Edge of Darkness ~ A Darkness & Light Novel Book Three (20 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"If this weather holds, we should catch up with the Emperor before they reach the Greensward," Sully said.

They had stopped to water the horses and grab a bite to eat after the second grueling day since leaving Broadhead. Berk groaned as he climbed out of the saddle and wedged his hands on his hips, stretching to ease an ache in his back.

"Messengers must be made of sterner stuff than I am," he said, turning a glare Sully's way when he chuckled. "Tell me you're not just as sore."

"I'm older than you," Sully said, flipping his leg over his horse's neck and dropping to the ground far more agilely than Berk had managed. "I'm allowed to be sore."

"Then why aren't you?"

Sully gave a shrug and led his horse down the bank to the creek. "Might have something to do with getting a full night's sleep."

"I have been."

Sully threw him a raised brow look over one shoulder. "Right. My mistake."

Berk had hoped Sully wouldn't notice. He should have known better. Very little escaped the lieutenant's attention. The woman hadn't visited Berk again since Broadhead, but even exhaustion couldn't seem to keep the dreams from tormenting him. They were a convoluted mess of memories, with a fine sprinkling of terror tossed into the mix. They lingered even after Berk woke, though he did his best to ignore them during the full light of day. Unfortunately, the pace they set didn't lend itself to idle conversation, which left him alone with his thoughts far too often.

His horse slurped noisily and Berk dropped to his knees beside it to scoop up a handful of cool water and douse his face and the back of his neck. He shook the water off his hands as he sat back on his heels and gazed across the burbling stream to the far bank.

"It's not like I can control my dreams," he said, giving Sully a sidelong look. "You think I'm enjoying this?"

"No, but I don't know that you're actively trying to stop it, either."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're dwelling on it to the point of obsession. Even when we're talking about something else, I can see it skulking behind your eyes." Sully spread his hands to the sides. "I can't do anything for you, Berk. Can't make you see past it, can't stop the nightmares. We all have them, you know? You're no different than any other man. Maybe that's all you need to realize."

"I never claimed to be any different."

"I never said you did." He came and sat beside Berk, reclining back on his elbows, idly plucking at the thick blades of grass. "How 'bout I give you something else to occupy your mind?"

"Such as?"

"Garek wants to shuffle things around a bit. He's planning on promoting me to captain so he can sit back and cool his heels. Claims he's getting to be too old a horse to keep up with everything. I told him I'd consider it, if I got to pick my lieutenant." He gave Berk a pointed look.

"Me?"

"Who else?"

"Sul, I…what does the commander think of that?"

"He trusts my judgment on the matter. All you have to do is agree."

Berk shook his head. A handful of months earlier, he would have jumped at the chance without a second thought. Now? "I don't know if I’m the best man for the job."

Sully ran his tongue across his teeth. "I do. Maybe
you
don't trust my judgement."

"You know I do."

"Look, you can't see it right now, but you'll get through this and come out the other side. When you do, you'll realize I was right all along." Sully stood, arching his back and twisting to work out a kink. "Take some time and think it over. I don't need your answer until we're back in Nisair."

Berk turned to tell him he felt pretty certain of his answer, but Sully tensed in the middle of his stretch, head cocked, eyes soft. Berk recognized the look. He'd heard something out of place. It lasted a heartbeat, and then Sully straightened, hands dropping to his weapons in a gesture that, any other time, might have appeared casual. The glance he slid Berk's way came laced with caution. He tapped three fingers against the grip of the knife on his right hip, rolling his neck in the same direction.

Berk stood, trying to appear just as relaxed, even though every nerve flared to attention at Sully's covert warning. He allowed his eyes to sweep the far bank as he gathered his horse's reins.

A twig snapped and Sully's sword cleared its scabbard in time to meet the charge of a man who burst through the underbrush behind them. Their element of surprise lost, the three from across the stream rushed forward, roaring marauder battle cries as they came.

Berk kept hold of the reins and jabbed his horse in the ribs. The bay spun away from him. Its haunches slammed into the first man sloshing through the knee-deep water and sent him sprawling. Before the other two reached the bank, Berk had his sword in one hand, dagger in the other. He crossed them above his head to catch the overhand blow aimed at his skull, shoved back, and brought his foot up and into the guts of his attacker. The man doubled over and staggered into his companion, who merely shoved him aside and came at Berk with a roar, his face split in a feral snarl.

Steel clashed behind them, and a sharp cry preceded the thud of a body hitting the ground. Berk couldn't spare even a glance, because the man facing him pressed forward behind a flurry of strikes. The two, single-edged, curved blades he wielded, crossed and spun in a barrage of heavy-handed blows that drove Berk backwards by sheer ferocity alone. He caught each one, either diverting it or twisting it to the side, but the force and speed behind them was meant to wear him down. He needed to find an opening before that happened.

Instead, his heel found the body on the ground just as the marauder brought both blades whipping in from opposite directions. One of them skittered along Berk's sword, but the other caught him across the ribs as his left arm flailed up in an effort to keep his balance. Had Berk been wearing anything other than mail, he would have been gutted. Instead, the sword sliced through his tabard, slammed against the metal links beneath it, and completed what the corpse had started. He pivoted as he fell, landed on his stomach and immediately rolled, whipping his sword up as he did so.

The marauder tried to stop his rush and failed. He caught Berk's blade full in the stomach. The impact jarred Berk's arm all the way to his shoulder, and forced his elbow into the ground. It connected with something hard, and Berk gritted his teeth against the pained tingles that flared up to his fingertips, threatening his grip. The marauder's face twisted in an agonized snarl, his own weight and momentum driving Berk's blade deeper. He stabbed downward, barely missing Berk's face before collapsing on top of him, trapping Berk's sword between them. Fingers clawed at Berk's neck as the man tried desperately to work past the mail cowl and dig into his throat. His own fingers found the grip of a knife on his attacker's belt. He yanked it free, thrust it up under the man's arm, and then again, until the marauder's eyes widened, blood speckling his lips as he tried to form a curse.

