noticed that she was there. Oh, they were Unseelie, all right. Their manner and their accents were proof enough; the markings on their uniforms were simply a confirmation of the obvious.
As she watched, they passed a bottle back and forth, telling jokes whose words she couldn't quite make out. Drunken. Sloppy. Easy prey.
The fingers of her right hand danced along the hilt of her sword. Part of her wanted to draw the blade and run at them, see how many of them she could take before they brought her down. It would be a fine way to die, dragging Unseelie soldiers to hell with her. It would be a death she understood, a death worth dying. Whatever lay at the end of Mauritane's mission was nothing she understood or particularly cared about. So why was she following? She'd given her word, yes, but was it dishonorable to break an oath to a non-Avalona? Or was there more to it than her word?
Grudgingly she let go of the sword and turned back.
'We go in on foot,' said Mauritane, kneeling on the ground, drawing in the dust with a stick. 'We don't have any ranged weapons, so we'll have to use a simple, direct attack. Raieve, can you move into position behind them without being spotted?'
'Aye,' she said. 'Easily.'
'Good. We'll come within a hundred yards as a group, then you'll come around to the rear and wait. Silverdun, Mave, and I will move quickly, and with any luck we'll take them without a struggle.'
'Uh,' said Satterly, 'what about me?'
'You'll stay behind us,' said Mauritane, 'twenty-five yards. If any of them flee past us, I'll expect you to make an attempt to stop them.'
'Seriously?' said Satterly.
'Now is the time to test your mettle, human,' said Mauritane, clapping him on the shoulder. 'A man never knows if he can kill until the time comes. Pray to your god that you're able.'
'I don't think my god answers prayers like that.'
Raieve snorted. 'Then what good is he?'
Mauritane ignored her. 'Our intent is to capture, not kill. I have no wish to take lives wantonly, and these men may well possess useful information.'
Ten minutes later, Raieve was in position. She waited, sword in hand, ready, the welcome rush of adrenaline brightening her senses. Some remnant of sunlight remained in the valley, but the already ubiquitous shadows were slowly spreading everywhere. The sentry, fool that he was, kept turning to his companions to comment on their conversation, looking at their fire each time, apparently unaware that he compromised his night vision every time he did so.
Mauritane leapt from the darkness so quickly it scarcely mattered. He clubbed the sentry viciously on the forehead with the hilt of his saber and the man fell without a sound. Silverdun and Gray Mave appeared in the firelight a moment later, flanking Mauritane.
'Hold!' shouted Mauritane, and even though the order was not directed at her, Raieve could sense the Leadership in his voice, focused into a command that nearly kept her rooted to the spot herself.
To her surprise, one of the Unseelie around the fire immediately sprang to his feet, a long, straight cavalry sword in hand. The insignia on his breast showed him to be a lieutenant. 'To arms!' he shouted, and his men rose with admirable speed, each of them flashing hardened silver. Raieve was impressed; at least it would be a fair fight. She ran toward them.
But before the lieutenant could mount a defense, Silverdun made a snapping motion past him and the campfire erupted, spewing flame in every direction. Caught off guard, the Unseelie soldiers lurched away from the fire, and that was all it took. Mauritane managed to disarm two of them before Raieve reached the fight. His blade moved so quickly that it was scarcely visible in the firelight.
The Unseelie lieutenant, however, did not go down as easily. Mauritane engaged him, and the two men began to circle. Raieve's man was small but quick, and she secretly hoped it would become necessary to relieve him of his life before the thing was over. But then Silverdun's man went down, and a moment later the lieutenant called out his surrender.
Raieve took her opponent's sword brusquely and pushed him back toward the fire, which had resumed its former size. Soon all six men were kneeling before it.
In the melee, however, even Mauritane had forgotten about the sentry, who was stunned but not unconscious. He rose and lunged at his nearest opponent, who happened to be Satterly.
Raieve watched helplessly while the sentry rushed the hapless human. Satterly gamely held his sword up, but at the last moment, his arm dropped. Raieve winced, waiting for him to be run through. But instead of flinching away, Satterly leaned forward and rushed at the sentry's midsection. The sentry, expecting a sword thrust, had his sword aloft and Satterly's unexpected attack caught him off guard. The two men collided and Satterly drove the sentry backward. The man tripped and fell, catching the back of his skull on a stone, and was still. Raieve shrugged; all that counted in battle was victory.
Raieve turned back to the fire just in time to see the lieutenant turn his head back to where his horses were tied and shout, 'Cas! Una'ar, cas!' There was a flash from one of the saddlebags and a tiny winged shape flitted into the air.
'Okay, okay! I'm going as fast as I can!' it shouted.
Mauritane plucked a knife from his belt and flicked it. The knife whirled in the air and bisected the message sprite neatly. It fell to the ground, and Mauritane walked slowly to it and ground it beneath his heel.
'Anything else?' he asked the lieutenant.
Mauritane ordered the Unseelie stripped naked and searched thoroughly, then placed in a line by the fire, on their knees. Their hands were tied behind them. The men acceded glumly, though Raieve did her best to humiliate them as thoroughly as possible. 'Your cavalry favors a shorter lance, I see,' she said to the unfortunate sentry; even Mauritane chuckled at that before cautioning her against impropriety.
Their search revealed little of note other than a few maps of the Contested Lands; these were probably equal parts cartography and imagination but still better than anything they'd been able to secure in Hawthorne.
Mauritane stood over the lieutenant. 'You are in command?' he said.
'I am Lieutenant Ma Denha of the Eagle Regiment,' the man answered, eyes forward.
'And I am Mauritane, former Captain of the Seelie Royal Guard.'
'I've heard of you,' said Ma Denha. 'You're a traitor, if I recall correctly.'
Mauritane squinted at him. 'I've never heard of you, however, so I have no knowledge of the crimes you've been convicted of. But now that we're acquainted, let us speak.'
'I am required only to give my name, rank, and posting when captured by the enemy.'
'Ah, but we are not enemies, you and I. We are merely travelers who have engaged with you in an unfortunate altercation.'
Ma Denha shrugged.
'Ordinarily,' said Mauritane, 'I would respect your oath of service, and I would not press you further. But I am engaged on a matter that is far out of the ordinary, and I believe that you possess information that may be valuable to me.'
Ma Denha's eyes narrowed. 'You're bluffing; the Seelie don't torture prisoners. This is common knowledge.'
Mauritane moved aside and Raieve stepped forward, running a dagger idly across a whetstone, a tight smile on her face. 'You are correct,' said Mauritane. 'But this woman is not Seelie. In fact, she is not even Fae.'
Raieve knelt in front of the lieutenant and touched the dagger to his face. 'Mauritane speaks the truth. I'm not Fae. I'm from Avalon. The Heavy Sky Clan.'
The man kneeling next to Ma Denha stiffened and swallowed hard.
'You've heard of us?' said Raieve.
'I was stationed near the Heavy Sky territory during the Avalon campaign,' the man muttered.
Ma Denha's head snapped toward him. 'Be silent, Ensign Miter!'
Miret shook his head. 'The Avalona do not consider torture dishonorable, Lieutenant.'
'Not against foreigners, no,' said Raieve.
