Apprentice (The Black Mage, #2)(105)

For the millionth time I silently questioned the gods' motive in my inability to cast. But this wasn't the time to sulk in my inadequacies. I needed to pick a plan fast.

I peered into the trees, straining to see any sort of upcoming detour. If we could find a way to circle back, lose the men in a chase, and then return to the main road… Or maybe lose them in hiding, taking cover under darkness and then move out again at first light?

Perhaps Alex was right, and the men would just carry on. We could just set up camp here and now and be none the worse.

Yes, and pigs might fly, I scolded myself. You want to be a warrior mage, and yet you shirk at the first sign of danger.

I do not shirk.

"When I say 'go,'" I whispered, sidling as close to Alex as my own mount could manage, "I want you to take off west. I'll head east—"

Alex opened his mouth to protest, and I hushed him.

"We have to split up. Staying together would only increase their chance of catching us."

My brother stared me down defiantly. "I am not leaving you, Ry."

I ignored him. "We can meet up at that tavern we passed earlier just before the fork… If…If one of us isn't there within a couple hours of daylight, then we hire the local guard to help search out the other. It might take a little longer if we are on foot." I swallowed. "Local thugs don't usually kill unless someone puts up a fight." At least that's what I'd heard.

"But what if they—"

"They won't," I said.

He shook his head stubbornly. "If they find out you're a girl—"

I looked my brother in the eye. "It's our best bet, Alex. If you stay with me, you will not be helping either one of us."

Alex swore. "Ryiah, I don't like this plan one bit."

I motioned for him to get ready, and leaned forward to stand in the stirrups with both hands gripped firmly to the horse's mane. Alex copied my movements, and as soon as he was in a similar stance, I nodded.

"Now!"

In a cloud of rising dirt and debris, my charge took off at a breathless gallop. The thundering clash of hooves and the cries of surprise from the party behind us left me with an elated sense of victory. We had managed to catch them off-guard.

As tempting as it was to check their progress, I kept my eyes glued to the forest in front of me. Dark, twisting branches struck out at my face and ripped across my skin. Harsh wind tore at my already-chapped lips. I willed myself to ignore the numbing cold and sudden, jarring cuts from above.

I hoped Alex was having better luck in his bit of the woods. I could barely see five feet in front of me and had to rely on the mare for navigation. Now that she knew our general direction, it was up to her to avoid what I could not.

The subtle whistle of steel slicing through air alerted me a second too late. One of the men's blades flew past, nicking the back of my right thigh in its course. I cried out and then immediately regretted the noise.

The wound felt shallow, but it was still sudden and biting enough for me to lose balance. I fell back against the saddle, and the mare startled at the sudden shift in weight, slowing her gallop to a canter. I hastily moved to correct the error, ignoring the added pressure on my leg as I attempted to crouch once more in the stirrups and return her to speed.

At that same moment the mare stumbled over some loose footing and sent me pitching forward. My hands, slick with sweat, lost hold of her mane, and I was sent careening to the ground. I barely registered what was happening before I hit the dirt with a sickening thud. I had only a fraction of a second to roll before hooves came clamoring past.

The mare took off into the darkness. I attempted to stand and ignore the shaking of my legs. My entire right side ached, and I had new cuts on my hands from trying to brace my fall. I wondered if the hammering in my ears was from the pulsing of blood or the approaching of bandits.

Maybe they hadn't seen me fall. Maybe they still thought I was astride. It was dark enough. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the stabbing pains as I stumbled toward the nearest brush. I took a couple of hobbling steps until the hammering gave way to the shouts of men and the unmistakable sounds of heavy footfall.

The bandits had dismounted and were searching the area.

I ducked under the bush, ignoring the many thorns that raked across my face and arms, and prayed that the loud snapping of branches was just a quiet rustle outside my head.

Burrowing as deep as I dared, I waited. My breath was shaky and ragged, and I tried not to imagine all the horrible possibilities that could await me if I were found. I willed myself to breathe slowly, letting my racing heart ease. It was no use.

I could hear their voices. They were getting louder. A flutter of soft wind brought the rancid smell of days' old sweat and ale, and I wondered how close they were. The bush I hid under smelled oddly sweet, like some sort of forest berry. I hoped its leaves would hide me well.

How many had followed me? I wondered. Where was Alex right now? Was he still riding west? I strained to hear the approaching voices.

"…Saw the boy limping…" one was saying.

Another man cleared his throat. "He couldn't have gone far."

There were only two that I could distinguish. If there were a third man, he was staying silent. Judging from the number of footsteps, however, I was inclined to go with the former.

The crunching of pine needles a mere step away froze my heart in my throat.