Green Rider
Page 39
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The children giggled, especially when she made an ugly face. They skipped away, chattering excitedly among themselves in hushed voices. They had done the forbidden by speaking to her, and were full of it. Only the sandy-haired boy remained behind, and Karigan now saw he held a dish heaped with scraps of food.
“I couldn’t eat it. You can have it.”
Karigan was about to compare herself to a beggar dog, but was too hungry to care. She lowered her face to the dish while he held it, and ate greedily. She licked the plate clean. She wasn’t even sure what it was she had eaten, but her stomach felt full for the first time in days.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Dusty.”
“Thank you, Dusty. Thank you.”
He smiled shyly, then without warning, stuffed the gag back in her mouth. He ran off to join his friends. Karigan watched after him with regret. She had been about to ask him to untie her. Except for one trip to the latrine to relieve herself, she had been left tied to the tree in the cramped position.
When morning came and Torne made her stand up, she nearly fell to her knees. He stood by impatiently while she rubbed some feeling back into her legs.
The greatcoat weighed more than before, and the pockets bulged against her thighs. When Torne wasn’t looking, she slipped her hands into a pocket and found it stuffed with what felt like dried meat, cheese, hard bread, and an apple. Dusty and his friends must have filled her pockets while she slept. They didn’t want to see her go hungry!
When she could finally walk without too much discomfort, Torne secured her wrists in front of her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “One word from you, and Jendara’s knife will slide right into your back. Should I gag you?”
Karigan shook her head. One night of that foul gag in her mouth had been quite enough.
The three of them walked from the settlement with Torne in the lead, Karigan in the middle, and Jendara leading The Horse very close behind. The folk patted Torne and Jendara on the back, or shook hands, wishing them goodspeed. Karigan was wished a good hanging.
The children were there, too, and waved their good-byes emphatically. Karigan winked and smiled at her miniature benefactors in return. An angry father who noted the exchange threw a stone at her, which missed her shoulder by a handsbreadth, but she didn’t care. Even with the animosity of the settlers surrounding her and the grim outlook of days of travel with Torne and Jendara, something good had happened here: she had made new friends among the children when all others scorned her, and when she had been at her loneliest.
When they were out of earshot of the settlers, Torne chuckled. “Suckers. Feed ’em a story and you can get anything you want.” The Horse’s saddlebags were crammed with food. “Maybe we ought to do this sort of thing full time.”
Jendara shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “It’s annoying dragging a prisoner around.” She glanced at Karigan.
Karigan wondered, once again, who the two had been prior to becoming mercenaries.
WEAPONS
Karigan received her answer later that afternoon. The day dragged along until The Horse froze in his tracks, his ears laid flat. He sidestepped nervously and patches of sweat darkened his neck and flanks. Torne hauled on the reins as if he could forcibly drag The Horse down the road. When The Horse stayed anchored to his spot, Torne cursed and threatened him.
“He senses something ahead,” Karigan said, weariness weighing her words down. She could not have cared less if the mercenaries walked into some sort of trouble, but Torne’s hand was on the hilt of his sword and it looked as if he was going to use more than threats to move The Horse this time.
“Go on, Horse,” she said.
The Horse flickered an ear at her, but balked no longer. They walked on and soon discovered what had stopped him. Strewn across the road, and alongside it, was a jumble of bodies.
“King’s soldiers,” Jendara said without emotion.
In a flash, the mercenaries unsheathed their swords. That was when Karigan saw the black bands on their blades which marked the two as swordmasters. As such, they probably were, or had been, either tomb guards, or the king’s personal guards, truly an elite order of soldier. They took oaths which bound them for life to the royal family, and even beyond life. Some were bound to protect the dead in the Avenues of Kings and Queens from desecration, and to guard against potential grave robbers lured by the priceless relics of ages long past entombed with royalty. No too few guards were interred near their wards.
They were the finest swordfighters found in all Sacoridia. Arms Master Rendle had told her that such guards, even without their blades, were human weapons. In fact, they were often referred to as Weapons.
Karigan had been too shocked during the ambush to notice the bands on their blades before. Their status as Weapons explained their ineptitude in the wilderness, but not why they were now scraping around as mercenaries.
Weapons were revered for their skills, and though they did not live in absolute luxury, they lived at least as well as the lower nobility, in large houses with servants to attend to their needs.
Even after retirement, they held honored places in the king’s court. Many often became counselors to the king, or trained the next generation of guards bound to the royal family. Karigan found it hard to believe Torne and Jendara had left Sacor City and their privileges voluntarily.
Crows flew squawking into the trees as Jendara and Torne picked their way among the bodies. Larger carrion birds hopped, wings extended, only a few paces away. The Weapons checked pockets and packs of the dead for valuable trinkets or coins, but the two were out of luck. Whoever had slain the soldiers had done a thorough search already. The breeze shifted and Karigan gagged on the stench of rotting corpses.
