Green Rider
Page 35
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“Were I you,” the woman said from behind, “I would obey.”
Karigan licked her lips, tasting the salt of perspiration. If she could urge The Horse into a run, maybe the man would release the bridle and the woman wouldn’t have time to—
“Dismount!”
The sword tip pressed harder into her back. She dismounted. The Horse made to bolt away, but the man yanked on the bridle.
“I’ve heard of you, smart steed. If you don’t obey, I shall sever the tendons in your legs.”
The woman regarded Karigan with eyes as steely as her sword. Today her lush hair was bound by a strip of cloth. “You don’t look like a spirit rider to me.”
The man snorted in contempt. “Ghosts do not exist, and they certainly do not ride horses. Those Mirwellian fools are over superstitious.”
Karigan’s eyes widened. Surely they meant Immerez, Sarge, and Thursgad . . . and they were Mirwellians! Nothing good ever came out of Mirwell.
The man, still holding the bridle, reached over to the message satchel. He undid the leather thong, peered in, and nodded. He let the lid drop and secured it back down. “This is it.”
“Remove your shoulder pack,” the woman said.
Karigan reluctantly slipped it from her shoulder to the road. It was an inglorious end to her mission. She was caught, and the delivery of the message thwarted by mercenaries working for Immerez.
The other mercenary was already looking through the saddlebags, laughing in delight at the food remaining from the Berry sisters. The woman looked in disdain at the soiled blanket and clothes she found in the shoulder pack.
“I told you there would be little spoils,” she said.“Greenies aren’t known for being rich.”
“We’ve the food, Jendara, and a new horse, and all the gold the Mirwellian will pay us. What’s this?” He untied the greatcoat from its fastenings and unfurled it. “Looks warm enough . . . but, ach! I wouldn’t want to be seen in a filthy Greenie coat. This bauble on front, however . . .” He gazed speculatively at the brooch.
Jendara spotted something shining from the tangle of blanket she had pulled from Karigan’s shoulder pack. “What might these be?”
Karigan cried out in alarm. “Don’t touch those! They’re mine!”
In her hand, Jendara the mercenary held finely wrought rings and bracelets set with gems. She was entranced by the way they glittered in the sun. “They’re yours no longer, Greenie.”
“Those were my mother’s—” Her voice broke off in a sob. They were the only objects of intrinsic worth that she had taken with her when she fled Selium.
The man unclasped the brooch and let the greatcoat fall to the dusty road. His grin revealed a gap between his two front teeth. “A bit gaudy, but it might be worth something. We didn’t fare so badly after all, did we Jen? Perhaps our luck has changed.”
The Berry sisters had told Karigan the brooch wouldn’t tolerate the touch of another, yet it glimmered coldly in the sun, the same as usual, as the mercenary weighed it in his palm. Then again, according to the sisters, Professor Berry had never mastered magic, so who was to say there were no gaps in their knowledge?
Jendara was too busy admiring the jewels on her fingers and wrists to answer.
“And a saber. A Greenie saber, but one should never leave behind a weapon. The king’s smiths do a fine enough job on their blades.”
Karigan’s throat constricted with grief and anger as Jendara drew on her finger the troth ring Stevic G’ladheon had given his bride Kariny twenty-five years ago. It was gold and set with a diamond that flared like a star in the light of day. The clan emblem of a ship at full sail upon the sea was etched into the gold band. The etching had been made three years after the wedding when Clan G’ladheon had been formally recognized by the merchant’s guild and a representative of the queen.
The emblem represented Stevic G’ladheon’s most profitable ventures, most achieved by sailing far seas, and backed by a hardworking bloodline that once made its life in the islands of Ullem Bay. The jewels Jendara now admired were Karigan’s only material link with her former life, and her mother.
“You won’t take those,” she said.
“I don’t think you can stop us.” Jendara laughed. “We will take good care of your things, and the Mirwellians will take good care of you.”
Karigan clenched her hands into fists, her cheeks blushing hotly. She had not killed that unnatural creature only to be put into the hands of Immerez. The creature had been more dangerous than these two. She leaped at Jendara with an animallike snarl, but even as she did so, the other mercenary’s hilt cracked against the back of her skull and she fell into darkness.
Karigan awakened with a throbbing head. Her tender wrists, not yet fully healed from the burning blood of the creature, were bound cruelly tight behind her back, leaving her fingers numb. She lay prone on the dead leaves and moss of the forest floor. She assessed her body for further damage, but found none besides her smarting head and strangled wrists.
She carefully surveyed the scene around her through cracked eyelids. In the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, The Horse stood hobbled and untacked a short distance away. His head hung low in a dispirited way.
Jendara and her partner sat before a cookfire eating from Karigan’s rations. They had heaped her things into two piles: the things they could obviously live without, namely her travel-worn clothing, and another pile of things they intended to possess, mainly the sword and jewelry. The man twisted the moonstone in his fingers, but it didn’t light up. Evidently, they had been through her pockets, too.