Berk bucked upwards, grunting as he struggled to get the man off him. He scrambled to his feet, looking for Sully, and found him backed to a tree by two men, one of them dripping wet. Blood traced a line down the side of the lieutenant's face, and the way he tried to keep himself turned at an angle to the tree spoke of other injuries.

The heavy end of a mace took a chunk out of the tree where Sully's head had been a moment before, spraying bark as it bit deep. The lieutenant came up inside the wielder's guard and barreled forward to shove the man off balance, but his left leg buckled and the move turned into a clumsy tackle instead. The other marauder saw Berk coming and stepped out to meet him, sword raised. Berk never slowed. His blade screeched along the marauder's until their guards locked. With a downward twist of his wrist, Berk forced the man's blade aside. A quick half-step back jerked the other man forward enough for Berk to trap his wrist. He landed a solid punch with his left fist and spun, keeping the man's arm locked beneath his. Bone cracked and the marauder let out a roar that ended abruptly in a gurgle of blood when Berk drove his dagger through the man's back.

A soft curse drew his attention in the ensuing silence. Berk spared a look around to make sure there weren't any other marauders unaccounted for before rushing to Sully's side. The lieutenant knelt with one hand on the ground, the other braced on a rock as he tried to get to his feet. He let out a sharp hiss when Berk took his arm and helped him up, hopping awkwardly until he got his balance.

"Damn mace," Sully muttered under his breath as Berk steadied him. "Caught me in the thigh."

"Anything broken?"

"Just bruised, I think." Sully backhanded blood out of his eyes and blinked at it in disgust. "Don't know how I got that. How'd you fare?"

"Better than you by the looks of it."

Sully twisted his head to scan the area, and Berk caught his elbow just in time to keep him from landing back on the ground.

"Sit down, and let me look at your head."

"Find the horses," Sully said. "My head can wait."

"At least sit down. I don't want to have to haul you off the ground again."

"If I sit, I won't be getting up any time soon. Go on. I'm fine. If I start tipping over I'll grab a tree."

Berk scowled but went to collect the horses without further argument. Thankfully they weren't particularly skittish and went only as far as the nearest patch of grass. Berk's didn't even look up, and Sully's watched his approach with ears pricked forward, before dipping its head back down to tug at one last mouthful before Berk collected both sets of reins and led them back. He kept his eyes on the opposite bank the entire time. Where there were four marauders, there were definitely more.

As if he needed proof of that, Sully limped in his direction as soon as Berk came into view. "Got a feeling we're going to have company very shortly."

Berk's pulse spiked. "Where?"

"Other bank. There've been a couple whistles that went unanswered." He took his horse from Berk and lifted his foot to the stirrup, swearing as he tried to mount.

Berk gave him a leg up before mounting his own horse. Without another word, they turned back to the road. Few horses were a match for Imperial messenger horses as far as speed and stamina were concerned, but in order to put the marauders a comfortable distance behind them, they'd need to hit a hard gallop and Berk didn't know if Sully could manage it. The lieutenant didn't give him the chance to ask, pushing his horse flat out as soon as its hooves hit the road. Berk gave one quick look back, and followed suit.

***

Berk and Sully pushed their horses as much as they dared, alternating between trotting and galloping. Neither doubted they could outdistance the marauders by a fair distance, but they also knew the marauders would continue to hunt them. Their kind didn't care to lose their quarry, especially when it wore the blue and silver of the Guard.

"How far behind the Emperor do you figure we are?" Berk asked when they slowed to a walk again.

Sully's face pinched. He swiveled to cast a glance behind them. "I'm more concerned with how far ahead of the marauders we are."

"We've got to give these horses a rest or they're going to drop." Berk eyed his friend. Sully had a tight grip on his left thigh, and dried blood smeared the side of his face, stark against the pallor of his skin. "You're not looking so good."

"Leg hurts like the unholies."

"You're sure it's not broken?"

Sully nodded. "Bruised to the bone, but still in one piece."

"Think they'll risk the road?"

"Not if they've any brains," Sully said. "Rothel told me he increased the patrols now that they've got extra men."

The road made for quicker travel. Even if the marauders knew a short-cut, going cross-country would slow them down. Or so Berk told himself, because, in either case, he and Sully had no choice but to stop or run their horses to death.

"The problem with the Southrun," Sully said, "is it's a long stretch of nothing between Broadhead and Crossings."

"At least the weather's clear."

Sully smirked. "That's dipping to the bottom of the barrel."

"Have to find something positive."

"Now, that's more like the man I know." Sully turned his horse off the east side of the road. "Let's find some water for these poor creatures."

It was getting dark before Sully found a game trail. Given he hadn't dismounted, it was a surprise he saw it at all. They followed the trail for quite a while as it wound between the trees, coming to an abrupt end on a steep bank above a swiftly moving river. Berk spent some time on foot searching for an easy way down but without any success. He finally settled for tying his horse's reins up, and letting it pick its own way down, hoping it didn’t injure a leg in the process. Sully's horse protested at being held back until Berk helped his friend dismount and limp over to lean against a nearby tree.

"Grab my flask," Sully called, when Berk went down to join the horses and fill their water skins.

By the time he got both horses back up the bank and hobbled where they could graze, Sully had lowered himself to the ground beside the tree, right leg cocked, left leg stretched out stiffly, his head tipped back against the trunk. He peered through his lashes when Berk hunkered down beside him.