*
Nicholas squatted by the fire and warmed his hands as Sage searched the riverbank for smooth stones. She pocketed over a dozen and headed back to the prince. “Are you hungry, Nicholas?”
“Aren’t I always?” he said with a weak attempt at humor.
She tried to smile back, but she couldn’t. “We’ll stay here until they find us. We can forage until then.”
“I don’t have anything but the halberd and my knife,” Nicholas said apologetically.
“That’s all right, I have my sling. Fancy some squirrel?” Other than some flint and wadding, the sling was the only thing she’d had in her belt’s pouch. Sage laced the knotted leather strips between her fingers and pulled a stone from her pocket. “I’ll be right back.”
Sage stepped into the trees and returned ten minutes later with a black squirrel and tossed it at Nicholas’s feet. “Skin it, and get it on the spit. I’ll go find a couple more.”
As she turned back to the forest, a shout came from across the river.
Nicholas dropped the squirrel and jumped to his feet. “They’re here!” He waved his uninjured hand in greeting.
Sage lunged at Nicholas’s raised arm. “Wait!” She looked around. They were too exposed, but she hadn’t wanted to stray far from the boat, as it would be both a beacon to the Norsari and the fastest means of escape, should they need it.
Two men stood on the opposite shore, pointing to them. Three more men appeared upstream. Weapons came out.
“I don’t recognize any of them,” said Nicholas.
Sage scooped up the halberd and shoved the prince toward the boat. “Run!”
55
“THEY ARE GETTING back on the river, Captain!”
Huzar burst out of the trees just as the two boys pushed the boat off the opposite shore and jumped in. Damn.
Everything had gone as planned until the fire started. Suddenly there were horses everywhere, and someone saw the prince and another boy riding away. Sometime during the pursuit, Quinn appeared and put the prince and his companion on a boat and sent them downriver.
Then the Norsari arrived, and Huzar ordered his men to fall back. Once he understood where the prince had gone, Huzar left without waiting for the full casualty report. None of it would have been in vain if he could get to the boy before the Demorans.
The Kimisar captain led his squad along the river, following as swiftly as they could, catching occasional glimpses of the boat through the trees.
Another squire was with the prince, which was good. Huzar wasn’t about harming children, and an extra hostage could be handy. The boy could be sent back to Quinn, where he could explain how the Kimisar had been stranded and that they only wanted to go home.
Huzar had left the Norsari in chaos, but they couldn’t be far behind, and there were more soldiers on the road, maybe a day away. The Kimisar were outnumbered and cornered. There was no going back now, no more chances to hide. If Huzar couldn’t capture the prince and force Quinn to listen, it was only a matter of time before all his men were dead.
Downstream, the river bent in a U, and if they hurried, the Kimisar could get ahead of the boat. In his excitement, Huzar shouted orders in his own language as he ran.
Several of his men spread out on the bank, waiting for the boat to come around. One put an arrow to the string as the boat came into view.
No!
Huzar called to the archer not to shoot. His second-in-command held the bow taut as he looked back at him, obviously disagreeing. It had been he who ordered the Kimisar to aim at the prince last night as he fled on horseback, and Huzar had been furious. They were lucky the boy hadn’t been hit.
From the corner of his eye, Huzar saw the other squire stand up in the boat and wave his arm in a tight circle. Too late, Huzar realized what he was doing and shouted a warning. His second looked back at the boat just as a rock smashed into his face. The half-drawn arrow released, arcing weakly into the water, well short of the now-dead man’s intended target.
With a start, Huzar recognized the boy with the sling.
And he was no boy.
56
SAGE DROPPED BACK into the boat and lay flat. They may not have wanted to shoot her before—she’d heard a shout from somewhere that made the man with the bow hold his aim—but they probably wouldn’t hesitate now. A splash in the water nearby made her peek up. A man was swimming toward the boat.
No, two men. Fear of archers vanished.
“Grab the oar!” she yelled to Nicholas. “Hit him when he comes close!” The river was deep and the rocks at the bottom were slippery. As long as the men were in the water, she had the advantage.
The two men shouted a count to each other before lunging from opposite sides at the same time so the boat wouldn’t capsize. Nicholas stood up on his knees, awkwardly swinging the oar around with his one good hand, and brought it straight down on the man closest to him. He lost his balance and fell back in the boat.
Sage jabbed her own oar at the other man like a short spear. He grunted but held on. Flipping the oar over, she slammed it down on his fingers. One hand slipped but the other kept its hold. She dropped the oar to draw her dagger from her belt and stabbed his other hand. His fingers splayed out, releasing his grip, but he was pinned to the side of the boat. Sage wrenched the knife free, and he slipped into the water with a garbled cry.
The boat listed violently with the lost weight, throwing her on top of Nicholas, and his oar went flying into the river. Sage’s knife clattered to the bottom of the boat as she caught the prince by his tunic before he tumbled overboard and pulled him away from the man grabbing at him.
A wild fury rose in her. These men wanted Nicholas. They’d harmed and possibly killed many other soldiers. Her friends.
They had killed Alex.
Sage snatched the knife up and launched herself at the man now half in the boat, bringing the weapon down, striking him above where the neck and shoulder met. The dagger was buried almost to the hilt, and she pressed back to lever the blade forward. The man clutched at his throat, knocking her hands away. They struggled against each other to pull the knife free but only succeeded in driving it in deeper and under his collarbone. Sage pushed him back to get a better grip on the handle, and she saw his face for the first time. Saw his fear and agony.
Saw the life in his eyes go out like a candle.
Then his weight carried him over the side, and the knife was too deep for her to pull out before he twisted away, taking it with him.
57
ALEX KNEW SOMETHING was wrong the minute he saw the dying fire. It smoldered near the shore, a half-made spit and a dead squirrel lying next to it. The squirrel had been killed by a stone from a sling. All signs Sage and Nicholas had been there, but they’d dropped everything and abandoned the camp.
He followed running footprints back to the shore, where the bottom of the boat had left grooves in the sand.
No signs of anyone in the area around them. Across the river Cass waved his arms for attention.
“What do you see?” Alex called to him.
“Lots of men, moving fast over here. Two to three hours ago,” came the answer.
“Gather your team,” he shouted back. “We’re going after them!”
58
THERE WAS ONLY one oar left, and Sage used it as a rudder, directing the boat into the swiftest currents. Nicholas gripped the bow with white knuckles as he looked ahead to warn her about rocks. They’d hit one waterfall before entering the Beskan Gorge, but it was only about five feet high, thanks to the rain-swollen pool at the bottom, and they managed not to capsize, though they were nearly soaked.