We Will Hunt Together (8 page)

Helgaer's sense of ease disappeared. She shot Camille a glance that none of the men seemed to notice.

Emmerich, who had sat down and joined in the toasts but said little, snorted. "Behaving themselves?" His voice was deep and growling. "They never have behaved themselves. They're arrogant, officious and prepared to do anything because 'we must keep the peace'." He spat into the fire, an impressive distance.

"They patrol the roads," Petre added, "but they always have. They are annoying, always demanding answers about why a man would be alone, away from town, carrying weapons. But they are easy to avoid. No, the problem is they are beginning to patrol the forests as well."

Camille looked up sharply. "Patrolling the forests?"

"Ruined several of my traps," Anselm said with disgust, "through being clumsy and foolish. Scaring off game. Found me carrying skins to town one day, demanded to know who I was. Ortliners have been hunting in these hills for generations, but now they start asking nasty questions. Where do I live? Have I seen anyone who doesn't belong? Do I know there are have been violent clashes with Vreelanders at the border? I could tell them who doesn't belong." He spat at the fire, but fell short.

Anselm suddenly realised what he had said. He looked at Helgaer in her native clothes and paled.

Helgaer raised a hand in reassurance. "I know of … some clashes," she said with an effort. "I know who was responsible, too."

"It's that bastard Koda," Petre said, the words escaping him with considerable force. "I knew he was going to be trouble as soon as we heard he was being sent here. You remember what we heard from down south? He was no good then, and he's no good now. He's a trouble-maker. Stirs the pot just to see who complains."

Helgaer was gripping the wooden tankard so hard Camille thought she heard it creak, but her face was composed. "Koda?" Helgaer asked, with forced casualness. If the men noticed anything in her tone, they gave no sign.

"Captain Ellisar Koda," said Anselm. "A hard man looking for a war. We don't have a war at the moment, so he's looking to make one, I reckon. Came with his own men to the local fort—a small affair, never a trouble to any of us—and stirred it up until suddenly we've got even local soldiers being difficult. Then Koda ups and marches off, towards the border. Then we hear word from merchants that he's cropped up somewhere else. No idea where he'll be next."

"That's his bloody plan," Emmerich said. His voice was growing deeper the angrier he became. "Wants everyone uncertain. He'll cut you up soon as look at you if you answer him back. Thinks his commission as a soldier is as good as being King. He's the King's man, so look at him funny and it's treason."

Helgaer took a deep, slow breath. Camille shot her a warning look. Helgaer ignored it. "Sounds to me like someone must have had a go at him, by now."

Petre laughed. "Wish I was that brave! He's a veteran of hunting down bandits, and he doesn't send his men in first. Oh, he's good, is Koda. I've never seen his face, but I know men who have seen him fight, and he's going to take some beating. Reckon you would have to be prepared to die, soon as try." Petre frowned. "Thing is, I don't know if killing him wouldn't cause more trouble than it solves."

"Might have the whole fucking army down around our ears." Emmerich's voice was rumbling like a bear, now.

"Or they might breathe a sigh of relief and quietly bury him and move on, if only his men weren't as hard as him," Anselm said. There was a reflective note in his voice, as though he had considered trying his luck with a bow himself.

Helgaer gave Anselm an intent look. "Sounds to me you would have to kill all his men at the same time. He always have the same squad with him?"

They all nodded, instantly. "Famous for it," Anselm said while Emmerich scowled into the fire. "Always the same men. They've got their own insignia. Haven't seen it. People just say it's black and looks a bit evil. That don't say much. You could paint a black chicken and make it look evil if an evil man wears it. Thing is, find his men, you'll find Koda. Find Koda, you'll find his men. They do everything together."

Helgaer felt as though she had entered a state of pure focus and white-hot rage without passing through anger first. Everything seemed clear and sharp. "I heard a story, near the border," she said, speaking with care to keep her voice under control. "Heard they found a Vreelander woman on their side of the border. Heard tell—"

"Don't tell us the rest," Petre said instantly. Helgaer stared at him. Petre was shaking his head violently. Anselm was staring uneasily into his mug. Emmerich said something unintelligible but violent before stomping into the hut. "We don't want to hear the rest. We've heard it before."

"Any woman he thinks won't be missed," Anselm said. It was soft, but carried. "Vreelanders on our side of the border. Bandits—there are some women in their ranks, sometimes wives but sometimes fighters. Thieves. Criminals. Criminals 'escaping' during transport. Heard from a merchant of some rumours from when Koda was stationed on the Danovan border, too." Anselm looked up, finally, straight at Helgaer. "Reckon you should keep your head down and think about moving on for your own sake, Helgaer."

Helgaer stared straight back at him. "Never been one for hiding," she said. "Never been one for backing down. But I thank you for the warning."

Emmerich returned, holding a stack of mismatched plates. "We stop talking about the soldiers," he said. "The soldiers will always be there. Today will be gone by tonight." He began hacking up two roast pheasant with aggressive but skilful movements of his long knife. Anselm, grateful for the change of subject, leapt to his feet to find a loaf of bread.

