The Banished of Muirwood (Covenant of Muirwood, #1)(11)

Feeling ashamed to undress in front of the men, she turned around and began fussing with the lacings on the back of her gown, but the hunter rebuked her. “Put it on over your other gown, my lady. You will need more than one layer in these mountains. You can doff one of them later when the sun is blazing. Two cloaks is fine. If I could fit your feet into two boots, I would. Quickly now!”

The kishion had fetched the bow sleeve from the wall and clutched two quivers. Jon Tayt scowled as he glanced around the tiny hut. “You have water flasks already. Dump the food platter in that sack over there. There is a large cheese in the cold barrel. Take it.” He went to the wall and grabbed two more hand axes, another long knife, and a sling with a pouch of pebbles. He snapped on two leather hunting bracers and a shooting glove. For a short, squat man he moved with efficiency and speed.

Argus’s ears went straight up, and a low growl emerged from his throat. He stared at the door.

“It’s either a bear or strangers afoot,” Jon Tayt groused. The kishion slid a knife from his sheath.

“If you fancy a stronger blade, take what you can carry,” the hunter offered, nodding to the assortment of weapons suspended from the wall. He went over to a pack and began stuffing one of the bearskins from the floor inside it. He shoved it all the way in before grabbing a length of rope, a small iron skillet, a tinder stick, and several other strange devices that Maia did not recognize.

The hound’s growl increased in pitch.

Maia was securing the belt on the gown when Jon Tayt’s voice muttered, “Fffft. Douse the candle.”

The kishion squeezed the burning wick and darkness enveloped them instantly. Only the glowing end of the snuffed candle remained, like a tiny Leering’s eye, and then it too was gone. The sound of the hunter’s boots was muffled by the packed dirt floor as he approached the door and pulled it open a sliver.

Moonlight cut a slit down his wary face, his gaze staring into the darkness of the trees beyond. He waited cautiously, standing still, listening to the hiss of the wind through the door.

Something heavy slammed into the door, shoving it all the way open. The hunter jerked away just in time as a body came crushing into the stone hut. It was a soldier, by the looks of his tattered tunic and sword as he sprawled onto the ground. The kishion knelt and knifed him soundlessly. The figure’s leg twitched once and was still.

Jon Tayt stepped into the cool night air through the open door, hefting an axe, which he suddenly lifted and hurled. It spun end over end, and the blade struck another soldier in the chest, felling him instantly. Argus snarled and charged into the woods, launching himself at another soldier and bringing him down with a single bound.

The kishion fled the stone hut next and sent his knife spinning through the air, into another of their pursuers.

Jon Tayt went to the body of the man he’d killed and drew the axe away, stepping on the man’s leg to free it. Maia blanched, but she steeled herself and followed her protectors, raising the cowl as she went.

“This way,” the hunter whispered. An arrow lanced by him, the shaft clattering against a nearby boulder or stone hut.

“Argus, hunt!” Jon Tayt ordered, and he strode up to Maia, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the deeper shadows of the grove. The boarhound loped into the woods, snarling viciously. There was barking and growling and suddenly a man’s voice shouted in pain.

Two more soldiers awaited them in the shadows.

“They are yours,” the hunter said to the kishion, and he changed course, pulling Maia after him. The kishion needed no greater warning to lower his blades and thrust forward, engaging both men at once. As the hunter led Maia away from the scene, she heard a cough of surprise and grunts of pain as the two men strove against the kishion. Maia nearly twisted her ankle on a rock and tried to correct herself. They dodged through trees, heading toward the murmur of a brook somewhere to the right. The darkness was a shield for them.

A shriek of pain sounded in the night, and moments later, Argus padded up next to them, panting.

“One less hunter for us to face,” Jon Tayt said with a grim smile in his voice. “They probably have more than one, bad luck. Always best to have two of something if you can afford it. Argus here can take down a bear. You think I am joking. You will see if we meet one.”

They reached the banks of the small brook, and Jon Tayt guided her to some round stones protruding from the waters and ushered her across. The trees swayed as the whipping wind picked up and began to howl, blowing icy tendrils at them. In a moment, the kishion leaped across the small brook and joined them. “Two more were watching the direction we fled, so I dispatched them as well.”

The hunter snorted. “There are many trails off this mountain. If we take that one,” he said, pointing, “we will be trapped along the lake. I know of a cave farther down the mountain where we can find shelter, and the village of Roc-Adamour is at the base of the mountain. It is the crossroads in this Hundred. It will be difficult for them to track us if we go there first.”

“How far?” the kishion asked, searching the trees behind them for signs of pursuers.

“Before next sunset if we hurry. There are some more supplies I would like to obtain if we are going to travel the mountain ways. There is an inn there called the—”

Lightning lit up the night sky with a brilliant fork of energy, blinding them all.

“Not a cloud in the sky, by Cheshu,” Jon Tayt said with surprise, squinting. He stared up at the milky swarm of stars as another jagged line split across the mountain valley. The wind began to rush against them, increasing in pressure and ferocity.