Page 35 of Deadly Maiden

I smile through teeth. That warning, that was Anathema. Somehow, I recognize the trail of his thoughts. He’s in this forest, and if anyone can move silently, it is Anathema.

A few steps further, I hear another whisper.Here is one.

I creep forward and tap Rorsyd on the arm, point, and I think I manage to communicate that someone is ahead. He frowns and cautions me to wait, finger to lips, then stalks off, still keeping low.

After a moment’s delay more muted thuds follow, than a gasp. He returns, nods.

Dealt with.

I’m both too calm and too aware of the risk to us to regret this, yet.

We progress, sweeping for enemies, until a man and a woman rush us, shouting for others even as they swing at Rorsyd. I’m ignored, unseen, or considered less dangerous. I hesitate before I plunge my sword into the man’s back.

A shocking act, I see this as his flesh and bone resist.

As the blade slides it judders, catches, scrapes, and he screams and twists to get at me. He raises his own weapon, an axe.

Pain contorts his face and slows him. The turn yanks my blade loose. Blood splatters off the steel as I sweep aside the haft of the axe and sever his fingers. Then I drive downward into the base of his neck, and thence into his chest.

Done.Fuck.I triumphed. But it’s nothing likegood.

My gods, I can feel his blood beating through the sword.

Choking, he falls, and I, horrified, let my sword pull free. Nausea plucks at me. I’m panting, gulping.

The woman is down, too, sprawled lifeless, apart from the small kicks of her feet as she dies. Staring at my bloodied sword,I exhale, hard and rough. I drag my brain from the abyss of regret.

They intended to kill us. I’ve done it. I’ve killed. So be it.

Better them than me lying there. Grimacing, I wipe my sword on the cloth of her shirt where it’s not yet soaked red.

Carefully, Rorsyd studies me, seems to find me adequate. Maybe he thought I’d fall down and cry. He pats my shoulder with his palm.

We go wider, keep searching, seeking whomever else they brought with them. The forest is quiet, apart from our bodies making unavoidable sounds as we crush the undergrowth, twigs, dry leaves, or scare some small furry thing.

Anathema says nothing I can detect except… I pause to listen again. Maybe there is something? I indicate to Rorsyd to take care with a section ahead. He shrugs and leads the way.

Further along, we find a clearing that joins onto the road, where we halt to peer past a large tree and through the fronds of a berry bush, a poisonous one. The berries bump my forehead. I don’t dare to raise a hand to push them away.

Ten or fifteen armed fae are before us, holding their mounts’ reins. They’re conferring in whispers, and someone suggests they should wait andlet them come to us. Bythemhe means me and Rorsyd, of course. If these are more of our ambushers, how did they get so far ahead?

If only I could feed them all some poison berries, stuff them down their throats. I’m feeling homicidal as well as shaky. Then Rorsyd withdraws, gesturing at me. We back away.

It occurs to me, in this least useful time, that if he intended to kill me, he’s already had a hundred opportunities.

Once we’re out of earshot, he brings us to another concealing grove of oaks, near the road’s edge. Brinks and Nimue are visible through the gaps in the trees, plucking hungrily at the grass, their reins dragging.

He whispers, “No magik users. I don’t think those were the same ones who set the ambush.”

“Are they even here for us? Maybe they’re just travelers? I mean they’re ahead of us by quite a distance. I don’t even know how the first lot got here before us?” I’m frowning at this puzzle. What they said about letting us come to them is quite damning. Knowing all these people want to get that reward is too horrible to fathom. Why?

“Do they hate me that much? I don’t even know them,” I mutter more to myself than him.

“It’s the money. Not you. They’re too well armed to be here for anything but catching us.”And killing him.“Someone who saw us must have sent a signal ahead, to the next town. As for the first few that fired at us…” Face grim, he swipes a hand over his hair and, as if in defiance, it springs back up as soon as his palm moves on. “They could be bandits, but some are townsfolk. Among the dead, I recognized two men from the market stalls.”

“Oh.” Now it feels even more personal. “A thousand omi is a fortune.”

“Indeed it is. Hence the need for a disguise and to cut your hair. This is why the delay at the stables. It was deliberate. This is the only road north.” He winces. “I may have let our direction be known when I bought something. Yeah, I did.”

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