Arriving at the entry to Francham, Loethar allowed Vulpan’s horse to move slightly ahead so he could speak to Stracker in relative privacy. “People don’t need to know I’m here. We want no fuss.”
Stracker shrugged. “I can’t stop them recognizing you.”
“I’ve grown a beard, I’m deliberately wearing rough clothes. Besides, they won’t be looking for me.”
“What’s the secrecy for?”
“A precaution. I don’t want Valya knowing I’m here, for instance.”
Stracker smiled unkindly. “Has wedded bliss worn off, brother?”
“It was never present,” Loethar replied. “Our child died,” he added as bluntly.
Stracker was unmoved. “Son or daughter?”
“A girl.”
His half-brother made a sound of disdain. “Then it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Loethar bit back on the retort that sprang easily to his lips. “I suppose not,” he lied.
“Is that why you’re running away?”
“I’ve asked Valya to leave.”
“Banished the bitch, eh? Excellent news. So that’s why you’re here.”
“That and a couple of other things.” He moved ahead of Stracker. “I’ll make my own arrangements but I shall see you later.”
“Where?”
“You know this town better than me. Somewhere quiet.”
“How about the two-mile marker to the west?”
Loethar frowned. “In the forest?”
“You said quiet,” Stracker said, shrugging.
“But I didn’t say dangerous.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Shouldn’t I?”
Stracker grinned. “Tell me now then. I don’t care either way.”
“I would prefer you to have privacy when I give you this information.”
“So cagey, Loethar, one would think you were sensitive to my feelings.”
“In this instance I might be.”
“Then I’ll see you at the two-mile marker. It’s quiet, private…and safe.”
Loethar nodded, holding his half-brother’s gaze. “When?”
“Twilight.”
“I’ll see you there.”
“What about Vulpan?”
Loethar shook his head. “Right now he’s your concern. But from tomorrow we’re going to use him to track down the Faris gang once and for all.” He saw soldiers—Greens, mainly—melting out of the throng of people, having recognized their general. Loethar did not want to be seen by them. “Until later, keep my secret.”
“Happy to, brother,” Stracker said to himself as he watched the emperor blend into the busy Francham main street.
It was nearing sunset when Gavriel and Elka led their horses out of the eastern foothills. They could see the activity of Francham ahead, chimneys smoking and lanterns beginning to be lit across the busy community. The town twinkled like a fairytale oasis in the gradually falling light, the Dragons-back Mountains rearing to the north and the forest a dark blanket to the west.
“Lo’s wrath!” Gavriel remarked. “You told me it was a town. This looks like a small city.”
Elka was shaking her head. “If I wasn’t seeing it for myself I wouldn’t believe it,” she admitted. “Ten anni ago it was little more than a large village on the verge of becoming a town.”
“Well, it looks like it’s a thriving spot now.”
“My brothers have been through here. They said it was a busy place but I think in their usual way they’ve understated the fact!”
Gavriel looked at her. “I know what you’re going to say next.”
She gave him a superior glare. “Then I don’t need to say it.”
“Oh, but you must. I get such satisfaction out of knowing you so well.”
“Not as well as you think,” Elka cautioned.
Gavriel looked appropriately abashed and tried to change the subject. “So, want to spend another night under the stars with me?”
“And there I was thinking you’d never ask,” she answered wryly.
His change in subject had failed miserably.
She seemed to notice his discomfort. “Listen,” she began, losing all the sarcasm in her voice. “You know that I don’t like being so obvious.”
“Of course.”
“So sleeping in the forest is far more alluring to me than a night at an inn where everyone wants to compare their height to mine or have a drink with me, or worse, arm wrestle me.”
He laughed. “I’d tell them not to bother. You always win.”
“And lose me a fortune?” she asked.
“Save you a night of tedium, more like.”
“So we’re agreed. We’ll stay in the forest?”
“I can’t think of a better place. I really hate soft beds and ale and roasted meats,” he said sarcastically.
