Lynan blushed. “It’s my fault you’re involved in any of this at all. The least I could do was stop you from being killed.”
Jenrosa laughed at his words, then groaned and held her head between her hands. “Laughing hurts, too. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it…”
There was a sound of approaching feet from the other side of the stream. Lynan glanced up, expecting to see Ager or Kumul. Instead, he saw an armed man dressed in stained brown leather and carrying a long sword. Lank, shiny black hair fell down to his shoulders, and wide brown eyes stared at them eagerly from out of a round, pockmarked face. The warrior gave a triumphant yell and charged the two friends, swinging his sword over his head.
Both Jenrosa and Lynan reached for their daggers, but it was too late to do anything effective against their attacker.
The warrior was only two paces from them when Kumul charged into him, hurling him violently into the stream. Kumul’s momentum carried him forward and he tripped over the stranger, but he quickly scrabbled to his feet. He turned to face the warrior, but he was lying down in the water, unconscious.
“Get back to the shelter!” Kumul roared at his two friends. “Tell Ager to hurry!” He bent down and retrieved the stranger’s sword.
“Kumul—” Lynan began, but Jenrosa yanked hard on his arm.
“For God’s sake, do as he says! Come on!”
Even as Jenrosa spoke, four other men, dressed and armed similarly to the first, came running over the rise. They skidded to a halt when they saw Kumul standing astride the ford, their fallen companion at his feet.
Lynan pushed Jenrosa away from him. “Go on!” he shouted. “Get Ager!” Without waiting to see if she left or not, he ran back to Kumul, stopping behind him because the ford was not wide enough for them to stand side by side.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Kumul hissed at him.
“I’m not running away,” Lynan replied, sounding more determined than he felt.
“And what do you think you’ll do with me between you and the enemy? Stab at them with your knife between my legs?”
“If I have to.”
“You’d better be bloody sure of your aim, lad,” Kumul said grimly.
Having decided that four against two was reasonable odds, even if one of them was halfway to being a giant, the soldiers on the rise started moving forward.
“Don’t be fools,” Kumul warned them, his voice almost paternal. “Do you really think any of you can take me on?”
The four hesitated, glancing uncertainly at each other, but then continued their advance.
“I wish I could brag with Ager’s conviction,” Kumul whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“I was convinced,” Lynan confided.
Kumul laughed, and this made their opponents even more uncertain.
“Hang this. We can’t afford to let any of them get away. Do you think you can take out one of them if I provide you with a sword?”
“Sure.” Lynan’s voice sounded a little too high for his liking. “Maybe two.”
“Just worry about one to start with.”
The strangers arranged themselves into a line and were about to start across the ford when Kumul sounded his battle cry and charged forward, scattering them back, two of them tripping over. Kumul jumped over them to reach the bank, sidestepped to the right and swung his sword at the startled soldier in front of him, the blade cutting into the man’s head just above his left ear. There was a sickening crunch, a fountain of blood, and the man collapsed. Kumul picked up the man’s sword and threw it grip-first to Lynan.
Lynan caught the gift and enthusiastically engaged the other soldier left standing, only to find his task harder than Kumul’s. His opponent was a better than average swordsman, and although Lynan’s training gave him the edge, he was used to the weight and feel of his father’s sword. His blade flickered and slid against his enemy’s in a search for an opening. He heard combat resume behind him as Kumul defended himself against the two remaining soldiers who had now regained their feet.
Desperation fueled Lynan’s attack, and he found the extra speed he needed to parry a thrust from his opponent and send the point of his own sword into the soldier’s throat. The man gurgled and fell backward, his hands clasping hopelessly over his fatal wound.
Lynan spun on his feet and charged into the melee around Kumul, screaming something he hoped sounded bloodcurdling.
One of the enemy turned to face him but had to retreat under the barrage of blows Lynan directed against him. The soldier lost his balance and slipped forward, straight onto Lynan’s sword. Lynan twisted his weapon out from between the man’s ribs. By then Kumul had dispatched the last of the enemy, and stood panting over him, his arm covered in blood.
“That was a good fight,” he said admiringly. “They were better than I thought they would be.”
“Who were they?” Lynan asked.
“More mercenaries. When they saw you and Jenrosa alone out here, they probably thought they’d have themselves a little easy money, and perhaps some fun with the woman.”
“Will there be more?”
“Almost certainly. They were probably a scouting party out to find a place to camp for their company, probably half a day behind. We’ll have to hide these corpses and get moving.”
There was a sound behind them and both men turned quickly, swords raised.
“You could have kept one for me,” Ager said. He was accompanied by an exhausted looking Jenrosa.
“They were too eager,” Kumul said matter-of-factry.
“You’re wounded,” Ager observed, pointing to the big man’s bloody arm.
“Kumul!” Lynan exclaimed in concern. He assumed the blood had belonged to one of the dead mercenaries. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I did,” Kumul replied. “I said ”That was a good fight,‘ and then I said…“
“That isn’t what I meant.” Lynan could not hide the exasperation in his voice.
“It isn’t serious, your Highness, or I would have mentioned it.” He looked up at Ager. “I was a mite slow. My side’s still a little stiff.”
“You may not think it’s serious, but you won’t be lifting a sword for a few days,” Ager said, carefully examining Kumul’s wounded arm. “Lynan, go to a sword bush by our camp and take Kumul with you. Pick some of the leaves and bruise them between your hands, then rub them vigorously into Kumul’s wound.”
Kumul turned white. “Oh, no. I’ve had that done this to me before, when I received a cut to my left leg, and I still remember the pain!”
“And you still have your left leg. Now go with Lynan.” Ager turned to Jenrosa. “And you need to rest. We’ll have to move on as soon as it’s dark, and you’ll need all your strength.” He surveyed the four corpses. “At least now we’ll all have swords.”
“They’ll have had horses,” Kumul said. “We can’t use them ourselves if we want to remain unnoticed, but we can’t leave them wandering around here.”
“I’ll lead them a couple of leagues farther up the trail,” Ager said. “Now go.”
The three moved off as ordered. Lynan remembered the first mercenary, still alive but unconscious. He turned to warn Ager, in time to see him lift the head of the mercenary in question, stick the point of his dagger in the man’s throat and pull it with a savage stroke. There was a tearing sound, a great gush of blood, and that was it. Ager looked up and for a moment locked eyes with Lynan, and for the first time the prince saw loathing and pain in them.
Shivering, Lynan turned around again.
Chapter 15
Areava was woken early by a messenger from Dejanus. He had someone in the Royal Guard’s office with information concerning Prince Lynan. In no mood to suffer the new constable alone, she had Olio roused as well. Dejanus’ guest, sitting on a stool and looking exhausted and sorry for himself, was a man dressed in the livery of a naval officer; the long red stripe on his jerkin’s sleeves indicated the rank of captain.