A World Without Heroes
Page 77

Jason glanced around, scanning the parade of faces moving up and down the street.
Tad chuckled. “The others aren’t here with us. But they’re watching. To lose them now, you would need wings.”
“Does your horse have wings?” Rachel asked.
“Sorry.”
“Let’s see it,” Jason said.
Tad shrugged. “Be my guest. It’s the brown one tethered over there.”
Jason peered at the horse. It stood beside a few others, and looked healthy. Jason narrowed his gaze at Tad. The short man stared back evenly, one eye brown, the other blue.
“So we can just leave?”
“Sure. You won’t get far, but I was instructed to offer the option.”
“What do you think?” Jason asked Rachel.
“I think we need two horses,” she replied.
“They only gave me the one,” Tad apologized. “You have money?”
“Plenty,” Jason said.
Tad turned to the big lawman. “Know any horses for sale in town?” he called. “Good ones.”
“I have an exceptional horse,” the man replied. “Not for sale, though.”
“Everything has a price,” Tad replied.
“Okay, stranger,” the lawman said, walking toward them. “What if I said two hundred drooma?”
Tad looked at Jason. “Can you cover that?”
Jason nodded. “What’s he look like?”
“He is a she,” the lawman said. “Intelligent and reliable. She’s the black one near your friend’s mount.”
“Look okay?” Jason asked Rachel.
“Looks fine to me,” she replied. “We need to hurry.”
Jason fished out two gold pellets. “Can we take her now?”
“For two hundred?” the lawman snickered. “Be my guest.”
“See you later,” Jason said to Tad, turning and walking toward the horse.
“Count on it,” Tad called after him.
Jason was relieved he had learned something about horsemanship. He managed to mount the brown horse and guide it down the street without much awkwardness. Rachel handled her mare like a pro. They rode out of town to the south, then curled around to head east. He scanned the surrounding prairie, searching for prying eyes marking his progress. His gaze repeatedly returned to the top of the conical mountain—anyone watching from that towering vantage point would have easily noted their little change of direction.
Rachel cantered beside him. “Think we have a chance?” she asked.
“I don’t think they would give us horses if they thought we could escape,” Jason replied. “I’m just not sure what else to do. Maybe they’re counting on us making bad moves, or being lousy horsemen. Maybe we can surprise them. If we can make it to the forest, we’ll be harder to spot. Keep that orantium ready.”
The country around the town was covered in wild grass, and they made smooth progress for some time. Beyond the expansive sward, to the east and north, ranks of forested hills awaited.
Jason weighed their options. Perhaps they could dismount and let their horses loose. If they did it carefully, their pursuers might follow the hoofprints. He and Rachel could hide until after sunset, then sneak into the forest on foot. Of course, if their enemies were watching, or if they caught on to the ruse, the chase could end quickly. It was probably best to take their chances on horseback.
The sun was sinking. Jason kept a sharp lookout, but he viewed nothing across the surrounding terrain to arouse his suspicions, although the occasional scurry of a rabbit or squirrel made him start.
At a wide, shallow creek Jason and Rachel paused to let their horses drink and filled their furry new skins. They remounted and walked the horses across water-polished pebbles to the far side and up the shallow embankment.
Not far ahead arose the outliers of the forested hills. Sparse oak trees stood here and there about the sward, casting monstrous shadows as the sun plunged. Off to the left towered the bulk of an oklinder bush. Jason toyed briefly with the idea of concealing themselves in the huge mass of foliage, risking thorns and wasps rather than facing their pursuers. Of course, their enemies would probably track them there, then surround them and light the oklinder on fire.
At that moment from out of the massive bush sprang a gray horse bearing an armored rider. The bush was less than a mile away to the north, and the horse was dashing toward Jason at a terrific pace, churning up clods of earth from the ground.
“Jason!” Rachel cried.
“I see him.” He kicked his horse, veering southward, and saw another, more distant horseman closing from that direction. In the west, the way they had just come, a third rider had materialized, made into a silhouette by the setting sun.
Where had they come from? He had been alert! Only the east appeared free of riders, so he urged his horse in that direction, yelling, “Yah!” like he imagined a cowboy would. He snapped the reins and nudged the steed’s flanks with his heels.
Jason and Rachel sped eastward, their horses galloping wildly. Jason leaned forward, close to the brown neck, and rocked his hips in time with the horse’s pounding gait.
As they raced along, the sun dipped below the western horizon, and shadows became muted in the softer light. Flecks of lather began to appear on the coat of Jason’s horse.
Their pursuers herded them eastward. The riders had all drawn to within a hundred yards: one directly to their left, another to their right, and the third behind. When Jason tried to alter his course, they would draw in close, weapons flashing, forcing him to continue eastward or face confrontation.
Ahead gaped the mouth of a steep-walled ravine. He could feel his horse flagging. The other horses were bigger and more muscular than his mount, powerful animals that did not seem to tire. The men to either side wore similar armor. One clutched a battle-ax; the other held a spear.
Jason and Rachel rode into the mouth of the ravine. It was clearly a trap, but the walls were too steep for their horses to possibly climb. The horsemen at either side fell back to join the third trailing rider. Jason spurred his mount onward, noticing how the foam was thickening on the overtaxed steed.
Rounding a bend in the ravine, Jason learned where the horsemen were driving them. A fourth horseman stood in the middle of the ravine, flanked by three bizarre creatures. The horseman held a drawn bow in his hands.
“Rein in and dismount,” the soldier commanded. He wore dark armor like the others.
Jason pulled on the reins, and his horse stopped, sides heaving. Rachel drew up beside him. They shared a worried glance. Jason heard the other horsemen trotting up behind them.