More of the brigands appeared and rushed them. Shouts, screams, and curses rang out on all sides, punctuated by the clash of steel on steel. Tobin saw Dimias battling someone twice his weight and ran to help him but Amin leaped from behind a tree and caught the man across the throat.
Ki had been knocked down and Tobin turned to help him, only to find his path barred by another axe man. Years of training seemed to fall effortlessly into place. Almost before he knew what he was doing, he’d hacked at the man’s right shoulder, then followed through with a killing swing to the neck. He’d practiced the move a thousand times before, but it had never come so easily. The bandit wore no coif; Tobin’s blade sliced skin and muscle, then fetched up against bone. The man tumbled sideways, blood spurting from the deep gash in his neck as he fell. A gout hit Tobin in the face; the taste of hot copper and salt on his tongue made his own blood burn for more.
The distraction nearly cost him his life. Ki yelled and Tobin turned. For an instant he saw nothing but the blade coming at his head. Then he was falling backward, knocked off his feet by a blast of icy air. He hit a tree and fell awkwardly over on his side as his attacker bore him to the ground. Tobin struggled, trying to get away, then realized that the man wasn’t moving. His head lolled limply as Ki and Amin hauled him off Tobin, dead as a trout.
Tobin caught sight of Brother leering at him over Ki’s shoulder, his pale face twisted into that same animal snarl he’d worn when he’d killed Orun.
“Thank you,” Tobin whispered, but Brother was already gone.
“Bilairy’s balls!” Amin exclaimed, gawking down at the dead man. “What’d you do? Scare him to death?”
“I—I don’t know,” Tobin said, as Ki helped him up. How had Brother found him? Ki’s quick glance said he’d guessed, or perhaps even seen Brother.
It wasn’t until Dimias looked around, and said, “By the Flame! We done all right, didn’t we?” that Tobin realized the fighting was over.
Half a dozen men came running toward them through the trees, with Tharin in the lead. The arrow was gone, but a dark stain had spread down from the rent in his trousers. Tharin seemed untroubled by it. He was hardly limping, and his blade was dripping blood.
“Here you are!” he panted. “Thank the Light you’re safe! I didn’t see which way you ran—” Looking around at the dead, his eyes widened. “By the Flame!”
“What about you?” Ki demanded.
“It was a glancing hit and pulled out clean,” Tharin told him, still looking around, counting the dead.
“You should have seen our prince!” Koni exclaimed. “At least three of these are his. How many, Tobin?”
“I don’t know,” Tobin admitted. It was already a blur in his mind.
“First time out and all these,” Amin said, clapping Ki proudly on the shoulder. “You done yourself proud, little brother. You, too, Yer Highness. Which ’uns your first?”
Tobin looked back and was dismayed to see his first man, the one he’d cut in the leg, alive and trying to crawl away into the trees.
“Best finish the bastard,” Koni said.
“Yes, see to him, Tobin,” Tharin said quietly.
Tobin knew what he had to do, but that empty space below his heart was back as he walked slowly toward the man. Killing in battle had been easy, just a reflex. But the idea of finishing a wounded man on the ground, even an enemy, made his stomach lurch. Even so, he knew better than to hesitate with all the others watching him. He wouldn’t shame himself by showing weakness now.
He sheathed his sword and drew the long knife at his belt. Blood was still flowing from the gash on the man’s leg; he’d left a trail on the rust-colored pine needles.
He’ll probably die of that, if I don’t finish him, Tobin thought, moving in fast. The man’s head was bare, and his filthy hair was long enough for a good grip. One of Porion’s lessons came back to him. Pull the head back. Slice deep, hard, and quick.
As he bent to do it, however, the man rolled onto his back and threw his arms over his face. “Mercy, lord. I cry mercy!” he screeched.
“He ain’t no lord to claim it!” scoffed Dimias. “Go on, finish him.”
But the plea froze Tobin where he stood. He could see exactly where to aim the blow; the thick vein was pulsing in the man’s throat. It wasn’t fear that stayed his hand, or weakness; it was the memory of the king stabbing the bound wizard.
“He asked for mercy,” Tobin said, lowering his knife.
The man stared at Tobin over his upraised hands. “Thank you, m’lord. Bless you, m’lord!” He struggled to reach Tobin’s boot, trying to kiss it, but Tobin pulled away in disgust.
“Go on, get out of here. If I see you again, I will kill you.”
Dimias snorted as the wounded man scuttled off into the trees. “There’s one more we’ll have to fight again. He’s all ‘bless you, lord’ now, but he’ll stick a knife in you next chance he gets.”
“You may be right, boy, but that was nobly done, all the same,” said Tharin. Then, lowering his voice so only Tobin could hear, “Next time, strike quickly, before they have time to beg.”
Tobin swallowed and nodded. His sword hand was sticky; the blood on it felt like cold molasses and made him queasy.
Others of their company straggled in to join them as the boys found their kills. Tharin painted vertical lines on their cheeks with the blood and put a bit on their tongues, too.
“To keep the ghosts of all you kill in battle from haunting you,” he explained when Tobin grimaced.
“Where are the others?” Tobin asked, looking around. More soldiers had gathered around them by now, but Nik hadn’t returned yet. “Did you see Lutha or Quirion?” By his count more than a dozen of his guard were missing, and they could still hear scattered sounds of fighting.
“Arius was hit,” Tharin told him. “I saw Lord Nikides fighting on the far side as I came across to you. There are still a few archers at work, and I counted ten bandits trying to make off with horses.”
Amin spat on the ground. “They knew we was coming, the bastards.”
“That, or they backtracked Korin,” said Tharin.
“Then we’ve got to get to him!” Ki exclaimed. “If there are enough of them to come after us—”
“No, our post is here,” said Tobin. “Korin said he’d send for us if he needs us.”
Tharin saluted him. “With your permission, I’ll send men out to scout the surrounding woods.”
Reaching the clearing, they found Barieus still shooting at two enemy archers. The fallen Companion in the meadow was Lutha. The boy lay facedown in the grass with an arrow in his back. He was alive, though, and trying to crawl to safety. As Tobin watched, another shaft thudded into the ground near Lutha’s outstretched hand.
Barieus cried out and ran into the open for a better shot. His arrows sped true, but even at this distance Tobin could see that he was weeping.
Tobin marked the enemy archers’ position and set off to flank them.
“Follow the prince!” Tharin called.
Tharin and Ki caught up with him just as they surprised four more swordsmen skirting the clearing. Tharin ran one through and the others fled. They found one archer dead; the other was gone by the time they reached the tree he’d been sheltering behind.
Ignoring Tharin’s warning, Tobin ran out to Lutha. Barieus was already with him.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I tried to get to him, but I couldn’t get out!”
Lutha pushed himself up, trying to rise, but a coughing fit took him. Bloody foam flew from his lips and he collapsed, clawing at the grass.
“When it started, we were caught out here,” Barieus told them. “He said to run and I thought he was with me, but—”