TEMPTED BY FREEDOM
Megan sat with an expression of fierce concentration on her face.
“Megan,” Karigan said.
“Shh! This is important.”
So was their timing. “I just need—”
“Blue!” Megan exclaimed. She lifted the ribbon from her lap and waved it in victory. The myriad others she had pulled from the inner pocket of her greatcoat remained draped over her leg. “It matches your eye.”
Karigan had a mind to argue that the gold matched her uniform, but she didn’t want to waste more time. She accepted the ribbon gratefully and pulled her hair back to tie it into a pony tail. It was finally long enough to do so except for a few tendrils that she tucked behind her ears.
Megan, meanwhile, carefully stashed her precious collection back into her inner pocket. When Karigan finished, Megan nodded to herself in approval. “Yes, blue is good on you.”
That settled, Karigan rose to her feet and patted straw off her breeches. Her own greatcoat covered a form on the floor shaped from straw to look like she was sleeping. The blanket was pulled part way over it. In the dark, it might convince the guards it was actually her. That was what they hoped, anyway.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Fergal asked.
No, she wanted to say. She would fail, the Raiders would catch her and hurt her. They’d torture her as bad as or worse than Nyssa had. They’d kill her.
You will fail, Nyssa agreed.
Karigan knew in her heart that Nyssa was right. She knew it with every breath.
“What choice do we have?” she asked Fergal.
“There are always other choices.”
“None good.”
He grunted in agreement.
Mel gave her a quick hug, then sat beside the straw form of sleeping Karigan, and huddled her knees to her chest. Fergal retreated to his usual place, and Megan stood. She had actually agreed to create a distraction since it would be in keeping with her character. Karigan took her place by the door.
The passage of time was interminable even if it were mere minutes, but finally she heard the voices of the guards bringing their supper, and the sound of chains as a key was fitted to their lock. Karigan nodded to Fergal and he blew out their little candle. She then passed her hand over her winged horse brooch and faded out. She briefly closed her eyes as the door opened.
“Well, it’s about time!” Megan declared as the first guard stepped in with a pot of steaming stew. “We’re starving in here.”
“Is that so?” the guard said.
The other stood outside as usual with his crossbow at the ready, his lantern at his feet.
“Give me the pot,” Megan said, and she grabbed the handle.
“Hey!” the guard cried.
A tug-of-war ensued, but did not last long, for when the guard yanked hard on the pot, Megan simply let go. The guard bowled backward through the door, tripped on the lantern and overturned it, and then crashed into his companion with the crossbow. The two fell into a heap howling as the stew scalded them.
“There goes our dinner,” Fergal commented.
It had gone better than Karigan had hoped. She glanced back at Megan who looked immensely pleased with herself. She prayed none of her friends would get hurt over this, and darted through the doorway past the struggling guards, and into the night.
She paused when she was far enough away from any light source. She was free of the hut! A sudden overwhelming desire to run away came over her, to just run from the camp toward freedom, to make her way to the closest populated place and try to get word back to Sacor City. No one would blame her if she did so, even if it meant leaving her companions behind, would they? Wouldn’t they do the same? After all, she’d be bringing intelligence back to the king about the Darrow Raiders. All would forgive her. She put the mountains to her back and started walking. Walking turned to a jog, and before she knew it, she was running. Damp meadow grass whipped at her legs as she ran. She stopped only when she reached a copse of aspen trees. She breathed hard, her heart pounding. Could freedom be within reach? She dropped her fading to conserve her energy, for the copse was concealment enough.
From her vantage point, she could observe the activity down by the hut quite well. One of the guards yelled for a mender. A crowd had gathered in the entryway. A man was dragged to the hut and she could only guess it was Renn to attend the guards who moaned with their burns. Would they blame Megan, and if so, how would they punish her?
Her hands started to shake and once more she turned her back to the camp.
Run, Greenie, Nyssa persisted. Run to freedom.
Karigan took a hesitant step. This was not the plan. The plan was for her to look around the encampment, to see if there was a way for all of them to break free, and take Renn and his family with them. She must ensure that Cade’s ancestors endured so he would exist. And still the magnetic pull westward to freedom forced her to take another step away. If she headed west, she could rouse a group of fighters to come back for her companions, but who and where? It would take nothing short of an army to defeat Second Empire and the Darrow Raiders, and they might decide to slay all their prisoners out of hand should they come under attack. It was not the answer. To run was to condemn her fellow captives.
Look out for yourself, Greenie, Nyssa told her. Run to freedom. Why should you be the one to suffer all the time? Would not your king rejoice to see you? Go to him, go to him.
The thought of returning to Zachary, of falling into his arms, was alluring. He would not blame her; he would be overjoyed to see her. She knew this. She would go to him, feel his strong arms around her and—
Yes, Nyssa purred. Yesss.
Karigan shook her head. No. No, that was not how it would go at all. Yes, he would be happy to see her. No, she would not fall into his arms, for back in Sacor City was also his wife. Certain things could not be. Such a reunion with Zachary was no more than a fantasy no matter how much she and he might desire it. She turned back around. Fading out once more, she strode into the encampment, away from freedom.
