Bandits bringing the horses to drink, Jerdren thought. He glanced up at the stars, west to where a little pale gray light still lingered. Right on time. He waited until it was quiet over there once again, then shifted his weight cautiously. Blor at his right elbow eased up to sit cross-legged. Eddis hadn’t moved so much as a finger since her lieutenant had left them.
Across from Eddis, M’Whan rose cautiously, just enough to look out through the branches of the low willow he crouched behind. Eddis tensed, but the youth whispered something to her, and she eased over to talk to Blorys briefly, who tugged at his brother’s shirt sleeve and murmured, “M’Baddah’s on his way back. Willow passed word down that the south shore is clear.”
“Good. We ready?”
“Ready.” Eddis’ whisper reached him. She was on her feet, checking her weapons one last time. A tense silence as the rest of the company made sure they were set, then Willow waded out into the water, Mead and Eddis right behind him.
It was now full dark, but with enough starlight so they could make out each other, provided they stayed fairly close together. There would be no moon.
M’Baddah had gone partway up the trail, but he came back as the last of the company reached shore. Mead and Willow passed him and started up the trail in utter silence. Jerdren beckoned the others close.
“This is it, people,” he murmured. “No talking from here on out. Any questions? Anything?” No reply. “Good. And good fortune to all of us.” He nodded and followed Eddis up the trail.
It was dark under the trees, and very quiet once they got above the river. Eventually, Jerdren was able to make out the least hint of ruddy light above them and to his right, and the faint sounds of men’s voices. Moments later, the party halted as M’Baddah stepped into the path.
The others gathered around the outlander, who whispered, “They are still awake up there, but it is growing quieter. A rest, here. Mead has gone ahead.”
Coarse laughter echoed through the trees. Some of the men up there were drunk, Jerdren thought. Good. Another advantage to us.
He found a place just off the path, between tall tree trunks where the ground was soft, settled his back against a tree, and prepared to wait. As usual, when things were this close to a picked fight, all tension left him. Everything was set—planned as well as it could be—and there was nothing else he could do, except wait. He rubbed his shoulders against thick bark to ease an itch between his shoulder blades. The Keep men who carried closed lanterns moved behind an overhanging boulder to light their candles. The flare of light illuminated the crouching shapes but nothing else, as the men quickly shuttered the openings. Moments later, two of the Keep hunters moved silently up the trail, to wait their opportunity to work their way over to the far side of the camp. Jerdren nodded his approval, then closed his eyes and listened.
Sounds from above slowly faded, though it seemed forever that the drunk men went on laughing and talking. Someone with a hard-edged voice finally snarled a curse, and there was immediate quiet. Jerdren opened his eyes and peered uphill. The firelight was dimmer—someone had banked the fires for the night, probably. When one of the Keep men stood, though, Jerdren tugged at his pants leg and shook his head. The man settled once more.
“Wait,” Jerdren whispered. “Let ’em get to sleep, remember?” He leaned back against his tree once more, gazing around. Now that his eyes had adjusted, and with the faint firelight up there, he could see fairly far into the woods and make out his companion’s faces. The wind picked up briefly, faded away to nothing. The light up there was fading, and he hadn’t heard a sound in some time.
It’s time, he thought, and got to his feet. M’Whan and Willow left moments later to take up positions blocking the path to the high sentry box. Eddis moved out onto the trail, Blorys just behind her. Jerdren joined them and began quietly counting on his fingers, aware Eddis was doing the same thing.
At a slow four hundred, Jerdren checked his sword and daggers one last time, then started up the trail. He stopped just short of the final switchback to listen and count off another slow four hundred. No sound from the camp, still; the others must be in place. He held up a hand briefly, then brought it down, and took the last section of trail at a fast walk.
M’Baddah had been good at description. Jerdren almost felt as if he were looking at a camp he’d seen before. The ground was fairly level, only the western storage and the horse-pickets out of sight. Two fires burned low. The third—near the captain’s tent, mid-camp—was out. He could make out the long canvas shelter and the huddled shapes of men sleeping near the fires. No one moved out there.
He turned. Eddis and Blor were right behind him, the Keep men beginning to slowly fan out on both sides of the trail. He grinned at his brother, held out a hand to Eddis, who briefly gripped his fingers and mouthed “Good luck!” in reply. She moved off to his left, M’Baddah just beyond her. Blorys took his usual place at his brother’s right. Jerdren planted himself mid-trail and drew his sword, slipped two daggers into his belt, and waited.
And waited. If something’s gone wrong…. If they knew we were out here all along, if it’s their trap for us… ? If those men weren’t the fools he’d thought them, if they’d been waiting for these invaders and taken each of them as they moved around the outside of the camp…
He bit his lip. It’s your fighting nerves, he told himself angrily. Save it for them, why don’t you? If nothing else, he knew, their mage had an elf’s night vision and both spells and charms at the ready.
He caught his breath in an upsurge of fierce joy. The clearing between the fire pits exploded in a glare of red and green lights, flame and sparks flying everywhere. The noise was deafening. Men came awake yelling in panic or fury, and someone screamed like a girl. Men bolted from beneath the canvas, rolled out of blankets on the ground, fumbling for swords, daggers, and pikes. Two of the Keep men he could see were ready to leap forward, then, but Jerdren gestured them sharply back. We wait here for those men, he thought, and hoped the men remembered his orders.
So far, things were going just as he’d hoped. Bandits milled dazedly mid-camp, though two of them tried to make a dash toward the higher ground. One fell with an arrow in his throat—M’Whan’s, Jerdren thought—and the other turned and ran back to crouch behind one of the fire pits. Suddenly, a short, broad man emerged from the tent, a sword in each hand, and began to curse at them in a loud voice. Another followed, and ran forward to grab one of the men and shake him hard.
“What’s wrong with you men? What was all that noise and light?” he demanded.
“Keep soldiers! I saw ’em! Blue shirts!”
“Save that!” the squat man bellowed and brandished both blades aloft. “Brother, get your squad moving. Make sure they don’t cut us off! You and you, see to the horses! Rest of ye, come with me!”
Some of the men simply broke and ran for the path leading down the east slope. Jerdren grinned broadly and strode forward to intercept the first of them, sword in one hand and a dagger in the other.
The closest men yelled a warning and broke off to either side of the path, but one massive brute with a black beard and a curved sword raised his blade and ran straight for Jerdren, bringing the weapon down in a hard overhand. Jerdren parried that stroke and brought his sword back around. The bandit parried in turn. A fast clash of blades, sword to sword, before his dagger slipped under the other’s guard. The man gasped, staggered away, and fell right in front of another who was pelting for the trees. The runner saw him but too late to change course. He fell hard, and one of the Keep men ran a spear through him. Jerdren was already righting another, vaguely aware of yet another charging up on his left, pike in hand.