Sword of Jashan (Book 2) (17 page)

“Race me, Shan-il,” he said.

“You cannot, my lord. Look, there are people all around.”

“They’re over by the lake. Come on! It has been sennights since I’ve had a good ride.”

Froman’s mood had apparently changed. He dropped back to ride beside them. “My brother and I galloped here once. We were given stable duty for a sennight.”

“They do not look kindly on wild riding here,” Shan-il said. “There are too many people around.”

Ander sulked. The day was bright, and it was cooler here by the lake than in the heart of the sweltering city. He missed the freedom he had enjoyed at Northgard, where no one minded if he took a few guards and rode off into the woods to gallop or to set up his painting by an interesting view.

“We will ride back into those trees,” Froman said, pointing to a weedy path that did not seem to be part of the lake grounds proper. “Perhaps it will be a little safer to ride faster there.”

Ander raised his eyebrows at Shan-il. The tutor sighed. “My lords, if you incur the displeasure of the King, there will be no more rides here. What is wrong with sitting for a while by the lakeshore, or fishing perhaps?”

Ander looked at the people sitting on the wooden fishing pier with poles. They looked placid, as if they had not moved for candlemarks. The surface of the lake was undisturbed by any sign of fish. “That looks very boring,” he said, looking a little shyly at the older lord. “Do you not agree?”

“I went fishing once,” Froman said. “Lasted for all of about a quarter candlemark. Such a task is not for us, Lord Ander. Talk to your men. Let’s ride!”

A few moments later, two of the guardsmen rode ahead to make sure the path was clear. Ander loosened his rein and put his heels to his mount’s sides. Lord Froman, perhaps remembering that he was angry about being ordered here, took off ahead, setting a fast pace. A third guard rode as his escort, slapping at his horse to keep up with the fast-riding Froman. They headed for the neglected path off the lake, Shan-il riding behind with the other guardsmen.

The mare had a beautiful gait. Ander laughed as he felt the breeze in his hair. Branches of tall trees arched far above them, providing a little shade but no obstruction. The bright display of the lake fell behind and to their left as the trail angled farther away from Lake Heart.

Froman turned back to shout something over his shoulder. Ander could not make out the words, so he spurred the mare on a little faster. This was glorious, the first exercise other than the ring since the slow miserable ride across the plains to Sugetre. Ander saw that the trail ahead was rougher, so he pulled the mare slower, watching for tree roots or stones in the path. The mare snorted and shook her head as if she wanted to race on.

There were indeed tree roots wrinkling the surface of the trail. Shan-il pulled up behind him. Ander let his mare walk along the rougher section.

“Where are Lord Froman and the other guards?” Shan-il asked.

Ander looked ahead. The trail curved gently around a massive tree trunk. He could see no sign of life. Listening, he could not hear the sounds of horses or voices. To the left, Lake Heart and its people had disappeared behind a thickening verge of trees. To the right the trees thinned to show the clutter of a poorer area of the city, with rundown houses crammed tight together. A dog tied behind one of the houses yipped, sounding for a moment like a wolf.

All at once, it felt very empty on the sunlit trail.

Ander’s three rear guards moved up behind them.

“Let us go back, my lord,” said one.

“Yes,” Shan-il agreed. “There is something off about this.”

Ander turned his mare around, but kept looking back over his shoulder. “What about Lord Froman and the men he was with?”

“We will send back after them when you are safe again,” Shan-il said.

Something rustled in the undergrowth between the trail and the houses. Ander’s mare shied, and he quieted her.

Suddenly there were people on the trail between them and Lake Heart. Two men rose from the undergrowth and stood in the center of the trail. They held their hands out before them to show the King’s guards that they were unarmed. The men were beggars, perhaps, seizing the opportunity to cadge a few coppers from a rich party. Froman had told Ander this happened sometimes, since the park was surrounded by Sugetre’s clutter. It was one of the reasons people of means took guards with them to the lake.

One of the men was hooded so that his face was not visible. He bent low before the guard, who waved him off with a negligent hand. “Away!” the guard said.

“What does he want?” Ander asked.

“Money, most likely, Lord Ander.” The guard watched the beggar with a frown. “Please ignore him.”

