The Sleeping King (62 page)

Silence settled around her and her companions. Too much silence. Whoever came this way would sense their presence in the absence of chirps and clicks and random noises of the woods. Worried, she caught Will's apprehensive gaze and pointed at her ear.

He frowned for a moment and then nodded in sudden comprehension. She watched as he laid his hands upon the ground and closed his eyes in concentration.

She didn't fully understand who Bloodroot was, but unquestionably the spirit was deeply connected to nature. Will's face went even grayer and more haggard as the spirit within him encouraged the creatures of the wood to resume their normal chorus. In a few moments the usual buzzings and chirpings resumed.

Raina sagged in relief. As soon as she got within reach of Will, though, she was going to have to pour a bunch of healing into him and his disk. He looked terrible after the effort of allowing the tree spirit to function through him like that.

They were never going to get out of this mess alive.

*   *   *

Will panted, each breath painful. Regaining control of his mind after relinquishing it to Bloodroot like that was almost more effort than he could manage. But Raina had been right. If the forest went silent around them they were all dead.

It was no more than a minute after the crickets and frogs started singing once more when abrupt silence cut through the forest. This time it was not of their doing. His senses shot onto high alert. He smelled them first. He would never forget that effluvia of rotting meat.

Orcs.

The Boki patrol came into sight, four of them, moving in casual but nonetheless vigilant formation. They moved like creatures on their home turf, not expecting trouble. But then, all of a sudden, the one in front's heavy-jowled head swung up sharply, an upthrusting tusk glinting. He lifted his lumpy green face to the wisp of breeze and took a long, loud sniff. He grunted something that sounded suspiciously like “hoo-mans.”

Dregs.
Will gripped his sword more tightly and thought fiercely,
I don't care if these are your people or not, Bloodroot. If they kill me, they kill you. Stay out of my way if this comes to a fight
. An inarticulate snort in his head was all he got back.

The other Boki stopped and sniffed as well. After a spate of urgent grunts two of them wheeled around and headed back to the north from whence they came. The other two sprinted south, straight at Will and the others, hidden in the underbrush. He tensed, readying himself to meet the charge. He would take the leader. Will was ready to spring out and face his foe. A dozen more strides and the orc would be within weapon range. A half dozen. Three strides. Two.

And then the orc barreled past, not even slowing down as he passed Will's hiding place. Both of the Boki pounded on by, charging south and disappearing from sight within a few tense seconds.

What on Urth was that all about?

Will and the others crouched in their hiding places, holding their positions for several minutes, awaiting the possible return of either group of Boki. But gradually the sounds of the forest resumed around them—and without any help from Bloodroot. The party crept out of hiding and huddled together, and the others looked fully as perplexed as Will felt.

Eben spoke first. “The two who went north were going back to warn their tribe. The others went south, following the scent of humans.”

Cicero nodded. “Anton's army. The orcs must've picked up the scent of the larger party of humans behind us. It probably masked our scent, or at least mingled with it such that they didn't realize we were right here.”

Raina laughed under her breath. “Who'd have ever guessed I'd be thrilled to have a squad of the Haelan legion on my tail?”

Cicero replied grimly, “Oh, it is no mere squad. It is a full battalion if I don't miss my guess.”

Will turned on the kindari in dismay. “How do you figure that?”

“Animals flee before large parties of humans much like they would before a wildfire. Based on the number and type of displaced creatures I've seen moving through the woods, I can estimate the size of the force and its direction of movement.”

It was the sort of logic Adrick would have used. Will thought back also to his father's endless lectures about historic battles of old. If Anton was out here to confront the Boki, a line of battle would emerge where the two forces met and clashed. Their little party needed to move out of the way and not end up caught between the two armies as they charged headlong toward each other.

And in the meantime, they still had to find the remains of the Great Circle … wherever they might be hiding. But they'd also had practically no sleep in two days, and they were all exhausted.

