A rock hurtled up and hit Kitiara square in the temple, and she blacked out. The last thing she heard—or thought she heard—was a violent explosion.
Chapter 14
Mantilla Vale
Kitiara woke up, cold water splashing on her face. She was lying on her back on the banks of the river and looking up into the face of Colo, who was crouched beside her, water cupped in her hands. Kit gave a start as everything—the slig hunt, the ambush, the destructive gale—came back to her.
"Shh!" whispered Colo.
Kit propped herself up on her elbows. This didn't look entirely familiar. "Where am I?" she asked.
"About half a mile from where we were," said Colo, still whispering.
"How. . . ?"
"I had to drag you! Now be quiet or you'll give us away!" In a daze Kit heard distant tramping in the underbrush, muffled voices arguing, horses riding off. After what seemed an eternity, the noises tapered away, and she and Colo were surrounded by silence.
"What—" she began anew.
"Quiet," ordered Colo, placing her hand over Kit's mouth for emphasis. "Sleep now. In the morning . . ."
They went behind some rocks. Colo covered Kit with a layer of branches and leaves so that she couldn't be easily seen and then made a similar blind for herself. As she fell asleep, trying to piece together what had happened, Kit was aware of Colo's watchful eyes peering out from the camouflage.
* * * * *
Kit woke early the next morning. Colo was on her haunches next to her, throwing her dice and bones and muttering to herself.
They were on the edge of the woods, near the bend of the river where the four mercenaries had first begun tracking the slig the previous day. Obviously, the menace had passed, for Colo had no compunction about being spotted.
"Who were that bunch? What did they do with Ursa?" Kit asked insistently. "Will you please tell me what has happened? Why did that mage summon a whirlwind?"
"I don't know," Colo stopped her soothsaying and answered grimly.
"How did you— we—manage to escape?"
Colo smiled slyly. "When they came upon us, I had my hand in Cleverdon's bag and was able to grab one of the poison blow darts that I knew he carried. It was tiny enough to fit into my hand and slip in my mouth. I waited for the right moment, when the stupid man who was going to kill me reached for his weapon. I spit it into his face. The poison is fast-acting, and in the confusion we were able to get away. Some of them tried to find us afterward but couldn't, because I dragged you downstream."
"Where are they now?"
"I think they have given up," said Colo. "Now it's our turn to look for them." She had walked to the riverbank and bent over to sip some water from her hands. "Drink some," Colo advised. "It'll be good for you."
Both drank their fill. Colo thought it best if they were to stay away from the river during daylight, and double back to the site of the whirlwind by a roundabout way through the forest.
They had one sword—Beck's—which Kitiara had managed, to hold onto during the entire episode. Setting off through the brush, they took turns with it now, hacking away undergrowth wherever their path was impeded.
After a short but grueling press through the forest, Kit recognized the general vicinity where they had tied the horses the day before. There were majestic trees with yellow leaves and some clearings dotted with bare rock. Coming into one of the clearings, she and Colo stopped dead in their tracks at the sight that awaited them. Cleverdon—Droopface—hung from a tall tree, his body stark naked, covered with cuts and oozing pus and blood. The look on his pathetic face was almost peaceful, but his eyes had been dug out. They lay on the ground at his feet where some birds had pecked at them.
Beneath him to one side was faithful Cinnamon, staked out on the ground and horribly flayed. She lay on one side, her flank skinned so that her innards lay exposed, rotting in the sun. Droopface had been killed before he'd been hung, but Cinnamon had died slowly, tortuously bleeding to death while woodland scavengers feasted on her. Kitiara couldn't bear to look at the sight. She fell to her knees, covering her face with her hands, fighting nausea.
Colo crept forward, looking around warily. Reaching Cinnamon, the tracker gave the dead horse a hard kick, raising nothing but flies. Likewise she gave Droopface a push. Though the sad-faced one swung back and forth crazily, there was no other movement or sound. Cleverdon had been dead for many hours.
Confident that no one else was around, Colo stalked back to Kit and shoved her in the back.
"What's that for?" demanded Kit hotly, jumping up to face Colo with a hard-set jaw.
"Because we don't have time for that schoolgirl stuff," Colo said angrily.
"That was my father's horse," said Kit softly.
"So what? Who's your father?"
"Gregor Uth Matar," Kit said dejectedly. Her father seemed farther away now than ever. Colo looked surprised by this information. "The one Ursa rode with?"
"Ursa!" responded Kit, even more astonished than her companion. "What do you mean?
He never said anything about riding with my father."
"I don't know," said Colo guardedly. "Maybe I'm wrong. I have a knack for getting names mixed up."
"Tell me
