Prisoner (27 page)

"
I
am not so foolish as to trust your drugs." von Adolwulf looked at him in contempt, then pulled open his wardrobe and began to pull things out of it. He threw them at Beraht. "Dress. Bundle the majority of it. We will have to procure food; I doubt your general packed enough for four, if even three. Wait here," von Adolwulf said, then strode from the room.

Beraht washed off quickly, eager to be rid of the smells clogging his nose: blood, sweat, and—worst—the cloying, sickly-sweet smell of Heilwig's perfume from when she'd grabbed him and the equally wretched cologne the Kaiser wore. Like half-rotted fruit. He scrubbed quickly and dressed even more rapidly.

He sat down to put his boots on and realized he no longer had them. They'd been taken away when he'd been given the clothes ordered by the Kaiser. His curses filled the room, and he was still swearing when von Adolwulf returned.

Von Adolwulf threw a pair of boots at Beraht. "Too big, as you're so wretchedly weak and thin, but they're better for the conditions we'll be traveling in." He didn't wait for a reply, but set to packing away the food he'd brought back from the kitchen.

Beraht examined the black, knee high boots. They were larger and more cumbersome—because they were lined with fur, he noticed as he pulled one on. The bottom had an unusual, jagged tread. For walking in snow and ice, he realized. The fit wasn't all that bad. He laced them up quickly, knotting the laces securely. They certainly wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.

He tugged on an over shirt and short tunic—both far too big, but belting them down helped. His attire was all black. He was starting to look as grim as von Adolwulf. He packed away the rest of the clothing that had been thrown at him, arranging it carefully in a set of saddlebags and doing his best to balance the weight.

"Here," von Adolwulf threw something else at him. "Stow it."

Beraht bit back a retort but obeyed.

Von Adolwulf finished bandaging his arm then pulled on his clothes and finished by wrapping his sword belt around his waist. He sheathed it then looked toward the empty hook on the wall beside the wardrobe.

"There," Beraht pointed toward the table where von Adolwulf's cloak lay half in a chair, half on the floor. "Burkhard took it from the Kaiser's room."

Von Adolwulf said nothing, merely crossed the room and swung the immense, heavy cloak up and over his shoulders.

He looked almost exactly as he had the day Beraht had met him. "Ready?" he asked. Von Adolwulf nodded and carrying their bags, they made their way from the room.

The palace was empty save for a few stray servants who were quick to duck into hallways.

In the stables, von Adolwulf made immediately for his own horse.

"We're not sharing again, are we?"

"No," von Adolwulf said scathingly. "Take that one." He pointed to a horse directly across from his own. "I assume you know how to manage a horse."

"A horse, yes. These monsters? No." They were huge. Beraht examined the one von Adolwulf had indicated. It was dark brown, including its mane, and it was just as high and massive as von Adolwulf's. Krian horses were bred for war and the cold.

Von Adolwulf sneered at him. "He'll only hurt you if you're timid, Beraht."

Beraht met the challenge in his voice, opening the stall door and leading the horse out. "What's his name?" he asked, petting the horse's nose before setting to work readying him to be fit for travel.

"Krone."

"Crown?"

Von Adolwulf gave one of his wolfish smiles. "The Kaiser's horse."

Beraht laughed in response, and with only minor struggle mounted the enormous horse.

Dieter swung his own horse around and led the way out of the stable.

There were guards at the gate, but Beraht knocked them out before Dieter could reach for his sword. He returned the glare shot his way and let Dieter get down to open the gates.

Minutes later they were free of the palace and racing for the crossroads in the distance.

Sol tensed when he heard, not one, but two horses thundering toward them. He had seen them from a distance and had thought they must be soldiers sent out on a mission, but as they drew closer he recognized both figures.

Beraht of course by his pale hair—how they had all thought him pure Salharan, Sol still wondered.

Beside him was the unmistakable form of Dieter.

