze.

The sound grew louder, then ended abruptly as a large, dark mass appeared out of thin air not ten feet from where they stood, tumbling and bouncing until it fetched up against a watering trough.

Tobin started toward it but Tharin held him back. Ki and Lynx advanced cautiously, swords drawn.

“I think it’s a man!” Lynx called back.

“It is, and he’s alive,” said Ki.

“A wizard?” said Tobin.

“Or something worse,” Tharin muttered, stepping in front of him.

The strange traveler rose slowly to his knees, holding up both hands to show that he was unarmed. Ki let out a yelp of surprise. “Tobin, it’s Arkoniel!”

“By the Four, is it raining wizards today?” Tharin growled.

Tobin ran to help Arkoniel up. Instead of his usual hooded cloak, the wizard wore a shepherd’s long fleece vest and a felt hat jammed down on his head and tied in place with a scarf. Leather gauntlets covered his arms almost to the elbow. He was breathless and shaking like a man with fever.

“How did you get here?” asked Tobin.

Arkoniel clutched Tobin’s shoulder, still unsteady on his feet. “A spell I’ve been working on. Not quite perfected yet, but I seem to have arrived with all my arms and legs.”

“Were you expecting bad weather?” Ki asked, eyeing the absurd hat.

“No, just a bad journey. As I said, the spell isn’t quite right yet. I’m never sure if I’ll arrive in one piece or not.” Arkoniel pulled off the left gauntlet and showed them his splinted wrist. “Same one I broke that day I arrived at the keep, remember?” He pulled off the right glove with his teeth and undid the scarf holding his hat.

“How did
you
find us?” Tharin asked.

“You can thank Iya and Eyoli for that. They got word to me. Tobin, I believe you’ll be needing this.” Pulling off his hat, Arkoniel shook out Tobin’s old rag doll. “Don’t let go of it again.”

Tobin stuffed it inside his studded coat as Lynx stared. “Can you walk?”

Arkoniel straightened his disordered clothing. “Yes, it’s just a bit disorienting, traveling like that twice in one night. Can’t say that I recommend it.” He looked around. “No horses?”

“No,” said Tharin. “I don’t suppose you have a spell for that?”

Arkoniel gave him a wink. Taking out his crystal wand, he drew a figure in red light, then stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “There, they’ll be along.”

Ki and Lynx went to the barn again. By the time they returned with the saddles, they could hear the sound of hooves on the road, approaching at a gallop. A few minutes later ten horses thundered into the yard and came to a stop around Arkoniel, nosing at his belt and tunic.

“You’ve become quite a useful fellow since I last saw you.” Tharin laughed.

“Thank you. It’s been an instructive few years.”

Arkoniel drew Tobin aside as the others saddled the horses. “I suppose you know what all this signifies?”

Tobin nodded.

“Good. I think it might be best if your friends understood.”

“Tharin already knows.”

“You told him?”

“No, Lhel did.”

Arkoniel grasped Tobin’s shoulder with his good hand. “You’ve seen her! Where is she?”

“I didn’t see her. She came to Tharin in some kind of vision.”

Arkoniel sagged and Tobin saw the deep disappointment in his eyes. “She left us at Sakor-tide. I looked for her when I went back to the keep for the doll, but there was no sign of her anywhere.”

“You mean it wasn’t Lhel who got the doll back from my mother?”

“No. I found it in the tower. Someone had been up there before me. One of the tables had been righted, and a dozen or so of your mother’s dolls were lined up there. You remember them? Boys with no mouths? Yours was with them. It was as if someone knew I was coming for it.”

“Maybe Nari?”

The tower door is still locked and I threw the key in the river years ago. It could have been Lhel, but—Well, I think maybe your mother knew that you needed it back.”

Tobin shook his head. “Or that Brother needed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“She always loved him, not me.” He clutched at the lump the doll made inside his coat. “She made this to keep him with her. She carried it everywhere, so he’d be there. She loved him.”

“No, Tobin. Lhel told her to make the doll. It was the only way to control Brother after—after he died. Lhel helped her, and set the magic on it to hold him. It may have given your mother some comfort but it wasn’t love.”

“You weren’t there! You didn’t see how she was. It was always him. She never wanted me.”

A look of genuine pain crossed Arkoniel’s face. “Oh, Tobin. It wasn’t your fault or hers, how things were.”