But another man turned to Calaw. “We should do what?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Calaw protested. “Stab him!” Malachi howled.
Two more men looked up in surprise at something they alone heard. Gar seized the moment and their spears—with his mind. The weapons twisted in their hands and thrust sideways at the five men who did step forward. They shouted in shock and anger and leaped away. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing, fools?”
“We didn’t,” one of the men protested. “They just moved! ”
Gar took two giant steps backward and felt leaves brush his back and sides, then close in front of him. “Catch him! He’s away!” shouted one of the other bodyguards and suited the action to the word.
With the baying of a hunting pack, the others leaped to follow.
A staff thrust out of the underbrush; two men tripped over it. It pulled back, then struck down to brain both. Three more, not seeing, charged toward Gar, thrusting, bumping into each other as they twisted to avoid tree trunks, then thrusting again. Gar sidestepped, caught one by the collar, and threw him into the other two.
Two more came plodding warily but quickly. The stranger’s staff struck from behind and they fell.
For a moment, the way was clear as the conscious tried to sort themselves out and climb to their feet. “Now!” Gar shouted, and turned to run zigzag between the trees. In two steps, Alea was at his side, glancing back with every step.
“Just listen to their thoughts,” Gar told her. “Then you can spare your eyes for the road ahead!”
She matched him in twisting between trunks. The shouts behind them grew more distant. Soon only one pair of footsteps was crunching through the brush behind them.
Alea hurdled a log, then realized she was alone. She turned back in alarm, staff up to guard, and was just in time to see the lone bodyguard leap the fallen tree and tangle his legs on a staff that thrust up from behind the log as he landed. The man fell heavily and Alea didn’t need a suggestion—she stepped in and brained him with her own staff.
“Nicely done,” Gar said as he climbed to his feet, “and thanks for the help. Now let’s run!”
When they reached the bottom of the hill, they slowed to alternate jogging with running.
“Why … isn’t … anybody … following?” Alea asked.
“Read … them,” Gar panted in answer.
Alea frowned, listening for thoughts as she ran. She heard satisfaction that the soldiers had chased away the intruder, along with chagrin that he had escaped—but overall, fear of the unknown that made them seek excuses not to follow Gar. Staves had, after all, twisted in hands, other staves had swung from hiding, and there was no way of telling how many companions Gar had with him. Worse, voices had called from nowhere. Not even Teak was overly eager to follow, so long as the suspect giant had been chased away.
“Nicely done, that,” Gar said. “I didn’t know you could project thoughts into other people’s minds yet.”
“Neither did I,” Alea confessed, “but I had to try something! ”
“Pretty good for a first try,” Gar said dryly. “How did you imitate the different voices?”
Alea looked very confused. “I didn’t.”
“They filled that part in for themselves, then.” Gar nodded. “Heard what they expected to hear. Well, part of it may have been luck, but it was still well and cleverly done—very well. Thanks for the rescue.”
Alea glowed at the praise and scolded herself for letting it make any difference to her. She floundered for a minute, wondering how to respond, then realized that simplest was best. “You’re welcome.” Then, with sudden chagrin at her interference, “What would you have done if I hadn’t?”
“I hadn’t quite figured that part out yet,” Gar admitted.
Alea’s spirits soared again, the aftermath of battle making her heady.
“What’s General Malachi thinking?” Gar asked. Alea bit back the retort that he could listen for himself. Of course he could, and probably was doing so even now—but he wanted her to practice. She concentrated on the welter of thoughts in the camp and picked out the flaring anger of the self-proclaimed general. Her eyes darkened with apprehension. “He’s livid with rage,” she said, “and giving orders for patrols to go out hunting us.”
“Don’t worry about them,” Gar said. “Patrols will stick to the roads. No one is eager to come into the woods to chase us, and even if they did, their horses would slow them down; there are a lot of low branches here.”
“But you’re a marked man now. I hope you discovered a great deal in that camp, because we’re surely not going to learn anything more after this!”
“I learned quite a bit, actually,” Gar said thoughtfully, “mostly that there doesn’t seem to be any government strong enough to keep this bandit captain from doing whatever he wants—except perhaps the Scarlet Company.”
“Yes, I eavesdropped on your mind and heard them saying that.” Alea frowned. “What is this ‘Scarlet Company’?”
“Not a government, that’s certain.” Gar made a wry face. “I peeked in Malachi’s mind, of course—he was enough of a bully that it seemed a good idea—but that didn’t tell me anything more; all I had was a confused impression of blood and violence, and massive frustration that they stood in his way at all.”
“How do they interfere, though?”
Gar shrugged. “By killing him, I guess—they’ve tried three times already. Since Malachi thinks bodyguards are the answer to the threat they pose, my guess is that this Scarlet Company is a band of assassins. I’ve heard of such things before—criminal organizations that kill people for hire. If Malachi has conquered half a dozen rival bands and three villages, I’m sure people are willing to spend their last penny to stop him.”
“But you just said there wasn’t any government strong enough to stop Malachi,” Alea protested. “Why don’t the governments just hire the Scarlet Company?”
Gar sat very still for a minute. Then he said, “You’re right, of course. That’s what they’ve done.” He was silent another minute. “But that’s just a guess. We’ll have to go into one of the bigger towns, where the government must be, and make sure.”
Alea frowned. “I thought this mission was over.”
“Why should you think that?”
“Well…”Alea floundered, surprised that he didn’t see the obvious. “They’re hunting you now. How can we walk the roads if we have to keep hiding?”
“I’ll travel in disguise, of course.”
“Disguise! All seven feet of you? How will you disguise that?”
“By stooping,” Gar said. “You’d be surprised how quickly I can age. I could be an old man of any kind; an ancient peddler with a heavy pack would have plenty of reason to stoop. Or I might be your crazy half-witted brother, cringing and fearful of everything about me—I’ve done that before, several times, and it’s worked well. I don’t think any of these troops will have the wit to guess how tall I would be if I stood straight. They’re looking for a fighter, not a beggar.”
“Well, it might work,” Alea said doubtfully.
“I think we’d better make a few more miles through the woods before we try the roads again,” Gar suggested. “And keep an open mind—open to hear other people’s thoughts, that is. The patrols might try the forest, after all.”
Alea hid a shudder as she stood. “They should be easy to lose in these trees.” But she had memories of sleeping in branches and didn’t want to repeat the experience.
A few hours later, she led Gar to their packs; she had hidden both when she went after him. Burdened again, they strode through the woods as quietly as possible.
As the forest darkened around them, Gar marveled that Alea’s sullenness and anger seemed to have vanished with the landing. Perhaps it had just been cabin fever, after all.