Reconnaissance. That’s all she was supposed to do this night, reconnaissance. Then she’d return to the hut and finalize an escape plan with her companions.
You are very stupid, Nyssa said.
She worked her way around the Raiders’ encampment, taking especial care to stay away from any direct light that would betray her presence. The tents of the Raiders were not pitched with the precision of a military camp. They seemed to have been put up wherever the Raiders felt like it. A restless breeze rippled canvas walls and bent the flames of campfires. She saw mostly men in the camp, but there were some women drinking, dicing, and eating right alongside their male counterparts. A shout went up as a victor claimed a pot of coins.
She found a supply tent and slipped inside. It burgeoned with goods, probably stolen by the looks of it—sacks of grain with labels from several different mills, an assortment of blankets and furs dumped in a pile, hand tools and tack. The items did not have the uniform look one would expect if they’d been acquired from a military supplier, or a mercantile. The labels on some of the goods indicated they had come from all over the realm.
Nearby was Torq’s tent, brightly lit with the flaps wide open as he played a card game and drank with his lieutenants. Taking a deep breath, she edged close and peered inside. The men were intent on their game, so spoke of no useful intelligence, but among the weapons, furs, chests, and equipment that filled Torq’s tent, one object set in a place of honor in the middle of his table stood out—a coffer of gold embedded with gems and etched with strange lettering. It looked ancient, the gold rubbed away in places and some gems missing from their settings. It must contain something old and very special, and her thoughts went immediately to the traveling device. She would bet on it. If only she could get inside to see, and snatch it if it were so. She would prevent the Raiders from engaging in their bloody raids and give the king an advantage in defeating them, and Second Empire, too.
Footsteps approaching from behind startled her and she fled deeper into the shadows. A man in a tabard strode toward the tent accompanied by a Raider. Torq and his companions looked up from their game. Karigan squinted, but it was hard to make out the colors on the tabard in the dark and with the fading obscuring her vision, but the crude design sewn into it was clearly visible: the dead tree of Second Empire.
“The general requests your presence,” the man in the tabard said.
“For what?” Torq demanded. “To dress me down again for the lack of discipline of my troops?”
“No, sir,” the man said. “They are ready to proceed with the keep.”
Torq sat back in his chair. “Are they now. And they need me for what?”
The man in the tabard did not seem rattled by Torq’s manner. “The general simply thought you’d enjoy viewing it, as we are, after all, allies.”
“Oh, so now he’s being polite.”
Torq’s lieutenants chuckled.
“As you say, sir,” the man in the tabard said.
“I guess I cannot refuse such a polite invitation then.” Torq rose. “Gerts, you keep watch here, and don’t drink all my good ale.”
One of his men, Gerts, grunted and nodded. Torq and the others left to go with the man in the tabard.
Karigan made to follow, but she paused and gazed back into the tent. If she could get in there and take a look in the coffer . . . But it was too well lit, and Gerts did not look like he was going anywhere. In fact, a couple fellows appeared to be joining him. He called a greeting and started shuffling the cards for another round of play.
Karigan gave up on the coffer for the time being and went after Torq’s group, keeping to the fringes. Across the camp she saw a fenced area with makeshift shelters filled with civilians. Prisoners. It was likely where Renn and his family were being held. She couldn’t investigate though if she wanted to see what Second Empire was up to in regard to the keep—Eagle’s Pass Keep. She kept her distance, but needed to remember to be careful when she almost stumbled into a sentry on the outskirts of the Raider camp. He seemed to sense something, but she kept stock still, and he moved on. Once the way was clear, she hurried along.
She was a little surprised by how small the Raider camp was. There were maybe a couple hundred when she had expected hundreds more. She recalled that the Raiders of old numbered over five hundred. Best guesses from that time were near a thousand, but their stealth and surprise tactics of warfare made them hard to count. There could be more Raiders now, but they just weren’t encamped here.
She came across more sentries between the two camps, so continued to tread carefully. However, it was only when she mounted a wooded hillock and peered out that she saw the extent of the Second Empire encampment. Whereas there may have been a couple hundred of the Raiders, judging by the campfires and rows of tents here, she judged there to be at least a few thousand of Second Empire, probably more.
To her right she could see the silhouette of the mountains rearing against the starry sky, divided by a huge cleft that was the pass. On one side of the pass, tiny lights twinkled in the windows of what must be the keep. The fifty or so soldiers who served at the keep should be able to hold it, but for how long she did not know. She hoped Ty was able to get through to King Zachary with news of Second Empire’s presence here, but even if he did so, it would take some while to move the realm’s army in an attempt to defend the keep and pass.
Torq and his escort had gone deep into the Second Empire encampment. With all the fires, lanterns, and torches alight among the tents, she hadn’t a chance of passing though unseen. She sank to her knees overwhelmed by the enormity of it all and dropped her fading once more to save her strength and ward off a debilitating headache. What lay before her was too big for her to face alone. What could she possibly do on her own?