Shards of a Broken Crown (42 page)

Jimmy pointed.

Captain Songti
said, “I see them.”

They were
scouting out the well at Okatio oasis, and lounging in the shade of
the desert willows was a patrol of Keshian soldiers.

“Those are
Imperial Borderers,” whispered Jimmy. “See those long
lances?”

Leaning against
the rocks near where the horses were staked out, rested twenty long
slender spears with banners attached. Songti said, “Looks like
we want to get in close, fast.”

“Yes,”
said Jimmy. “No archers.”

“Is that
your man?” asked Songti, pointing at a figure on the far side
of the campfire.

“That’s
him,” said Jimmy. Malar was sitting next to a Keshian officer,
who was examining the bundle of dispatches Jimmy had been carrying to
Duko. “We’ve got to kill them all before they leave in
the morning.”

Songti said,
“They’re pretty lax at camp.”

“They’re
arrogant bastards, but they’ve earned it. They’re among
the best light cavalry the world has seen. Those fellows with the
long hair they pile up under their helmets when they ride”—he
pointed to six men who were slightly apart, relaxing around a large
pot of food, speaking quietly—”are Ashunta horsemen, from
deep within the Empire. Man for man they are the best riders in the
world.”

“Some of
my lads might take exception to that,” said Songti.

Jimmy grinned.
“The best horsemen in Triasia?”

“Not since
we got here,” said Songti. He turned and signaled. His men were
hanging back down the trail. They slowly moved forward.

Jimmy said, “As
soon as you attack, Malar is going to jump on the nearest horse and
ride that way.” He pointed to a pass to the south, leading down
into the borderlands of Kesh. “Let me get over there, and if he
does, I’ll jump him from those rocks.”

Songti said,
“I’ll go with you. He might bring a friend.”

“Ignore
the friend unless it’s that officer looking at those documents.
First thing we must do is get them back and kill any man who reads
them.”

“That
makes it easy,” said Songti. “We’ll just have to
kill them all.”

Jimmy admired
the man’s confidence. There was a full patrol of twenty Keshian
Borderers taking their ease around the well, and only ten Kingdom
soldiers with Jimmy. Jimmy said, “Hit them fast.” He got
up and in a crouching run skirted the rocks above the oasis until he
was poised above the point he had indicated.

Songti
communicated with his men using hand signals, then came and stood
beside Jimmy.

Suddenly chaos
erupted at the oasis and men shouted. While outnumbered, the Kingdom
soldiers were given the advantage of surprise. Without looking, Jimmy
knew men were dying before they reached their weapons. The sound of
bows was reassuring as only Songti’s men had them.

As he predicted,
Jimmy heard a shout and a rider coming fast through the defile. He
readied himself.

Malar rounded
the bend riding bareback, having taken time only to slip a bridle on
his horse, and carrying only the bundle of messages. As he passed,
Jimmy leaped out, sweeping the man from his horse. The bundle went
flying and Jimmy tucked his shoulder, rolling on the ground and
coming to his feet with a grunt of pain. He had struck a rock
outcropping and could feel his left arm going numb. He knew instantly
he had dislocated his shoulder.

Another horse
appeared and Songti jumped out, sweeping a rider from his saddle, and
Jimmy barely dodged the second horse as it raced by. He turned,
trying to find Malar, and saw the spy attempting to flee down the
trail after the horse.

Clutching his
sword in his right hand, his left dangling limply at his side, Jimmy
ran after him, past Songti, who was sitting astride the chest of a
Keshian, choking the life from him.

Malar reached a
bend in the trail, and Jimmy lost sight of him. He hurried after, and
as he rounded the bend, pain exploded in his left shoulder.

Malar had
climbed aboard a boulder and had kicked him hard, aiming for his
head, but striking his shoulder instead. The effect was nearly the
same, for the pain in Jimmy’s left shoulder nearly rendered him
unconscious. An involuntary cry escaped his lips as he staggered to
his right.

Jimmy managed to
keep enough wits to put his sword up, and Malar almost impaled
himself on its point as he jumped off the boulder. Instead, he hit
the ground and backed away a step. The spy said, “Well, young
lord, it appears I should have used a stronger poison.”

