Keelan grunted. “Sound good enough?”
Hadrann eyed Aisling. “You just be careful. Kirion would be quite happy to exchange you for the witch, I’m sure. But we wouldn’t!”
She managed a small smile at him. “I know. Now go and find that guard before he blunders into Kirion’s men. He’s turned around, and I don’t think he knows where we are.”
The two men slid off silently in the direction Aisling indicated. Left alone with Wind Dancer she looked down at him. A long affectionate look passed between them. Then they too slipped noiselessly into the scrub. Wind Dancer took the lead. If any heard them coming they would look at human height for the makers of the sounds to appear. Wind Dancer would have seconds to warn Aisling and to be missed by any hastily loosed arrow. He and his human had indeed played this game before.
They moved silently through the scrub and harsh upthrust rock. Aisling had her mind cautiously open. Just enough with her shields in place to know the direction of the enemy and no more. She came through a patch of high bushes, Wind Dancer well ahead. She halted as he came trotting back. His picture of the scene below, sent as he reared up to touch his head to her hand, was clear this time.
A hollow large enough to take almost a dozen horses and a bound motionless figure. Over it stood two men. Three others were placed around the hollow’s rim. All smelled of fear, anger, and spite. As Wind Dancer watched, one of the men had kicked their captive casually and cursed her. Another spat on her and added his curses. Aisling bit back sudden rage. That witch down there was only a child, but it was folly to let fury sway her. That sort of emotion led people to do dangerous and foolish things. She would be cold, calm, and, her mind added, when she had the chance she’d finish those sons of diseased hogs.
She circled, with Wind Dancer helping to pinpoint each of Kirion’s men. Then she moved back a little and waited patiently. Some minutes later there came a growing commotion from the south. The three men up on the hollow’s rim came running to join the two below. Aisling remained in wait. Below her there was a hurried conference, then two of the men were left with their captive. The other three vanished in the direction of the sounds.
Aisling tracked them with her mind. They were heading directly for the noise, and she grimaced. “Like shooting bound leapers, eh, Wind Dancer? I don’t know what Kirion’s paying them, but I think it’s too much.”
Wind Dancer gave a small chirrup of agreement, then padded back toward the hollow. Aisling slipped after him until they reached the rim and could look down while lying in the surrounding scrub. The witch lay as she had before. The two remaining men were standing together trying to watch in all directions at once. They had been some fifteen strong at the start of the raid. Estcarp had accounted for six of them. Now this group they’d expected to slaughter like lambs had turned out to be wolves. Kirion’s men were staying alert.
Aisling cursed to herself. Then she grinned thoughtfully. From here she could take out one cleanly before he knew. But the other could drop into cover before she could shoot again, and that cover could block her sight of him. Both men had bows of their own as well as swords and daggers. The survivor might shoot the witch out of spite before Aisling could reach him. She dropped a hand to Wind Dancer, what suggestions had a great hunter to offer?
The big cat placed a paw on her knee. Slowly he flexed his claws in and out, keeping her attention upon that wicked display. His mother had been a normal-sized cat. Wind Dancer was the one kitten she’d ever produced, and that when she was four. Who or what Shosho had found in the hills behind Aiskeep to sire her only kit none knew, but the end result, some thirty-five pounds of muscle clad in short thick fur, armed with claws that would not have shamed a young snow leopard, now offered a battle plan.
His was an intelligence that was all cat in many ways, and in others, Aisling felt, perhaps something else. Not that she ever inquired. He was Wind Dancer, her friend, her battle companion, and each owed their life to the other several times over. She watched the pictures he made in her mind and agreed. It might be dangerous for him, but she would be swift. They inched back to the rim of the hollow. The two guards remained on edge and close to one another.
Aisling stayed where she was, waiting as Wind Dancer circled. When he was in position, she shot. Even as the first man went down and the other dropped into cover Wind Dancer was moving. He was behind the guard still living and he sped down the slope in a silent savage rush. The guard heard the faint sound, turned, and screamed once before the big cat was upon him. Aisling wasted no time.
As soon as Wind Dancer struck she too was in motion, leaping down the slope in flying strides. She watched her feet. It would not do to trip in case her cat had need of her. He did not. Taken unawares by a nightmare the man had flung himself backward, tripping over a dead branch as he did so. Wind Dancer followed him down, claws and teeth striking home before the terrified man could do more than scream and then try vainly to protect his throat.
Putting aside his mail scarf would be the last battle error he ever made. By the time Aisling reached them it was finished.
“Well done, furred warrior.” Aisling knelt to hug him, stroking along the still bushed neck and shoulders. “Now, let us see what we can do for this one.” She drew her dagger and strode across to the captive. Kirion’s men had taken no chances. The girl was not only bound and gagged heavily but also blindfolded. Aisling would have spat. Wind Dancer had been right. The bonds were brutal and she only prayed that they had not been on so long the girl would be crippled.
She cut loose the girl’s feet and hands then lifted away the blindfold and removed the tightly drawn gag. She smiled. “Peace, sister. The Light has sent aid. Are we in time?”
The girl worked her mouth painfully, then gave up the attempt to speak through a mouth too long dry from lack of water. She nodded, then lifted her hands to study the deep red and blue weals. Aisling was digging through saddlebags. She found a canteen, poured a few drops of the contents on her palm and sniffed, then tasted cautiously. Water laced with Karsten brandy. She brought it back.
“Drink a little of this, slowly. Hold each mouthful a while before you swallow.” She was obeyed. Wind Dancer had disappeared to prowl about above the hollow. He returned to signal that no one was returning as yet. The witch eyed him with interest and some nervousness. The big cat walked across to her, sat, and purred. Then slowly he pushed his face toward her sniffing, continuing to purr loudly. The girl suddenly smiled. Her faltering hands went up to cup Wind Dancer’s face.
“For your aid in time of trouble, my thanks, great warrior. The Light knows its own. It seems that even amongst our enemies Est-carp may find help and friends unlooked for.” Her gaze met that of Aisling. “And you, sister? What do you here in this barbarian land.”
Aisling felt anger flare in her. “This barbarian land is my home.
I was born here, and my mother and mother’s mother before me. Is it your custom to insult one who has risked all to save you?” She saw with some satisfaction that the shaft had gone home. The witch flushed.
“Your pardon, sister. Yet…” She studied the woman before her. “Surely you are of our blood and you have power. I could not be mistaken. I feel it. There is more also. I feel a power about you that is yours and not-yours. Old… old…” her voice trailed away, then rallied. “I feel another thing too: a spell, a power that is a trap. What is it that you bear?”
Aisling had been chafing the wealed wrists, pausing to inspect the damage every few minutes. She ignored the comments. “How long were you bound so tightly?”