“Just a copper, great ones,” one of the men rasped.

“He looks very poor,” Ander said, frowning.

Shan-il’s voice was sharp. His horse was close to Ander’s. “Don’t think it, my lord. Something is wrong here.”

“I’ll get rid of him, my lord,” said the guard.

One of the guards rode forward into the beggar. The man tripped out of the way of the horse and fell into the growth at the side of the trail. With a shout, others rose out of the undergrowth, and the guards were outnumbered by as many as a dozen.

“Back,” Shan-il whispered to Ander. “Let’s get away from this.”

Ander could see the guards attempting to clear the way with swords and the bulk of their horses. Then one of them was dragged off his mount, pulled down by four ragged men. One of the attackers fell back, bleeding, but the guard was down and disarmed. The other was mobbed by even more attackers.

Ander drew his sword. He turned his mare and bent low, urging her towards the fallen guardsmen and the rabble that mobbed them.

“No!” Shan-il said.

Before Ander’s mare could move, there were small hands on her bridle, pulling her head down hard. The mare stumbled onto her knees. These were children, several of them dragging Ander off the mare now. Their hands were all over him, pulling on his arm, someone else trying to take his sword. He pulled back for a strike but looked into the face of the closest attacker and could not do it. The boy looked no more than ten, dirt smudged across his face failing to hide his youth. Then the moment of decision was gone, and so was his sword.

Next to him Shan-il lay on the trail, black hair streaming over the dirt. He looked to be unconscious.

Ander did not think help was coming from Froman either. He wondered what had happened to the guards who had ridden ahead.

Ander’s hands shook. This was clearly a kidnapping, if not an assassination attempt. The guards behind him made no sound. Perhaps they were dead.

Then some of the older men were there, grabbing his hands. Ander clamped down on his fear. He let color magery flame from his hands, and his attackers leaped back, glaring.

“Do you want money?” Ander asked. “I do not want to hurt you. I’ll give you what I have.”

“We can just take it, lordling,” sneered the bearded man. “And we will—ya can’t stop us. But first . . .”

A man was behind him. Something wrapped itself around Ander’s face and pulled him backwards. The stink of body odor filled Ander’s nose and mouth. He choked, unable to breathe. He tried to grab at the cloth but could not get his hands around it. Someone grabbed his hands and yanked them behind his back.

Fear raced through him. This was it—if he did not act he would be abducted or dead. Forgetting any finesse, Ander let go of the energies he held in check and flared the heat of color magery across the weedy trail.

The grip on his hands slackened. He pulled his hands free. He dug at the cloth and pulled it away from his face, coughing. Black spots danced in front of his eyes but he could see red fire enveloping two struggling forms. The men lay writhing on the trail, screaming, red and black ropes of energy wrapping their bodies.

Ander whirled to see what the other attackers were doing. Two were coming at him with swords they had taken from the bodies of Ander’s dead guards. One got in an untutored swipe before Ander focused the heat of his magery into a shield that wrapped them, shoving them off the trail through the undergrowth as if someone had kicked them.

Looking back up the trail, Ander saw some of the men running away through the weeds back to the clutter of rundown houses.

“Get back here, you damned cowards!” screamed one of the beggars who remained on the trail.

A weight flung itself against the back of Ander’s knees. He found himself rolling in the dirt. A slight body flung itself on him—one of the children who had been in the ragged group. The child punched at Ander’s jaw and he felt his control of the magery wavering as his head snapped back against the dirt. He did not want to use the fire against this child.

Then someone was dragging the attacker off him, kicking and swearing. Ander rolled to his feet fast, trying to keep the mage shield on the two men in the woods. The two who had tried to strangle him were dead, arched in tortured positions.

Shan-il held the struggling child tight. The tutor looked pale. His face was slick with blood. He slapped the child. “Shut up, and keep quiet, or you’ll be with the gods with your kin here,” he snapped. “Can you hold her?” he asked Ander.

Ander nodded. It was indeed a girl, dressed in ratty trousers, dirt smeared on her face. He took hold of her arms. She stilled immediately, watchful for an opportunity. Ander released the mage shield on the two in the woods; they scrambled to their feet and ran off, stumbling on roots and low bushes.

