know more about Sagara Nouri and the rites. Talk to Ada
again, will you? I know it was a long time ago she attended the rituals, but a
thing like that must make an impression on a child. Maybe she’ll remember
something else.”
A chill wind kicked up, carrying across the yard the fresh
scents of blood and death.
I said, “Let’s move out of here. I have a feeling Kipp has
discovered another of those magical circles the raiders move through, or will
discover one any minute, and I’d like to get a look at it.”
Chapter
Ten
We found the magic circle. I examined it carefully, but it
was as immoveable and mysterious as the one at Hammond’s Bend. Likewise, my
later talk with Ada proved fruitless, turning up nothing we hadn’t already
heard before. The intent behind the killings at the isolated woods holding
remained a mystery.
Over the next six weeks, the Skeltai launched two more
attacks on the humble folk of Dimmingwood. With our surreptitious help, each
attack was thwarted by the Praetor’s Fists, who always seemed to be in the
right place at the right time. No villages or individual holdings were
destroyed, and only a handful of woods folk lost their lives.
In return for our series of successes, the Praetor raised
our reward. Whether he did this out of gratitude or simply to keep his
informants was questionable, and despite having proven our value to him, we
kept our anonymity, reluctant to risk our necks.
The weeks passed quietly for us in Dimmingwood, discounting
the thwarted raids that most of the band learned about days after the action
had actually occurred. Rideon’s band, including us of the inner circle,
continued about our usual business.
*
* *
I should have realized this peaceful period couldn’t last
long.
It was late on an icy winter’s night when the war with the
Skeltai hit home. I was sound asleep inside the cave at Boulder’s Cradle,
buried deep beneath a thick padding of deerskins that didn’t quite succeed in
holding out the cold. I was in a drowsy trance, and the beginning of the
commotion didn’t immediately wake me. When it did, I groaned and buried myself
deeper in the furs, thinking I was having a nightmare.
I was jolted into a more thorough state of awareness by a
leather boot kicking me roughly in the face.
“Wake up,” Kinsley shouted down at me. “Get out of your
blankets, all of you! We’re under attack!”
Fists , I thought immediately and scrambled clumsily
to my feet. I reached out in the darkness, and my hand fell unerringly on the
bow, which I never let far from my side anymore.
At Kinsley’s shouts, the interior of the cave exploded in a
jumble of confused activity. The dark combined with our panic to disorient
everyone, and we blundered around, knocking into one another and the walls in
our haste to pour out the narrow mouth of the cave.
Our attackers, nearer than we realized, were shoving through
the entrance, even as we struggled to push our way out, and we quickly found
ourselves trapped with stone walls at our back and sides and armed enemies to
our front. Packed tightly between the bodies of the others, I had no room to
wield a weapon even if I could have accurately determined friend from foe in
the confusion.
We might all have been summarily slaughtered there, like so
many sheep caught in a herding pen, if not for the courage of our sentries at
the camp’s edge. They had failed to issue advance warning of the attack, but
they now swooped to our defense. Although outnumbered and separated from the
rest of us, they attacked the enemy from behind until the rest of us were able
to take advantage of the confusion and force our way free of the cave.
Beneath the moonlight it was now clear our attackers weren’t
Fists but Skeltai warriors. That realization strengthened my determination to
hold them back. I had seen firsthand the horrible fate of their victims and had
no desire to join their ranks.
It was a fierce fight but the tide
again, will you? I know it was a long time ago she attended the rituals, but a
thing like that must make an impression on a child. Maybe she’ll remember
something else.”
A chill wind kicked up, carrying across the yard the fresh
scents of blood and death.
I said, “Let’s move out of here. I have a feeling Kipp has
discovered another of those magical circles the raiders move through, or will
discover one any minute, and I’d like to get a look at it.”
Chapter
Ten
We found the magic circle. I examined it carefully, but it
was as immoveable and mysterious as the one at Hammond’s Bend. Likewise, my
later talk with Ada proved fruitless, turning up nothing we hadn’t already
heard before. The intent behind the killings at the isolated woods holding
remained a mystery.
Over the next six weeks, the Skeltai launched two more
attacks on the humble folk of Dimmingwood. With our surreptitious help, each
attack was thwarted by the Praetor’s Fists, who always seemed to be in the
right place at the right time. No villages or individual holdings were
destroyed, and only a handful of woods folk lost their lives.
In return for our series of successes, the Praetor raised
our reward. Whether he did this out of gratitude or simply to keep his
informants was questionable, and despite having proven our value to him, we
kept our anonymity, reluctant to risk our necks.
The weeks passed quietly for us in Dimmingwood, discounting
the thwarted raids that most of the band learned about days after the action
had actually occurred. Rideon’s band, including us of the inner circle,
continued about our usual business.
*
* *
I should have realized this peaceful period couldn’t last
long.
It was late on an icy winter’s night when the war with the
Skeltai hit home. I was sound asleep inside the cave at Boulder’s Cradle,
buried deep beneath a thick padding of deerskins that didn’t quite succeed in
holding out the cold. I was in a drowsy trance, and the beginning of the
commotion didn’t immediately wake me. When it did, I groaned and buried myself
deeper in the furs, thinking I was having a nightmare.
I was jolted into a more thorough state of awareness by a
leather boot kicking me roughly in the face.
“Wake up,” Kinsley shouted down at me. “Get out of your
blankets, all of you! We’re under attack!”
Fists , I thought immediately and scrambled clumsily
to my feet. I reached out in the darkness, and my hand fell unerringly on the
bow, which I never let far from my side anymore.
At Kinsley’s shouts, the interior of the cave exploded in a
jumble of confused activity. The dark combined with our panic to disorient
everyone, and we blundered around, knocking into one another and the walls in
our haste to pour out the narrow mouth of the cave.
Our attackers, nearer than we realized, were shoving through
the entrance, even as we struggled to push our way out, and we quickly found
ourselves trapped with stone walls at our back and sides and armed enemies to
our front. Packed tightly between the bodies of the others, I had no room to
wield a weapon even if I could have accurately determined friend from foe in
the confusion.
We might all have been summarily slaughtered there, like so
many sheep caught in a herding pen, if not for the courage of our sentries at
the camp’s edge. They had failed to issue advance warning of the attack, but
they now swooped to our defense. Although outnumbered and separated from the
rest of us, they attacked the enemy from behind until the rest of us were able
to take advantage of the confusion and force our way free of the cave.
Beneath the moonlight it was now clear our attackers weren’t
Fists but Skeltai warriors. That realization strengthened my determination to
hold them back. I had seen firsthand the horrible fate of their victims and had
no desire to join their ranks.
It was a fierce fight but the tide
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