“Gavriel—”
“Well done.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“That’s the first time you’ve called me by my real name without stumbling or wincing.”
“I had to get used to it.”
“I know,” he said, a sad note in his voice. “And I’m grateful for it. The moment the Quirin spoke my name I knew it was right.”
“Have you remembered more?”
“I don’t think there’s any more to know.” He shrugged. “I was escorting a king to safety from the threat of the barbarian warlord Loethar, now the emperor. We got as far as the outlaw band in the north led by an arrogant swine called Kilt Faris—”
“Was he really that bad?”
“No, probably not, but I’m delving into memories from when I was seventeen. My judgment was different then. Anyway, we got separated, I got captured, you know the rest.”
“How do you mean to find your brother?”
“I have no idea, not a clue where he went and so no inkling of where to begin. I’m going to start from where I left off and hope things will begin to piece themselves together from there. Perhaps Corbel is looking for me.”
“How do you know the king is still here? It seems highly unlikely,” she said, pulling a face of doubt.
“I agree but, Elka, I have to start somewhere. Faris’s hideout was the last place I was seen. At least if I can find Faris, he can tell me what’s become of Leo.”
She nodded. “Right. So we have a plan. Let’s go. Can we skirt Francham?”
“No. We will take the direct route and ride heads high. If Francham has grown up so much, seeing you is not going to be the novelty it once was. I think you’re overestimating just how interesting you are, my lady.”
She gave him an audible sneer and kicked her horse forward. “Come on then, runt. Let’s go. We should have found our spot to camp by sundown.”
He grinned, and gestured with his hand for her to lead. “Height before beauty.”
When Loethar arrived at the two-mile marker, the sun had set and the forest canopy ensured it already felt like night had fallen fully. As the moon’s light was nearly absent due to thick cloud cover, Loethar had to depend on a single thick candle to illuminate the path. He’d left his horse tied to a tree at the end of the forest and had walked in, carrying only the small chest.
This was madness. He knew it in his heart. He was alone, vulnerable and very likely walking into a trap. He had to hope his half-brother still held enough respect for the memory of their mother to wait until her remains were properly dealt with before springing any attack.
Stracker was waiting for him. He was seated on a tree stump, pouring out a second goblet of wine. His own was half full. “I can’t remember the last time we did this, alone, in the wild. Here,” he said, offering the full goblet.
Loethar gave a wry smile and took it.
Stracker held up his goblet. “To us!”
Loethar had never known Stracker to be sentimental but now was not the time to be churlish, he decided. He took the goblet and raised it, nodding. They sipped.
“Did anyone recognize you?” Stracker asked, standing.
“Not a soul.”
“Are you at The Lookout?”
Loethar nodded. “I’ll head back tomorrow.” The wine was decent and he drank deeply again.
His half-brother drained his own cup, sighed, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Such a swift visit. So tell me what is so urgent, so private.”
Loethar followed suit and drained his wine. He fixed Stracker with a dark gaze. There was no easy way to say it. “Our mother is dead.”
Loethar watched his half-brother’s confident expression falter momentarily. The tatua twisted before it relaxed again.
“And that’s her, I suppose,” Stracker said, nodding at the chest.
“Her ashes.”
“She was old but she wasn’t ailing when I left.”
“She was poisoned, Stracker.”
Now the man showed some emotion. He stood and strode forward, looming over Loethar, his lips pulling back to reveal small, uncared-for teeth. The several rings hanging from one ear jangled angrily. “Accidental?”
Loethar had not shifted stance nor expression. It was important to hold his ground here as he knew this was a watershed moment for him and his violent sibling. “I believe she was murdered.”
“Who?”
“Valya.”
Stracker growled in an animal-like sound of despair. “And you banished her, you didn’t kill her!”
“I have no proof. Only my suspicions.”
“Why now?”
“I think Valya got wind that our mother suggested she was a useless wife if she couldn’t produce an heir. I can’t imagine how, but perhaps Valya was spying on us that day in the chapel. Mother suggested then that Valya should be disposed of if she didn’t give me a son.”
