Elyon's Hunters, page 30
When the two women slowed their pace so they could continue their discussion in private, Shirin bent and picked up a stick, which she absently broke into pieces before dropping each one on the ground. “I overheard what Falla said since I was standing right outside the tent, and I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Xyda hadn’t brought the shiv to our Temple. You’ve often spoken of the black and grey eddies of our lives. Sometimes I wonder if Elyon nudges things along when blackness is about to descend.
Sábria had always been excellent at thinking on her feet, and she continued formulating plans as they walked into camp. “If what I believe has been set in motion, then yes, circumstances are indeed shrouded in a black veil. I believe Elyon may nudge blackness toward grey, but as her warriors, it’s up to us to act when we notice the change. She nudges, and we step forward and shove the blackness all the way into grey, maybe even into white when everything goes our way.”
She stopped and faced her friend with a half-smile. “Sometimes I get tired of fighting the darkness, but other times, like now, I’m energized by it. We were born warriors, Shirin. It’s in us. In our blood.”
Shirin knew exactly what her friend was feeling and returned her smile. “I know what you mean. I wouldn’t change my life for the one I was born into, that of a pampered princess. So, what are our next steps? What do I need to do?”
“We’re riding for Wakona Beck as soon as you can get everyone packed and organized. I need Geller and thirty senior Blades, along with Jenx, Ailith, Ty, Killian, and Emlyn. Leave Terro here. She’s excellent in a crisis, and I’ll feel better if she’s here backing up Calit and the other two. Oh, and we’re taking the four Hunters with us. Everyone is to be kitted out in full battle gear. If it is a trap for the Hunters, it will be up to us to rescue them.”
CHAPTER 18
Three days later, Harda and Cladine came running back to where they’d set up camp a short distance from the outcropping of rocks known as Wakona Beck. Sábria met them along with Lord Ashden and Lady Knight Ada and Shirin by her side. When Ada had found out what was happening on Ashden land, they’d packed up camp, dropped all their non-essential people back on their estates, and had ridden to join the Blade contingent. They’d also brought over forty warriors used to fighting in the rugged, brutal terrain.
The name, Wakona Beck, roughly translated into meandering stream—some ancient warlord’s idea of a joke. The only water to be found was in springs hidden by barren outcroppings of rock and very little foliage. It was prone to harsh weather conditions and was known to have some of the hottest temperatures in Cibía. Luckily, Ashden and his people knew where all the water sources were.
Sábria handed Harda a flask, which she immediately gave to Cladine. Ada handed Harda a second one, and both women drank deeply. Harda swallowed and turned to Ada. “You were right, My Lady. Troops are guarding the water.” She knelt and picked up a stick, which she used to draw a map in the sand. “The Hunters have claimed the high ground here.” She drew a series of circles representing rocks. “I don’t know how many are up there, but there are bodies littering the ground beneath the rocks. I didn’t see any Blade uniforms, but some of the bodies I did see were killed with arrows, and quite a few have wounds consistent with sword fighting.”
She stopped to drink some more, and Cladine took up the narrative. “The Hunters are in an excellent defensive position, though, in the middle of several boulders up on a hill. It seems like the first wave of attackers got quite a surprise when a good many of them were killed outright. They must have retreated to lick their wounds and figure out a better plan of attack than just throwing bodies up the hill, hoping they’ll get through.”
Lord Ashden used his finger to draw lines next to the lines and circles Harda had drawn. “Your Hunters saw more than my scouts, who had difficulty getting in without being seen, but from what they could tell, the attacking troops are here and here. There are no banners, so whoever organized this didn’t want to be identified. Did your other Hunter come back with a number count yet?”
Sábria shook her head. “She should be back—” Movement among the warriors caught her eye, and when she looked, she was relieved to see Maida running into camp. The Hunter’s face was flushed a bright red, and sweat trickled off her brow.