Will spoke quietly. “I think we need to find a good hiding place and get some real sleep. There are about to be two armies running around out here, and it's going to take all of our skill and strength to avoid them both.”

The others agreed, and if he was not mistaken, looks of relief passed around. Cicero told them to stay put while he looked for a likely spot. He returned in a little while and led them into an area of chokingly thick, nearly impassable underbrush. The going was painfully slow, for they dared not leave even a single thread behind to mark their passage through the thick brambles. But, by the time full night had fallen, they had made a cold camp, ranging their bedrolls in a tight defensive circle under cover of a stand of thorny holly bushes with thick evergreen leaves that made a dense cover over and around them.

It was dangerous to stop like this, but they had no choice. Not one of them had the strength to go on. Raina had poured a massive amount of magic into Will around sunset, which made him feel marginally better, but she'd been stumbling along in utter exhaustion ever since. Maybe if Kendrick had been here and given them some stirring speech of courage and perseverance it might have convinced them to find a way to press on. Will had never expected to miss the young noble, but Kendrick had grown on him over time. Their attacker had no doubt killed Kendrick by now and Hyland's son had already resurrected in Dupree. His father would be exasperated, but Kendrick was probably sitting in a pub right now hoisting an ale and flirting with a barmaid while the rest of them ran for their lives out here.

But without Kendrick's boundless energy to inspire them, the party members could not muster the energy to do aught but close their eyes and pass out.

*   *   *

Leland's breath hitched as a scout burst into the command tent, panting. Clearly, the soldier had news of their quarry. With all his being, Leland wished to avoid the battle to come. Krugar, in the middle of his daily report, fell silent. Anton ordered imperiously, “Speak, scout.”

“They've been spotted again. Due north of our position and on the run.”

On the run?
Boki didn't run. Ever. They stood and fought their enemies. And usually won, of course. Who, then, did Anton have his scouts tracking? Horror exploded in Leland's chest. Surely not the very party he and Aurelius had sent forth into these woods.
My son
.

“What of the Boki?” Leland asked the scout.

“Sign, but no sightings, my lord.”

“Who, then, did you see?” Leland asked as blandly as he possibly could. Meanwhile panic clogged his throat.

The Kithmar scout's nose twitched, and his yellow-eyed gaze darted to Anton and back.

It was all the answer Leland needed. Helpless fury washed over him. Even Anton knew Leland would fall on his own sword before he would kill his own son and Kendrick's companions. But forcing Leland to actually choose between family and duty—Anton always had been a master at finding and twisting the knife in a man's gut.

Anton answered casually, “While we're hunting greenskins, we might as well take out some bandits and outlaws while we're at it. Put a bounty on a renegade and these cats suddenly turn into fine trackers.”

The Kithmar scout growled in eager anticipation. Leland couldn't tell if the creature was lusting harder for blood or gold. But the avid greed in the rakasha's feline eyes worried Leland. A lot.

Once, he'd been the adventurer on the run, simultaneously fleeing Anton's forces and racing toward glory. Once, he and his comrades had been young and eager, sure that they were fated to save the world from the Kothite scourge. If only he were Kendrick's age again—

Wishing would not make it so. Leland had had his shot at glory. It was time to move aside for the next generation of heroes. But knowing it did not make his heart yearn any less for the thrill of the chase, the taste of glory on his tongue, the clash of battle in his ears.

Truth be told, his son and the others faced an even more difficult challenge than Leland had before. For one thing, the force chasing him thirty years ago had worn Imperial Army colors and been constrained to a certain degree of civilized behavior. But this bunch that Anton had hired … Leland barely stopped his lip from curling in disgust. The good governor had dug to the very bottom of the midden pile of humanity to come up with these Kithmar rogues, brigands, and outright assassins he'd brought with him into the Forest of Thorns.