Stracker stabbed a finger at Loethar, just stopping short of hitting his chest. “Our mother was right! Valya failed again and gave you a daughter—a dead one at that. Why a convent when a grave would be so much more appropriate?” Loethar blinked. Stracker continued. “She should be hunted down and answer for her sin. How can you permit our mother to die under these circumstances and not make someone pay?”
“I told you, no proof.”
“You’re weak, brother. You’ve become so soft you can’t even control the Denovian slut you married.”
“Valya is many things, Stracker, but she is not a slut. I think you should study the Set language before you use it. Perhaps you are better off back in the Steppes, speaking our tribal tongue?”
The tatua stretched as Stracker grinned with menace in the low candlelight. “And there I was thinking it was probably you who should go back.”
At last. They had arrived at the point that Loethar knew had been coming for years. His mother had warned him. Her intuition had become fact. And he had misjudged Stracker’s sense of honor.
It was Loethar’s turn to smile. “Is that a challenge, Stracker?” He blinked a few times, suddenly feeling a warm blurriness in his head.
“Certainly sounds like one. Are you surprised?”
Loethar shook his head in answer but also to clear his mind. “Not really. I just thought you might wait until our mother was properly committed to her god. But, Stracker, nothing’s changed, or have you been practicing with that weapon at your side?” His tongue felt suddenly thick in his mouth.
Stracker laughed. “I’m not that stupid, brother. I am well aware of your almost otherworldly sword skills.”
Loethar understood, decided to steal Stracker’s surprise. “And so it has come to this. Not even a fair contest but an ambush? Not very noble.”
“I never claimed to be noble like you, brother. I am of the Steppes. We use cunning. There is no room for honor.”
He shook his head again to clear it. “That’s what makes you so unfit for leadership. Honor is something your father tried very hard to impress upon you. What ever you think of me, Stracker, honor is my code. It always has been.”
“I’m glad you have finally admitted that he was my father.”
“He was a father to me all the same. And he was an honorable man.”
“If he saw you now, I think he would be ashamed.”
“I doubt it. I think his only shame for me is that I let you live.” Loethar shifted balance and staggered slightly.
Stracker’s expression changed from smug enjoyment to genuine menace. He didn’t reach to help his kin. “Perhaps you should have killed me when you had your chance.”
“I’ve had many chances, but for our mother’s sake I refused them all.”
“And now you have no more.”
“So you don’t plan to draw your sword on me?” Loethar baited, listening for the inevitable sound he had been anticipating since he realized the trap had been laid. He could feel the drugged wine spreading its dulling, soporific effect far too quickly for him to do much to help himself.
Stracker shook his head and a malevolent grin returned to his face. “I just want you compliant and unable to draw your own. You’ll be conscious for a while yet I’m assured by the physic who prepared the brew for me. You’ll even be able to answer back!” He laughed. They both looked over at the stump behind which another flask of wine had been hidden and clearly the one Stracker had used to pour his own goblet. “And now you’re going to endure the punishment that you have earned for many years.” He nodded, glancing over Loethar’s shoulder. Loethar didn’t bother to even turn at the sound of the first twig snapping underfoot.
Neither of them had been hungry enough to go to the trouble of lighting a fire, let alone trapping a rabbit. Instead, they had munched on their plentiful supplies from the convent, happy to eat on the move as they looked for an appropriate spot to camp for the night.
They’d led the horses in and up about a mile past the-two mile marker when Gavriel had proclaimed himself spent and suggested they not even bother to light a fire. “I just want to sleep. It’s a mild night,” he admitted.
She’d smiled at him. “Short and weak.”
“What ever you say,” he’d muttered as he yawned, quickly tethering the horses. They’d taken the precaution of watering them at Francham. “We’ll have to leave the animals tomorrow and proceed on foot.”
