Winter Be My Shield (54 page)

‘You could have warned me,' Sierra snarled at him.

‘I told you everything I knew.'

He
had
told her. She'd just chosen not to believe him. Sierra folded her arms. ‘Just what did you plan to do when Dremman's men handed me over?'

‘Well, my sweet, I was going to keep them there until you woke up and let you decide what to do with them. Then I intended to give you a horse and whatever gear you wanted and send you on your way. I meant what I said, Sierra. I don't want to fight you again.'

Her power was surging with every nervous beat of her heart and swarming over her skin in a crackling pulse. She wasn't sure if Ardamon had noticed it but Rasten definitely had. She could sense his own power held quiescent in a way she hadn't yet mastered herself.

‘Then why make the deal with Dremman?' Ardamon said.

‘Hold your tongue, lordling, or I'll cut it out and feed it to the dogs,' Rasten said. ‘Well? What are you going to do, Little Crow?'

Sierra watched him carefully. ‘I have to go back.' She was prepared for him to react with anger and frustration but he just nodded, as though he'd expected as much.

‘And what do you think Dremman will try next?'

She shuffled her feet in her too-large boots. Dremman wouldn't deal with Rasten again, not when he knew Rasten was playing an entirely different game. But he couldn't sell her directly to Kell, either. She was too
powerful a weapon to be put into his hands. If Dremman could get no value from her he would likely find a way to kill her. If he resorted to poison it wouldn't be just her at risk, but Cam as well. All of this, even overlooking the danger to the pair of them, only lessened their chances of ever freeing Isidro from slavery. ‘I have no choice,' she told him. ‘I can't leave Cam and Isidro where they are. They're only in this mess because of me.'

‘Getting caught up with them has made you weak,' Rasten said. ‘They're a distraction.'

‘No one survives out here alone.'

‘Maybe not, but you didn't need to become bosom friends with them. Now those who wish you harm will turn on them instead. You can't protect them, Sierra. But if you come with me now, no one will ever threaten them to get at you.'

‘I can't leave them. Not yet.'

‘Not yet? But you're beginning to understand what I've been saying, aren't you? This is the only way you will ever be free.'

Sierra turned her face away. The thought of what he was suggesting terrified her. She knew what Kell's training would involve. ‘I can't,' she said. ‘I will not!'

‘You will have to, Little Crow. I know you don't believe me, but your power is still growing. When it reaches its peak, you will understand.'

If he was right, there was no way Cam would stand by and let her go back — or Isidro, if he were in a position to stop it. But Isidro was beyond her reach and Dremman, once he saw what fruit his plans had borne, could well decide his next step ought to be to separate her from Cam. If that happened she would be alone again but for Rasten's voice whispering in her ear.

‘I have to go,' Sierra whispered and took a step away from him.

‘Then go,' Rasten said. ‘But here, take my horse. He's used to carrying a sorcerer and he won't spook under you. The lordling's wretched beast won't carry the two of you far and my men will have rounded up all the others by now.' He held the reins out in one gloved hand.

Sierra had to summon all the courage she had to take the reins from his fingertips. When his fingers brushed hers she felt herself tremble. With the reins in her grip she backed away sharply, leading the horse with her. It tossed its head, snorting once in mild surprise, but then came with her meekly enough. Sierra turned it in a circle and swung up
into the saddle in one quick motion, trying to keep Rasten in her sights as she did so. Some part of her couldn't believe he would let her go so easily, but Rasten did not move.

‘I'll be here when you need me, Little Crow,' he said.

 

Sierra and Ardamon rode in an uncomfortable silence as they followed the tracks back to Dremman's camp. It took some hours, but they didn't exchange anything more than the most necessary words until Ardamon called a halt to let his weary horse rest.

They startled a small herd of white-tailed deer, which scattered at their approach, and Ardamon's mount didn't even nuzzle around the snow they had disturbed, but merely stood where he had let it stop, with one hind hoof cocked on its tip and its head down by its knees.

