Page 55

T he first of their mules hit a trip line, throwing riders on their way down.

They screamed, thrashing to their feet, barreling away from the action.

One rider trailed behind her mount, foot caught in a stirrup.

Rufe unsheathed his sword and made for the screaming woman.

An arrow through the mule’s neck stopped its progress.

A man in black dropped from a tree overhead, costing Rufe the chance to see about the injured rider.

These were no ordinary soldiers. Arrows rained down from archers perched in trees. His instinct had him wanting to run for his family, but the more immediate threat took precedence. Please let Vihaan get them to safety.

Rufe parried a heavy blow. Reverberations shot up his arm. His opponent stood a full head taller, broader through the shoulder, wearing plate armor with an unknown insignia. A helmet hid most of his face, exposing his vivid blue eyes.

Rufe wore only chain mail and leather for protection. The Craician thrust again and again, leaving Rufe little time to anticipate the next move or shift from defense to offense. So far, they’d met ill-trained mercenaries and bumblers. Here stood a man trained for war .

The surrounding chaos faded into the background. Rufe focused entirely on surviving this one opponent. He dared not let his eyes or mind drift for even a moment.

On and on, they fought, evenly matched. Rufe’s hope lay in outlasting his attacker, or a chance blow to weak points in the armor. The man swung harder than necessary—attacks easily deflected by Rufe. He played a long game, keeping Rufe occupied. Away from Niam.

Rufe crouched as though preparing for an attack.

The man grinned, showing crooked teeth. Rufe grabbed a handful of pebbles and flung them at the bastard’s face.

The surprise bought Rufe a moment. He sprung, whipping out his boot knife.

While the bastard focused on Rufe’s sword, bracing for a strike, Rufe flung the dagger.

The point flew true—straight into the bastard’s left eye. The man screeched, hands going to his face. Rufe took advantage, lashing his sword across the man's exposed throat. Blood spouted from the killing blow. The man went down. Rufe danced away, moving on to his next target.

He spotted Draylon, covered in blood and gore, hacking an enemy down. An archer took aim from a tree overhead. “Draylon! Look out!”

The archer’s eyes widened before Rufe noticed the dagger sticking from his chest, flung too fast for Rufe to follow the motion. The man fell, taking out Draylon’s approaching opponent. Draylon made quick work of sending them both to the tender mercies of the gods .

Lady Exa stood to the side, readying another blade. She threw the knife with surprising accuracy, dropping a woman charging Rufe. Exa bared her teeth, grabbed a bloody sword from the ground, and skewered the woman through the breast, twisting the blade for good measure.

There were fewer attackers than before, even counting the dead. Some had fled. Rounding up any from Draylon’s party who’d escaped?

Or maybe they’d won their prize and even now carried Niam and his sons to whoever held their leashes.

Two of Niam’s men lay on the ground. Rufe didn’t have time to stop and check, spotting Vihaan. “Vihaan! Where is Niam?” he asked in Glendoran, counting on the enemy soldiers not to know the language. He searched the clearing. His party had the situation in hand.

“Come with me!” Vihaan shouted, darting into the woods. They ran until the sounds of battle faded. Vihaan slowed. “They came this way. I told them to hide.”

They crept silently through the forest, pausing every few moments to listen. Nothing. There were no sounds of people, birds, or animals. They’d all gone for reasons. Please let my family not have been taken.

Rufe passed a shrub with broken branches, turning right in the direction indicated. Vihaan fell silently into step beside him.

Rufe wiped away wetness from his face with one hand. Blood. His own or from the man he’d killed? He’d not notice any injuries until the battle-high faded. “Are you hurt?” he asked Vihaan .

“Yes.” Vihaan grinned. “But I won’t show weakness until we’ve killed the last of these cowardly bastards.”

More likely, he wouldn’t show weakness around Casseign.

Two soldiers dressed in Cormiran uniforms appeared. Vihaan lifted a hand. One soldier raised a bow.

Rufe threw himself at Vihaan, knocking him from his feet. The arrow whizzed overhead, thunking into a tree trunk.

Vihaan roared, “Traitorous mongrels!”

The two split, each fleeing in a different direction. Vihaan took off after one.

“No!” Rufe grabbed his arm. “They’re trying to separate us and lead us into an ambush.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s what I’d do. He could’ve gotten one of us.

He didn't intend that shot to kill, or we would be dead. Unless the guy is incompetent.” Their own soldiers, turning on them, or possibly enemies in stolen uniforms. Rufe fully intended to use his authority as commander, even if the title was only honorary, and execute them both as soon as they were caught—and they would be caught.

Still, they weren’t the priority now, so he didn't need to warn Draylon about the traitors.

Rufe had to find Niam and the princes. No, not merely princes, but his sons. Quillan and Uri were now Rufe’s sons, too, a heady enough thought to send him reeling. A thought for another time. Lots of practice allowed him to push away other concerns, narrowing in on his military training .

Where would Niam go? He couldn’t outrun mounted soldiers. There were no tracking dogs. He’d hide the boys, then hide himself. Maybe not together, but he wouldn’t let them out of his sight.

Rufe scanned the trees. Would they have climbed? No, they would have hidden on the ground. Caves and sinkholes riddled Delletina. Could Niam have found one? There was plenty of brush to allow cover. He listened, letting the breeze cool his overheated flesh.