“Nothing changes in the forest,” she replied. “I know a good spot where they’ll be safe and protected.”
Gavriel nodded, yawned again. “Faris will find us first, most likely.”
“What if you are not ‘found’ immediately?”
“Then we’ll have to return to Francham, perhaps leave the horses and I’ll try again in a few days.”
“You don’t think people in town will begin to be suspicious of all the going backward and forward?”
“If I have to return, I won’t be leaving until I find him,” he warned. “There will be no going backward and forward.”
She sighed. “This is it for me, my friend. If we leave the forest empty-handed tomorrow, I’ll be making my way back east.”
He nodded in the dark. “I understand, Elka. I’m grateful you’ve accompanied me this far.”
Nothing more had been said. They’d drifted into silence on that mournful note, the haunting sound of an owl and the chirrup of crickets accompanying them into sleep. Gavriel rolled into his sleeping pack and was snoring gently before Elka had even lowered herself to the ground to unravel her pack. As she turned to settle down, a light in the far distance, down the incline, caught her attention. She squinted, at it, concentrating. There it was again, and it was moving. Who would be coming into the forest at this time of the evening and why with such a low light? She clambered agilely over to Gavriel and shook him. He mumbled something unintelligible as he turned onto his back. Elka pinched him. “I said wake up!” she urged.
Gavriel’s eyes flew awake, and he would have yelped if she hadn’t been fast enough to clamp her hand across his mouth. “Sssh!” she cautioned. “We’ve got company.”
He nodded and she removed her hand.
“Ouch!” he muttered angrily.
She smiled in the dark. “Over there.” She pointed.
“I see it. What is that, a single candle?”
“Looks like it.”
“Bit of an odd time to be coming up into the forest,” he mused.
“My thoughts exactly—and clearly wanting to be kept secret. Anyone meaning to be here and not worried about being seen would use a lantern or two.”
“It could be Faris’s men,” Gavriel suggested.
“Yes, that’s what I reckoned. Let’s go take a look and make sure they’re not about to stumble upon our horses.”
“If it’s Faris—”
“And if it’s not, we don’t want that sort of company. Come on, Gavriel, try to move as silently as we’ve taught you.”
“Shut up, Elka. I move like a cat and you know it.”
She laughed softly and he realized he couldn’t hear her tread at all.
Loethar was gripped between two Greens, their strong fingers digging into the muscle at the top of his arm, a trick used by the warriors to deliberately numb a man’s body and his ability to fight back. He could already feel the telltale tingling in his fingers.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked them. “I am your emperor but before that I am your tribal ruler. Your death warrant aside, are you happy to go to your god as a traitor to the Steppes tribal law?”
The man to his right faltered. Loethar knew it was not because he feared death—none of his warriors feared death—but because he feared the recrimination of the gods beyond death.
“Aludane will never forgive your treachery,” he continued. “You know the creed—”
“We all do, brother,” Stracker interrupted. “But even Aludane will forgive us this. You are no longer a leader we respect. As I say, you are more Set than you are Steppes. You bear no proud tatua. You never wanted to be a true tribal leader. You used us to take the Denovian Set because ruling here, in the western sovereign’s way, was always your desire.” He nodded. “Look at him,” he ordered his men. “Our tribal leader looks more Valisar than Brennus ever did!” He laughed maliciously. “Although, brother, I was impressed with your early ruthlessness. And while you have become complacent over the last ten anni, I am also impressed with your ridding yourself of your ghastly encumbrance of a wife. I will enjoy killing her on behalf of Dara Negev.”
“You can’t see beyond the immediate, can you?” Loethar replied calmly. “Did you honestly believe my intention was to slaughter everyone and simply take over the land?”
“Yes.”
“Then you are even more stupid than you look.”
Stracker’s eyes turned to slits as his mouth thinned with fury. “We have achieved nothing!”