Sol motioned his own horse forward, out of the small copse of trees that was hiding him from sight. He watched as they approached. "This is an interesting development."

"You'll have to ask Beraht," Dieter said. "It was his idea."

Beraht looked as if he'd much rather kill Dieter. "I only meant to return your damned sword! I didn't expect the red arcen to be this difficult." His hands fisted tightly on the reigns. "Shouldn't we be going?"

"Yes," Sol agreed. His arm tightened around Iah's waist. "We can discuss this later." What in the stars' names were they going to do with Dieter?
That
had not been a possibility in any of his plans. "Come, our best bet is to follow the river." He turned his horse.

"If you want to get caught," Dieter said, not moving. "With daylight, we'll be too easily spotted. And the river runs a direct course to the borders. Are we in a hurry?"

Sol bit back a retort. "Shouldn't we be?"

"If they have waited this long for their damnable Breaker," Dieter said, "they can wait a few extra days. The river is more expedient, but the forest is a better choice."

Beraht nodded in agreement, surprising Sol. His eyes were distant, as if he was seeing something no one else could. "Through the forest, west almost to the Salhara border, then straight down. Pass into Salhara just west of the Regenbogen. Then we curve back north, up through Illussor to the royal palace in Fallhara."

"Exactly," Dieter said, and Sol realized he was just as surprised.

"That will nearly triple the journey."

"Yes," Dieter agreed. He turned his horse around. "But it's better than going by the river."

Sol nodded, stifling any arguments. Let the native guide them. He slid a look toward Beraht as they raced off. "How did you come to know the lay of the land so well?"

"Maps," Beraht said. "Burkhard let me see some of the Krian maps."

"I see," Sol said and fell silent. Burkhard… He glanced at Dieter's back. He wondered if anyone had told him that Burkhard was dead. Sol stifled a sigh. Something would have to be said when they broke camp. Burkhard had, he knew, been fond of Dieter. Dieter would not be pleased to hear how and why he had died.

Fingers brushed against the back of his hand and tangled with his reassuringly. "Don't worry about it," Iah said. "Not right now."

Sol nodded and held more tightly to Iah's waist, his other hand tight on the reigns. Traveling would have been easier if Iah had his own horse, but that wasn't a possibility—and he didn't mind, really.

He glanced toward the palace where it seemed no one had yet raised an alarm. They wouldn't have, not yet, as they all would have assumed Beraht had simply vanished; they would have no way of knowing where they'd gone. No one would notice anything until they returned to the palace, which would take them a few minutes, and it would take longer still to notice who else was missing, and that there were four men missing, not two.

Sol's eyes flicked to the unmistakable red jewel in the hilt of Dieter's sword, where it occasionally peeked from beneath Dieter's cloak. What in the stars' names had occurred?  How had they wound up with a fourth member? By the stars, what was he supposed to do with Dieter? Sol sighed and shoved the thoughts away for later. Their escape was plenty demanding enough.

Dieter slowed after they'd been in the forest for some time.

"What's wrong?" Sol asked. He followed Dieter's gaze upward.

"Snow," Dieter said. "We're going to get hit hard before too much longer."

Sol looked up at the sky again.

"The sky is perfectly clear," Beraht said. "How can it snow when there are no clouds?"

Dieter didn't bother to reply, speaking to Sol instead. "We have to travel quickly. Can your horse travel hard with the extra burden?"

"Yes," Sol said.

"If it begins to tire," Dieter said, "we can always take turns. Make sure your heavier gear is easily accessed—the temperature will drop quickly. We will be traveling until dark, and if we press hard enough there is a place to stay for a night." Without another word, he once more took off.

Iah laughed softly as they followed after him. "He certainly knows how to take command, doesn't he?"

"Apparently," Sol said, unable to resist a soft laugh of his own. Even over the horses and the wind, he could hear Beraht shooting curses at Dieter, who seemed not to notice.

