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garnet set into the hilt of her
Fang. With her last strength, the wolf-woman surged just high enough to grasp
the knife handle. Shoving the blade in with desperate power, she twisted. The
force of Prince Newell s own descending thrust ripped the Fang free.
Then hot, terrible pain forced her face into the bloodied rugs. She knew
nothing except that faintly, at the very edge of her hearing, a wolf was
howling as if his heart must break.
XXVI
Even before the thin wail of the trumpet signaled the first exchange of
arrows, Derian and the other raiders had been long gone. They had left via
Good Crossing s river gate huddled beneath a tarp on the deck of a cargo boat.
To an observer, theirs would, appear to be just one of many small boats filled
to capacity with those who had decided that it was safer to be away from the
city, just in case the defenders did not hold.
However, unlike most of these boats, which went downriver to land at the
usually placid hamlet of
Butterfield, their boatman carried them only as far as a small cove hidden
from the city and, they hoped, from any observers by a thick tangle of
willows.
Derian felt dreadfully exposed as he climbed from the boat onto the shore,
uncomforted by the fact that not even most of the river traffic seemed to
notice their detour. Rationally, he knew they were invisible, but he fully
expected a roving band of Stoneholders to leap out upon them.
His back tensed against this imagined threat, he steadied the boat as the
others climbed ashore. Each raider carried a bow and arrows, a knife, and a
hand weapon of choice. Each was lightly armored, any metal dulled, any light
tanned leather rubbed dark with soot. None carried a shield, for these would
slow them and the raiders had to move quickly and use what cover they could.
Traffic on the road east from Good Crossing, a road that roughly paralleled
the Barren River, was nonexistent. In an effort to keep Stonehold from
pressing east should they break the army at Good
Crossing, the road had been barricaded with fallen trees where it left the
open grounds around the city. In any case, no coward or refugee was going to
chance a land journey when the river was so near.
Race Forester led them away from the riverbank and across the road, then
through a gap in a hedgerow bordering a farmer s fields. The grain was high
and Derian thought close to being ripe. It made an admirable shield from
anything.
He glanced up, catching a glimpse of what he thought was Elation lazily riding
the air currents far above.
Firekeeper had told Derian that the falcon would be there keeping an eye on
him and that she would bring Firekeeper if needed. Otherwise, the bird was to
stay high enough that she would not draw attention to herself or to the
raiders.
Derian thought it was nice that his death would be avenged, but other than
that he didn t think the great peregrine would be much help. Realizing that he
was woolgathering, Derian forced himself to pay attention as Race reviewed
their plans.
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We re going to make our way back, Race said, just about all the way that
boat carried us, but this time we ll angle inland south and west. Jem the
scout nodded toward a burly, bent man who looked as if his nose had been hit
with a potato masher has done a good deal of scouting over on this side of
the Barren and is going to take us through orchards and fields.
And folks barns, Jem grunted. We won t touch a road and the
Stoneholders he spat won t see us until we choose.
Between practice sessions last night, Derian had talked for a while with Jem,
the only Bright Bay scout in their strike force. Jem passionately hated
Stonehold because of how a Stonehold sergeant had violently beat him some
years before. His smashed nose was only the most visible of his injuries.
When he had recovered enough to walk, Jem had defected to Hawk Haven and by
now was well known and well trusted by the garrison at the Watchful Eye, who
knew him for a smuggler who would smuggle information as well as goods.
I know not all holders are like that sergeant, Jem had told Derian. I know
it in my head, but in my heart I hate em.
Derian dragged his attention to the present.
Stay out of sight, Race reminded them. The army s providing a distraction
for us, but that won t mean everyone s staring toward the front lines like
kids watching a puppet show. Some will remember their duty to guard, some
won t want to watch, others will have jobs that will take them through the
camp.
Still, they won t be watching every wagon and supply dump. Those are our
targets.
Derian nodded, his mouth dry. Then he fell into place. In front of him was Joy
Spinner the scout from
House Kite and behind him was another scout, a man called Thyme. Valet was
toward the back and
Jem out front. Race, nominally in command though this raid demanded initiative
as well as obedience, moved alongside Jem, ready for trouble.
Jem s chosen route, however, was clear. Those who owned the farms they crossed
were either absent or reluctant to notice an armed group that was so evidently
just passing through. The barns they cut through were empty of any livestock
other than the occasional chicken or cat. In a surprisingly short period of
time the raiders were behind the Stonehold lines and drawing up on their
encampment.
In the near distance, shouts and commands, the clash of metal, and the screams
of the wounded confirmed that battle had been joined. They came sharply to
Derian as he closed on his own battlefield, a reminder of the penalty for
failure.
Jem led them through an orchard, the upper boughs of the trees heavy with
unpicked fruit, the air smelling of cider. It came up right to the edge of the
Stonehold camp. Doubtless even the strict rules against pillaging hadn t kept
the soldiers from stealing the more easily picked fruit.
Derian didn t need Race s hand signal to remind him to keep to cover. As on
the banks of the Barren, he felt dreadfully exposed, even though he knew that
as long as he kept his movements slow and steady only the most alert guard
would be likely to spot him through the intervening apple trees.
He knelt behind one of the trees, studying the camp through the veil of
low-hanging branches.
The Stoneholders had not unloaded most of the recently arrived wagons. That
made sense. If the Rocky
Band won today s battle, they would be moving forward to take new ground. If
they failed, they needed to be ready to retreat. Many of the tarps covering
the wagons had been thrown back, probably to inventory the contents and to
haul out what was immediately needed. Those wagons that remained covered
clearly contained fodder, for hay poked out at either end.
There s my target
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, Derian thought.
I m sure I can hit a haystack and even slightly green hay will burn nicely.
He gestured his choice to Race and the scout nodded. A few moments later, he
signaled for them to string their bows. Each raider carried several arrows
specially prepared for fire. Five of their number Valet was one carried clay
pots containing coals. As they had rehearsed the night before, they broke into
clumps of three and set their arrows tip-down into the coals.
First, Derian reminded himself, light the arrow. The smell of burning
shouldn t alert the guards, because they ll have campfires of their own. Wait
for Race s signal to shoot. Shoot all your prepared arrows. Then decide
whether you can constructively do more or whether the best thing you can do is
clear out.
Neat orders. Tidy. Simple when they were just diagrams drawn in the dirt
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