Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (52 page)

As
a
result
they
didn't
reach
the
next
town
until
well
after dark,
and
the
entire
party
was
filthy,
soaking
wet,
exhausted,
half-deafened,
and
very,
very
angry.

"If
he
really
wants
us
to
turn
back,"
Breaker
said,
as
they unhitched
the
oxen
for
the
night,
"he's
not
going
about
it
effectively.
Irritating
us
with
these
stupid
delays
is
just
annoying,
not
discouraging."

"At
least
he's
abandoned
the
'Oh,
I'm
really
harmless,' nonsense,"
the
Archer
said.

"These
delays
may
be
to
give
him
time
to
prepare
for
us," the
Leader
suggested.
"He
may
be
setting
traps
of
some sort."

"Oh,
there
's
a
cheerful
thought!"
said
the
Archer.

The
Leader
shrugged.
"It's
a
possibility."

Breaker
didn't
argue,
but
he
wondered
whether
the
Wizard
Lord's
blockades
would
really
make
any
difference.
Yes, they
had
to
waste
time
clearing
them
away,
but
they
had
still reached
the
next
town
in
a
single
day—just
much
later
in
the day.
And
the
time
the
Wizard
Lord
might
have
saved
was probably
devoted
to
casting
weather
spells
and
steering lightning
bolts
and
so
on,
rather
than
setting
traps.
If
this was
to
be
the
pattern
for
the
rest
of
the
journey,
they
would reach
the
Wizard
Lord's
tower
on
the
same
day
as
they would
have
anyway.

They
would
be
far
less
well-rested
and
far
more
annoyed, though.
That
might
make
a
difference
in
itself.

Still,
if
this
was
all
the
Wizard
Lord
had
to
throw
at
them, they
would
indeed
reach
the
tower
and
kill
its
master.

He,
the
Swordsman,
would
presumably
kill
the
Dark
Lord of
the
Galbek
Hills.

Breaker
remembered
his
mother's
words
and
the
expression
on
her
face
when
she
asked,
"You
want
to
be
a
killer?"

He
shuddered
at
the
memory—and
he
hoped
the
Archer would
put
an
arrow
or
two
in
the
Wizard
Lord's
chest
before anyone
got
close
enough
to
draw
a
blade.

Nonetheless,
after
their
late,
cold,
and
tasteless
supper, Breaker
still
attended
to
his
required
hour
of
practice.

 
The
night
sky
was
cloudy,
but
no
rain
fell—why would
the
Wizard
Lord
waste
water
when
the
Chosen
were
all
safely
indoors?
Wind
rattled
the
shutters,
though,
and
whistled
around
the
eaves.
Tired
as
he
was, Breaker
lay
awake
listening
to
it
for
what
seemed
like
hours before
finally
dropping
off
to
sleep.

As
a
result
he
awoke
stiff
and
foul-tempered
in
the
morning.
He
did
his
share
of
the
preparations
for
departure,
but contributed
little
beyond
grunts
to
the
accompanying
conversation.

It
did
not
help
his
mood
at
all
when
the
renewed
storm broke
and
rain
pelted
down
before
they
even
had
the
oxen out
of
their
rented
stalls.

At
last,
though,
they
got
out
of
the
village,
rolling
west and
south
across
open
country—which
meant
no
downed trees
serving
as
roadblocks.
That
brightened
Breaker's morning,
and
as
his
mood
improved
his
weariness
caught
up with
him.
He
dozed
off
in
a
corner
of
the
wagon.

He
was
awakened
by
a
sudden
jarring
and
a
crash;
startled,
he
rolled
from
his
niche
and
scrambled
to
the
front
of the
still-moving
wagon.

The
air
outside
smelled
of
ozone,
and
Breaker
saw
that they
had
found
their
way
into
a
patch
of
woods—and
of course,
the
Wizard
Lord
had
taken
the
opportunity
to
drop
a tree
across
their
path,
a
few
yards
ahead.

The
Archer
was
reining
in
the
oxen,
preparing
to
stop;
the Leader
crouched
in
the
wagon's
doorway,
ready
to
jump
out and
lend
a
hand
in
heaving
the
fallen
timber
aside.

Breaker
sighed.
"Again?"
he
said.

"I'm
afraid
so,"
the
Leader
said.
"Nothing
to
do
but
get
on with
it,
though—are
you
ready?" "Ready
enough,"
Breaker
said.

The
wagon
slowed
to
a
stop,
and
the
Leader
heaved
himself
through
the
opening;
Breaker
followed
close
behind.
A moment
later,
when
the
wagon
was
secured,
the
Archer joined
them.

The
air
was
thick
with
confused
ler,
as
well
as
rain—but they
did
not
seem
hostile;
in
fact,
Breaker
realized,
as
he splashed
toward
the
fallen
tree,
that
he
had
not
felt
any
real hostility
from
any
ler
in
any
of
the
wilderness
they
had crossed
since
leaving
Winterhome.
Branches
did
not
slap
at his
face,
nor
the
ground
make
him
stumble.
Instead
the
ler
seemed
to
be
hanging
back,
watching
them,
making
room for
them.
It
appeared
that
nature
itself
preferred
to
let
the Chosen
pass
unmolested,
despite
the
Wizard
Lord's
efforts. That
was
heartening,
and
Breaker
smiled
as
he
followed Boss
through
the
torrents.