The Crow God's Girl (8 page)

He made no more protest, just turned to mount up the rest of the searchers. Aevin was already in his saddle, leading a search party of his own.

Kate mounted and gathered the reins. No one waited for her. No one said, “Come with us.” The freedom she had longed for was hers, and perversely, now her feelings were hurt. She looked over at Lady Beatra who watching from the courtyard, hugging her elbows, her fear and helplessness emanating from her. Kate’s hurt pride evaporated.

Oh Yare. You better be hurt, buddy. Because if you are just goofing off, you’re in big trouble.

The road was a blur in the deepening evening
. Kate kept Allegra to a steady trot, rising and falling in the saddle with every step. The stars were coming out, and the air had gone from crisp to chill. She could see clusters of torchlight where the search parties made their way across the fields. In the distance, Terrick House blocked out the sky.

It got dark in the country. There was no light spill from distant cities, no glow from civilization. Just insects sawing away in the late summer night, and pale starlight overhead.

“Where are you, Yare?” she said out loud. Allegra snorted. The air flowed wet and cool across her face, stinging a little with cold, and she shivered. A whisper of wind in the grasses reminded her of that afternoon. She had sensed something at the turnoff toward the river. And now Yare was missing.

This is Aeritan and you are weaponless
. Well, so was Yare, and he was a little kid to boot. If whatever had spooked her had gotten him, he was in worse shape than she was, and it was too late now to go back for help. Kate turned Allegra toward the river.

The path down
to the river was a pale meander
ing
track through the underbrush. Kate held the horse to a walk and the mare picked daintily toward the falls, her footfall almost silent on the loamy soil. The sound of rushing water filled her ears.

When she saw firelight she thought at first her eyes were playing tricks. Kate halted, peering through the forest, her night vision shot almost at once. She started to call out, and cut the sound before it made its way past her lips. She kicked her feet out of the stirrups and dismounted quietly. She left Allegra in the woods and crept forward.

The fire was small but crackling industriously by the side of the falls. Four men–no, five. And–Kate crouched and peered through wide leaves. A trussed up bundle. A sniveling, trussed-up bundle.

“Shut up, brat,” one of the men growled, giving the bundle a kick.

Kate’s heart sank.
Oh Yare.

Allegra snuffled and sidestepped. One of the men looked back in her direction.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“I’m going to look.”

Kate was paralyzed with indecision. She couldn’t allow herself to be caught. She needed to go for help. But she couldn’t leave Yare.

“Well, hurry it up. We’re almost packed up.”

The first law of succoring the soldier’s god was never to ask for help. Ask for honor, ask for bravery, ask for victory, sure, but never help.

Soldier’s god, soldier’s god, give me a weapon, Kate thought, cursing herself for not even carrying a knife.
Everyone carries a knife here, why not me?

Something touched her back and Kate started and turned. Her scream strangled and died. Whoever it was–she got barely a glimpse of wild hair and a reflection of his eye in the faint light–put his hand over his own mouth.
Quiet
. She calmed herself, nodded. So she had an ally.

The curious man stopped about ten feet away from them, peering into the woods, but whether he lost his nerve or his initiative, he went no farther.

“Nothing,” he called out, turning back to the men.

“Get back here, then,” the ringleader ordered.

Kate watched him go. Her ally put his mouth to her ear, whispering, his voice light. He sounded young.

“They’re waiting for the search parties to give up. Then they’ll take the boy and go.”

She nodded, knowing he could feel her response. All of these men were armed, and lightly armored, from the shape of the silhouettes against the fire. If they ran into one of the unarmed search parties, like Drabian and the stableboys or the householders, they would take them apart. And if she tried to go for help now it would make too much noise. Would they just kill Yare rather than be caught? She didn’t want to risk it.

“How can we stop them?” She breathed it more to herself than to her comrade.

He nudged her again and she turned and looked. He tapped a short pikestaff, only about three feet long but with a wicked iron point lashed to the end. Well, that was something, she thought. Primitive, but something. But one against five? Two against five, sure, but she wasn’t armed. Kate thought hard, formulating a plan. They had the element of surprise, one weapon, and Allegra. Not much, but the soldier’s god helped those who helped themselves, even if they had to be crazy to do it.

“I’m going to create a diversion,” she said. “I’ll try to take out as many as I can.” Like bowling, she thought. “You’ll have to do the rest.”

She didn’t wait to hear if he agreed or protested. She squirmed backward, letting the undergrowth fall back into place.

This was different from stealing the jeep last winter. That was a stunt born out of crazy adrenalin and a stubborn pride. This time, every instinct wanted her to run away. It took all of her willpower to propel herself forward.

Allegra was where she had left her, her bulk and oaty aroma reassuring in the darkness. Kate mounted, cursing the lightly creaking saddle, and gathered the reins, keeping tight contact. Allegra coiled underneath her, settling back on her haunches. Kate took a breath and let it out in a war cry.

The mare exploded out of the woods at the kidnappers and she had the impression of bodies tumbling out of her way. Still screaming, Kate jumped the mare over the small fire. Allegra took it in a tight, collected leap and landed on the other side, sliding to a stop on her haunches. Kate turned her in a circle and went after one of the men. He struggled to bring up his sword but Allegra bowled him over before he could get it free of the scabbard. She could feel the collision as Allegra knocked him down and went sick to her stomach for a moment.

She had very little time. They would be organized in a few more seconds.

“Terrick!” Kate cried out, hoping her voice would carry through the night, over the sound of the river and the rushing falls. “Terrick!”