Someone handed her a skein of water and pointed her toward Sábria’s group. She nearly drank the entire skein and then jogged over to them. Still trying to catch her breath, she brought her fist to her chest as she came to a halt. “I counted at least one hundred, My Lady. All were well-armed with swords and knives. There aren’t any banners flying anywhere, but I managed to get into the tent, and I found this.” She pulled a packet from beneath her tunic and handed it over.
“They erected tents?”
“Just one, Milady. More like for administration than for sleeping.” She shrugged. “And probably for whoever’s in charge to get out of the sun.”
Sábria took the packet with narrowed eyes, not wanting to berate her Blade in front of the Ashdens. She’d told Maida not to take any chances, but Maida had always been one to follow the intent instead of the letter of the law. They couldn’t afford to let the attacking forces know they were there, and Maida had snuck right into the middle of their camp, into one of the tents, to see what she could find.
She unwound the leather thong holding the packet closed, unfolded the first parchment, and found a second one tucked inside. Sábria blinked at the two pieces of red, broken wax still attached to the flap bearing Lord Bathton’s family crest. She showed it to Ashden, whose brows rose into his hairline.
“I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t been here to see it myself. What does it say?”
Sábria carefully opened the letter without loosening those two pieces of damning evidence. She read aloud. “Meet at the prearranged location. Fifty you. Fifty me. May seem a lot, but H’s better than B’s at fighting. F has left the items discussed. Leave pieces scattered. Don’t be obvious. F delivered notes. Burn this.”
Ashden stood behind her, reading over her shoulder. “It’s not signed.”
“Unless you count the signet sealing it closed.” Sábria carefully returned that to the packet and brought out the next. There was yellow residue on the flap and she opened the packet wide to look in the bottom. Reaching in, she carefully scooped the wax button onto her palm and brought it out. The bright yellow hue matched the residue on the flap of the letter she held.
Ashden leaned in to get a better look. “Chilton.” he sighed. “I thought better of him. His daughter’s in the Blades, isn’t she?”
Sábria nodded and looked over her shoulder at him. “She’s a Hunter. Her name’s—”
Ada spoke up. “Falla. She had relations with one of my men until I found out and put a stop to it.”
The glare Sábria turned on her was more incredulous than angry. When women joined the Blades, they forswore sexual relations with men. “And you didn’t tell me because…?”
The Lady Knight pulled herself to her full height. “I may worship Elyon, and I’ll always support you, My Lady, but I don’t answer to you when it comes to handling my people, nor do I report every interaction I have with one of your Blades. It was handled at my end. I was satisfied.”
The tightrope Sábria walked when dealing with the nobles was thin, indeed, and while she wished there was more two-way communication between the Temple and the nobility, she accepted that the rope was thin from both ends, not just hers. “Of course, Ada. Forgive me. When I’m focused on a problem, new, extraneous information can often ‘tip the applecart,’ as they say. Thank you for telling me now, as it’s more pertinent than you know.”
“Apology accepted, My Lady. I perhaps shouldn’t have sprung it on you as I did.”
With ruffled feathers smoothed, Sábria opened the letter and read this one aloud as well. “F says H captured by AP. Investigating. F will stall. Don’t hesitate. Move now. Remember rewards. Burn this.” She thought back on their timeline. “This is very recent. Today or yesterday at the earliest.”
Ada cocked her head. “Obviously, H is the Hunters, and B stands for the Blades. I assume AP is you, My Lady. Do you suspect Falla of being F?” She looked at her father, who grunted in disbelief. Ashden believed in honor and chivalry, and Ada knew that while he was far from naïve, he expected all noblemen to have the same high ideals as he did until they proved otherwise. “Father, that’s Chilton’s seal. Falla is his daughter. It only stands to reason.”
Ashden rubbed the back of his neck while he paced away from the three women. When he returned, his expression was clouded with worry. “Ada, be careful what you say. You’re accusing a lord of the realm of treason against the Crown of Elyon and, by extension, against the Emperor.”
Ada lowered her voice and leaned in. “Unless the Emperor is the one behind all this.”