Several hours later, they stopped for a short break. Sol unpacked food from his bags after they had cared for the horses. He pressed some into Iah's hands and dispersed the rest. Brushing snow from a rock, he sat down and looked at Beraht. "So explain."

Beraht made a face, but obeyed. "I gave him his sword, but the arcen wasn't working right." He closed his mouth, then grimaced and started speaking again. "I wasn't using the arcen correctly. The jump from yellow to red arcen was nastier than I expected. I wasted some of it transferring the sword." Beraht grinned, suddenly looking far too pleased with himself. "Which reminds me—"

"What?" Sol asked warily, not liking the look on his face.

They all looked at Beraht as if he'd gone insane when he threw his head back and laughed. Beraht set his food aside and stood, stalking over to Dieter. "Let me see your sword?"

"Why?"

"Because."

Dieter glared at him a moment, but drew his sword. Rather than hand it over to Beraht, however, he simply held it out for him to see. Even beneath the clouds—which Sol had noticed were gathering—it shimmered. Not just on the surface, but from deep within. "Look at it," Beraht said, motioning Sol to come closer. "Does it remind you of anything?"

Sol tilted his head as he examined the sword and compared to the short swords Salharans used only when they had to—generally against Illussor, who used no weapons at all. It was massive and long, with a sharp double edge, and Sol doubted he could hold it without humiliating himself. Yet he'd seen Dieter wield it as if it weighed nothing, as if swordsmanship were a game easily mastered.

The way it shimmered—swords didn't do that. So many colors, pale and faint. As if there were something in the metal itself. Colors like that— "Arcen!" he said, as realization struck him.

"What?" Dieter said in a dangerous tone.

Beraht laughed at him. "Your sword has arcen in it."

"My sword does not have arcen."

"Yes, it does." Sol said quietly, staring in amazement at the deep, rainbow shimmer. "How strange. I never would have thought to use it thus."

Dieter sheathed his sword. "Get away."

"A little miffed to know you're as pollution-reliant as the rest of us?" Beraht taunted.

Sol backed away. If Beraht wanted to be stupid, let him. He resumed his seat and watched, somewhat amused, as Dieter grabbed Beraht and threw him face first into the snow.

"The Breaker has a death wish," Iah said softly.

"Apparently," Sol replied. He ate quickly, enjoying the brief respite from being on horseback. Something told him such breaks would become fewer as they went along.

Dieter reached into the snow and hauled Beraht up, then shoved him toward his horse. "It's time to go."

"You do remember that you weren't invited on this journey, right?" Beraht retrieved his food and began to finish it.

"You do remember you're the one responsible for my being here?"

Beraht was silent while he mounted his horse.

"Is this hostility between you two going to be a problem?" Sol asked.

"No," Dieter said. "Because if he persists in aggravating me, he'll be too busy recovering from a dunking in the river to annoy me further."

Sol waited for Beraht's retort—and stared at him when he stayed silent. Lifting a brow, he merely helped Iah mount and then followed Dieter and Beraht from the clearing.

An hour later the snow began to fall in earnest. Dieter halted them again and ordered they done heavier clothing. "What do the clouds look like?" Iah asked.

"Heavy," Dieter answered.

Iah nodded. "Then we have to ride hard. Our only chance is to reach the border as quickly as possible." He drew the cloak Sol gave him tightly around his shoulders, pulling the hood up far enough it hid the bandages on his face. "Let's hope the temperature doesn't drop further."

"It won't," Dieter said. "Not yet. It will snow for days first."

Sol noticed that while the rest of them put on their cumbersome gear for harsh weather, Dieter merely pulled up the hood of his cloak. "I keep forgetting, Iah, that you're as accustomed to this abysmal weather as Dieter."

Iah laughed. "It's not that awful. Winter is the best time of year."

"Snow and cold are wretched," Beraht disagreed. "Give me summer any day, even if I have to spend it fighting." He urged his horse onward, leaving the rest to catch up.