She jogged back down the hill to catch up with the wagon and told Sir Hugh what was being planned.
They turned the company west and raced for the river and the comparative safety of the Plains army.
Later that evening Crucible came back briefly to report he had found the Tarmak army. As Linsha had suspected, Lanther had gathered every warrior he dared spare from Missing City and sent them into the field. The army was stretched out in a long line and was a scant two days behind Linsha and the wagon.
“Two days!” she exclaimed. The Tarmaks must have run all the way.
“There is a unit of cavalry in the vanguard, and they are closest. They have almost reached the place where you turned north. We will soon see if they believe you have the eggs.”
“What if they don’t follow us?”
“I don’t know. I will talk to Falaius and Wanderer before I return to the peak to check on the eggs. We’ll let you know.”
And he was gone again, flying away into the dusky blue skirts of evening.
The Akkad-Dar did not bother to have his large tent erected that night. He ordered only a small camp tent and sat inside in the glow of a single lamp studying maps while his army gathered around him. He had sent orders down the line that the scattered units were to be moved up without rest until the entire army was together. The enemy, he knew, was coming to meet him, and he reveled in the thought of the coming battle. But he wanted all his forces at his disposal, not stretched across the plains. True, he had pulled this march together very quickly, thanks to the foresight of the officer in charge of the city’s garrison, but many of the ekwullik had needed weapons, arrows, food, and supplies for a long march. They had needed some time to ready themselves. Other units were ready to go. So the Akkad-Dar’s army had left the city in pieces. Now it was time to bring them together.
He pored over his maps of the Plains, a legacy from the Akkad-Ur, and wondered for the thousandth time where Linsha and Crucible would take the eggs. He knew the eggs were close to hatching and would need to be nested very quickly. He also knew the dragon could not fly long distances.
After the damage done to his wings, it was a wonder he could fly at all. So, where would they go? Did Crucible have the eggs? Or did Linsha? Was Linsha in this wagon his trackers were following? Were the eggs? And where was the text Afec had stolen?
He pounded a fist on his table. He did not know the answers. He needed more information!
He heard a loud commotion outside his tent and rose to his feet to quell the noise. Before he could leave the tent, his second dekegul threw back the tent flap and saluted. “Akkad-Dar, the trackers have brought in a centaur.”
Perhaps the answer to a prayer, Lanther thought. He breathed a silent word of gratitude to his goddess and strode out of the tent. He found three of his scouts surrounding a bound and angry centaur. Two more stood back with crossbows aimed at the stallion’s back. The horseman was a light bay who had the looks of an escaped slave. He was thin, haggard, dirty, and had a wound on his flank that had been broken open again in the scuffle with the guards. It bled heavily down his leg. He glared ferociously at the Akkad-Dar, but Lanther was pleased to see a tremble in the centaur’s hands and a nervous step in his hooves.
“Akkad-Dar, we found this one watching the camp,” one of the scouts reported. “He will not speak to us.”
Lanther crossed his arms and studied the centaur. His arms had been tied and his legs hobbled, but he was not gagged. “Were you with the traitor, Linsha Majere?” he asked. “Where are they taking the eggs?”
The centaur did not answer.
“We have been following a trail out of the Missing City that includes a wagon and a number of horses and centaurs. This group split off near the city, and the larger group went west.” Lanther’s voice turned sharper and came out hard and demanding. “Now they have turned northwest and are going… where?”
The centaur panted in fear. His eyes shifted left and right, and still he said nothing.
“All right,” Lanther said. He flexed his fingers and nodded to the guards. They swarmed over the helpless centaur and slammed him to the ground. Stunned and gasping, the centaur stared up at the Akkad-Dar in growing terror. Lanther stepped to the centaur’s front and clamped his hand over the horseman’s face.
All was quiet for a short time until the silence was shattered by the centaur’s agonized scream. The centaur twitched and writhed under Lanther’s hand. His legs jerked in violent spasms. Patches of sweat darkened his bay hide. He screamed again, then abruptly he fell silent. His body trembled then subsided to stillness. His breathing stopped.
Lanther stepped back, satisfied. He glared distastefully at the corpse and indicated that the guards should haul it away.
The dekegul beside him bowed expectantly. “My lord?”
Lanther stared into the darkness of the Plains night. “The eggs are not in the wagon. The dragon took them. The wagon is a lure.” He thought for a few more minutes while his officer and the remaining guards waited in silence. “We will go after the eggs and make the rabble come to us.” He turned on his heel and returned to his tent.
Flashfire. The name played in his mind. He had seen that somewhere on one of his maps. His hands flew over the stiff parchments and old hides. It was there, somewhere. And then he had it—an old peak, a dormant volcano. Of course! He would take his army there and make the Plains rabble come to him. The dragon would be a fearsome defender, of course, but Lanther had several weapons to deal with him. Linsha would come, too, and when the battle was over and the eggs were in his possession again, he would have his wedding night and his revenge. She would live just long enough to bear his son, the child of prophecy, the Amarrel.
And… perhaps he would let her see him take possession of the hatchlings so she would know that she had failed completely. Yes, that would be the best.
One more day to go. In one more day of hard travel, if the wagon did not break a wheel, or a horse did not go lame, or the food held out. If everyone could keep going for just one more day…
Linsha looked at her companions and knew they could not go much farther. They had endured weeks of forced labor, starvation, and miserable conditions only to be freed unexpectedly and encouraged to trek across the open plains in wet, cold weather with inadequate food and not even a fire at night to dry their clothes. The two wounded men were holding on, but just barely, and the rest of the troop was exhausted and worn and hungry. The only thing that kept them going was the hope that tomorrow would bring them to the butte and the camp of Falaius’s army. Then, hopefully, they would have a day or two to rest before the Tarmaks arrived.
Linsha glanced back at Callista, who gave her a wan smile. The courtesan was as exhausted as everyone else, for she spent most of her time caring for the wounded men—and lately, for Sir Hugh. The young knight’s cold had turned nasty and left him with a racking cough and a fever. He sat with Linsha sometimes while she drove the wagon, but much of the time he sat in the back with Callista and coughed. Linsha hoped Danian had traveled with Wanderer’s tribe and would be with the army. The healer would certainly have some medicines for such a bad cough.
A shout drew her attention to a faint sound coming behind them. She twisted in the seat and realized the sound was hoofbeats. Someone was coming up fast on the trail behind. The men and centaurs wheeled around and drew weapons while Linsha reined her team to a halt. Sir Hugh climbed up beside her, and they waited in tense expectation.
A form appeared on the far hill and came galloping toward them, waving and shouting. The centaurs relaxed.
“It is Menneferen!” one of the horsemen called to Linsha.