“Ouch. Did you know it was a girl?”
“I heard them talking. Otherwise, I would have said a boy.”
The Slave Master examined the campsite again. When he finished, he looked at Edward, who still had not advanced since being told to remain. “You had the right idea. The King is terrified of dragons since his father was flown away and dropped. We’re going to kill this dragon girl. I’ll give you credit for the kill.”
“Why?”
“When you are the Earl, people must respect and obey you. It’s just politics.”
“If I’m given credit, my father will be pleased with you. Is that why?”
“As I said, it’s just politics. Time to move on. I’ll take the lead.”
Edward fell in behind and looked at the back of the Sword Master with distaste. Just politics. The two words gagged him. Give the pampered twit credit for the kill in front of the King and the Earl, and in their eyes the Sword Master could do no wrong. His every wish would be granted. And when the King and Earl died, both being old men, the young Earl called Edward would be there to remember and grant favors.
Favors to a man who threatened to spank him this very day.
After crossing the ridges and slopes of more hills and small mountains, they moved slower. The Slave Master paused on one treeless ridge where he could see ahead. “They’re passing south of Bear Mountain, but there is a line of smaller mountains there. My guess is they’re going to head east for just a while longer, then turn south and move parallel to those peaks in the distance.”
“Are you thinking of turning south here and cutting them off?”
“No. What bothers me is that they’re moving too deliberately. Almost as if they know where they’re going.”
Edward said, “If they have a destination in mind, there’s nothing ahead.”
“Turning north takes them up Bear Mountain, and that’s impossible with the snow. East is solid mountains, and we are behind them so they can’t move west. They have to turn south.”
Edward remained quiet. While the Slave Master sounded like he’d figured it all out, Edward hoped he hadn’t. The boy and girl and even the old woman had seemed like good people who were scared. The people at the inn in Nettleton were far nicer than the King’s men. Edward questioned which side he’d rather be on if given a choice.
He’d heard stories from the time he was small of the exploits of the King’s men. People from other kingdoms taken as prisoners and slaves. When opponents surrendered, the officers were often killed in front of their men as lessons. That was just before they were made to work in deep mines, or worse. Just politics.
Besides, he’d realized this morning that killing children was not for him. If he continued with the Slave Master, he’d be forced to witness killings, if not take part in them. It turned his stomach.
He walked on the path behind the Slave Master thinking of how to rid himself of the task. A sprained ankle was too obvious. He could pick up a branch and use it as a club to attack the older man, but if anything went wrong, he’d forfeit his life.
Looking at the back of the man he considered that idea. How many had died at the hands of the man he followed? How many died because his King was worried about dragons? How many slaves lived their miserable lives repatriating for the sins of their kings? In a kingdom that condemned slavery, yet it existed in every wealthy household.
Edward came to the realization he would have to take sides. Taking none equated to the same thing. If he took no action nothing changed, as if he agreed with it. As an Earl, what would he do?
If he was not destined to be an Earl, would he prefer to live as a slave or servant in the grand palace, or be a free man and cook meals at the Red Dog?
The primary difference was that he actually liked the people in Nettleton. He couldn’t say the same for those in Princeton.
The Slave Master pointed to footprints where the path dipped, and the ground was soft and springy. “Fresh. Water’s still seeping in. We’re closing in on them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
They trudged directly at the three peaks, angling just a little to the far-off snow-covered peak in the north. Robin used her staff to support her weight with each step, yet seemed to have picked up speed as they descended the side of the mountain. Camilla glanced at Brix, who brought up the rear and flashed a smile she hoped would seem encouraging.
Robin paused where no trees obscured her view. She leaned on her staff while her eyes roamed the granite cliffs. Her voice lost the harshness and replaced it with a soft wistfulness. “There it is. Just like he said it would be.”
Brix and Camilla looked at the cliffs that rose higher than the tallest trees but said nothing. The way ahead looked impossible to pass.
Robin saw their puzzlement and pointed. “See where that cliff over there ends? Another is right behind it, but even from here it looks like one continuous wall. Actually, it’s two, like a split in the rock wide enough for a hundred men to walk side by side. At the end of that, we’ll find our future.”
“I heard something,” Brix whispered, turning to peer behind.
“We’d better hurry,” Robin said, not louder, but more insistent.
Rushing down the path, Robin waded across a stream too wide to leap, as if a pack of devils chased her. Camilla kept up, but Brix fell behind.
“Stop looking back there and run,” Camilla ordered.
Robin didn’t search for a trail or path. She ran directly into the underbrush, which was thick but not impassable. With arms sweeping aside vines and thicker growth, she made her own way. Camilla saw her look up several times to orient herself against the cliffs as if something was about to happen.
Brix fell further back. Then he caught sight of two men on the hillside behind, and his pace picked up. “They’re back there, but we still have a good lead.”
Robin slowed but continued.
Glancing up, Camilla almost stumbled. The first rock cliff came to a jagged and abrupt end. The second cliff was as Robin predicted, at least, a hundred steps away. Between lay an opening that led south. Like the rock face had split sometime in the past and the two sides pulled away from each other in such a way that it could only be seen when up close.
Camilla followed Robin as she turned to run between the two rock walls, and risked a quick look over her shoulder at Brix. As usual, he was outpacing her for distance and soon he’d pass her. Her thinking turned to the men following them and to one of the first things Robin told her about the staff she carried. She said a man who knows how to use a staff, will defeat any swordsman. The chance might soon come to test that story.
While she and Brix were beginners with staffs, if they had even learned enough to be considered beginners, Robin had twirled her staff over her head and beat a rhythm on the side of her shed with the two ends. Camilla felt her confidence ebb as she realized the shed had not fought back. Still, there were three of them against the two behind. If those men caught up, they might regret it. It only took one blow from her staff to put a man on the ground, and then it would be three to one.
She looked up and saw gray granite walls rising on both sides, tall cliffs higher than the tallest trees. Robin had slowed, and Camilla caught up to her. Brix was on her heels. “How far back are they?”
“I don’t think they’re gaining. We might even be pulling ahead, but how long can we run?”
Robin pulled to a stop and gasped, “Not far to go. We won’t fight them here.” She gasped for air. “Just a little further.”
The woman stood up and ran, a shuffling, staggering run that was only slightly faster than walking. The other two stayed with her, watching behind, but never seeing their pursuers.