Green Rider (50 page)

The captain rode back at a canter and halted before the prince. "The scout has found someone, my lord," he said.

"Why isn't he dead?"

"
She
says she knows you. She rides a battle horse branded with the mark of the Talon company."

Amilton raised his brow. "Interesting." Mirwell had hired a squad of Talon mercs to supplement the infantry. Perhaps this rider carried a message. "Bring her here."

The captain rode back to the scout and the mystery woman. After
a
moment, they approached at a slow jog. When they were just two horse lengths away, the stranger swung off her horse and fell to her knees before the prince.

"My lord," she said, keeping her face turned to the ground.

Amilton started in surprise. He dismounted and threw his reins to the captain. Placing his fingers beneath the woman's chin, he tilted her face upward. Moonlight splayed across a swollen and off-center nose. Dried blood was crusted near her hairline though it looked as if she had tried to scrub it away. Her face was thin, but it was unmistakable.

"Jendara," he whispered.

"Yes, my lord."

He caressed her face, his fingers trailing against her sharp cheekbones. "I've missed you more than you know. What has happened? Where is Tome?"

"Dead. The Greenie, my lord. We had the Greenie, but there was more to her than we knew… She escaped. We have failed you."

He moved his hand as if to comb it through her lush hair, but instead he grabbed a handful and yanked her to her feet.

"Failed? Do you know what your failure may cost me?"

"Yes, my lord," she whispered.

He struck her hard across the face, and struck her again. His blows fell repeatedly, and blow after blow she stood mute, never crying out, never pleading for him to stop. She did not run away or resist. She simply accepted the pummeling, her body knocked this way and that from the blows. The smack of his fist against her face punctuated the relative quiet of the forest.

Amilton paused. She still stood, though barely, when such a beating would have rendered any ordinary woman or man unconscious. She wobbled from side to side as if she might drop at any moment, but never fell. Blood flowed freely from her nose and a split lip. The flesh around her eyes purpled and swelled.

Amilton wiped Jendara's blood off his knuckles with a cloth handed to him by his squire.

Why this violence, he wondered, when he could test his gift from the Gray One? He shut his eyes and touched the cold stone. His thoughts delved into dark regions as the Gray One had instructed him. He searched, reached, and called upon the power of
Kanmorhan Vane
. It surged through him with a cold, sinuous tingle. When he opened his eyes, currents of black energy licked his hands.

He grasped Jendara's shoulders and the energies bore into her. Jendara's scream rang through the woods, and she dropped to her knees.

Amilton removed his hands from her and watched in fascination as the currents of energy crackled on his palms and around his fingers. He let the magic dissipate, then his hands fell to his sides.

"What now, my lord?" the captain asked. All blood had drained from his face.

"We go on."

"But what if the Greenie has alerted the king? What if we march into a trap?"

"Immerez may have stopped the Greenie. Even if he has not, we go on. We are equipped for a siege if need be." The prince turned to the captain, and in an uncompromising tone he said, "No matter what, we shall proceed. It is all I have left, and I shall take it. If I hear one murmur of dissent, we will have an immediate execution. Do I make myself clear?"

The captain bowed his head hastily. "Yes, my lord."

Amilton placed his hands on Jendara's shoulders again, and she shrank from him though he did not call on the magic. He pulled her close. "I am glad you have returned to me." He kissed her with greatest tenderness on her swollen cheek. "Now you will ride beside me and protect me as you have sworn."

"As I have sworn," she whispered through her broken mouth.

"Then take your place beside me."

She staggered to her feet and stumbled to the battle horse's side as if in a daze. She tried several times before her toe found the stirrup and she dragged herself into the saddle. She reined her horse beside Amilton's. Hunched over the saddle horn, she whispered to him, "I serve with my life."

THE HUNTING

A day slipped by, and another, and still Karigan heard nothing about the letter, nor did she see Captain Mapstone at all. In fact, no one in particular, not even a single Weapon, paid her any attention except for Alton, who had nothing else to do, and Mel, who was as cheerful as ever, but for once couldn't shed any light on the situation.

"Just as I told you before, I haven't seen the captain since the night before last," Mel said, plopping on Karigan's bed.

Karigan secured her bedroll to her pack which the kitchen servants had filled with food. She slung the pack over one shoulder and a water skin over the other. "I'm out of it, then. I've done my part, and I'm going home."

"Do you have to?" Mel's eyes looked sad. "I haven't had another girl to talk to in so long."

How lonely it must be for her to live in a world of adults who possessed adult problems and no imaginations whatsoever. "I have to go home. My father will be expecting me. Maybe… maybe he will come trading here in the fall and I can come with him."

"Maybe the captain will let me visit you." There was the sound of hope in Mel's voice.

