in my mind that Goel’s desire for revenge would cause trouble. I shuddered at the thought of being at his mercy.
“Captain Marrok, explain the situation to Goel. Before you free him, make sure he gives his word not to harm Yelena.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Unless I give him permission,” Cahil added, staring at me. “Trouble will get you in chains. Treason will get you Goel.”
A rumble of appreciation rolled through Cahil’s men. His little show had earned him points in their minds. I gave him a bored look. I had been threatened many times before and had learned that the men who didn’t make verbal threats were the most dangerous. With that thought, I searched the campsite for Leif. Perhaps he had returned home now that I had delivered myself to Cahil.
I gave Marrok the key to the manacles and instructions as to where to find Goel and his pack. As the Captain left to free him, the rest of the guards began breaking down the campsite. Cahil’s men kept a wary eye on me. A couple of hostile glares were thrown my way, especially when they discovered the rip in the tent’s fabric.
While waiting for the Captain and Goel to return, I sorted and organized my backpack. I combed and braided my hair, then twisted the long braid up into a bun, using my lock picks to hold the hair in place. It never hurt to be prepared. Cahil might trust me not to cause trouble, but he still believed I was a northern spy.
Goel returned with Marrok and Leif. I was surprised to see Leif, but not surprised by the seething glower on Goel’s face. His cheeks had deep red marks where the gag’s strap had pressed into his skin. His hair and clothes were unkempt. Wetness stained his pants and his skin was blotchy from multiple mosquito bites. Goel gripped his sword, starting toward me.
Captain Marrok intercepted Goel and pointed across the clearing to a bedroll still lying on the ground. Goel sheathed his sword and headed to the sleeping mat, shooting me a look of venom.
I resumed breathing. Once the camp was packed, Cahil mounted his horse and led us to the forest trail. I stayed close to Marrok in case Goel forgot his promise again.
The Captain grinned at me and said, “Watch now.”
Cahil clicked at his horse as he tapped his heels into the animal’s sides. The horse increased its stride, and the men began to jog.
“Keep up,” Marrok said.
I hadn’t run laps since training with Ari and Janco, but I had found some time to exercise while traveling south. Matching Marrok’s pace, I asked, “Why does he make you run?”
“Keeps us battle ready.”
I had more questions, but I saved my breath, concentrating instead on staying with Marrok. By the time we reached the next campsite, my field of vision had shrunk to a small area on the Captain’s back. My efforts to stay in shape hadn’t been enough. When we stopped, I labored for air, sucking in huge mouthfuls. Leif, too, seemed winded. Hasn’t run with his friends for a while, I thought peevishly.
Once the camp was erected, Cahil offered to let me sleep in the corner of his tent again. There, I collapsed to the ground without bothering to spread my cloak. In the morning, I ate a light breakfast.
The next three days mirrored the first day of traveling with Cahil, but by the end of the fourth day, I wasn’t as exhausted. I could eat dinner, and even stayed by the fire for a while. Goel glared at me whenever I met his eye, so I ignored him. Leif pretended I didn’t exist.
I began to think the forest was endless. Day after day we covered many miles, yet met no one on the trail, nor saw any sign of a village. I suspected Cahil avoided the towns. I couldn’t be sure if it was for my benefit or his.
Eventually, the men got used to my presence. They bantered and kidded with each other, and practiced sword fighting. The wary glances disappeared, and my arrival at the campfire no longer caused an immediate hush. I found it interesting that the men always sought Captain Marrok’s approval prior to doing anything.
After we’d been traveling for seven days, Captain Marrok surprised me. Some of the guards were performing self-defense drills, and he invited me to join them.
“We could use the practice against that staff of yours,” he said.
I agreed, showing the men some basic defense moves with my bow. While they used their wooden swords, I demonstrated the advantages of having a longer weapon. My participation in the practice drew Cahil’s attention. He usually showed no interest in the training sessions, preferring instead to talk to Leif about his quest to conquer Ixia, but now he approached to watch.
“Wood against wood is fine for practice, but wood against steel is no contest in a real fight,” Cahil said. “A sharp sword would reduce that staff to splinters.”
“The edges are the sword’s danger zone. The trick is to avoid the edges,” I said.
“Show me.” Cahil drew his sword.
The thick blade extended about three and a half feet from the hilt. An impressive weapon, but heavy. Cahil would need two hands to wield it, slowing him down.
I concentrated on the feel of the bow’s wood in my hands, setting my mind into my mental fighting zone.
He lunged forward. Surprised by his quickness, I jumped back. Cahil held the sword one-handed, and I found myself on the defensive. He had some skill with his weapon, but not much. When he swung the massive blade, I dodged, stepped in close, and struck the flat of his sword with my bow. The next time he swung I hit his hand. When he lunged, I kept my bow horizontal and brought it down on the flat tip of the blade, deflecting the weapon toward the ground. My counterstrikes wouldn’t disarm him, but all the while, I kept moving, forcing Cahil to chase me.
When he grabbed his sword with both hands, I knew he was beginning to tire. It was just a matter of time before he made a tactical error.
Our match lengthened. His men cheered for him, urging him to take me out. They didn’t notice the sheen of sweat on Cahil’s forehead, or hear the rasp of his breath.
Soon enough, he swung too wide. I ducked in close, and tapped my bow on his ribs. “Have I proven my point?” I asked, dancing past his next attack.
Cahil stopped. “It’s getting late. We’ll have to finish this later,” he said. Sheathing his sword, he marched off to his tent.
Practice was over. His men were quiet as they put away their equipment.
I sat by the campfire, waiting until Cahil had a chance to cool down. Captain Marrok sat next to me.
“You proved your point,” he said.
I shrugged. “With a lighter sword, Cahil would have won.”
We stared at the flames in silence.
“Why does he carry that sword?” I asked Marrok.
“It was the King’s. We managed to smuggle it south with Cahil.”
I studied Marrok. His face had that worn leather look of a man who has been around for a long time and seen it all. I realized his skin was tanned from the sun and wasn’t a natural pigmentation. “You’re from the north.”
He nodded and gestured to the men. “We all are.”
I studied the men. They were a mixed crew of dark- and light-skinned. And I remembered that, before the takeover, the border between Ixia and Sitia had been just a line on the map, and people from both countries mingled freely.
Marrok continued, “We’re the soldiers who weren’t important enough to assassinate, nor willing to switch our loyalties to the Commander. Goel, Trayton, Bronse and I were all part of the King’s guards.” Marrok shoved a twig into the fire. Sparks flew up into the night sky. “We couldn’t save the King, but we saved his nephew. We raised him, and taught him everything we know. And,” he stood, “we plan to give him a kingdom.” Marrok barked orders to the men, and then headed to his bedroll.
Weariness