The Battle for Skandia by John Flanagan Page A

this last night. We agreed that I would be quicker and less noticeable if I went alone.”
    â€œNo. We didn’t agree that. You agreed that,” Erak corrected him. “And even if you’re right, you’re just going to have to settle for being slower and noisier, and make allowances for the fact.”
    Halt drew in breath to begin a protest, but Erak forestalled him.
    â€œBe reasonable,” he said. “We’ve agreed that circumstances seem to make us temporary allies—”
    â€œWhich is why you’ll keep my three companions here as hostages,” Halt put in sarcastically, and Erak simply shrugged.
    â€œOf course. They’re my surety that you’ll come back. But put yourself in my shoes. If there is a Temujai army out there somewhere, I don’t want to take a secondhand report to my Oberjarl. I want to see it for myself. So I’m coming with you. I may need you to track the prisoner, but I can do my own looking.”
    He paused, waiting to see Halt’s reaction. The Ranger said nothing, so Erak continued: “After all, the hostages might ensure that you come back. But they’re no guarantee that you’ll give me an accurate report—or even an honest one.”
    Halt seemed to weigh the statement for a few seconds. Then he saw a possible advantage.
    â€œAll right,” he agreed. “But if you’re coming with me, there’s no need to keep my companions as hostages to guarantee my return. Let them go back across the border while you and I go find the Temujai.”
    Erak smiled at him and shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’d like to think that I can trust you, but there’s really no reason why I should, is there? If you know my men are holding your friends, it might make you less likely to stick one of those knives in me the minute we’re out of sight over the hill there.”
    Halt spread his hands in a an innocent gesture. “Do you really think an undersized little runt like me could get the better of a big, hulking sea wolf like you?”
    Erak smiled grimly at him. “Not for a moment,” he said. “But this way I’ll be able to sleep nights and turn my back on you without worrying.”
    â€œFair enough,” Halt agreed. “Now, could we get going while these tracks are still fresh, or would you prefer to argue until the snow melts?”
    Erak shrugged. “You’re the one who’s doing all the arguing,” he told him. “Let’s go.”
    Â 
    Halt glanced over his shoulder as Abelard set his hooves more securely against the steep slope. Behind him, Erak was swaying in-securely on the back of the Temujai horse. The captive had made his escape on foot, and Halt had decided that the small, shaggy and sure-footed steppes pony would be a better mount for Erak than either of Horace’s battlehorses. The Skandian warriors, as was their custom, had been traveling on foot.
    â€œI thought you said you could ride,” he challenged as the jarl grabbed nervously at his mount’s shaggy mane, holding himself in the saddle more by brute strength than any inherent sense of balance.
    â€œI did,” Erak replied through gritted teeth. “I just didn’t say I could ride well.”
    They had been following the escaped Temujai warrior’s trail all day. After making their way through the Serpent Pass, their trail had swung back in an arc from the Teutlandt border and they were some thirty kilometers into Skandian territory once more. Halt shook his head, then went back to peering at the ground in front of them, looking for the faint traces that the fleeing Tem’uj had left behind him.
    â€œHe’s very good,” he said quietly.
    â€œWho’s that?” Erak asked, the last word being torn from him as his horse lurched and slid a few steps. Halt indicated the trail he was following. The Skandian looked but