Shadows of Prophecy. Rachel Lee
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Название: Shadows of Prophecy
Автор: Rachel Lee
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Книги о войне
isbn: 9781408976197
isbn:
Both Sara and Tom seemed about to voice a protest, but then nodded. “Very well,” Sara said, sheathing her sword once more. “Mayhap we can do more as healers this night.”
“Of that,” Archer said, “I have no doubt. But should we three fall, you three must return to Whitewater.”
Tess abruptly rose to her feet. “Don’t fail,” she ordered.
A low chuckle escaped Archer, and he bowed. “I shall do my very best, Lady.”
Then, this time moving with silent stealth, he disappeared back into the shadows among the rocks, lost to view.
Tom looked at Sara and Tess. “I think we should follow him.”
But before anyone could respond, the shadows moved again, and they found themselves looking at the drawn swords of five dark-skinned Anari. They were surrounded.
“You will stay here,” one of them announced, “until your companions have proved themselves to be true.”
Tess sighed and dropped back down beside the small fire. “They’re true enough,” she muttered. “Truer than this night is cold.”
Tom squatted beside her, as did Sara, holding their hands out to the warmth.
“Truer,” Tom answered beneath his breath, “than one among our captors, I fear.”
Sara nodded. Tess remained motionless, feeling the tingle and burning begin in the palms of her hand. Something built within her, and for the first time she had an inkling of what it was. Slipping her hand within her cloak, she grasped at the bag of twelve colored stones nestled between her breasts.
“Aye,” she said presently. “Evil is near.”
Archer, Giri and Ratha climbed the ridge alongside the northern Anari. Soon they reached its ragged, bare top and peered over once again at the column of soldiers marching so arrogantly down the darkened road.
Jenah spoke to them. “We will attack in three groups after they enter the defile ahead. One group will attack the column’s head, another its rear. The third group will be archers, firing from above.” He eyed Archer’s quiver. “You will be with the third group. Ratha and Giri will divide among the others.”
Ratha spoke. “My brother and I always fight together.”
Jenah’s face hardened. “Not this time. I do not yet trust you fully.”
“A fine way to treat an oath of Keh-Bal.”
“The oath is meaningless if the witness to it is dead.”
Ratha and Giri both stiffened, but before they could respond to the insult, Archer waved them to silence.
He turned to Jenah. “Have you searched any farther, or have you followed only this column?”
“This column,” Jenah said. “As have you.”
Archer gave a short nod, acknowledging that the Anari force had been aware of his party for quite some time. “Yes, and since darkfall, their behavior has been troubling.”
Jenah frowned. “How so? They are behaving exactly as they did all day.”
“That is what concerns me.”
Jenah eyed him narrowly. “Why would they be baiting a trap? They know nothing of my group.”
“Perhaps not,” Archer replied. “But perhaps caution is the order of the evening.”
“Gewindi-Tel has committed to this attack,” Jenah said. “It was decided among the elders six days ago. I will not shame my Tel by cowardice, and your companion has sworn himself to my side. We attack.”
Archer nodded. “The oath is sworn and will be met. However, there is evil afoot in this night. My companions and I have faced much, braved much, endured much. If we are to die this night, let us die together.”
After a long, silent stare, Jenah nodded. “Very well. You will join the rear attack force. And Keh-Bal upon you if your deeds match not your words.”
As the moon settled on the far mountains, Ratha watched the Bozandari patrol reach the head of the defile through which they had been marching, break ranks and prepare to make camp. “Not long now,” he whispered.
“Aye,” Archer said. “Jenah is a wise leader. He will wait until they are settled, then fall upon them. I only pray that he has not been led into a trap.”
Ratha studied Archer’s eyes for a long moment, then nodded slowly. In the past six years, he had seen much in those eyes. Never had those eyes led him astray, and oft had they kept him from danger. Yet even after all of that, Ratha’s cultural memories were strong, and it seemed odd to be standing beside a white man as his brothers prepared to do battle against white men. The man Ratha had been would not trust a man like Archer in such a battle. The man he had become could not imagine a more worthy companion.
Below him, the Bozandari had settled. Ratha knew that Jenah and his men were moving silently into the valley like a red adder stalking a desert hare, slipping from rock to rock, shadow to shadow, preparing to strike their prey. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he saw the other Anari around him rise into low crouches. He rose with them, moving with patient, deadly purpose to close the rear of the trap.
With a shrill, trilling cry, Jenah signaled the attack, and forty Anari rose from the rocks to fall upon their nearly sleeping enemy. Ratha spotted a wide-eyed Bozandari soldier reaching for a sword. No sooner had his hand closed around the hilt than a blade flickered out of the night and severed his head, sending him into eternity with that same wide-eyed stare.
Now the rear force was upon the enemy, as well, and Ratha, Giri and Archer took up their familiar close battle tactic, blades flashing in synchronized efficiency, parrying and killing in a relentless rhythm of destruction. Archer’s world narrowed to the space immediately in front of him, Bozandari blades flashing in the cold blue moonlight, his breath smooth and even as he matched strides and movements with his companions, the three of them a single entity with but one awful purpose.
Suddenly, in the distance, a sputtering fire arced into the air, lighting the valley in an eerie red hue. Three more flares burst upward, trailing a graceful tail of sparks, before bursting into flame high overhead. Cries of horror told the rest of the tale.
“It’s an ambush,” Archer hissed.
“Yes,” Ratha replied. “We have been led into a trap.”
Dozens of Bozandari seemed to materialize beyond the mouth of the defile, falling upon the Anari with the same sudden savagery that only recently had engulfed the members of their patrol.
Off to Ratha’s right, Jenah screamed commands above the din of battle, trying to reorient his men to the new threat, but too many were still engaged with the Bozandari in the patrol. Blood flowed all but invisible in the red light of the flares, evident only as glistening geysers erupting from throats, СКАЧАТЬ