Jimmy shook his
head to clear it, and said, “But then you wouldn’t have
been able to drink any.”

Malar grinned.
“Building up a resistance was a most unpleasant process, but
over the years I’ve discovered it was worth it. I would love to
continue our discussion, but I hold no confidence that your men will
be delayed much longer, so I must leave.” He was holding only a
dagger, but he advanced as if confident Jimmy and his sword would be
no match.

Years of
training, back to when he was a boy learning at the knee of his
grandfather, took over, and Jimmy leaped to his right, just as Malar
let loose an underhand cast, lightning swift, with his left hand, and
a previously unseen dagger glanced off the rocks where Jimmy had
stood a moment before. Jimmy knew this man would have several blades
secreted upon his person. As Jimmy expected, when he turned to
confront Malar, the spy was already hurling himself at Jimmy, daggers
in both hands.

Jimmy fell over
backward, enduring further searing agony in his left shoulder as he
avoided Malar’s assault. Jimmy kicked out with his right leg as
Malar closed on him, knocking him off balance. The spy’s leg
was rock hard and Jimmy was certain he’d find the man’s
slender build had been misleading; this was not a skinny weakling he
fought. Wasting no time, Jimmy rolled upright and struck hard with
his sword. Malar barely avoided the blow and rolled away, ignoring
the sharp rocks that littered the trail.

Jimmy pressed
on, not allowing this dangerous foe the chance to collect himself,
not while Jimmy had only one good arm. He swung down again with his
sword, almost cutting the Keshian spy. Malar scrambled backward,
halfway up a rock face, then rather than retreat, he used the
momentum to hurl himself forward, inside of Jimmy’s sword.

Jimmy felt a
blade slide across his ribs, and he gasped in pain, but he twisted
enough that the point didn’t dig in. He contracted with his
chest and stomach, striking Malar’s face with a vicious
head-butt. Malar staggered backward, blood streaming from his broken
nose, and Jimmy’s vision swam a moment.

Suddenly a horse
almost ran Jimmy down, hooves flying, as it raced by. Jimmy got up as
quickly as he could and realized he no longer held a sword. The
bleeding Keshian spy grinned like a crazed wolf as he crouched low,
holding his remaining dagger in his right hand. “Don’t
move, young noble, and I’ll make this quick and painless.”

He took a step
toward Jimmy, who countered with a handful of dirt to Malar’s
eyes. Malar turned away, blinded by the dust, and Jimmy leaped to
grip Malar’s wrist with his good right hand. Summoning as much
strength as he could, he tried to crush Malar’s wrist by sheer
willpower. Malar grunted in pain, but didn’t let go of the
dagger. As Jimmy had suspected, the Keshian’s slight build hid
steel-like strength, and nothing as trivial as a broken wrist would
distract him.

Malar pulled
back, Jimmy still holding his right wrist in his own right hand. With
his left fist, Malar struck a back-handed blow to Jimmy’s
shoulder. Jimmy cried out in pain and felt his knees buckle.

He nearly lost
consciousness as Malar struck him in the left shoulder again, and
felt the strength draining out of him. Malar drew back and wrenched
his wrist free of Jimmy’s grasp, and in one motion deftly
tossed his dagger from left to right hand. For an instant Jimmy
looked up as Malar stood above him, poised to deliver a death blow, a
vicious backhand stab with his left hand.

Malar’s
eyes widened in shock, and he looked down. The dagger fell from his
fingers and his hand went around behind his back, and he turned, as
if to get a better angle on something. Jimmy saw an arrow protruding
out of the spy’s right shoulder, and suddenly a second struck
him with a loud thud.

Malar went to
his knees, then his eyes rolled up into his head as blood flowed from
his nose and mouth, and he fell face forward onto the stones before
Jimmy.

Jimmy turned to
see Songti and one of his men, armed with a bow, hurrying toward him.
Jimmy sat back on his heels, then fell over backward, banging himself
against the rocks.

Songti knelt and
said, “Are you hurt?”

“I’ll
live,” Jimmy croaked. “My shoulder’s dislocated.”

“Let me
see,” said the Captain. He gently touched the shoulder and pain
shot through Jimmy’s body, from waist to jaw. “Just a
moment,” said the Captain, then with a sure move, he gripped
the upper portion of Jimmy’s arm and clamped his other hand
down on the shoulder and shoved the arm back into position.