Ashden rocked back on his heels and roared. “Ada!”
Sábria quieted him with a raised hand. “Please, My Lord. We’re not that far from Wakona Beck.” The man’s bushy mustache fairly quivered from indignation as Sábria glanced around at the groups of warriors awaiting orders. No tents had been erected since their intention when they arrived had been to find out what was happening and rescue the Hunters if necessary. Men and women alike, all seasoned warriors, either squatted in groups murmuring among themselves, perched on rocks sharpening or checking their weapons, or were simply standing by waiting to go into battle.
The last group was made up primarily of Blades wearing their distinctive dark uniforms. While they weren’t standing in formation, they remained quiet and off to the side, silently coming to terms with what Sábria had told them about what had been happening with the Hunters.
When they’d first left the Temple, the four Hunters traveled alone in their own group. Their sullen, stiff postures kept away any Blades who might have been inclined to visit on the long ride.
After Sábria had fallen back and had a quiet word with Jenx, Ailith, Killian, and Emlyn, the four Blades had inserted themselves into the cluster of Hunters. They’d struck up conversations about meaningless topics that had nothing to do with Temple business. One by one, other Blades joined them, entering into ongoing conversations or, in a few cases, renewing old acquaintances or friendships.
Even though most of the warriors were looking their way after Ashden’s outburst, Sábria was relieved none of them was close enough to listen to their conversation. Nonetheless, she lowered her voice to ensure no one but their immediate group would hear her words, but still spoke with a voice of authority that brooked no argument from the Lady Knight. “Do not ever accuse Emperor Aloric of treason against me, Ada. Ever. You know as well as I do how dangerous such talk can be. I’m speaking to you now as your Arch Priestess, the co-ruler of Cibía, and the Voice of Elyon. You may think those thoughts about your Emperor, but—and this is a direct order—you will never speak them aloud again. Do I make myself clear?”
Blushing, Ada pulled in a breath, straightened, and then bowed. Since Sábria had invoked her position as co-ruler, the rules for addressing her had changed. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s my turn to apologize. I’ve spent too much time on the southern borders, where people say what they think. And you’re right. That kind of talk can get me boiled in oil as a traitor to the Empire. Please forgive me.”
A perverse voice in the back of Sábria’s mind wanted to lean in and whisper, ‘Don’t worry, I think he’s in on this, too,’ but knowing Lord Ashden as she did, that would be a very bad idea. On the other hand, she needed to rein in this strong noblewoman in order to, at the very least, keep a friend and an ally alive to fight another day. “Southern borders or not, Ada. Curb that tongue of yours.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” If it was at all possible, the spectacular blush that had risen into Ada’s cheeks intensified to an even deeper crimson than before.
Sensing Ada’s acute discomfort, Maida decided this would be a good time to add to her report. It wasn’t as though she’d never misspoken and drawn Sábria’s ire before. She liked the Lady Knight and wanted to help by diverting attention away from her so she could regain her composure. “I have more, My Lady.”
Grateful for the interruption, Sábria turned to her. “What else did you find?” Sábria’s mood lifted just a bit when she recognized the same mischievous glint she used to see in Maida’s eyes. Her Blade knew she shouldn’t have chanced a foray into the tents, but she’d done it anyway, probably to tweak her Arch Priestess’s nose like she used to do in the past.
“I didn’t find anything else, but the men and women—they’re not warriors, My Lady. More like riffraff someone pulled in off the street. No discipline, fighting amongst themselves.” She narrowed her eyes while she thought. “That being said, their weapons are well-maintained, so their fighting skills might be better than someone might think at first glance. We all know there are trained caravan guards, or bottom feeders hired from the Guardian’s Guild to protect important cargo in the trib runner’s punts, or even pirates for that matter, who are wild and unruly but can fight like demons.” She shrugged, “I’m not sure which these are.”
Sábria considered that. “Uniforms?”
