Captain's Fury (Page 49)

Marcus sat on the cot with his hands shaking.

He’d kept the captain alive, at least. That was something. As long as he was alive, the young man would be in action-and Marcus was sure that the captain had no intention of sitting quietly in a cell while the Aquitaines’ puppet Senator ran up a string of victories and the prestige and influence that would come with them. As long as the captain was alive and able to act, there was hope for Alera’s future.

Just not for his own.

To the crows with it. He’d never planned on dying of old age in any case.

Chapter 19

Bernard suddenly froze, then lifted his hand and flattened it out again at his side, the signal to take cover. Amara hurried two steps forward to support Gaius as he went awkwardly to one knee, clutching the walking staff Bernard had cut for him after they’d set out on the trail again. She helped the First Lord to lie down flat on the cool, damp earth, and then followed suit.

Gaius let out a hiss of pain and clutched at his leg before going still and silent again. His expression was twisted into a pained grimace.

Amara laid a hand on the old man’s arm by way of encouragement, and frowned at Bernard-or more accurately, at where she presumed Bernard was still standing. The shadows of the very trees and brush of the forest itself had fallen over him like a cloak, and the woodcrafting hid him entirely from view.

She heard a soft step on the ground in front of her, and then the light changed subtly as Bernard’s woodcrafting slipped over her and the First Lord. Bernard became visible to her as it happened, though his features were softened and dimmed, as if by a deep shadow. He had his bow in hand as he stood over them, an arrow on the string, and his eyes were focused intently ahead of them.

Then Amara heard it-the click-click, click-click of a walking horse’s hooves striking a firm trail. They were joined by the sounds of several more, and within half a minute, she saw the riders appear. There were six of them, all dressed in woodsman’s leathers, though each wore a device upon the front of his jacket set with the green-and-grey colors of Kalare. Outriders, then, for a Legion-or more likely bandits who had accepted Kalarus’s coin and authority to continue doing what they always did, plus the occasional odd job. They were heavily armed, each bearing a huntsman’s bow, a broad-headed spear, and additional blades and axes strapped to their saddles.

They passed by in silence, but for the steps of their mounts. This was the second such patrol they had come across in two days, though the other had been more than twice as far away. These men were close enough for Amara to see the stains on their tunics and the scuff marks on their boots. She found herself holding her breath, straining to remain silent.

The patrol passed by, and Amara slowly began to relax again-until the last rider looked around, then reined in his horse and dropped to the forest floor. He tossed the ends of his reins over a low-hanging branch, and began walking toward them.

Bernard moved very slowly, very calmly. He lifted his bow and drew it in careful, deliberate silence.

The outlaw swerved away from them when he was less than twenty feet off, sighed, and began relieving himself against the trunk of a tree.

Though Amara could not even string her husband’s bow, Bernard held the powerful weapon at full draw without a quiver. He remained still, his breathing measured, his eyes half-closed and lazy-looking. Amara felt herself quivering with tension, and she realized that her knuckles had gone white where she had ahold of the First Lord’s forearm. She itched to move her hand down to her sword, but refrained. The motion might stir a leaf, or break a twig, and warn the enemy of their presence. More to the point, her sword wouldn’t do her any good at the moment, even were it already in her hand. Bernard’s bow would be their best defense.

The bandit finished up, muttered something under his breath, and turned to go.

Gaius’s weight shifted. Amara glanced sideways at him in alarm. His face had gone pale with pain, and his right leg, the one still recovering from his injuries, was quivering against the ground. It didn’t make much noise-but it was enough.

The outlaw suddenly turned, his hand flying to his sword, his eyes narrow as they scanned the forest around them. Amara was lying utterly unprotected on the forest floor, within range of a good, long lunge, and the man was facing her. He simply stared, eyes moving slowly from left to right. He stood there for a full minute, just looking and listening.

Amara’s nerves began screaming in anxiety. If the First Lord’s leg twitched again, there was no chance, none at all, that the man would miss it. If he had the capacity to craft through Bernard’s woodcrafting, he would be within a heartbeat of striking out at Gaius, unless Bernard’s first shot was instantly lethal. If the man managed to survive the first shot, even if only briefly, Gaius might not be able to defend himself. If that happened, Amara would have to put herself between the outlaw and the First Lord, and she drew upon Cirrus to give her limbs the speed she would need to interpose herself in time.

All the while, Bernard stood directly in front of the man, bow drawn, never moving.

"What the crows are you doing?" blared a sudden voice.

Amara jerked in surprise, and half panicked as the movement stirred the earth and brush beneath her.

The outlaw didn’t hear it. He reacted the same way, whirling in place and drawing his sword.

"Crows take you, Tonnar," the outlaw growled. "Scared me out of ten years of life."

Another outlaw appeared, his horse nudging slowly through the brush toward the first man. "Life you lead, I did you a favor."

"Bastard."

"You don’t go off alone, fool," Tonnar said amiably. "Do it again, and Julius will have your balls."

"Julius," the outlaw said, his voice sullen. "He has us riding around in crow-begotten nowhere when there’s a war on. You know what kind of loot we could be getting if we were at the real fight?"

"Stomach plague mostly, the way I hear it. We’re getting paid steady for this. Don’t knock it."

"There’s no spy running around out here," the outlaw complained. "We’re wasting our time."

"Knights Aeris don’t fly this far behind enemy lines for no reason. They either dropped someone off-"

"Or picked someone up, in which case we’re out here wearing our asses to nothing for no reason."

"You’re riding. You’re getting paid. Maybe we find someone, maybe we don’t. Either we get the five-hundred-bull bounty, or we go back without anybody trying to gut us. There’s no loser here."

"Except me, Tonnar. I have to listen to you run your mouth."

"You don’t get that nag back in line, you won’t have to listen to anything ever again," Tonnar replied. Then he turned his horse away and continued on in the direction he had been.