Sierra had eaten nothing since the night before and the few mouthfuls of snow she'd snatched along the way only made her thirst worse. While Ardamon stamped some warmth back into his feet, she hunted through the saddlebags to see what, if anything, Rasten sent with her. In one side she found a water-bag in a double-furred pouch. The water must have been hot when he set out, but now it had cooled to a slurry of ice. Sierra only took a few mouthfuls before replacing the stopper and putting the bag away. It might wet her throat, but it would chill her from the inside out. There was also a package of emergency rations, thick slabs of pemmican made by mixing ground dried meat and dried berries with rendered fat. There was nothing else in the saddlebags, a fact that further convinced her Rasten had always intended to let her have the horse. He had known she wouldn't return with him.

She broke off a piece of pemmican and offered it to the horse, trusting the beast's sense of smell, which was more acute than any human's. When the horse lipped it up from her palm she broke off a larger piece for herself and offered it to Ardamon as well, while he watched the whole affair. Rather grudgingly he took a piece and glared at it suspiciously. ‘Why would you trust anything that creature gives you?'

‘Because I know
he
wants me alive,' she said, checking the other saddlebag, which held more pemmican and nothing else. It would make a monotonous diet, but the fat would keep her warm and it needed no cooking. There was enough for a week or more and at least it was food she could trust.

Sierra considered Ardamon as they each gnawed on the bars, stiff and hard with the cold. ‘Tell me,' she said at last. ‘If you thought your father's plan was going to work, what would you have done? Would you have ridden after me anyway?'

Ardamon turned his glare on her. ‘Do you understand what it means to be cast out by your clan?'

‘To live as an outcast with no kin and no safe haven to turn to? Yes, Ardamon, I believe I do.'

‘It's not as though I could have done anything. The men escorting you took their orders from my father. They wouldn't have listened to me if I countermanded him. Now you tell me. What would you have done if you'd woken up and found yourself in Rasten's camp?'

‘Panicked, probably,' Sierra said.

‘Would you have ridden away if he let you?'

‘I couldn't leave Cam where he is.'

‘Why not? Rasten was right about one thing. He's in danger as long as you stay with him.'

Sierra looked down at the snow. ‘I couldn't walk away from Isidro.'

‘And just what in the Black Sun's name can you do to help him? He's a slave now! He's beyond our reach. This is all fucked beyond repair, Sierra. I don't know what you're going to do now but you're mad if you stay in my father's camp.'

He looked haggard.
Of course
, she thought,
he's been riding all night while I at least slept for a few hours on the sled.

‘Why would Rasten think for a moment that you'd choose to go with him?' Ardamon demanded.

‘He wants me to help him destroy Kell,' Sierra said with a shrug. ‘What will you tell your father?'

‘I'll tell him I rode after you because Cam was sure you'd wake early. Beyond that, I don't know.'

She had never got along with Ardamon, but for all his faults he was unfailingly honest, which seemed to be a rare quality among his clan. Sierra's instincts told her he was telling the truth. ‘What do you think I should do?'

‘I have no idea,' he said with a weary shake of his head. ‘You should talk to Cam. He's had more experience in these things than I do.'

‘Do you want me gone?'

‘I won't lie. I'd have been happier if I had never laid eyes on you. But from what I've heard from that man Elomar about the raid on his village, I don't like the idea of facing the Akharian mages without any way to counter them. If it were my choice I would keep you here. But it's not up to me.'

 

The outer ring of sentries were puzzled to see them, but the men waved Ardamon through without question. As they approached the camp itself a man hailed Ardamon by name and came running to meet them. Sierra tensed but the fellow, wearing the badge of a camp aide, paid her no attention.

‘Lord Ardamon, thank the Gods you've returned. Commander Dremman has been asking for you. There's been some dreadful news. Lady Mira and her escort were attacked by Akharian Raiders. The lady has been taken prisoner!'

‘What?' Ardamon snapped. ‘How? When did this happen?

‘Some hours ago this morning, my lord, but the rider who brought the news only returned an hour ago. Commander Dremman has had us searching the camp for you ever since.'

‘I had best go see him,' Ardamon said and beckoned Sierra with an imperious flick of his hand. ‘Stay close behind me,' he said and, as the aide leapt out of the way, he kicked his horse into a canter through the wide avenue between the tents while men on foot scattered from his path. Sierra turned Rasten's horse to follow.

