The mist cleared as Thealos approached close enough to see the men behind the voices. Twelve Kiran Thall, their horses tethered nearby within the thickening cedars of the Shadows Wood. He knew their uniforms, recognized the make of their crossbows and swords. He’d seen enough to hate them for the rest of his life. Three knights of Owen Draw were bound and sprawled in the dirt, ankles and wrists secured with sturdy cords. One writhed on the ground, scarcely able to breath. Another’s leg was twisted at an odd angle, his face ashen. The third knight glared defiance at the Kiran Thall with blood dripping from cuts on his eyebrow, cheek, and split lip.
Twelve Kiran Thall.
Thealos closed his eyes as his stomach dropped to his boots. Twelve? There had only been six or so in Tannon’s Band when he first left Avisahn, and they had outmanned him in the end and would have killed him if Jaerod had not intervened. But the Kiran Thall were even more dangerous. And heartless. The knight with the bleeding face was hauled up a little and a noose secured around his throat. He spat on the man in front of him, earning a kick in the groin so hard that Thealos winced and shuddered.
“Hang him high,” the Kiran Thall said, wiping the bloody spittle from his face. “I want the other banned knights to see these three when they find the battlefield. All three, dangling like hoppit dolls in a row.”
Twelve Kiran Thall. Even with the memories flooding through his mind, he doubted himself. Jaerod would have been able to kill that many. Easily. But it was different for Thealos—he was not ready yet, had not tested the magic yet to see if it would be enough. A thought twisted in his mind. Use the stones to hide from the eyes of the Kiran Thall. Use the bow, kill them one by one.
It would be so easy that way.
But no, that was forbidden a Ravinir. It was one of the Oaths. People feared Sleepwalkers for that reason, yet they did not understand—they could not understand—that there were boundaries and conditions to use the Oath magic. Never slay with an arrow, and in return, the power to never be slain by one. He remembered facing the Kiran Thall with Justin outside the fortress of Landmoor and how Justin had summoned the Earth magic to keep the crossbow bolts from touching them. It was the same power, except it was not Earth magic. It was Oath magic. He had never used it in a fight before.
A heavy coil of rope sailed up into the trees. It took another try before the Kiran Thall managed to lob it over the branch.
“Get the other two ready. Make them watch their brothers dance before their turn. Go on, get this one ready.”
Thealos smelled and felt the presence of Earth magic rise up from amongst the Kiran Thall. He recognized the scent and watched closely as one of the soldiers lifted a stub of Everoot to his lips and started chewing on it. The sickly sweet smell made him nauseous. It was being used in a Forbidden way. The man was addicted to it. Were they all?
He wrestled with indecision. Should he try and help the knights or go on his way to Castun? Because of the new Oaths he had taken, he could walk through them all without being seen or heard. He could go to Castun and prepare for the journey back down to Landmoor. But the knights were helpless. The memories of Sturnin Goff flickered through his mind. Sturnin had grappled with Secrist in order to save his life and give him and Ticastasy an opportunity to flee the dungeon cell.
A thought struck him. A glimmer.
There were twelve Kiran Thall but three knights as well. Granted, all three looked as if they had been beaten thoroughly before being bound. But the Everoot could heal any wound, save death.
The decision was made. Four against twelve were better odds.
He started forward, wrapped in the folds of magic to keep them from seeing or hearing him. Excitement welled up inside him. Images from his predecessors danced in his mind. On reflex, he loosened the blade Laisha had entrusted to him again. Moving around the side of the group, he approached the soldier with the bag of Everoot. The smell of the magic grew stronger and thicker. Juice dribbled down the man’s chin. His eyes were glazed with ecstasy. The pouch hung from his hip, damp and dirty.
Thealos drew the hunting knife he had in his belt.
“Hoist him up! Pull!”
The bloody-faced knight squirmed against his bonds as four of the Kiran Thall seized the rope and pulled the slack. The other two knights waited grim-faced, brave to the last.
Thealos grabbed the pouch with the Everoot. The knife in his hand would go so easily into the man’s ribs. He was off-guard, not expecting anything. This was war, wasn’t it? He was planning to kill them all anyway. What difference would it make if he killed the first now, like this…
Stop it!
Jaerod had said there would be a temptation to use the Oath magic to make killing easier. But he had sworn an Oath against doing that. He had covenanted that he would not.
“Pull him higher, there we go!”
The knight’s feet kicked and bucked as they lifted him off the ground. His face contorted.