“That’s because you will always see yourself as a tribal yob, Stracker. You haven’t evolved. Many of our people have matured and grown, they’ve become educated and eloquent. They speak two languages, sometimes three. It’s not about us; it never was. It was always about generations to come. We have taken this land and infiltrated its people so that all people will benefit. Many of our children are half Set, half Steppes. A whole new generation is growing up, Stracker, and they are going to be stronger, cleverer, better than any of us could dream. They will do us proud. They will sail to new continents and discover amazing new cultures and practices that they will bring back here. That’s how an empire and its people evolve and grow. But your idea of rule is to stay the same, to kill anyone who steps out of our primitive ways. Unhand me, you fools. This man will lead you and your families down the path to destruction. He has no plan. He is only happy with the smell of blood in his nostrils.”
Stracker punched his half-brother. His expression showed how much he enjoyed the sensation. Loethar slipped to his knees, breathing hard.
“You were once happy with the smell of blood. I can remember when you ate kings,” Stracker accused.
Loethar struggled to talk. He’d misread the fire in Stracker’s belly to be rid of him; had thought that Stracker wouldn’t even think of overthrow until Dara Negev no longer stood between them. But his half-brother had obviously been plotting for a long time. “I was happy for blood when the spilling of blood was necessary. We are in more sophisticated times, Stracker, that require diplomacy and tact and intelligence, all of which you sadly lack.” He felt Stracker’s fist connect with his jaw, a well-judged blow to make him black out only momentarily. When he regained his wits he could hear Stracker’s jeers.
“You have turned us into soft-bellied, soft-witted Denovians. I think you want to be a Valisar, Loethar—is that why you ate Brennus?”
“No, you sad fool. I ate him for his magic, but I realize now that the Valisar magic doesn’t work that way. You see, Stracker, I am capable of learning. You are not. Why don’t you fight fairly? Let me draw my sword and we’ll sort this out in the tribal way.”
“No, I already accept your supremacy as a swordsman. We fought for kingship once before the tribal way and you won. Now I’m fighting for leadership the cowardly Valisar way…I’m using cunning. And it seems I’ve won.”
“Do you truly believe people will follow you?”
“If they don’t—”
“They’ll die?” Loethar finished for him.
And Stracker laughed. “The Denovians will become our slaves, our workers.”
“And what of the people who are tribal but have intermarried, have children who are half and half?”
“They can choose to die or become slaves too. There will be no mixed blood. The tribes must remain pure.”
“You are mad.”
“This was always my creed. I haven’t changed.”
“What would our father think?”
“My father hated that you pitied me.”
Loethar knew this to be true. “And what would our mother think of your ambushing me as I bring you her ashes?”
“She always knew I would kill you. Surely she tried to warn you?”
Loethar spat blood out. “In her way, yes. But I never thought you would try anything with our mother still present,” he said, glancing at the chest containing her ashes.
Stracker shrugged. “I’m not as sentimental as you are.”
“I can tell.”
The general grinned. “It’s good to see you humbled like this, on your knees before me.”
“Stracker, I’m not humbled. My mortal body crumples as anyone’s would, but in my mind I laugh in your face at your pathetic intentions. The army follows you because it follows orders. But when misery takes a hold and you begin to lose control, that same army, these very men who do your bidding now, will rise up against you. You don’t understand leadership; you only understand the blind obedience of a dumb dog. Oh yes, you feel you’re taking initiative now but it is purely the snapping of that dumb dog railing against its master. A dumb animal doesn’t survive very long without someone to control it, feed it, water it, train it. You—”
Loether never got any further; Stracker hit him so hard he bit off a piece of his own tongue, his mouth filling with blood as he hit the ground, unconscious. He never felt the beating he took.
“String him up,” Stracker commanded finally. “He can die in the forest, hanging by his neck. No honorable tribal sword will tarnish its blade with his blood.”
Watching, hidden, Gavriel swung around, looking stunned. Elka turned to him, equally shocked.
“The emperor?” she mouthed.
Gavriel nodded. “I can’t believe it.”
“Should we stop them?” she whispered.
