Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) (19 page)

The Warlord nodded at his assessment. Neither addressed the unspoken question: What would the Warlord do about me?

* * *

An alarm ousted us from our bed after midnight, but we hadn't been asleep long. Dressing quickly, we joined Pheran's troops and Heatherfield's guards on the northern edge of town. From there, a fire on the mountainside above us could be seen clearly.

"Master Qual's brother's farm is there," a guard captain informed the Warlord. Dragon scowled in that direction; I realized then that he wanted to ride after the raiders himself. "Pheran," he said eventually, after reigning in his anger, "Muster your company immediately and ride up the mountain. They're getting away." Turning on his heel, Dragon strode quickly toward the inn. I followed. The moment we'd shut the door of our room behind us, he gripped my arm tightly.

"Go now," he growled. "Before I change my mind." He shook me, then. "Mind you," he added, "I'll have your promise before you go. Promise me you'll return with Pheran."

Wide-eyed and swallowing nervously, I nodded. "I'll return with Pheran," I whispered. I hadn't said where I'd return, so I'd told him the truth. I would return with Pheran—or die trying.

"No matter what it takes," Dragon insisted, shaking me again. "Promise," he hissed, his face close to mine.

"No matter what it takes," I agreed, my voice quavering.

"Good. Gather your things and put on your leathers," he ordered.

Trembling, I pulled clothing into my arms and shoved it into my pack. Strapping on my blades while the Warlord watched, I made sure the buckles were secure and wouldn't pinch.

"You are mine," Dragon leaned in and kissed me swiftly. "Never forget that." He stalked out of the room, leaving me to stare after him.

* * *

Pheran blew out a sigh of relief when he saw Devin loading her pack onto the back of her saddle.

"What did he say to you?" Pheran asked quietly. He'd had to step to her side—the sounds of the company might drown out anything she said.

"He made me promise to come back with you, no matter what," she said, tying her bed mat onto the saddle.

"And did you? Promise, that is?" Pheran put a hand out to steady her buckskin, which attempted to sidle away; the animal was displeased at being wakened and loaded down in the middle of the night.

"He's a difficult man to say no to," Devin nodded.

"He is that," Pheran agreed before leaving to find his horse and his second-in-command.

* * *

We were on our way in less than a click, traveling toward the foothills at a fast clip. Evret, Athar and Watcher rode beside me.      "Somebody else did put that tattoo there, didn't he?" Evret grinned.

"Evret, please stop," I muttered.

"She won the Trials last year," Watcher agreed. "Lafranza put that tattoo there, at the Warlord's direction."

"So, you're the Warlord's," Athar was also grinning. I didn't bother to respond.

It took two days of hard riding to reach the foothills, and another two days to get into the trees, which was where we'd be forced to leave the supply wagons behind. They wouldn't make it any farther up the mountain. The drivers, who'd never been included in Pheran's count of warriors, unloaded what they'd need, left four extra horses to help carry the load a little farther and headed down the mountain.

They'd wait for us in Heatherfield, and I felt envious; they'd have soft beds at night. We could only look forward to thin sleeping mats and cold ground. In two days, we'd have to leave the tents and horses behind and travel the remaining distance on foot.

The weather was changing; still dry, but now colder in the higher elevations, and on that second day a light frost came, with a bit of moisture. Fog surrounded me as I made my way out of the tent that morning, causing me to shiver.

Watcher brushed past me on his way to relieve himself, so I took the opportunity to Pull in warmer clothing. I sent my sleeveless leathers back in exchange.

Pheran and Gray told us during breakfast that one more day of riding was all we'd get before Rafton and Shield were sent back to Heatherfield with the horses. They'd wait there with the wagons and drivers until we came back. Pheran advised us to travel light—we'd have to carry our gear after the horses left. We'd be forced to carry rations, too, and that would add to the weight of our belongings.

"We may be forced to hunt, depending on our stay and how quickly we locate the enemy," Pheran announced. "If we find any surviving farmsteads, we can purchase food, but don't count on that. They may all be burned or abandoned."

That night, I watched closely as Watcher packed for traveling on foot and followed his example, keeping the warmer clothing and a gah. His soap and towel he packed to be sent with his horse, leaving only his long-sleeved leathers, boots, a heavy jacket, a few ties for his braid and a comb. Both of us packed our teeth-cleaning kits—I wasn't about to leave that behind.

* * *

We made good progress on foot for two days, but the weather was uncooperative past that. The higher we went, through trees and around boulders often taller than I, the air became steadily colder. Hands were wrapped in wool or shoved in pockets. On the third day, we arrived at the farm we'd seen burning from Heatherfield.

In late spring and summer, the high meadow would be beautiful. Now, we crunched over blackened grass and past the occasional burned carcass of a fox or rabbit. Somehow, they'd been unable to escape the burning and died in the midst of it.

The fate of the wild animals turned out to be a better one than that of the humans inhabiting the farmstead, I discovered. Seventeen bodies were strewn in the yard outside the house. The house, barns and outbuildings were all burned to the ground, leaving the people no choice but to go outside and face their attackers. The youngest victim died near his mother—he'd lived less than a year.

At that moment, I was so angry I Looked for the raiders, finding them quickly. They were days ahead of us and gaining ground. A cloud of resistance lay about them, but I managed to pierce it and count the number of raiders.

* * *

Pheran watched Devin as she found the body of the smallest child. She'd stayed there for several minutes, kneeling next to it before rising, a grim look on her face. He didn't know what he would have done if she'd wept; some of the men were having a hard time with the bodies of the young ones.

With a nod from Pheran, Gray gathered the troops for a brief meeting, so they could decide what to do about the dead.