Jimmy’s
eyes widened and watered and he could barely catch his breath, then
the pain passed.

Songti said,
“Better to do it soon, before things swell and you can’t
get it back in. Then you need a healer or priest, or a great deal of
brandy. You’ll be better tomorrow.”

“If you
say so,” Jimmy replied weakly.

“I got the
second rider, but there was a third.”

“He almost
ran me down,” said Jimmy as Songti helped him to his feet.

“It was
the officer.”

Jimmy swore.
“Are the messages to Duko still over there?”

The archer
looked around and saw the leather pouch, reached down, and held it
up. “It’s here.”

Jimmy waved the
man over, and he handed the bundle to the Captain. Songti pulled out
the documents and said, “There are seven papers here.”

“That’s
all of them,” said Jimmy. He looked down at the dead spy and
said, “That was too close.”

Songti motioned
for the archer to give Jimmy a steadying hand. “We must bury
the dead. If there’s another patrol nearby and they see
vultures circling, they might come to investigate in the morning.”

Jimmy shook his
head. “It doesn’t matter. Before first light, we’re
down that trail back across the border. We may kill horses, but we’ve
got to get back to Port Vykor, and I’ve got to get up to
Krondor as fast as possible.

“Because
that officer escaped?”

Jimmy nodded
yes. “I don’t know how closely he read these, or what
Malar told him, but he’ll carry word back to his masters that
Krondor is being held by a handful of palace guards and every
fighting man not tied up at Land’s End or in the vale is up
north facing Fadawah.”

“These
Keshians would press the advantage?”

Jimmy said,
“Indeed they would. One quick strike up to the city and they
hold Prince Patrick. The King would grant them much to reclaim his
son.”

Songti said, “It
was simpler when we lived in Novindus.”

Jimmy laughed,
though it hurt him to do so. “No doubt,” he said as he
leaned on the archer and hobbled back to the oasis.

Erik heard the
Hadati moving before he saw him appear out of the gloom. Akee said,
“It’s almost time.”

They had
remained hidden through the night in the woods behind the barricade
blocking the highway. Twice mercenaries had wandered close to where
Erik waited, but none bothered to check the woods on the cliffs.

Erik nodded. The
sky to the east was getting lighter.

Soon, if all
went according to plan, a feint at the far end of the barricade would
give Erik his opportunity to strike from behind and open the gate.
“Let’s look around a little,” said Erik.

He crouched low
and moved through the trees until he reached the clearing south of
the highway. He gauged the distance to the gate at over a hundred
yards, and counted a dozen low-burning campfires between his current
position and the gate, and another score just the other side of the
road. He felt Akee at his shoulder and whispered, “I expected
more men here.”

“I as
well. If we can get through the gate, this battle will be over
quickly.”

He left unsaid
what would be the result of not getting the gate open. Erik said, “I
have an idea. Pass word that no man is to move when the alarm sounds.
Tell them to wait until I signal you.”

“Where
will you be?”

Erik pointed.
“I’ll be somewhere out there.”

Erik wore his
black uniform, but without his Crimson Eagle tabard. To any casual
observer he might pass as a mercenary given to wearing black.
Glancing at Akee, he noticed a blue band around the warrior’s
brow. “Is that something I might borrow from you?” he
asked, not knowing if it might have some sort of tribal significance.

Akee didn’t
answer. He reached up and untied the band, then stepped behind Erik
and tied the headband in place. Now Erik looked even less like a
Kingdom regular.

Erik cautiously
stepped out between two campfires, walking carefully so as not to
wake sleeping men. Soft voices from the barricade told him the guards
on duty were gossiping or telling stories to keep awake.

Erik reached the
edge of the road and his manner changed. He walked briskly as if he
was about important business. He moved boldly down the road and
reached the gate. As he approached, he noted the construction of the
gate. It was simple, but effective. The gates each had one large iron
bracket affixed to them by huge iron bolts. Through those brackets,
an oak bar had been passed, and that was braced in turn by long poles
driven into the ground. It should be easy to knock aside the poles
and run the bar out of the brackets, but it would take a sizable ram
to knock it open from the other side.