The sound of hooves approached from the direction of Lake Heart. Someone was coming to aid them or their enemies, Ander did not know which. He took a deep breath and readied himself.

Four of the rag-clad attackers lay on the trail. Shan-il was going from man to fallen man, knife out. As Ander watched, the tutor held his hand above the mouth of one man, checking for breath; then he cut the man’s throat with an economical move. Blood sprayed onto Shan-il and all over the trail.

The girl Ander held wailed.

“Silence,” Ander said. His knees shook. There were two more of the children watching him, half-hidden behind larger tree trunks. He did not intend to call attention to them as long as they attempted no harm.

The sound of hooves was closer now. Three armed men rode up, horses sweating from the speed of their ride.

“What’s going on here?” demanded their leader.

“First, who are you?” Shan-il asked. His knife was still out. Under the eyes of the armed men, he bent and grabbed a sword from the hands of one of the dead men lying on the trail. Ander shifted his grip to hold the captured girl’s upper arms tighter. He took a deep breath and prepared to defend himself if necessary.

“City guard.” The leader pulled at the breast of his tunic, drawing attention to the raven emblazoned there. “Eran Ellini, commander. Are you all right?”

Ander sagged in relief. The girl squirmed in his grip but Ander held tighter. “We are missing three guardsmen and Lord Froman, who rode ahead of us. I don’t know if they need help.”
Or if they were part of this set-up
, he thought but did not say aloud.

Commander Eran waved two of his men ahead. They thundered off down the trail, leaving only their commander with Ander and Shan-il.

“Take this one,” Ander said to the commander. Reaction hit him hard, and his knees sagged. “She is the only one of them we have. Well, those behind that tree there, but they’ll be long gone in a moment.” As he spoke there was a yelp from the greenery, and the two youths still hiding behind the tree trunk scattered, running through the undergrowth like deer.

Commander Eran dismounted, grabbing the girl by her filthy arm. “I think we have another to question who will not be running away,” he said. Ander looked ahead and saw one of the ragged attackers stirring on the trail, groaning in pain.

The trail and the bright sky and all the dappled green went fuzzy, and Ander felt unaccountably light. Then he went down, dropping to the dirt of the trail. He put his head in his hands, waiting for the reaction to pass. He felt someone’s hands on his shoulders, supporting him, and Shan-il’s voice explaining to Commander Eran who they were and what was happening to Ander.

“Color magery,” he heard. “Reaction.”

Ander shivered as the cold of the trail sank into his bones and the heat of the day seemed all gone to chill. Color magery coalesced inside him, lying along his nerves, waiting to be used. He closed his eyes and pushed it back, remembering what Mage Oron had taught him long ago. Eventually he felt as if the magery was under control, back where it should be. He opened his eyes to find the world back to its usual colors, and three people watching him.

Shan-il asked, “All right now?”

Ander nodded. He wavered but managed to get up. He still felt enervated in a way that he had not experienced before. Shan-il had brought a horse near, and he leaned against its side, grateful for the solid support.

The ragged girl who had attacked him jeered. “Yer as weak as a kitten,” she said.

The commander gave her a solid slap against the side of her head. “You don’t speak so to a
righ,
vermin. Where are your parents?”

The girl’s eyes went to one of the crumpled forms on the trail. She said, “None of yer business,” and the commander wrapped her hands with a leather cord with needless force.

The two guardsmen returned from the trail ahead, reporting no sign of Lord Froman and the others. Commander Eran swore. “Back to station with all of us, then. You too if you please, my lord, for your safety. We need to get searchers out. My lord, we will call for assistance for you there, or escort you back to the palace if you wish. Now, men! Let’s move!”

Ander tried to mount, but his knees still trembled. He could feel his face heat as he accepted a boost from Shan-il. He found himself settled in the saddle, the mare snorting and tossing her head.

The man they had captured was thrown over the back of a horse for the ride back to Lake Heart. The ragged girl-child was tied to the Commander’s saddle by a rope from her bound hands; she turned twice and sneered at Ander, once spitting at him until she was cuffed again.