Silverthorn (Riftware Sage Book 2)

Dismounting, Arutha said, “We’ll rest here for a while. Jimmy, break out the oats behind Laurie’s saddle.”

 

 

Jimmy grumbled slightly as he began caring for the horses. He had learned after his first night on the road that, as Squire, he was expected to care for his liege’s horse—and everyone else’s as well.

 

Martin shouldered his bow and said, “I think I’ll backtrack a ways and see if there’s anyone close. I’ll be back within the hour. Should anything happen, don’t wait for me. I’ll find you at the Ishapian abbey tomorrow night.” He slipped off into the gloom.

 

Arutha sat on his saddle, while Jimmy set about caring for the horses, with an assist from Laurie. Gardan kept a vigil, scanning the murk of the forest.

 

Time passed and Arutha became lost in thought. Jimmy watched him from the corner of his eye. Laurie caught Jimmy studying Arutha in the dim light and moved alongside the boy, helping him brush down Gardan’s horse. The singer whispered, “You worry about him.”

 

Jimmy only nodded, a gesture almost lost in the dark. Then he said, “I don’t have a family, singer, or a lot of friends. He’s . . . important. Yes, I worry.”

 

When he was finished, Jimmy crossed to where Arutha sat staring off into the blackness. “The horses are fed and groomed.”

 

Arutha seemed pulled from his brooding. “Good. Now get some rest. We’ll move out at first light.” He glanced about. “Where’s Martin?”

 

Jimmy looked back along the trail. “He’s still back there somewhere.”

 

Arutha followed his gaze.

 

Jimmy settled in, his head on his saddle, a blanket pulled about him. He stared off into the darkness for a long time before sleep came.

 

 

 

 

 

Something woke Jimmy. Two figures approached and Jimmy made ready to leap to his feet when he saw they were Martin and Gardan. Then Jimmy remembered Gardan had remained on watch. They reached the small campsite, both walking quietly.

 

Jimmy roused the others. Arutha wasted no time when he saw his brother had returned. “Did you find any sign of pursuit?”

 

Martin nodded. “A few miles back along the trail. A band of . . . men, moredhel, I don’t know which. Their fire was low. One at least is a moredhel. Save that one, to a man they were dressed in black armor, with long black capes. Each wore a strange helm that covered the entire head. I didn’t need any more to decide they were not likely to prove friendly. I cut a false trail across ours. It should lead them away for a while, but we should be off at once.”

 

“What of this one moredhel? You say he wasn’t attired like the others?”

 

“No, and he was the biggest damn moredhel I’ve ever seen, bare-chested except for a leather vest. His head was shaved save for a long scalp lock that was tied so it hung behind like a horse’s tail. I could see him clearly in the firelight. I’ve never seen his like, though I’ve heard of his sort.

 

Laurie said, “Yabon mountain clan.”

 

Arutha looked at the singer. Laurie explained, “When I was growing up near Tyr-Sog, we’d hear of raids by the northern mountain clans. They’re different from the forest dwellers. The topknot of hair says he’s also a chieftain, an important one.”

 

Gardan said, “He’s come a long way.”

 

“Yes, and it means some new order has been established since the Riftwar. We knew that many of those driven north by the Tsurani were seeking to join their kin in the Northlands, but now it seems they’ve brought some of their cousins back with them. “

 

“Or,” said Arutha, “it means they're under his command.”

 

Martin said, “For that to have happened . . .”

 

“Alliance, a moredhel alliance. Something we’ve always feared,” said Arutha. “Come, it’s almost light, and we won’t puzzle this out any better for standing still.”

 

They readied their horses, and soon they were back on the Forest Road, the major inland road between Krondor and the north. Few caravans used it; while it was a time-saver, most travelers chose to travel through Krondor and up the coast, as that was the safer route. Laurie claimed they were now riding even with the Bay of Ships, about a day’s ride from the Ishapian abbey at Sarth. The abbey was in the hills to the northeast of the town, so they’d intercept the road between the abbey and the town. If they pushed, they would reach the abbey just after sundown.

 

Out in the forest there was no hint of danger, but Martin judged it likely the moredhel-led band was coming. He could hear subtle changes in the early morning sounds of the forest behind that told him something not too distant was disturbing the natural order of things in its passing.

 

Martin rode beside Arutha, behind Laurie. “I think I might drop back and see if our friends still follow.”