The news was still spreading through the camp. Sierra could see groups of men huddled together, anxious and gesticulating. Shouts rose up around them as she followed Ardamon through the aisles. They were moving too quickly to hear any more than a few words, but Sierra caught a few sour looks turned her way and heard curses spat in her wake. Mira was popular and well respected and Sierra was a sorcerer, a herald of misfortune. Of course it was her fault this disaster had come to pass.

Dremman was standing outside his tent with fists jammed against his belt and his face red with fury as he barked orders. Mira's tent still stood in its usual place but her banner no longer flapped at the front and two men stood guard at the entrance, which had been laced shut from the outside.

Someone at the edge of the crowd spotted Ardamon and shouted his name. The cry ran ahead of them, and by the time he drew his horse to a halt in a shower of loose snow the crowd around Dremman had parted to let them approach.

‘Where in the Black Sun's name have you been, boy?' Dremman snapped as his eyes raked over Ardamon and his trembling, weary horse. ‘Your cousin —' Then his gaze fell on Sierra and his voice faltered.

She met his eyes and held the contact for a moment before turning away to dismount. A soldier came to lead the beast away but she made him wait for her to take the saddlebags off and sling them over her shoulder.

‘Your cousin,' Dremman said to Ardamon, ‘my dear niece, has been taken prisoner by the Slavers.'

‘So I've been told,' Ardamon said. ‘How could this happen, Father? Why was she put in such danger?'

‘A messenger arrived from Ruhavera early this morning. One of Lady Mira's cousins was taken ill and Mira insisted she return at once to Ruhavera to care for her. I sent her with an escort of fifty men. Our scouts were certain the route was clear.'

Ardamon was turning white with anger, his lips bloodless as he clamped them down over his teeth. ‘And what is to be done about it?' he said through clenched teeth.

‘I've sent a detachment of three hundred riders to recover her under the command of Captain Hannomar. If you had been here, my boy, I would have sent them under you. You had better have a cursed good explanation for disappearing like this.'

‘I do, Father. Perhaps in private …'

Dremman glowered at him. ‘In my tent, boy. You there,' he said, pointing to a nearby soldier. ‘Escort Miss Sierra to her quarters and see she is not disturbed.'

The soldier bowed and Sierra let him usher her away from Dremman towards the familiar tent. She held a shield beneath her coat just in case.

The guards at the entrance bowed to her impassively before untying the cords that bound it. If they knew the circumstances in which she'd been spirited away during the night they showed no sign of it.

When she appeared in the opening Cam was sitting on his furs with a blanket around his shoulders and a bowl of tea in his hands. Rhia was tending the stove. At the sight of her they both stood.

When the flap fell closed behind her she heard the rustle of toggles and ties as they fastened it again. She refused to let the thought of being closed in bother her. After all, they could leave any time they liked. If only they had somewhere to go.

‘Sirri —' Cam said and crossed the tent in a few strides to enfold her in his arms.

‘By the Bright Sun, Cam,' she said, returning the embrace for a moment before taking his face between her hands to get a proper look at him. His skin was pale, his eyes bloodshot. ‘Ardamon said you were sick?'

‘I'm fine,' he said, gruffly. ‘What about you? What happened out there?' He took hold of her hands and she flinched when his grip pressed against the fresh burns. ‘You're hurt,' he said and Rhia looked up sharply in the gloom. ‘Tell me.'

‘In a moment,' she said, setting the saddlebags down and shrugging off her coat. Cam took it from her to hang it up and she could tell from the way he looked it over that he realised it wasn't the one she usually wore. ‘Have you heard the news about Mira?'

He paused with the coat still in his hands. ‘What news?'

 

Ardamon returned just as Rhia was tying off the fresh bandages around Sierra's wrists. Cam was pacing back and forth across the cramped confines of the tent while on the stove a small pot of stew bubbled. Cam and Rhia had cooked it in anticipation of Sierra's return so they would have a meal they could be certain was unadulterated. None of them had much appetite now but if they left it unattended they would have to discard it and start over again.