“Only a scattering. The ones wearing them, now, they look like real fighters. I’d say there are maybe twenty. All men. And one dangerous-looking nob. You know the type. Moves like a panther, always clenching his fists and stretching his fingers to constantly keep his hands warmed and ready to fight. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s wearing expensive calfskin. Softer than anything I could ever afford.”
Listening closely to Maida’s report, Lord Ashden asked, “What colors?”
With a tilt of her head, Maida considered the question. “Now that was interesting, My Lord. While the uniforms were all alike, they were nothing more than dark brown tunics and trews—brown boots, too. I didn’t see a single coat of arms or identifying patches. But the panther’s was sand-colored so he blends in really well out here. I almost didn’t see him, to be honest.” She flicked a guilty glance at Sábria, who luckily hadn’t caught the fact that she’d almost been caught by the man.
Sábria added the new details to her growing arsenal of information. With a quick glare at Maida no one else noticed, she asked, “Anything else?”
Okay, so maybe she had heard after all. Maida quirked the side of her mouth and shook her head.
There was one other letter in the pouch, and since they all needed to hear what it contained, Sábria drew it out after returning the previous one to its place. Chilton had used his signet ring to seal this letter as well. Only this gob of wax had released its hold as a single, intact, flattened sphere that was tenaciously clinging to the flap. Sábria murmured, “Another one from Lord Chilton.”
Shirin, who’d remained silent up to this point, brought up something that had occurred to her after listening to the contents of the second letter: “Do you think Lord Renly might be personally leading this attack on the Hunters? He didn’t burn the letters like he should have, which makes me wonder whether he feels he’s shouldering all the risk by being the one to actually kill the Hunters. If he’s caught, he’s keeping the letters, with wax seals intact, as an insurance policy against being hung out to dry by his co-conspirators who conveniently aren’t here should things go spectacularly wrong.”
“Oh damn!” Maida angrily pursed her lips, silently berating herself for her lapse. “I did get something else, My Lady. Sorry about that.” She slipped her finger and thumb between the top of her leather boot and her leg. “I put it in my boot for safekeeping and forgot about it.” She pulled out a signet ring which she held out to Sábria.
Everyone stared at the gold ring Maida held in her hand. With her mouth slightly ajar, Sábria plucked it out of her palm and brought it close enough to clearly see the raised design. When she knew, she slowly raised her gaze to meet Lord Ashden’s curious expression. “It’s the top half of a stag with the word ‘Loyalty’ engraved underneath.” Even though she knew full well whose ring it was, she handed it to Lord Ashden, who’d be more inclined to believe it if he saw it with his own two eyes.
He examined it and then handed it off to Ada, who did the same. After a moment, she looked up with a sober expression accompanying the softly spoken name. “Renly.”
Sábria looked at Shirin, who’d been correct in her guess that Lord Renly himself was here. She considered all the ramifications if that turned out to be the case. The determined look she turned on Lord Ashden told everyone she’d brook no argument on what she was about to ask of him. “If we get lucky enough that Lord Renly is here, we can’t let him escape. My Lord, I brought my trumpeter with me. If any of us recognizes Lord Renly, whichever one of us sees him will have her blow a low note with a rise on the end. She’ll repeat it three times. If you hear that, your only focus must be locating and capturing him. It will go over better if you’re the man to bring him to answer for his crimes.”
Ashden had inherited the rank of Earl, but what he was most proud of was the place of honor he’d earned as a ruling Knight within the Cibían military. As such, only a few people outranked him, and Sábria was one. As anyone used to serving within a military chain of command would, or at least should, do, he accepted her authority and nodded resolutely. “Understood.”
Sábria turned to the last letter and read it out loud. “All goes to plan. H are no longer part of B, and AP has no idea. Agree with your concern about F being weak link. Mission critical. She’ll obey or disappear. I’ll handle it. Keep your nerve. Burn this.” Sábria lowered the letter and thought. “Is he saying what I think he’s saying?”
Ashden looked more than a little concerned. “Filicide? I can’t believe a father would kill his own child to…what end? How far would a man go—” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t need to.