Karigan licked her lips, tasting the salt of perspiration. If she could urge The Horse into a run, maybe the man would release the bridle and the woman wouldn’t have time to—
“Dismount!”
The sword tip pressed harder into her back. She dismounted. The Horse made to bolt away, but the man yanked on the bridle.
“I’ve heard of you, smart steed. If you don’t obey, I shall sever the tendons in your legs.”
The woman regarded Karigan with eyes as steely as her sword. Today her lush hair was bound by a strip of cloth. “You don’t look like a spirit rider to me.”
The man snorted in contempt. “Ghosts do not exist, and they certainly do not ride horses. Those Mirwellian fools are over superstitious.”
Karigan’s eyes widened. Surely they meant Immerez, Sarge, and Thursgad . . . and they were Mirwellians! Nothing good ever came out of Mirwell.
The man, still holding the bridle, reached over to the message satchel. He undid the leather thong, peered in, and nodded. He let the lid drop and secured it back down. “This is it.”
“Remove your shoulder pack,” the woman said.
Karigan reluctantly slipped it from her shoulder to the road. It was an inglorious end to her mission. She was caught, and the delivery of the message thwarted by mercenaries working for Immerez.
The other mercenary was already looking through the saddlebags, laughing in delight at the food remaining from the Berry sisters. The woman looked in disdain at the soiled blanket and clothes she found in the shoulder pack.
“I told you there would be little spoils,” she said.“Greenies aren’t known for being rich.”
“We’ve the food, Jendara, and a new horse, and all the gold the Mirwellian will pay us. What’s this?” He untied the greatcoat from its fastenings and unfurled it. “Looks warm enough . . . but, ach! I wouldn’t want to be seen in a filthy Greenie coat. This bauble on front, however . . .” He gazed speculatively at the brooch.
Jendara spotted something shining from the tangle of blanket she had pulled from Karigan’s shoulder pack. “What might these be?”
Karigan cried out in alarm. “Don’t touch those! They’re mine!”
In her hand, Jendara the mercenary held finely wrought rings and bracelets set with gems. She was entranced by the way they glittered in the sun. “They’re yours no longer, Greenie.”
“Those were my mother’s—” Her voice broke off in a sob. They were the only objects of intrinsic worth that she had taken with her when she fled Selium.
The man unclasped the brooch and let the greatcoat fall to the dusty road. His grin revealed a gap between his two front teeth. “A bit gaudy, but it might be worth something. We didn’t fare so badly after all, did we Jen? Perhaps our luck has changed.”
The Berry sisters had told Karigan the brooch wouldn’t tolerate the touch of another, yet it glimmered coldly in the sun, the same as usual, as the mercenary weighed it in his palm. Then again, according to the sisters, Professor Berry had never mastered magic, so who was to say there were no gaps in their knowledge?
Jendara was too busy admiring the jewels on her fingers and wrists to answer.
“And a saber. A Greenie saber, but one should never leave behind a weapon. The king’s smiths do a fine enough job on their blades.”
Karigan’s throat constricted with grief and anger as Jendara drew on her finger the troth ring Stevic G’ladheon had given his bride Kariny twenty-five years ago. It was gold and set with a diamond that flared like a star in the light of day. The clan emblem of a ship at full sail upon the sea was etched into the gold band. The etching had been made three years after the wedding when Clan G’ladheon had been formally recognized by the merchant’s guild and a representative of the queen.
The emblem represented Stevic G’ladheon’s most profitable ventures, most achieved by sailing far seas, and backed by a hardworking bloodline that once made its life in the islands of Ullem Bay. The jewels Jendara now admired were Karigan’s only material link with her former life, and her mother.
“You won’t take those,” she said.
“I don’t think you can stop us.” Jendara laughed. “We will take good care of your things, and the Mirwellians will take good care of you.”
Karigan clenched her hands into fists, her cheeks blushing hotly. She had not killed that unnatural creature only to be put into the hands of Immerez. The creature had been more dangerous than these two. She leaped at Jendara with an animallike snarl, but even as she did so, the other mercenary’s hilt cracked against the back of her skull and she fell into darkness.
Karigan awakened with a throbbing head. Her tender wrists, not yet fully healed from the burning blood of the creature, were bound cruelly tight behind her back, leaving her fingers numb. She lay prone on the dead leaves and moss of the forest floor. She assessed her body for further damage, but found none besides her smarting head and strangled wrists.
She carefully surveyed the scene around her through cracked eyelids. In the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, The Horse stood hobbled and untacked a short distance away. His head hung low in a dispirited way.
Jendara and her partner sat before a cookfire eating from Karigan’s rations. They had heaped her things into two piles: the things they could obviously live without, namely her travel-worn clothing, and another pile of things they intended to possess, mainly the sword and jewelry. The man twisted the moonstone in his fingers, but it didn’t light up. Evidently, they had been through her pockets, too.