“No. Let them kill each other. I’ll enjoy watching him die; he might already be dead. He looks it.”
Elka looked back as the men picked up the slumped, unconscious captive; she’d only recently heard her friend’s chilling description of all, that this very man had inflicted upon his family, his friends and, more widely, his countrymen. The Davarigons, after all, had been spared the effects of the push for empire. And though she understood that Gavriel had suffered much at this man’s hands, all she could see now was a helpless man who had been beaten senseless by thugs and was now about to lose his life.
“Gavriel,” she began, as the warriors dragged Loethar toward a nearby tree. “This is what it looked like when the imperial guards were beating you. I sat in the shadows just like this and I made a decision to help you.”
“We’re going to watch him swing.”
“No.”
He glared at her. “Did you not hear anything I told you on our journey here?”
She laid a hand on his arm, feeling the tension beneath her palm. “Listen to me a moment,” she urged. “Everything we’ve heard back from the Set in the last five or six years has been positive, has it not?”
He looked away, scowling, but she knew he was listening.
“If not for your memory returning, you would be none the wiser about this man. You would feel as outraged as I do that he is about to go to his death with no fair trial, no way to defend himself—”
“He has no defense!” Gavriel hissed beneath his breath. “He doesn’t deserve a def—”
“He deserves to die, I agree, but perhaps he should be given the opportunity for a formal execution. He is an emperor.”
“He is a usurper.”
“He is a king in his own right. And his former cruelties aside, we’ve had many a conversation back home about how the Set has begun to flourish under his rule. You know the trade routes have opened up for us directly as a result of Loethar’s new policies.”
“Elka—”
“No. Ask yourself, now that you’re a Set man again, whether you want to be ruled by that evil-looking thug of a brother,” she said, stabbing a finger in Stracker’s direction.
Gavriel turned sourly to regard Stracker. “Half-brother,” he corrected, shaking his head.
“Right,” Elka said. “So we are not going to permit Loethar’s death today, even if we have to take him as our own prisoner.”
“Are you going soft in the head?”
“I would have thought bringing Loethar as your captive to present to your king would be a fine homecoming,” she baited.
Gavriel clearly couldn’t dismiss her logic. She watched him consider, and hoped the Valisar king was still alive, and still in these parts. He finally nodded. “What do you suggest?”
Relief coursing through her, Elka reached behind her. “We’ll stun them,” she replied, pulling her catapult from her belt with glee.
“Don’t look at me like that, Bleuth,” Stracker growled in Steppes language.
“General,” the Green began reluctantly, “I would advise you against this action.” Loethar hung limp between the two men. A third Green was throwing a rope over the chosen branch.
“Haven’t got the stomach for it?” Stracker taunted.
“I think it is a rash move that you may regret. I am your friend; I hope I can say this to you without recrimination.”
“We are friends but you are also my subordinate. And you will follow orders.”
Bleuth nodded. “I will indeed. But I am first trying to prevent you…”
“What?” Stracker demanded as the Green trailed off.
“This is murder, Stracker.”
The general laughed, pasting a feigned look of confusion on his face. “That is no stranger to me.”
“Murder of tribe. Murder of family. Murder of a brother. Murder of a king. Murder of the emperor. Most of all, the murder of a man who spared your life once.”
“And has treated me like his servant ever since!” Stracker raged. “I was prepared to walk in his shadow if he’d become an emperor I could be proud of. Instead, he has turned us into Denovians. Our blood is being diluted, our culture is being lost, our very memories of who we are and what we stand for are being diminished. He has let us down.”
“What will you tell people?”
Stracker shrugged, uncaring. “Anything I like. My brother left the palace, grief-stricken at the loss of his child, rode into the north and was never seen again. He says he told no one where he was headed and I believe him; my brother is secretive. His disappearance can become one of the empire’s mysteries.”
“I have to say this: I don’t want to be a part of murdering our emperor.”