Worse, at the governor's order, nobody wore uniforms or colors of any kind, not even Anton himself, thereby negating what few rules existed for honorable behavior in combat. How Anton had gotten wind of Tiberius's boy, Leland's own son, and a young arch-mage on a quest Leland had no idea. Eben was excitable, but could handle himself in a fight. And the girl's kindari watchdog seemed to have a level head on his shoulders. The inexperienced gypsy girl could be a liability, but at least she wore Heart colors. That could prove useful.
They'd be all right
 … but the assurance rang hollow in his own ears.
Five against an army of five hundred? Particularly
this
five hundred?
And that was assuming Anton didn't have more mercenaries that he didn't know about lying in wait in the woods.

Of course, it went without saying that Anton's real goal was to find and seize for himself the fabled Boki treasure of the Forest of Thorns.

Perhaps worst of all, Anton had declined to bring along a single Heart healer on this unofficial expedition of his. Not only did he likely wish to avoid the Heart reporting back to the Empire through its own channels on this escapade of his, but Leland also suspected Anton hoped the majority of his force would die out here beyond the help of resurrection. Two birds brought down with one stone. Anton would have his treasure and his glory, and he would rid the colony of many of its most troubling bandits.

Leland glanced across the tent at Selea, lounging indolently in the corner. The nulvari showed no reaction to the latest report of a small party of outlaws moving deeper into the forest. But surely the irony was not lost on him, either. Aurelius, on the far side of the table, was outwardly composed, but Leland thought he detected a hint of tightness about the solinari's jaw.

Another one of Anton's petty revenges—insisting that the three of them travel with him … to witness the end of all their hopes and dreams for freedom in their lifetimes. Oh yes. Anton had been more than happy to include Aurelius and Selea in the expedition when they'd unexpectedly shown up in camp two nights ago, to rub their noses in their failure thirty years ago and in his triumph now where they had failed.
Whoreson.

Anton was gleeful at the news of the latest sighting. “A night march tonight and we shall finally catch some little fishies in our net.” The governor's sly gaze landed on Leland. “What on Urth could fugitive outlaws be after out here?”

Leland shrugged as casually as he could muster. Anton knew as well as any of them what the adventurers attempted. Anton was merely under the mistaken impression that the treasure they sought was monetary. In that, at least, Leland held a trump card over the governor.

Anton continued, “We can't have rogue bandits running around like this provoking petty wars with greenskins. We must crush these renegades. And we must teach all the heathens of this barbaric land a lesson about who rules this place.” Anton's voice rose. The governor did love to get himself all worked up. “I say when and where my subjects may go. No one breathes in these colonies without my permission!”

Krugar cleared his throat. “Your mercen—men—have been on forced march for the past three days. They will be dropping in their boots by the morrow.”

Anton waved a careless hand. “Cull the weak, Captain.”

Krugar tried again. “If we move in force to capture this party of outlaws tonight, we will likely engage Boki. I have no exact count of how many orcs are out there—the scouts I sent out to get a head count are overdue on their return.”

That threw a damper into the gathered leaders of the various groups of thugs that formed Anton's cadre. Boki were formidable warriors. The usual practice was to count one Boki as the equivalent of five seasoned Imperial soldiers. Who knew what the odds would be against this cobbled-together force, however? Given the bandits' lack of experience working as a single, disciplined military unit, Leland guessed the Boki counted more realistically at eight to ten of Anton's men to one of the orcs. And they were defending their homes, most dangerous foes indeed.

Renewed worry for Kendrick and his companions stabbed Leland. If a substantial orc force had moved to intercept the little party of adventurers, their situation was grim indeed. Boki before them, Anton's mercenaries behind them.

The parallels to last time were eerie.

Thankfully, Anton was not so worked up yet that he could not hear reason. The governor scowled at Krugar. “Very well. We will wait for your scouts to return with a Boki head count. And then we move to grab the renegades.”

Leland sent an urgent plea out to the party, so young and inexperienced for the task laid upon them.
Run, children. Fly like the wind
.