Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(23)
Lirra and Finn follow me for another quarter league, before I signal for them to stop. The tracks are fresh here, and judging by the steaming pile of horse manure, our quarry is close. We’d be best to go on foot so the sound of the horses doesn’t alert them to us.
Finn is quick to gear up, pulling a quiver over his shoulder and holding his bow. Then he pats the dagger at his waist and the one strapped to his ankle. I grimace watching him, wishing I’d said no when he asked to learn to be a bounty hunter. It’s too dangerous for my little brother. When I look at him, I don’t see the man he’s becoming, but the toddler I once saved from our pecking chickens. The gangly boy who cried on my shoulder when our pa died.
“Follow,” I mouth, gesturing to the woods that line the road. “But keep at a distance.”
Finn and Lirra run behind me as I dart through the trees, staying parallel to the road. I run for a quarter league before I pick up the eeek eeek of their carriage’s wheels and the clop of their horses’ hooves. I cut slightly east, continuing until I lope alongside them, but far enough away, hidden by the trunks and ferns and underbrush, that they won’t notice me.
Two riders on horseback flank a carriage with no visible markings to show ownership. It’s driven by a third man. Though I cannot tell how many people are inside the compartment, I can count a number of weapons on the three men. Arrows, bows, daggers, and long swords—these men are armed for a fight.
Behind the group, the sun dips, bathing the forest in a dusky haze. The carriage slows to a stop.
The men on horseback quickly move to the carriage door and dismount. Their motions seem practiced, like they've done this a few times before. The door opens, and a fourth man emerges.
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. I’ve seen this man before.
I squint, trying to make sure the haze isn’t messing with my sight. Even though he’s not garbed in the clothing of a nobleman, there’s no doubt. It’s Lord Conklin, a Malamian with a fiefdom around the border town of Fennit.
Could it be another Spiriter identity trick? Like how Rori was able to fool anyone she passed in Shaerdan, so they thought she was Phelia?
“What’s the plan?” Finn moves beside me, his voice a speck over a whisper.
I shake my head, baffled. I need answers. “See the older man.” I point him out to Lirra and Finn. “Whatever happens, keep him alive.”
Lirra raises her brows.
“He’s a lord in Malam.”
“No way,” Finn blurts, and then smacks his hand over his mouth when he realizes he didn’t whisper.
The men are too busy pissing on the fronds around the thick tree trunks to notice us.
“Should we move in closer to see if there are any girls with them?” Finn asks.
Before I can answer, a female voice from inside the carriage cries, “Please let us go!”
Lirra meets my eye, hand on her blade. I notice she doesn’t carry a bow and arrow like Britta. If it were this easy for me to find them, I’ve no doubt that woodsman fool and the townsmen he’s managed to gather will be upon us in no time.
One of the guards yanks the door open, reaches in, and withdraws a young black-haired girl. I stare at her, my heartbeat banging in my chest with a fierce need to protect her. She cannot be older than thirteen, my sister’s age.
I watch as he jerks her around like a cloth doll. Bloody seeds, I want to kill him now. I could loose an arrow and drop him in an instant. When he backhands her and another two young faces, dirty, tear-stained, and colorless, peer out the door, I cannot watch any longer.
I lift my bow and loose an arrow. It hits him between the ribs. The man drops, and the girl falls to the side, her knees crashing into the dirt.
Only now I have the attention of the other men. A sick sack of a man has a girl in front of him, using her as a shield. Another has a sword drawn, and he’s hunkered down by the carriage. A third fellow has his bow up, arrow aimed at Finn. Right as I notice this, the man releases the arrow and it sails straight at my brother.
Panic rips through my chest. I yell Finn’s name. Move, Finn.
He leaps to the side. Thank the gods. I rush to him and shield us behind a tree. He winces. Red stains the left side of his tunic, a bloody blossom that grows with each beat of his heart.
“Finn,” I bark. “You all right?” My voice is too harsh. I thought it missed, but he’s bleeding. Gods, why is he bleeding?
“Must’ve grazed me.”
He lifts his tunic for me to see a scrape along his ribs. If he hadn’t moved, that arrow would’ve pierced him through the heart instead of taking a chunk of skin from his side. Blood drips steadily from the slice. It’ll have to be cleaned. Stitched.
I clench his tunic in a fist and let it drop. He could’ve just died. My kid brother.
“Stay back,” I tell him.
“What? No, I’m coming with you.”
I connect gazes with Lirra, who’s also hunkered behind a tree, and give her a signal before turning back to Finn. “Keep pressure on the wound. And stay low. I want you to keep out of this. Hear me?”
He shakes his head, but there’s no time to listen to his argument. I’m sure he’s disappointed, but this isn’t another learning opportunity. His life is on the line. I need to keep him safe.
Readying an arrow, I motion to Lirra and dart around the tree, headed for the next one that’ll give good coverage and bring me closer to Lord Conklin and his group of traitors.