"I don't see why not." Such an excursion would be good for her. Maybe Mel hadn't even been outside of the city walls before. "Guess I'm ready."

Karigan walked down the main corridor of the barracks,

Mel in tow behind her. The corridor was empty; Green Riders were scattered across the countryside on messenger errands.

They emerged outdoors, the sun falling warmly on their shoulders more like summer than spring. Karigan walked along the railing that lined the horse pasture, squinting her eyes to pick out a familiar friend, to say good-bye.

"What are you looking for?" Mel asked.

"The Horse. All of the others seem to be out, but not him."

"Condor? He's in the stable."

Karigan wondered about that, and about the mischievous smile on Mel's face. They walked on into the stable, blinking until their eyes adjusted to the sudden dark. Alton D'Yer stood in the aisle between the stalls, holding the reins of his tall black gelding, who, with white socks and a white blaze down his nose, had earned the name Night Hawk. As always, Alton looked immaculate, as did his horse and gear. He gave her a lopsided grin and patted Night Hawk's neck. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Karigan frowned. Corsa, of course. She had told him time and again. "Home."

"Must be a long walk."

Karigan placed her hands on her hips in annoyance. "I'll catch a ferry down on the river."

"But you have a Green Rider uniform on. It wouldn't look right for you to be traveling on foot."

"What do you want me to do? Go in the nude?" Alton snickered at that, but Karigan ignored it. "I suppose I have enough currency left to buy something so I can get rid of this green outfit."

"Green is your color." This time Alton was not joking. "Why not ride instead?"

"I can't afford a horse."

"I don't know what Condor would say to that."

Mel had disappeared into an adjacent section of the stable, only to return with a tacked and groomed Condor. He whickered in greeting. "He's all set to go to Corsa," Mel said.

"What?" Karigan looked at Mel, then at Alton, her mouth hanging open. "But he's not mine."

Alton said, "These messenger horses are particular about their Riders. You are Condor's Rider, whether you choose to join the messenger service or not. Captain Mapstone said giving him to you was the least we could do to thank you for delivering F'ryan's message."

Karigan took the reins from Mel and looked up at Condor. "So you think you can put up with me?"

Condor snorted and shook his head, the bridle jingling.

Karigan smiled broadly. "I guess he will." A mount would make her journey far easier. She would still find a way to get rid of the green uniform, though.

"Karigan," Alton said, "I would… I… well, it would please me… What I want to say…"

One moment he was speaking as a polished aristocrat should, the next he couldn't speak at all. She wished he would just blurt out what it was he wanted.

Mel rolled her eyes, apparently wishing the same thing. "He wants to ride down to the river with you."

Alton blushed.

"Oh!" It would be the last time she got to see him, and it would be pleasant to have company—to have
him
—along the way. "I don't see why not."

Alton exhaled in relief. "Very good," he said, taking on a confident air again.

Karigan thought she heard Mel mutter something about "males." The two girls said their good-byes, and Karigan left Mel standing forlornly in the shadows of the stable, the drone of flies filling the air.

At first Alton and Karigan rode in silence, he glancing at her covertly. They passed beneath the portcullis and through the castle gates. The horses' hooves clunked on the wooden drawbridge. Two guards on duty watched them sourly as they passed through. Relations between the militia and messenger service, she learned, were strained by the misconception of the soldiers that Green Riders led uncomplicated lives.

Part of the castle wall that faced outward into the city was scaffolded. Workers on break sat idly on the wood scaffolding and passed around a jug. Alton scowled.

"What's wrong?" Karigan asked.

"There is nothing wrong with that wall."

"Then what are they doing?"

"Supposedy reinforcing it. Hah! That wall has survived since the Long War, and not a nick in it. D'Yers built it."

"The king seems to think it needs reinforcing."

"Evidently. I don't know what he expects is going to happen. It wouldn't be so bad if their work wasn't so sloppy. He could have used D'Yers if he wanted the job done correctly. Granted, we've lost some of our skill since the castle was built, but Clan D'Yer still has the finest stone workers in all of Sacoridia." He sighed. "I suppose the king wanted to generate local work."

From the gates they followed the cobble-paved road that led from the castle into Sacor City. The cobbles, stones rounded for a millennium by the ocean, were harvested from the shores of King Zachary's own province of Hil-lander.

As they descended the sloping road, Karigan looked over her shoulder, and for the first time, truly saw the castle as a whole, a view she had been denied during the Wild Ride. It stood high on a rounded hillock, turrets casting solid shadows across its gray granite facade. Blocky walls anchored the castle to the earth. It looked indestructible, unmovable, almost as if it had been hewn from the raw earth itself.

Tiers of courtyards, gardens, and the pasture softened the blunt effect of the castle. Smaller buildings, the barracks of the regular militia and the Green Riders, stables, and other structures, clustered at its base like children at their mother's knee.