* * *

"Do we burn them properly, or attempt to dig a grave?" Pheran asked. "And I'm sure I don't need to remind you that burning will alert the enemy to our presence."

I'd been thinking the entire time after finding the child's body. Belen hadn't given any restrictions. His words were "Help Pheran Tiger with his assignment, and bring him back." Well, he was about to get help, and that help might look like a miracle.

"Digging a grave would take much time and even more energy," I said. I knew the others were tired—we'd been traveling all day to reach the farmstead. We'd be exhausted if we dug graves. "I realize the enemy will be alerted if we burn the bodies, but I think I'd enjoy having them on the other end of my blades." I didn't add that my Night Hawk's claws would welcome them as well.

Most of the company agreed with me. "Gather wood," Pheran commanded. "We'll send out a signal and send the dead on their way at the same time."

* * *

Young Lord Iver watched the bonfire from twenty miles away, a smile on his face. He'd left his father behind in his comfortable home in Falchan, telling him he was much too complacent to accept the sentence of the Warlord. Iver was itching to make as much trouble as he could, and he'd defected to the rebels, seeking out the worst commander of the lot. Together, they'd found Bordok. Let the Warlord's party come, Iver grinned maliciously. They'd get the surprise of their lives if they caught up with his raiders.

* * *

Fidgeting while everyone else in camp fell asleep, I waited before folding away to the enemy camp. All of them, with the exception of three perimeter guards, were asleep. I wasn't interested in killing sleeping men—I wanted them awake when they died.

Folding to a high peak, I changed to my Night Hawk. My feathers were a deep gray—almost black—and perfect for night flying. It made my mortal counterparts deadly—that they could fly as silently as an owl and hunt larger prey at night.

Giving my loudest battle screech, I launched myself off the rocky outcropping, my wings beating the winds drafting upward as I plunged toward my prey. The camp had rousted at my bird's call and they were scrambling out of beds and gathering weapons.

Weapons that would do them no good.

At my first pass, I removed several heads with claws as sharp as Falchani blades. Many screamed as my giant bird swept over them. I shut out the noise—they'd shown no mercy to the farmers we'd found—they'd killed the children beside their parents. They would receive no mercy from me. Circling around, I made another pass, screeching a second time.

Arrows fired from hastily strung bows had no effect against the shields I'd erected about me. More died beneath my claws. It took four passes, but all were dead when I flew toward Pheran's camp and my bed.

Landing silently outside the perimeter of camp, I turned back and folded beneath my blanket near a gently snoring Watcher. With grim satisfaction, I rolled over and fell asleep quickly.

* * *

On our trek three days later, we found another burned homestead and more bodies, before coming across the headless raiders I'd killed. Again we burned bodies—twice. The raiders received curses instead of prayers to send the dead on their way. It angered me that more children had died at the second farm, but the dead raiders would take no other lives.

* * *

Pheran puzzled over the headless bodies of the raiders. He and Gray examined them at length. Their examination and subsequent conversation was held away from the others.

"I've never seen this before," Pheran shook his head. "They were running down the mountainside—that's easy enough to see, but what could kill them like this while they were on the run?"

"Something faster, maybe?" Gray asked.

"It would have to be. I see no evidence of fighting at all," Pheran said. "This makes little sense."

"I worry that this isn't the whole story—that there is more than one raiding party," Gray said.

"We'll find out soon enough," Pheran replied.

* * *

The rest of us weren't privy to Pheran's conversation with Gray, but we learned soon enough what their concerns were.

Right at nightfall, as we were camping for the night, we saw it—another fire far in the distance. "There are more of the ni'jomblas than we thought," Pheran cursed as we watched the blaze. I estimated it had to be at least forty miles away—the flames smeared a red and orange streak against the backdrop of a clear, mountain night. He'd called them pig fuckers, too—in Falchani. I concurred.

There wasn't anything we could do to stop it, either; it was too far away and we were tired from walking in the higher elevation all day. Nevertheless, Pheran commanded that we eat a quick meal and march through the night to get as close as we could.

We made good progress through the night, but it still took two days to reach the farmstead. We burned the dead again—fourteen this time, most of them adults. It didn't matter what the age, the raiders had murdered innocents.

"They're still ahead of us, and I can't imagine that we'll catch them soon," Pheran sat beside me with his bowl of stew that evening.

"We're gaining, but it may take a while," I agreed, dipping into my rice and peas.

"If they reach the Needle before we catch them, they're as good as gone," Pheran grumped.

I had to
Look
to see what he meant by the Needle—it was a narrow, rocky pass in the mountains dividing the Falchani lands from those of the enemy, and impossible to pass in the winter, after the deep snows fell.

"They're heading that way to get through the pass before the snow gets too deep, aren't they?" I asked.

"Yes. If we don't get them before they reach it," Pheran shrugged.

"We'll get them," I said.

"You sound so sure," Pheran grinned for the first time in days.

"One way or another, they'll go down," I nodded.

* * *

Pheran ordered his troops to hunt the following day, to bolster dwindling food supplies. Fortunately, we still had plenty of rice and I could always
Pull
something in if needed. Belen never said I had to starve myself. I had plans, too, and they included a raiding party that was still too far away from us. I just didn't want to give myself away—I had to be careful with my extracurricular activities.

* * *

They scattered and ran the moment they heard my Night Hawk's war cry. It took five passes to take down twenty-four, but it was worth it. I cleaned myself with power before folding back to bed, but I was satisfied with my work when I went to sleep.

* * *

"Two raiding parties killed, down to the last man?" Iver had to keep himself from shouting at Bordok. The man could kill him with a thought—at least that's what the warlock wanted everyone to believe. Yet here he was, explaining to Iver and the Commander as well, how two parties of raiders had died when the Falchani were still miles away.