“Vihaan, are there caves nearby?”

“Not that I’m aware.”

A fox barked in the distance. “Over there.” Rufe pointed with his sword. The fox barked a few more times, enough to point Rufe in the right direction. Something disturbed the creature but wasn’t a threat, or it would simply flee.

A flash of red fur caught his eye. Gone in an instant. One of the many gods worshipped in the empire sometimes took the form of a fox, right? Rufe had never been keen on the major religions. He should’ve paid better attention.

He could call out, but announcing his presence could bring enemies down on them. Could Niam see from his hiding place? Then Rufe noticed the marks on the ground, what appeared to be something digging. The fox? He went to his haunches, brushing away leaves and sticks to reveal a hole.

Not big enough for a man and two boys. Big enough for a boy?

“Quillan? Uri?” Nothing. “It’s Rufe and Vihaan.”

Stirring came from within. Quillan poked his head out.

Immense relief swept over Rufe. Thank the gods and goddesses !

“Is it really you? Get us out! It stinks in here,” Uri cried.

Rufe reached down, took Quillan’s hand, pulled him out, and looked him over while Vihaan retrieved Uri.

A noise from behind pulled Rufe from his crouch, sword in hand. Niam stumbled from some tangled brush, fighting to free his clothes from grasping branches. Twigs caught in his hair, making strands stick up at odd angles. His clothes were torn. Dirt and scratches marred his face.

Never had he looked more beautiful.

Rufe lifted Niam, whirling him around. “Oh, gods, Niam. I worried I’d never see you again. Are you all right?”

“Yes.” Niam wiped at damp eyes the moment Rufe set him down. “It’s you wearing the blood. Are you hurt?”

“Not mine,” Rufe replied. Probably.

Niam ran to his sons, crashing to his knees and sweeping them into an embrace. “You were so brave. You didn’t make a sound. I’m so proud of you.”

“Not even when those bad men came by,” Quillan said.

Vihaan wrinkled his brow. “What bad men?”

“They wore Cormiran soldiers' uniforms, but spoke Craician. They must’ve stolen uniforms.” Quillan was smart and observant, but far too young to witness such treachery.

“Some were riding with us.” Which might mean they left dead soldiers behind, soldiers who had been picked off and replaced with imposters. Rufe had to get back to Draylon and the others .

“Stay close,” Vihaan told the boys. “Rufe, you lead. I’ll take up the rear. Your Maj… Niam. Boys. Stick close to Rufe. If I veer off, don’t come after me.”

Uri stared wide-eyed at Rufe’s sword — his bloody sword — gaze roaming upward to Rufe’s face.

Niam noticed and diverted his son’s attention while Rufe wiped the blade on the grass.

They couldn't do much about the rest without water. He retraced his steps, voices getting louder as he approached. Voices speaking Cormiran, though that wasn’t much consolation given the imposters in their ranks. Then he heard an unmistakable voice.

Draylon.

Rufe quickened his steps, getting his family to safety. He slowed near the road. “Wait here,” he said, making eye contact with Vihaan, who nodded assent.

Rufe eased from the forest near the bend in the road, venturing slowly, following the sound of Draylon’s voice. A blur came from the left. A direct hit, taking him to the ground on his belly. His sword flew from his hand. He squirmed, pulling air into his lungs to scream.

A hand came over his mouth, and an unfamiliar voice barked out something in Craician. When Rufe didn’t respond, his assailant tried again in Delletinian. “Where are the royal brats, you Cormiran scum?” Why the bastard would think the average Cormiran scum understood Craician defied logic.

Rufe opened his mouth as though to speak… He bit down hard, tasting blood, and he didn’t want to know what else. The man ho wled, slamming his fist into Rufe’s jaw. A bit of struggling got Rufe turned over. He grabbed his sword and ran the man through.

The man stared wide-eyed at Rufe, then down at his chest. Rufe rolled him off and got to his feet by the time footsteps pounded his way, Draylon at the head.

Thank the gods.

“Vihaan! All clear,” Rufe called as Draylon sank down beside the man Rufe just killed, who was wearing a Cormiran uniform.

“He’s wearing the uniform, but I don’t recognize him.” Draylon searched the body, but found nothing.

“He spoke Craician and wasn’t alone when we last met.” To the infernal lands with whoever might be watching. Rufe hugged his family. The boys didn’t fight his embrace. Hopefully, they never would.

“Is he the lowdown skunk who tried to shoot me?” Vihaan drawled.

“Same one,” Rufe murmured into Niam’s hair.

Draylon rose. “We’ve regrouped and caught the mules. I didn’t find anything in pockets, but we found a few interesting messages in saddlebags. Who reads Craician?”

Niam stepped away from Rufe. Rufe missed the comfort already. “I do.”

“I want you to look at this.” Draylon led Niam away, and Vihaan and Rufe walked with the princes. Poor boys, they were too young to witness this ugliness. Then again, Rufe had been scarcely older than Quillan the first time he’d wielded a practice sword .

First, he needed to find Casseign. To prevent spies from easily infiltrating the ranks, they must search and vouch for every soldier in their party. Only the most trusted soldiers should have any contact with Niam’s family.

Niam stood beside a red mule when Rufe approached, scanning a parchment. He looked up, locking gazes with Rufe. “We have to get back to the castle. Now! Craice is planning an invasion.”