“I am not giving you a choice.” Stracker looked over at the man with the rope and added, “Put it round his neck and hoist him. He’s near enough dead now. He’ll be none the wiser.”
Stracker saw the three guards share a glance. “Are my orders to be disobeyed?” The two other men shook their heads, clearly more scared of their general than their broken emperor. “Bleuth?”
Bleuth gave a wry half grin. “I know you’ll kill me if I don’t.”
“You can choose to stick by your principles if that’s more important to you than loyalty to your general, to your people, to your culture.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Not in my eyes. We fight for leadership on the Steppes.”
“Only when our tribal ruler dies.”
“He’s going to die very shortly.”
“By murder.”
“Choose your side, Bleuth!” the general ordered, tiring of the debate.
The man hung his head. “I won’t defy you, Stracker.”
“Coward!” Stracker said, laughing. “Hang our prisoner!”
Slowly, the two Greens hoisted Loethar into the tree.
“That’s it, boys,” Stracker urged, “get his feet right off the ground. Good.” He clapped. “Now tie him off. Farewell, brother.”
Elka took the leader out first, her pebble hitting him in the temple expertly. He dropped like the stone that struck him, his body crunching heavily to the forest floor. The three guards looked surprised and the pair holding Loethar above the ground had their mouths open comically when the other took the next stone, collapsing like his general with a shout of pain.
The two other guards let go of the rope but it had already been tied off and Loethar swung, his toes just missing the ground. Elka shot another stone, felling one of the remaining guards. His companion shouted in fear, drawing his sword. Elka, aware of her distinctiveness, remained hidden. “Cut him down!” she called to Gavriel from behind the trees.
The guard thought she was speaking to him and backed away from Loethar, shaking his head. “I have orders,” he stammered in Set. Gavriel emerged from the trees as Elka took aim with her fourth stone. The man began to babble at Gavriel, wondering where his slingshot was, but without pausing, Elka hit him in the thigh and he screamed and fell over. “I didn’t want him to have a slash at you,” she said to Gavriel. “Quick, get him down.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he growled over his shoulder.
Elka ignored Gavriel, and reloaded her catapult.
“Please,” the guard urged, still at Gavriel. “You don’t need to—”
“Oh, but I do,” Elka murmured to herself. She squinted, took very careful aim and let the sling hurl the stone straight at the man’s temple. He made no sound but keeled over sideways.
“Is he alive?” she asked, finally emerging to help.
“I hope not.” Gavriel had cut the rope and Loethar’s body had slumped once again to the ground. “Another high body count, I see,” he said conversationally as he undid the rope from Loethar’s neck.
She looked around. “Last time I left men dead. I didn’t want to this time. But they’ll have horrible headaches, possibly split skulls.”
“How can you be sure they won’t die?”
“Lots of practice,” she said, looking at her catapult before she put it away. “Now, let me look.” She pushed Gavriel aside and placed her head close to Loethar’s chest. Finally she looked at him. “Bad news for you. He’s alive.”
“Lo’s wrath!” Gavriel replied. “A half-dead emperor and my sworn enemy and now I’m stuck nursing him back to health. Is that your plan?”
“I nursed you.”
“I wasn’t a war-mongering murderer.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that. You could have been.”
“This is typical of you, Elka. You think your calm reasoning will always win.”
“It usually does.”
“I wish you’d lived through what I had to. You wouldn’t feel this way about this animal.”
“With him alive and captive, perhaps you give your king some bargaining power.” She shrugged. “This way Stracker will know that someone witnessed his treachery, that he didn’t clean up his tracks well enough. Even in their language I could see that this older soldier was not thrilled about killing the emperor.”
Gavriel nodded. “So, before the thugs wake up, what do you suggest?”
“He’s badly injured. But we have to get away from here. He’s not even conscious to chew some seeds so he’ll have to put up with what ever pain we cause.” She hoisted Loethar onto her shoulders. “Ah, this feels familiar.”
Gavriel scowled. “Let’s go, wherever we’re going.”