Empire of Ashes

Chapter XX - The Lone Raider

It was official — I hated travelling.

Riding a horse with a small entourage wasn't so bad. That, I could actually enjoy. But when there was an entire army at your back and the horses couldn't even move as fast as a walk, it just got frustrating. I blamed the wagons. Soon, though, they wouldn't be a problem. Temris had assigned them a guard detail and extra horses so that they could continue travelling at night. Every morning, they would catch up with us long enough to distribute supplies, before being left behind again. That would double the pace.

No one felt the frustration more than Nightmare, who was cantering on the spot. No matter how much Temris shortened the reins, he made a break for it every hour or so. Eventually, Temris had given up, opting to take the stallion on another hunting trip to expend energy. All of the usual suspects were to accompany him, from Anlai to Bevan.

Everyone had volunteered in seconds — bored but obviously not too tired by the endless travelling. Only the newly-weds were in excellent spirits. Anlai rode alongside Melia, talking quietly with her. Both of them were smiling, and the girl seemed to have lost some of her shyness. But when the hunt was suggested, he left her side quickly enough. Fendur was on guard duty today and leaving him behind was out of the question, but Rory was quietly asked to stay with the army. Again. Alright, so he couldn't fight. That didn't mean he was unable to learn. Tyros were supposed to accompany the men they served everywhere. I was beginning to wonder if this was all because he was a southerner. He seemed to agree.

"What are you hunting?" the boy asked sullenly.

Temris buckled his sword to Nightmare's saddle. "Rabbits."

Rory frowned. "So why are you wearing armour?"

Fendur grinned, a mischievous look in his eyes. "Have you ever seen a rabbit's teeth, boy? Fearsome, sharp things — you can never be too careful. I once saw a rabbit take off a man's finger when he went to kill it."

He was wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Really," Temris confirmed dryly. "It would be safer for you to stay here. Rabbit hunting is an acquired skill."

That sent him scurrying away quickly enough. Rory had made friends with Melia already, along with half of the rest of the camp. He was unusually friendly, with a gentle nature that made everyone take him under their wing. He would have no shortage of people to talk to while we were gone.

"Horse shit," I muttered when he was out of earshot. "You are going to kill soldiers, and I want to come. One of these raiding teams burned my village."

Temris regarded me coolly. "If you are going to ride with us, you will first have to prove that you can defend yourself. That wound is still healing — you don't need a new one."

"And how do I prove that?" I asked, already getting a sneaking suspicion.

He whistled to catch the attention of the closest warrior on foot, saying something in the language I didn't recognise. The man disappeared into the trees and reappeared seconds later with two branches, roughly the shape and size of swords. Once Temris had received them and said something else in that strange language, he threw one to me. Oh, the steaming heap of shit. He was going to make me fight him. As if any of the soldiers we met would be half as dangerous as the Wolf of Sierra.

I span Amber around to face Nightmare. My branch swung to meet his, the force of the hit jarring my arm. While we exchanged a flurry of blows which would have ended with me losing a hand, my intestines and my head in a real combat situation, I asked him about the language.

"It's the tongue of the northern reaches," he explained with a shrug. "Most Sierrans speak it as well as Anglian. Our warband had been feuding with Creiton since the dawn of time — it pays to understand what they're saying in battle."