Prince of Wrath by Tony Roberts Page B

small area we can shelter in but that’s it. They can only come at us from this direction.”
    Lalaas lowered his bow. “That’s good. That means they have to come this way. Amne, could you pick up those fallen arrows, and bring my equine in here? I don’t want to drop my guard yet. They may charge us at any time.”
    Amne immediately complied, instantly dropping into their relationship they’d had on the mission through Bragal. She may be a princess, but outdoors it was the hunter who was king. “Who are they?”
    Lalaas looked thoughtfully at the men who even now were conferring, just out of earshot. “I don’t know, and if I asked they’d say nothing. They’re hired ruffians, except for the leader. He’s got a little class; the rest are hopeless.” He examined the nearest beam, a cold, dead charcoaled remnant of what had existed before. “Whatever happened here, it happened over seven days ago. I’d like to see that letter you got. When did you get it?”
    “Yesterday. It was quite desperate sounding.”
    “I bet it was. It was a lure to get you out here. They destroyed this place well over a sevenday back, then sent the letter. Whoever it is, had enough money to hire thirty men and keep them in the field away from their lair for that amount of time. I suspect someone saw us leave and then sent a quick message, alerting them. They came from over there,” he nodded across the plains beyond the riders. “East, or south.”
    “A spy in the palace?” Amne said, aghast.
    “Possibly, yes, or some lackey in the streets watching us. Either is equally likely.”
    Amne tied the equines’ reins to a beam and stood next to Lalaas, her heart beating wildly. “What will happen to us now? It looks bad for us, doesn’t it?”
    Lalaas made a non-committal noise. He looked away from the scared princess, back at the group of riders conferring. Some of their conversation drifted to his ears and it seemed they were arguing over what to do. Two of those felled were still alive, one was crawling feebly away from the destroyed farmhouse, the other was emitting faint noises of pain. He didn’t look as if he would last long. “If they don’t decide what to do in a few moments, I’ll remind them why they’re still arguing.”
    Amne gripped his arm and pressed herself against him. “I’ve been stupid, haven’t I?”
    “What do you mean?” Lalaas looked at her. He saw the wide, frightened eyes, the pale skin, the tight lips. He stroked her cheek. “Stupid? No.”
    Amne pressed against his fingers. “I’ve been behaving like a spoiled brat recently, haven’t I? I should have listened to Elas. I bet he thinks I’m a she-canine.”
    “You’re you, Amne. You’re nobody else. Don’t go all blaming yourself because someone wants you dead. It’s clearly the Fokis, or Duras, or one of the other families your father’s displaced at the top. Now bring me my quiver; I think I’m going to cut the odds a bit, and to drive them away from us a distance.”
    Amne briefly placed her head on his shoulder, then meekly fetched the quiver. Lalaas placed the loose arrows back in it and slung it over his shoulder. “Stand back.”
    She stepped away and watched as Lalaas flexed his shoulders and went through the process of fitting an arrow to the string and aiming. His muscles rippled across his back and down his arms and Amne couldn’t help but look at them, wishing he could be hers.
    Lalaas yelled out, attracting the riders’ attention. Their heads swung in his direction, alarmed, and they caught sight of a black blur streaking out from the shadows. One of their number grunted and was sent toppling off his saddle onto his back, his arms out-flung, an arrow embedded halfway down its length into his chest. He was wearing chain armour and that hadn’t helped.
    “By the gods!” the leader said and hauled his mount round and spurred it into a gallop. The others scattered, too, riding in all directions away from the farm