Another yell rose up, and her mystery ally came screeching down to join the battle. Hair stood up on the nape of Kate’s neck at the sound, and Allegra rose onto her hindquarters, her forelegs lashing out dangerously. She landed hard, and someone screamed as her flint-hard hooves grazed along a human head with sickening contact that again Kate felt in the saddle.

Order disintegrated. Someone kicked over the fire. “Grab the boy!” “Bring down the horse!” And over it all came the dreadful keening that Kate had heard once before in her life and never forgotten.

She turned Allegra and the mare bucked and kicked out. No war stallion could do better, Kate thought dazedly. She had thought her only role was to create a diversion, but Allegra
was
her weapon.

Torchlight caught her eye, and she shrieked again. “Terrick! Terrick!”

An answering shout came from across the woods.
The search parties
were on the
  way.

The voice of the ringleader rose momentarily. “Follow me, boys! Let’s go!” There was the sound of the underbrush tearing, and then hoofbeats, and Kate regained control of her horse. She threw herself to the ground and knelt over Yare, as the search parties came running up into the small clearing. Yare howled and cried, and she struggled to untie the ropes that bound him. Someone dropped next to her and made quick work of the ropes with a knife. It was Maksin, the old soldier.

“There you are, young lord,” he said in his gruff voice, and helped Yare sit up. The boy snuffled and cried, and gulped. “You be brave now. Be a good soldier.”

More and more torches were added to the light, showing Yare, small, dirty, and terrified, and trying dreadfully hard to stop crying in front of Maksin and the other men. It wasn’t easy to be a Terrick. Kate knew better than to coddle him. Instead she just patted him on the shoulder.

“You okay?”

He wiped his nose and sniffed. He looked at Allegra. “She was like the horse god herself.” His voice only cracked a little. He was calming down.

“Yeah, she was. Tell you what, you can ride her home, if you want.”

Yare’s eyes got big. Maksin muttered something that sounded like disdain. Kate got to her feet and looked around, shaky as reaction set in. Maksin stood as well, calling his men in with orders to return home, let Lady Beatra know that her son was safe, and to call off the search parties.

“Wait,” Kate said. “Aren’t you going after those guys?”

Maksin looked at her. “Are you talking to me, strangeling?” he growled. He turned and left her with Yare.

How. Dare. He. Anger welled up in her, anger and a darkness that for a moment came down over her eyes. She shook her head to clear her vision, and when she could see again, Yare looked up at her, a worried expression in his eyes. She managed a smile and held out her hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Come on. Let me put you in the saddle.”

She gave him a leg up, and handed him the reins. Her mystery ally was being debriefed by one of the House guards, pointing into the woods, explaining what he had seen. She couldn’t see him much better in the torchlight.

She walked over. The soldier glanced at her, surprised and wary, but the mystery man looked at her straight on, his gaze forthright.

He was skinny, not so unusual for Aeritan, and tall. His hair was a tangled mess that hung past his shoulders. His face was pale under its dirt, but beardless, making him no older than her or Colar. He was spattered with blood and dirt, and he held the pike in a relaxed at rest position that looked as if he had been trained with it.

Who trains a crow? The ragged lawless men were famous for their manic rages and makeshift weapons, not weapons training. She could almost believe that he was not crow were it not for the war cry reverberating in her memory.

“What’s your name?” she said.

“Ossen.”

Oh indeed. One mystery solved, and right away here was another one. His voice was light, at odds with his war cry, and the hand that gripped the pike was slender. Kate frowned, and Ossen looked away. It was dark despite the torchlight, and he was so bundled in his rags that she couldn’t be sure.
Wait
until
you see him in the light. Don’t say anything now.

It was dangerous enough for him to be crow. She could imagine what Terrick armsmen would do to him if they knew he was a girl.

“Ossen, the House of Terrick gives you guesting.”

As soon as she said it, she wanted to take it back. She hadn’t the right; and the way the men at arms looked at her–the way the crow looked at her–everyone in the clearing knew it. It was as if someone had taken control of her voice.

Ossen gave her a sidelong glance, and said, “I am honored.”

Lady Beatra was going to
kill
her.

Yare told his story while sitting on the kitchen
table, wrapped in a towel with his feet in a basin of steaming water. He was irrepressible, Kate had to admit. He had almost bounced back, even if his face was tear-streaked and covered with dirt. It helped that he was surrounded by the entire household, along with the crow, who had been given a bowl of soup and bread.

“I was going down to the fishing hole under the bridge,” he explained. “I didn’t see them, mama. They were hiding in the ditch.”

For a moment his voice faltered. Must have been terrifying, Kate thought.

“See, Yare, that’s what happens when you skip out on your chores,” she chirped. As she hoped, he laughed and so did a few other householders, but she noted who didn’t–Torvan for one, and a few of his ilk.

Ossen the crow looked up at her at her words and looked away again. No one else seemed to suspect that he was not all he appeared to be. His shapeless clothes swallowed his frame, making it hard to get a sense of his shape. His features were delicate and androgynous–a pointed chin, slightly tilted eyes, a mop of untidy hair. He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. Kate wanted to hand him a handkerchief so he could wipe it off. His clothes were stained and worn, but they had once been good, with a few touches like carved buttons and a bit of lace to distinguish them.

It was driving her nuts–boy? Girl? How could she find out without giving him away? Maybe he sensed her focus because he caught her gaze, and then went back to his meal with dogged concentration. Even though he was a crow, Lady Beatra knew what was due. This–Ossen had saved her son’s life, along with her foster daughter.

“I would have sent a few men down to chase them, but we thought it better to get the boy home,” Maksin said, his eyes not meeting Lady Beatra, even as he put his thumb in his belt and acted nonchalant. “Mischief makers, that’s all.”