A man stepped out on a boulder just ahead of their trail. He held a bow, strung, with arrow at the ready, aimed at Tamas. He sighted along one eye, because the other eye was covered by a white patch of cloth. The man was older than Tamas, his face weathered by battles. He wore a brown-and-green patched cloak to blend in with the forest.
“Brigadier Ryze,” Tamas said.
Olem tossed Tamas a pistol and brought about his rifle, moving with the speed of a seasoned soldier. Tamas caught the pistol and leveled it at the brigadier, not bothering to cock it. A powder mage didn’t need to.
“Lower the weapon,” Brigadier Ryze said. His aim with the bow didn’t waver. He took a half step forward, his footing sure on the boulder. His cloak rippled, revealing the scarlet colors of the hunt underneath.
“I’ll kill you right now,” Tamas warned.
“Maybe,” Ryze said, “But not all of us.”
Tamas kept his eyes locked on Ryze. “Olem?” he said.
“We’re surrounded, sir,” Olem responded glumly. “All of them are carrying bows. Fifteen. But there may be more in the woods.”
“There are,” Brigadier Ryze said.
“Do you know who I am?” Charlemund demanded. Tamas didn’t have to look to know Charlemund had drawn his smallsword. Little good it would do against yeomen far above them.
“We know, Arch-Diocel,” Brigadier Ryze said. “And you won’t be harmed as long as Field Marshal Tamas comes with us. None of you will be harmed.”
“I will destroy you,” Charlemund snarled.
“I’m sure you will,” Brigadier Ryze said without emotion. “Field Marshal, if you please?”
Tamas took a mental inventory of his weapons. A dozen bullets. Not nearly enough to kill fifteen men by scattering the shot, even at his best. He considered Ricard up on one of the boulders and wondered if he was up there because he had sensed a trap or because he’d set the trap in the first place.
“I don’t seem to have a choice,” Tamas said.
“That’s right,” Ryze said. His lone eye traveled around the group slowly. “Let’s go.”
Tamas reached out again with his senses. None of the men had a granule of gunpowder on them. They’d been very careful. He pushed his senses farther into the woods, trying to find out if there were any more armed with powder. He froze. There was a Privileged in the forest.
“Why did you sell out to Manhouch?” Tamas said. “Lady Winceslav trusted you.”
Ryze gave a slight shake of his head. “This has nothing to do with the Kez. I serve Adro and Lady Winceslav.”
“Then why is there a Privileged in the woods over there?” Tamas asked, pointing north.
Brigadier Ryze’s eye widened slightly. “This has nothing to do with the Kez,” he said again. “Now, come with us, or we’ll take you all down and sort it out later.” Ryze’s fingers twitched on the bow. It was said Ryze was a perfect shot with bow, crossbow, rifle, or pistol. He had a reputation for action and brutality – when necessary. He wasn’t stupid, either. There was a reason he’d risen to be a brigadier of the Wings of Adom.
Tamas urged his hunter forward.
“Dismounted,” Ryze said, gesturing to the ground with the tip of his arrow. “Hand your extra powder charges to your bodyguard. Same with the pistol. Leave the horse tied up to a tree.”
Tamas did as he was told and approached Brigadier Ryze.
“You bastard,” Olem said. “You filthy bastard. I’ll take out that other eye.”
“Quiet your dog,” Ryze said.
“Olem, it’s all right,” Tamas said. He paused next to Gaben and glanced up. The man was expressionless. “I take it this is one of yours,” Tamas said to Ryze.
“He is,” Ryze said. “He’ll guide the rest back to the hunt.”
“Go to the pit,” Tamas said. “Olem, take everyone back safely. You said you played here as a boy. Can you get out?”
“Yes,” Olem said. He sounded miserable.
“That’s an order, then,” Tamas said. “Don’t come back for me until everyone is out of the forest.”
“If you follow us,” Ryze said, “I’ll cut his throat.” The brigadier leapt from the boulder, landing on the ground with a hollow-sounding thump.
