The Betrayed (13 page)

Armin felt naked. And ashamed of this alien society. Where were the good citizens to protect him, to protect one another from harm?

Having nothing to say, he stood and waited, his stomach muscles bunched, anticipating a spike of cold steel. Instead of attacking him, the three villains seemed reluctant to attack. Afraid? They stepped back.

Armin dared breathe again. A sixth sense made him aware of a presence behind him. Slowly, very slowly, he turned and saw a man, dressed like a gentleman, standing several paces behind him, staring at his three antagonists.

“We is very sorry, sir,” the leader mumbled, taking another step back.

Shocked, Armin just nodded. Was he being rescued by a gallant citizen? No, he realized, he was being rescued by one of his stalkers.

The gangsters ran off, never looking back.

“I would like to thank you,” Armin told the man.

“Next time, ride in a chariot,” the man said and was gone. Armin stood there, with more unanswered questions than before.

CHAPTER 11

A
dam made his way back into the camp, walking slowly and slightly limping. No one dared approach him. Although the patrols had spotted him quite some time ago, he was all alone on the dusty trail leading to the Eracian camp.

He hobbled past multiple rows of stakes, past small towers crammed full with archers. Everywhere, soldiers stood and stared stupidly. A cloud of stunned silence preceded him to be replaced by a turbulent wind of hushed talk.

A knot of officers waited for him in one of the camp centers. As he neared, he rehearsed the same lines for the thousandth time. He had been a soldier in Captain William’s battalion. After Bruce and his three sergeants died in combat, the captain had promoted him to an acting lieutenant.

It should work.

Finally, a man approached him, offering him a skin. He nodded his thanks and drank.

“Are you wounded?” the soldier asked.

Adam shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

The man pointed at his soiled tunic. “You have a huge stain of blood there.”

Adam smiled softly. “I don’t think it’s mine.”

The spell broken, people flocked toward him. He cringed under the sudden onslaught. But all that came were gentle, almost cautious touches to his arms and legs, as if they wanted to make sure he was not an apparition.

“Enough, stand back,” one of the officers barked. The sea of armed men retreated.

Adam stood frozen for a moment. Then, he noted the two copper leaves on the man’s shoulders. He remembered from his days in Paroth that two coppers meant captains. He recovered and saluted wearily.

“No need for that, man,” the captain said in a much softer voice.

“Who are you?” another captain inquired.

This was it. Adam took a deep breath and gave birth to his new self. “I’m Acting Lieutenant Adam, sir. Served under Sergeant Edwin in Lieutenant Bruce’s company. When they both got killed, Captain William promoted me.”

He waited. Nothing happened.

“Are you the only survivor?” the second officer asked, after a short pause.

“For gods’ and goddesses’ sake, let’s not make a parade out of this. Bring that man into the tent,” a third voice boomed.

Gently, as if he were some rare beast, he was ushered into a tent, given a stool and a flagon of wine. He drank slowly, biding his time.

“He must be in shock,” he heard someone comment.

“Do you remember the…battle?” the second officer persisted.

Adam put down the flagon. It was time for the second act. “Not really, no, sir. I remember bits of it. I remember we were marching when the enemy ambushed us. Our flanks were exposed. And then, it was chaos.”

Mali’s brows jumped at the news. “What? A survivor?”

Colonel George shrugged. “It seems to be. No one can believe it. Looks like a miracle.”

“Where is he now?” Mali asked, already rising from her chair.

“My captains are with him now. He claims to be one of William’s men. Field promoted some two or three ranks. I find it highly unlikely.”

Abruptly, Mali stopped walking. George bumped into her. “You think he’s a spy?”

George puckered his lips. “I’m not thinking anything. It’s just weird, that’s all.”

“I want to speak with him,” Mali said.

“Wait, let me make sure he’s not armed,” George said and rushed ahead of her.

“So now he’s an assassin too?”

Adam was surprised by his own calmness. He sat in a crowd of complete strangers, people who would have his head instantly should they know the truth, and yet, it hardly mattered to him.

His act seemed to have convinced them. He was a bit hesitant, a bit vague, making them believe he suffered from shock and exhaustion. Still, wariness remained. Adam knew more than well not to push his luck. This was no different than being a whore. You had to let your customer warm up to you.

The tent flap stirred, and another group of officers entered. A tall, imposing man with a black beard led them. He stood there, scowling, as his eyes adjusted to the murk. Then, they found Adam.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice pleasant.

Adam tried to rise from the chair, but the man waved a hand at him. “No, please, remain seated. You must be terribly exhausted.”

“Thank you, sir,” Adam mumbled. His rival had the eyes of a fox, gleaming and knowing.

“Can you tell me what happened?” the man asked almost too casually.

As agreed, Mali had remained outside the tent, eavesdropping through the thin canvas.

She admitted the First Battle of Bakler Hills had been an utter disaster. After some debating, she had decided to move south and meet the enemy face-to-face. Being significantly outnumbered, she had hoped to gain some higher ground before meeting the Caytoreans.

But her scouts had done a lousy job. A huge force of enemy cavalry had slipped past west and then backtracked in a wide circle from the north, attacking her exposed flank. She had been able to regroup and pull the mainstay of her forces back to her original position, but the vanguard of light infantry had been cut away. With no help from the heavy shock, the skirmishers and former convicts had been decimated easily. Instead of securing a foothold in the hills, she now faced a fortified enemy, with a thousand less spears than she had had a week ago. Partly, it was her fault. She should have sent dragoons instead of the rabble.

The battle must have been a total disaster. She did not know all the gory details of the fiasco. But she knew that the troops from Penes had been training to harry infantry and stragglers— not to fight heavily armed Caytorean cavalry. Kal Armis’s men had been there just for show, three ragged companies of fodder and some regulars.

And on top of all that, the Caytoreans had a nasty habit of slaughtering all captives. They did not believe in the prisoners-of-war approach.

One of the soldiers beckoned her to enter, a sign from George that it was safe for her to meet the stranger. She realized she had missed most of the conversation, her thoughts sidetracked by self-pitying reflection.

Adam’s heart quickened as the woman entered. It was her. The one he’d seen the day he’d gone to talk to Sergeant Nigel.

Despite the uniform and obvious manly ego she had acquired as the leader of so many men, she had a strong feminine presence that you could almost smell. She had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes without a flake of mercy in them. This woman did not cry into her pillow.

“What’s your name?” she asked him without any pleasantry.

“Adam,” he said.

“Where do you hail from?”

“From Penes,” he mumbled.

“Your town of birth,” she insisted.

Adam realized it was best to stick with the one city he really knew. “Paroth.”

“A city boy,” she said, a hint of mockery in her voice. “Show me your hands.”

Icy fire lanced down his back as she took his hands in a firm yet cool grip and examined them. For the first time in weeks, he was glad for the blisters and calluses from the shit-shoveling.

“What do you recall of the battle?”

Sometimes, the truth was the best lie. “I don’t remember much. We were attacked suddenly from the left flank. The convicts were in the lead, and they just fell apart. We could not hold them.”

She continued questioning for some time, asking very vague and then very detailed questions. He sat back and lied, doing what he had been trained to do his entire life.