The Brother came closer, and Leitos tensed to slip back into the tangled hedge. Sumahn stopped with a curse, and bent over.
Leitos could not see what was happening, but by the tearing sounds, he guessed that a thorny creeper had caught the hem of the Brother’s robes.
Leitos frantically searched the trampled grass for the telltale flutter of cloth marking the treasure. When he first learned of that aid, he had believed it would make the hunt easy. Now he knew better. In the darkness, any fluttering leaf or blade of grass could deceive the eye.
He turned his attention back to Sumahn, who was still struggling to get loose. A louder rip, another curse, and then Sumahn began to straighten.
Thinking quickly, Leitos patted the ground, found a pebble, and flicked it back the way he had come. The stone rattled through the brush. Breath burning in his chest, Leitos watched and hoped.
Sumahn’s lips parted around a sly grin. Ducking low, the Brother spun and moved off, doubtless intending to double back and sneak up on his quarry.
Safe for now, Leitos cast about. Where is it? The Brothers did not intend for the test to be impossible, just difficult. It crossed his mind that the rules might have changed unannounced, but then his gaze fell upon the hilt of dagger, its blade thrust into the dirt. From the hilt hung a scrap of dark fabric that lifted and fluttered on a breath of wind, curling like an enticing finger.
Leitos wormed closer and grasped the hilt.
“There you are!” Sumahn cried.
Leitos rolled over, an unformed oath lodged in his throat.
Sumahn was nowhere in sight.
“Might as well come out,” Sumahn said, sounding bored and a long way off.
He is cunning, Leitos thought, angry that he had almost been fooled into giving away his position.
Leitos snatched the dagger, and escaped through a break in the foliage. Once clear, he ran in a crouch up and over a small rise, slowing only when he reached a dense copse of trees, whose limbs all grew in one direction, trained so by the steady westerly winds that blew off the sea.
Busy congratulating himself, he almost ran headlong into the second Brother-Daris.
Leitos went stock-still, and studied his next opponent. Of an age with Sumahn, Daris counted it a point of pride when the other Brothers named him the trickster of the two. None questioned the pair’s courage and strength, but both Ulmek and Ba’Sel considered them reckless.
Clouds passed over the moon, and shadows frolicked over Witch’s Mole. Daris snorted, scratched his jaw with loose fingers, then slumped farther over.
Sleeping. Leitos could not believe his plan to wait out the Brothers had worked so well. Moving only his eyes, Leitos searched until he saw a small box tied with a ribbon resting next to the Brother’s outstretched legs.
After tucking Sumahn’s dagger into his breechclout, Leitos dropped to all fours and snuck forward. His chest demanded more air than he dared give it, and a faint sheen of sweat sprang from his brow. As he reached for the box, Daris mumbled in his sleep.
Leitos’s hand hovered. His heart told him to take the treasure and run. His mind spoke of caution. His mind won.
Ever so gently, Leitos settled his fingers around the wooden box, its length and width no larger than his palm, and covered with engravings. Daris stirred again, causing Leitos to flinch, a bare rippling of tensed muscles. He bit back a shout when he found Daris staring straight at him-No … he’s sleeping with his eyes open.
Leitos slowly brought the box to his chest, and Daris’s tricksome nature made itself plain when something rattled inside. Daris’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword, clutched it briefly, then fell away. Murmuring, the Brother rolled to his side, unconsciously swatting a midge from his ear.
After a few moments, Leitos untied the cloth ribbon and carefully dumped out a trio of mismatched glass beads. He left Daris to his slumber, and crept downslope.
Zera, Leitos thought, with a touch of melancholy, would have been proud. In a very real sense, she had begun his training a year before, which had put him into Ba’Sel’s hands. Of course, her intention had not been to train him, but to trick him into leading her to the Brothers of the Crimson Shield. His love for her had blinded him to her true purpose. While none of the Brothers held that mistake against him-except for Ulmek-it troubled Leitos that he had failed to see through Zera’s ploy. If he had heeded his father’s advice to trust no one save the Brothers, the warriors would likely still reside in their last sanctuary on the mainland of Geldain.
Leitos shoved that to the back of his mind and pressed on through the night, scouring Witch’s Mole and finding two more Brothers sleeping near their treasures. He took a silver pendant hung on broken tree branch by Ke’uld, a Brother who shared ancestry with Ba’Sel-a black-skinned people once of southern Geldain. Soon after that, he found Halan curled up like a baby in a nest of grass. Securing his golden torque proved easiest of all. The snores of the bluff-featured man not only led Leitos to him, but masked his flight.
Two left, Leitos thought, taking a moment to hide his winnings in a rocky hole at the base of a tree-a place he had chosen days before. After coming across three sleeping Brothers, Leitos forced himself not to grow complacent. It would not surprise him to learn that Daris, Ke’uld, and Halan had all been told to feign sleep, just to put him off his guard.
After arranging a handful of grass over the hole’s opening, Leitos looked to the thin gray line brightening the horizon. In less than two hours, the sun would burst over the turquoise waters of the Sea of Sha’uul, ending the test. I must hurry, he thought, at the same time knowing he must use more caution than ever.
Chapter 3
Leitos trotted down a narrow path of hard-packed dirt. Scraggly trees and thick brush provided concealment. He took a short rest when he came to a scatter of boulders rising on either side of the trail. He was within a mile of the southern shore of Witch’s Mole. It seemed odd that the last two Brothers would be in the same area, but the only other suitable place they could hide was at the very extent of the testing grounds, back to the north, atop the highest point of Witch’s Mole, where he had buried Zera. No one would-
Leitos stiffened. So far, he had not crossed the paths of Ba’Sel and Ulmek. Only one of those two men would violate Zera’s grave.
Cursing, Leitos wheeled and ran back, growing angrier with every step. All thoughts of becoming a Brother of the Crimson Shield and of taking his vengeance on the Faceless One flew out of his mind.
He soon crested a grassy knoll and stopped dead when he saw a familiar silhouette perched atop the cairn marking Zera’s grave.
“Come,” Ulmek called, “and take your treasure.”
When Leitos did not move, Ulmek slid off the cairn, and began walking in his direction, thumping the butt of a staff against the ground.
Leitos waited, grinding his teeth.
Ulmek halted just out of arm’s reach, the hollows of his eyes like black pits. “I trust you’ve already taken my Brothers’ prizes?”
“All but yours and Ba’Sel’s.” What he had accomplished did not matter. What did … well, at this moment, he was not sure, other than that Ulmek must pay for defiling Zera’s grave.
“Do you wish to have mine?” Ulmek held out a leather cord hung with a teardrop-shaped amulet-a stone of protection. The making of that protective device involved collecting the blood of those like Leitos and his father, whose ancestors had been washed in the Powers of Creation. The Faceless One then imbued certain ores with that blood, creating a ward against possession by the demonic spirits of Mahk’lar.
“The test is over,” Leitos said, his mind concentrating on how to beat Ulmek, a man who had spent more years in the thick of battle than Leitos had been alive.