He edged Tamas into step before him. They were soon flanked by a pair of woodsmen, then two more. Tamas saw that they weren’t wearing hunt colors under their cloaks. They’d probably been in place for hours.
“Ryze,” someone called suddenly. Tamas turned with the brigadier. It was Brigadier Sabastenien, the quiet commander. His voice was calm, collected. “We’ll have your head for this betrayal,” he said. “The Lady will not stand for it.”
“I know,” Brigadier Ryze responded. There was a hint of sadness to his voice. He turned his back on Sabastenien and led Tamas into the woods. As soon as they were out of sight of the other group, Brigadier Ryze broke into a trot, urging Tamas forward with the tip of a dagger. He did it absently, though, as if almost forgetting that Tamas was his prisoner. Tamas glanced over his shoulder, gauging the brigadier.
“Why are you doing this?” Tamas said.
“Quiet,” Ryze said, his voice not unkind. “You don’t even know what ‘this’ is. You say there’s a Privileged in the forest?”
Tamas stopped suddenly. He spun on Brigadier Ryze, grabbing the wrist with the dagger. Ryze gripped tightly, one hand going to Tamas’s shoulder. They struggled silently for a moment, neither man the stronger, until one of Ryze’s men stepped up and struck Tamas in the small of the back. Tamas grunted, letting go of Ryze’s wrist. He dropped to his knees.
“Back off,” Ryze snarled at his man. He grasped Tamas by the forearm and helped him up. “I’ve been betrayed,” he said quietly, only for Tamas to hear.
“So have I.” Tamas glared at the brigadier. There was a time Tamas considered Ryze a colleague, though never close enough to be a friend. Decades ago, postings had seen them together overseas.
“Not the way you think.” Ryze stepped back and lowered his dagger. “I’m not here to kill you, Field Marshal, nor to hand you over to the Kez.”
“Then what is this charade?” Tamas wondered if he should go for Ryze again. He might get the upper hand, but Ryze’s men watched from nearby.
“To warn you,” Ryze said. “I’ve brought my most trusted men, but apparently that was not enough. You’re sure there’s a Privileged in the forest?”
“Yes,” Tamas said slowly. He opened his third eye. “He’s getting closer. He has Wardens with him.” The thought chilled him. Brigadier Ryze seemed in earnest, but Tamas was not ready to trust him. He might only be delaying, waiting for the Privileged to catch up.
Ryze swore. “Kah! Loadio! Take positions there and there.” He pointed upward to a pair of boulders. The two men nodded and climbed onto the rocks. “Kill the sorcerer,” he said. Ryze turned to Tamas. “Run!”
Tamas wondered whether he should break away, take the opportunity to escape. He hesitated for just a moment before following Ryze into the forest. As they went, Ryze called out the names of his men, pairing them up and placing them between himself and the sorcerer. Tamas glanced over his shoulder now and then, watching for the pastel glow of a Privileged in his third sight. The Privileged was coming on quickly, along with dimmer glows of power. Privileged didn’t move that fast unless they were being carried by a Warden.
Ryze turned to bark an order to one of his men and stopped. Tamas nearly ran into him. Ryze drew a dagger and fell into a fighting stance.
Tamas turned. Only two of Ryze’s men were left nearby. One of them was a yeoman, bow slung over his arm. He toppled onto a bed of dead leaves, a crimson slash across his throat. The other man was Gaben. He wiped the dagger calmly on the yeoman’s cloak and faced Ryze.
“Your father…” Ryze said.
“Is a damned fool who should never have followed this traitor,” Gaben said, gesturing at Tamas. He readied himself, squaring with his own dagger against Ryze. “All I have to do is keep you occupied until the duke arrives.”
The old brigadier threw himself forward, dagger in hand. He parried, slashed, then leapt upon Gaben, driving his dagger into the man’s chest. It hadn’t even been a contest. Ryze stood up, his lone eye red with anger, and looked back the way they’d come. Tamas heard the report of sorcery in the forest, and the crash of a falling tree.