Empire of Ashes

Chapter LI - The Meek and The Mild

There was no reprieve. Colloe stood a pace behind him, a scowl like liquid thunder on his face. "Where is the Ragnyr?"

It was tempting to keep my mouth shut because I remembered the argument in the orchard all too well. But when Fendur released me, I got a look at his face. Concern, worry, desperation. I tried to imagine how they felt seeing me without him. Their hearts must have been in their throats, wondering if they were too late, if he was dead already...

"Hill three," I said, and jerking a thumb at the distant mass of rock. "You had better hurry. He has a score of northerners, but they are only armed with pickaxes."

Fendur and Colloe were heading for their horses before I had even finished speaking. The animals were tied to the back of the carts in neat lines. Nightmare was the only one with any battle-training, but for speed, the stocky geldings would suffice, so the two Iyrak swung themselves into their saddles and let the horses settle beneath them.

"What are you waiting for?" Colloe demanded of the others. "Mount up!"

Half of the warriors seemed inclined to obey the command just because it was a command and Colloe had a loud voice. The other half, Fendur included, looked straight to Anlai, who snapped, "Hold."

He looked to me. "If Tem's over there, who set the fire?"

"A friend of mine. I think they may have started a rebellion of their own."

Poor hill one. I was willing to bet they had no idea what they were doing, and Tommas had bullied them into it, somehow. I had certainly not detected a defiant vibe among them — more like defeatist and meek.

"Do you really expect us to believe you made a friend, Lyra?" he demanded, smirking. When I simply raised my eyebrows and refused to take his bait, he told the northerners, "Split. Two with me, two with Colloe. One wagon each."

"Aye," came the replying chorus. Colloe frowned, but he couldn't very well object. Tem had left Anlai in charge, not him, and to disobey him was to disobey a direct command. Not that he had any problem doing that in the orchard...

I drifted away from Anlai as the warriors scrambled to obey. If both Iyrak were going to Temris, I figured we would get to keep Eirac. With enough range, he was worth three or four men. So I caught his arm and leaned close to murmur over the commotion, "Take a shot at our onlooker, would you?"

He frowned at Lord Freedrik, who was at the very edge of bow range. "That's a fair way. No promises."

"I don't care if you miss — just get him moving."

Eirac pulled the bowstring to his cheek and squinted at the distant figure. He loosed, but Freedrik had been watching. He turned and walked away, slowly and calmly, and the quarrel buried itself in the mud where he had been standing.

The archer shrugged at me, and I smiled back. I didn't want Freedrik dead yet. It would have helped throw the Anglian forces into confusion, but it would be even better for him to die in full of the view of his army.

Eirac climbed onto the wagon then, taking the driver's seat and flicking the horses into motion. The load appeared to be food — to get them through the gates — but I knew better. Underneath the apples were scores and scores of blades, and the flour sacks hid wooden shields. And all of it had been forged right here, by the slaves themselves. My lips quirked into a little smile. And then there was Anlai astride his grey gelding, offering me a hand as if he wanted me to get on.

Frowning, I looked around. The other wagon was already moving — it was a score of paces away with the Iyrak galloping out in front. Nightmare was still tied to the back, and Amber was still tied beside him since it was difficult to separate them without getting a hoof lodged somewhere important. So I had lost my horse, and it didn't look like they had brought any spares.