Planting her feet and digging deep for courage, she took a hold of the vine with her other hand, letting the thorns pierce her palm deeply, and pulled with all her strength. Her attacker stumbled in the stream and let go of the handle, and she gasped in relief, letting the thing unwind from her arm as the stream carried it toward her. She fumbled for the handle in the dark and grasped it as the man charged forward through the water. She lifted the handle high, trying to get the length of the weapon clear of the water, and lashed it out sidehand as he closed the distance with her. An arc of water sprayed the air, and the thorns took him in the neck. He fell into the water screaming. Pure luck, and thank the Light for it! She scrambled out of the water and tried to find her steed. The beast was struggling ahead some thirty paces on. The banks of the stream were too clogged with underbrush for them to run with any speed at all. If she sprinted, she might be able to catch up. She had no idea where Kest was, but she didn’t dare stop to look.
The other soldiers were still fording the stream, trying to close the gap on them. It seemed they had run out of thorns in their throwers, or else she didn’t think she’d have a chance. She ran as best she could with sodden boots. A growl behind her gave warning, and she spun to lash out with the whip at the other koira. This one was canny – it danced back from the barbed tip, circling warily. It was hunting her, and it could afford to be patient.
Then Kest crashed out from the underbrush, kicking the beast in the head as he leaped onto the soft bank. It yelped piteously and fell to the dirt. He took her by the arm. “Let’s go!” he panted.
They ran hard and fast, and Kest never seemed to put a foot wrong in the dark. She fell in behind him, trusting him to find the path. Their pursuers fell behind, and they caught up to the zephyrs. “Shouldn’t we mount?” she panted.
“No,” he responded, barely sounding out of breath. “They’ll just bite and we’ll go faster on foot in all this brush.” They pulled even with Renna, whose zephyr was tromping through the shallows. “Follow,” he called to her, “but don’t waste time getting down. Let it bring you.” Nira’s wounds burned like fire, but for the first time since they were discovered she had hope that they might survive the night.
That’s when they reached the gorge.
It loomed up out of the night at them, and Nira might have run out into thin air if Kest hadn’t stopped them. It was deep and wide, and the descent was sheer. The stream tumbled over the edge in what was surely a pretty little cataract during daylight hours. She peeked over the edge. Twenty meters of rock straight down. The banks rose steeply on both sides, hemming them in, the undergrowth impassable.
“Where now?” she urged.
“Um,” Kest responded.
“Oh, come on,” she cried, and charged back up the stream. Maybe if we backtrack a bit we can find a gap in the underbrush. We’ll lose them in the forest.
There was no time. The men were right on top of them. She backed up to Kest. They were trapped – the fall at their back, high banks of thick, thorny bushes to both sides. Three men fanned out across the stream to block them, and a koira prowled behind. There must be something! “Can you call to the koira?” she asked Kest.
He looked stricken. “I… don’t think so. Wouldn’t trust me anyway.”
“The zephyrs?” Only the one that Renna was riding was anywhere in sight.
He shook his head. “Scattered. Spooked. I can’t… I can’t.” He sighed. “Sorry.”
The Bone Army men held their distance, waiting for something. A single torch was wending its way downstream. The person carrying it strolled toward them, seeming to be in no great hurry. Could we jump? It’s certain death. No chance. Hang from the ledge and hide? No, that’s idiotic. They already know we’re here. She couldn’t make herself accept that they were trapped. She looked to Kest, but he looked defeated. She couldn’t see his deformed eye from where she stood, and she was grateful. The moment was difficult enough without wanting to puke, too.
Renna watched the man approach, and Nira saw the Hand’s eyes narrow as she looked at the newcomer. Shifting her gaze, Nira looked at their captor as he came near. The torchlight flickered harshly over his features. It was the General of Far East. It felt like a lifetime since she’d seen his face. What did they call him? Garin? Gavin? Oh, who cares. He’s not going to ask if I remember his name before he kills me.
“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” Renna called. “I hadn’t expected to share it with you, General Garrett.”
Oh, that’s right. I was close. Stupid name, anyway.
“I don’t imagine you thought to share anything with me, Madam Hand,” the general said, sounding even more gravelly than she recalled. He pulled a scarf away from his neck, revealing a red weal of flesh that was only half-healed. The cut ran diagonally from one side of his neck to the other. “Killing someone in the dark is tricky business,” he said. “If you’re not sure of your weapon, you’re can botch the job and never even know it.”
“Or maybe you need to keep your blades a little sharper, General.”
He laughed as if that were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Maybe so, maybe so! In this case I’m glad I didn’t.” He shrugged. “No need to call
