The Chaoswar Saga: A Kingdom Besieged, A Crown Imperilled, Magician’s End. Raymond E. Feist

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СКАЧАТЬ between us and Crydee as possible. That Keshian commander will have to wait a fair bit before that fire cools off enough to inspect the wreckage of the keep.’

      ‘True enough,’ said Ruther. ‘Never seen anything burn hotter than Quegan Fire.’

      ‘But once he does he’s going to notice there are only Keshian bodies in the rubble and if he bothers to dig, he’ll find the sub-basement, or even if he doesn’t, he’ll assume there was such a way out and come looking for us. We’ll go east and if we don’t encounter Father and his column before we get to the Jonril cut-off, we’ll head to the garrison there and hunker down until he does show up. We’ll send a lookout up to the cut-off and when he arrives we’ll join him. If he doesn’t … That will mean either the fast riders didn’t overtake Father before Ylith or were killed before they reached him. If we don’t hear from Father within ten days, we move on to Ylith.’

      The Sergeant nodded. ‘Wise plan.’

      They moved out along a game trail that would lead them to the eastern road two miles away. Once there it would be easier to move, but they would be in the open, exposed. Much of the heavy forest to the north and south of the road had been cleared for farmsteads, cattle pasture, and sheep meadows.

      As they moved along the trail, Martin asked Sergeant Ruther, ‘How are we for provisions?’

      ‘Well enough. Each man carries a bag of food and a skin of water, enough so that we won’t have to worry about starving until we reach safety.’

      ‘Any sign of Keshians while you waited?’

      ‘None to speak of. One bunch came looping around behind us an hour before you set the trap. Small patrol, about six men. We let them go by and they had no idea we were near. I don’t think this particular lot has any forest skills. Made enough noise that we heard them coming and were safely hidden. Don’t speak their language but they were jabbering about something like a bunch of fishwives.’ He glanced around. ‘Nothing since then.’

      They continued to move, strung out in loose formation, moving purposefully and as quietly as possible. The sounds of chaos from Crydee quickly fell behind them and they reached the road without incident.

      ‘We’ve a full six hours of good light,’ said Martin. ‘Let’s rest for a few minutes, then get moving.’ He glanced at Ruther. ‘I want a man ahead and a man behind. Your fastest runner behind, for if we’re overtaken he’ll need to scurry along.’

      ‘Jackson Currie!’ shouted the sergeant.

      A slender soldier ran up, ‘Sir!’

      ‘Run down the road, see what’s behind us, and linger a bit. Don’t catch us up until sundown, there’s a good lad.’

      The soldier nodded, saluted, and ran off down the road. Sergeant Ruther detailed another soldier to go ahead and act as point, while the remainder of the company rested a little. At last Martin said, ‘Let’s go.’

      They began their long march from their lost home to what they hoped would be safety.

      The rear guard came racing up the road, shouting, ‘Riders!’

      Martin hesitated only for a second then he motioned for everyone to sprint into the trees and brush, a dozen yards off the road down a slope. They half-ran, half-tumbled into the thicket and lay motionless.

      Peering through the undergrowth, Martin saw a dozen riders coming up the road from Crydee. They were loping along and glancing from side to side occasionally, but not showing any particular urgency or alertness. They were dressed in a similar fashion to the Dog Soldiers who had stormed the keep, except that instead of a steel spike atop their helms, they had a sharp blade running fore and aft. Their helmets had noseguards and their cloaks were very dark blue, almost black, thrown back to reveal the usual cuirass and flannel shirt beneath, and heavy trousers tucked into their boots.

      The one unusual mark was a belt of leopardskin that was worn around the lower edge of the helmet where the neckguard chain was attached.

      After they rode past, Ruther said, ‘I’ve heard of them. They’re called the Leopards.’ He rolled over onto one side and continued to whisper. ‘I didn’t see horses unloaded and the Keshians didn’t appear to have any. We certainly didn’t leave any ridable mounts behind: your father took them all.’

      ‘They must have offloaded them yesterday, before the final assault.’

      ‘But what is an outfit like that doing riding down the road out here?’

      ‘Looking for us,’ said Bethany from behind Martin.

      ‘No,’ said Sergeant Ruther. ‘I mean of all the places Kesh could have chosen to send a top-of-the-line command of cavalry like the Leopards, why the Far Coast? You’d think they’d send them to Krondor or maybe into the Vale where the fighting is bound to be heaviest.’

      Martin said, ‘Unless you want them where they didn’t expect much resistance.’ He looked thoughtful. Eventually he said, ‘Sergeant, I want you to take to the forest and move parallel to the road. Those Keshians aren’t going to be patrolling for more than another hour so you should catch them coming back, then take to the road and keep going. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.’

      Bethany grabbed his arm from behind. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

      ‘Back to Crydee.’ He gently pulled away from her and stood up. Kneeling before she could rise, he gave her a quick kiss and said, ‘I have an idea and I need to see what is going on in the town. Now, go with Sergeant Ruther and try not to cause too much trouble.’ Then he was off, darting through the trees.

      With a sigh, Ruther stood and extended his hand down to Bethany. When she slapped it aside he chuckled and turned to the line of men in the woods. He covered his mouth in the sign for ‘no talking’, pointed into the woods then pointed towards them, then back to himself, telling them to fall in behind and follow him.

      ‘Do you—’ began Bethany.

      The sergeant quickly but gently covered her mouth. ‘No talking, Lady Bethany. Now, let’s go.’

      Before she could say another word, he moved into the trees and the other men began to follow.

      Martin ran down the road and then slowed to a trot. He’d have to pace himself or he’d collapse before he even knew exhaustion had hit him. He was young and fit but he had been without sleep for the better part of three days, had hardly eaten, and had endured his first battle. He stopped, put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. He was feeling dizzy. Certainly not a good sign.

      He slowed his breathing for a moment, then heard voices coming from the west. His fatigue forgotten, he hurried down the side of the road to a stand of trees and moved parallel to the road as best he could.

      He could smell char and smoke and knew the breeze from the harbour was blowing it toward him. At least the Keshians wouldn’t smell him coming.

      He saw a small copse of wild apple trees and grabbed one of the fruits. It was slightly sour, but he needed the nourishment. He chewed slowly, not wanting to give himself a stomach ache.

      It took him nearly an hour to work his way carefully northward, first crossing the main road then moving along a series of game trails through thinning woodlands. СКАЧАТЬ