Hero in the Shadows (54 page)

“What do they want, Mama?” he called.

The long-faced man turned toward the Nadir. “Kill the brat!” he said.

A blast of cold air swept across the riders. Horses reared and were brought under control. Tanya turned her head and saw another horseman. She had not heard him approach. The riders were all staring at him.

“Where the hell did he come from?” she heard someone ask.

“From the back of the house,” said Long Face. “Where else?”

Tanya stared hard at the newcomer. There was something familiar about him. He was old, his face masked by gray stubble. And he looked tired. Dark rings circled his eyes. He heeled his horse forward, and Tanya saw that in his left hand he held a small black crossbow.

“What do you want here?” asked Long Face.

“I know you,” said the newcomer. “I know all of you.” Shock rippled through Tanya as she heard his voice, though she did not know why. He moved his mount closer to Long Face. “You are Bedrin, known as the Stalker. You are a man with no redeeming features. There is nothing I have to say to you.” The crossbow came up, and Long Face pitched from the saddle, a bolt through his brain. “As for the rest of you,” continued the rider, “there are some who can still find redemption.”

Tanya saw the Nadir draw his sword and heel his horse forward. A crossbow bolt slammed through his throat, and he, too, fell to the ground, his horse cantering past the rider. The man continued to talk. There was no hint of emotion in his voice. He might as well have been discussing the weather. The seventeen remaining riders sat their mounts, almost mesmerized by this deadly gray-faced man.

“It is fitting that Kityan should join his master,” said the rider, casually reloading the crossbow. “He lived for torture, to inflict pain on others.” He glanced at the remaining raiders. “But you,” he said, pointing at a broad-shouldered young man, “you, Maneas, have better dreams. Back in Gothir, at the village of the Nine Oaks, there is a girl. You wanted to marry her, but her father gave her to another. You were heartbroken when you rode away. Would it help to know that her husband will drown this summer? She will be alone. If you return to her, you will sire two sons and a daughter.”

“How do you know this?” asked the young man. “Are you a wizard?”

“You can think of me as a prophet,” said the man. “For I know what is and what will be. I have seen the future. If you kill this woman and her children, Maneas, you will still go home. You will still wed Leandra, and she will bear you the three children I spoke of. And then one night this woman’s husband will find you. He will have been searching for nine years. He will take you into the woods and put out your eyes. Then he will stake you to the ground and build a fire on your belly.” Tanya saw all color drain from the young man’s face.

The newcomer’s hand swept out, pointing to a thin middle-aged man. “And you, Patris. No matter what happens here today you will leave this band and journey to Gulgothir. You will seek to fulfill a dream you have had since childhood, to begin a business, designing jewelry for the nobles, wonderfully wrought rings and brooches. You will discover that what you thought of as a talent is in fact genius. You will find happiness
and wealth and fame in Gulgothir. But if this woman dies, her man will find you. He will cut off your hands, and your body will be discovered impaled on a sharp stake.”

He fell silent for a moment, and they waited. Finally he spoke again. “The luckiest of you will survive for nineteen years. But many of those years will be lived in terror. You will hear of the murders of your comrades. One by one. Every day you will stare into the faces of strangers, wondering if the faceless killer is one of them. And one day he will be. This is the truth.

“Now it is time to make a choice. Ride from here and live. Or stay, and know the endless torment of the damned.”

For a moment, no one moved. Then the young Maneas swung his horse and galloped back toward the north. One by one the others followed until only a swarthy, round-shouldered man remained.

“And what of me, prophet?” he asked. “Is there some happiness I can find?”

“There is now, Lodrian. Now you can journey to Lentria. You will find a village and, short of coin, you will seek employment. A young widow will ask you to repair her roof. And your life will change.”

“Thank you,” said Lodrian. He looked down at Tanya. “I am sorry for the fear we caused you.” Then he rode away.

The rider slowly dismounted. Tanya saw him stumble as he did so, dropping his crossbow to the ground. He took several steps toward Gil, then fell to his knees. Tanya ran to his side, putting her arms around his shoulders. “You are ill, sir,” she said. “Let me help you.”

The man swayed and, with difficulty, Tanya lowered him to the ground. He lay back, his head surrounded by the fading spring flowers of the meadow. He looked into her eyes.

“Do I know you, sir?” she asked.

“No. We have … never met. But I knew a woman once, who was … like you.”

“My husband will be home soon. He will help me get you to a bed. We will send for the surgeon.”

His voice was weaker. “I will not be alive when he returns.” She took his hand and kissed it.

“You saved us,” she said, tears in her eyes. “There must be something we can do for you!”

“Let me see the boy,” he whispered. Tanya called out to Gellan and the child moved forward nervously. The man looked up at him. Tanya saw him relax, and upon his face appeared a look of utter contentment. He smiled at the boy. Then his eyes closed, his head lolling to one side. Tanya sat beside him, holding his hand.

After a while the child spoke. “Is he sleeping, Mama?”

“No, Gil, he is dead.”

The sound of a galloping horse came to her. Fear flared and she spun around. But the raiders had not returned. The rider was Dakeyras. He leapt from the saddle.

“What happened here?” he asked. She told him of the raiders, and of the arrival of the gray-faced man.

“They were going to kill us all. I know it,” she concluded. “He saved our lives, Dak. I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere. Do you recognize him?”

Dakeyras knelt by the body. “He looks familiar,” he said. “Perhaps he was a soldier.”

Little Gellan ran to him. “He killed the bad men, Father. And he made the others ride away. Then he lay down and died.”

The sound of a baby’s cry came from the house. Tanya rose and went to feed it.

Dakeyras walked to where the stranger’s crossbow was lying on the ground and lifted it. It was perfectly balanced and beautifully made. Extending his arm, Dakeyras loosed both bolts. They flew exactly where he aimed them, slamming into the fence post twenty paces to his left.

Tanya walked out into the sunlight, holding one of the twins to her breast.

Her husband was holding the bow.

She shivered suddenly.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Someone just walked over my grave,” she said.