“I couldn’t eat it. You can have it.”
Karigan was about to compare herself to a beggar dog, but was too hungry to care. She lowered her face to the dish while he held it, and ate greedily. She licked the plate clean. She wasn’t even sure what it was she had eaten, but her stomach felt full for the first time in days.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Dusty.”
“Thank you, Dusty. Thank you.”
He smiled shyly, then without warning, stuffed the gag back in her mouth. He ran off to join his friends. Karigan watched after him with regret. She had been about to ask him to untie her. Except for one trip to the latrine to relieve herself, she had been left tied to the tree in the cramped position.
When morning came and Torne made her stand up, she nearly fell to her knees. He stood by impatiently while she rubbed some feeling back into her legs.
The greatcoat weighed more than before, and the pockets bulged against her thighs. When Torne wasn’t looking, she slipped her hands into a pocket and found it stuffed with what felt like dried meat, cheese, hard bread, and an apple. Dusty and his friends must have filled her pockets while she slept. They didn’t want to see her go hungry!
When she could finally walk without too much discomfort, Torne secured her wrists in front of her. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “One word from you, and Jendara’s knife will slide right into your back. Should I gag you?”
Karigan shook her head. One night of that foul gag in her mouth had been quite enough.
The three of them walked from the settlement with Torne in the lead, Karigan in the middle, and Jendara leading The Horse very close behind. The folk patted Torne and Jendara on the back, or shook hands, wishing them goodspeed. Karigan was wished a good hanging.
The children were there, too, and waved their good-byes emphatically. Karigan winked and smiled at her miniature benefactors in return. An angry father who noted the exchange threw a stone at her, which missed her shoulder by a handsbreadth, but she didn’t care. Even with the animosity of the settlers surrounding her and the grim outlook of days of travel with Torne and Jendara, something good had happened here: she had made new friends among the children when all others scorned her, and when she had been at her loneliest.
When they were out of earshot of the settlers, Torne chuckled. “Suckers. Feed ’em a story and you can get anything you want.” The Horse’s saddlebags were crammed with food. “Maybe we ought to do this sort of thing full time.”
Jendara shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “It’s annoying dragging a prisoner around.” She glanced at Karigan.
Karigan wondered, once again, who the two had been prior to becoming mercenaries.
WEAPONS
Karigan received her answer later that afternoon. The day dragged along until The Horse froze in his tracks, his ears laid flat. He sidestepped nervously and patches of sweat darkened his neck and flanks. Torne hauled on the reins as if he could forcibly drag The Horse down the road. When The Horse stayed anchored to his spot, Torne cursed and threatened him.
“He senses something ahead,” Karigan said, weariness weighing her words down. She could not have cared less if the mercenaries walked into some sort of trouble, but Torne’s hand was on the hilt of his sword and it looked as if he was going to use more than threats to move The Horse this time.
“Go on, Horse,” she said.
The Horse flickered an ear at her, but balked no longer. They walked on and soon discovered what had stopped him. Strewn across the road, and alongside it, was a jumble of bodies.
“King’s soldiers,” Jendara said without emotion.
In a flash, the mercenaries unsheathed their swords. That was when Karigan saw the black bands on their blades which marked the two as swordmasters. As such, they probably were, or had been, either tomb guards, or the king’s personal guards, truly an elite order of soldier. They took oaths which bound them for life to the royal family, and even beyond life. Some were bound to protect the dead in the Avenues of Kings and Queens from desecration, and to guard against potential grave robbers lured by the priceless relics of ages long past entombed with royalty. No too few guards were interred near their wards.
They were the finest swordfighters found in all Sacoridia. Arms Master Rendle had told her that such guards, even without their blades, were human weapons. In fact, they were often referred to as Weapons.
Karigan had been too shocked during the ambush to notice the bands on their blades before. Their status as Weapons explained their ineptitude in the wilderness, but not why they were now scraping around as mercenaries.
Weapons were revered for their skills, and though they did not live in absolute luxury, they lived at least as well as the lower nobility, in large houses with servants to attend to their needs.
Even after retirement, they held honored places in the king’s court. Many often became counselors to the king, or trained the next generation of guards bound to the royal family. Karigan found it hard to believe Torne and Jendara had left Sacor City and their privileges voluntarily.
Crows flew squawking into the trees as Jendara and Torne picked their way among the bodies. Larger carrion birds hopped, wings extended, only a few paces away. The Weapons checked pockets and packs of the dead for valuable trinkets or coins, but the two were out of luck. Whoever had slain the soldiers had done a thorough search already. The breeze shifted and Karigan gagged on the stench of rotting corpses.