They took their leave of the men while the sun was dropping but while it still had some way to fall. Helgaer, rested and fed, estimated they might make it back before nightfall if they hurried.

Camille moved quickly, dividing her attention between Helgaer and the trail, but not taking the same time as she had on the outgoing journey.

They travelled in silence, and returned to the hut with light to spare.

They divested themselves of their weapons in silence. Helgaer removed her vest but, with the night turning cool, threw her cloak around her shoulders.

Camille stoked the fire before sitting down heavily on the bench.

"I thank you for trying to warn me," Helgaer said, "but I must still do this."

"I wondered what your reaction would be," Camille said without turning her head. "I told you I had heard of Captain Koda. I told you he was a bastard. Now you know how much of one. I want to see you succeed, but I … do not believe you will."

Helgaer sat down slowly. She had almost been expecting a fight, not these flat statements. She was, briefly, at a loss for what to say.

Camille sighed, then rubbed her hands over her face. "Is there anything I can do to talk you out of this?"

"In Vreeland, vengeance is a holy mission." Helgaer knew she was repeating herself. It was all she felt she needed to say.

"So you said." Camille definitely sounded bitter, then. "Do you have any idea what it is like to take on men that trained and vicious? All of them at once?"

"I will find out."

"Don't be so stupid."

Anger leapt into Helgaer then, but Camille cut her off before she could say anything.

"If you go into a fight with the odds that badly against you, do not go in without a strategy."

Anger died in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"How do you hunt wolves?"

Understanding dawned. "One at a time."

"How long does it take you?"

"I have never been on a wolf hunt. I was never that comfortable with a bow. But the men would hunt together and take all day sometimes."

"Would you walk into the centre of the pack, sword drawn?"

"I can see your argument," Helgaer said sharply. "Assume I am successful. How do you think they will react when I start killing them one by one?"

Camille's head turned to look at Helgaer, her eyes burning. "They will think they are facing more than two of us."

Helgaer stared at her. "You can not mean—"

"Understand this," Camille said over the top of her. "If I think you have any chance of success, I will join you. We must rid these mountains of him and his men or leave ourselves. You heard what Anselm and Petre said. I have had a good life here, but no longer. I will always be looking over my shoulder and trusting nobody. If I think you are not yet up to it, I will do everything in my power to talk you out of trying. But if we have any chance at all, well, you can have Koda, but I will help you kill his men. You will need my bow, in any case. A sling is good for pheasants and pigeons, not armoured men."

Helgaer stared at her, speechless.

"Well?" Camille asked.

"I am humbled to have you join my hunt," Helgaer said slowly. Somehow, the traditional Vreelander words seemed inadequate. "Thank you."

*~*~*

Camille checked her traps the next morning, returning with no rabbits but a small deer she had shot instead.

Helgaer had been practicing her sword drills again, moving lightly and quickly and not stressing her side. She was wearing the farmer's hose and shirt.

Camille did not quite manage to enter the clearing before Helgaer heard her.

"I would like to show you something," Camille announced, after looking at Helgaer's practice sword for a moment. "After we have something to eat. Do you feel up to another walk?"

Helgaer shrugged. "I feel better than I did yesterday morning."

"Good. I will change your dressing before we leave."

*~*~*

Helgaer debated avoiding her Vreeland clothes after the warning from Anselm, but refused to hide. When she emerged from the hut after changing, Camille was waiting. She was carrying a long bundle wrapped in cloth in addition to her bow and hunting knife.

Helgaer opened her mouth to ask, but Camille cut her off. "Are you ready? This way."

Surprised but intrigued, Helgaer followed her quietly.

They headed at first in the direction of the men's camp, then turned sharply and began heading towards the mountains. Helgaer's heart quickened. Even seeing their distant peaks made her happier.

Camille set off at a good pace, giving Helgaer a little time to adjust before picking it up slightly. Soon they were striding along easily and noiselessly, eyes constantly scanning, moving without speaking but with occasional gestures from Camille to Helgaer, or animal-like noises from Helgaer to attract Camille's attention and ask a question with raised eyebrow or nod.

The day was hotter than before, and Helgaer was warm inside her vest. She was drinking a little more water than she was used to, but did not want to take her vest off. Camille, in her sturdy linen, did not seem to notice the heat any more than she had noticed the cold of the nights. Helgaer found herself wondering how Camille, from a plains people, would cope in a true Vreeland winter when water skins need to be carried against the skin to keep them liquid.

They headed steadily uphill, working towards a small peak. Helgaer was maintaining her light, smooth, hunter's steps, but although her legs were carrying her with ease, her side was beginning to feel the strain again.

The ground became rockier, the trees straggly and spaced out. Then the trees petered out entirely, replaced by shrubs that managed to hang on despite the winds by clinging to what was now almost purely rock.

The rounded summit felt exposed. Helgaer looked around, seeing peaks rising above them. She felt a mix of exhilaration at the altitude and frustration that they were not even higher.

Camille looked around with satisfaction. Helgaer recognised the slightly proprietorial look in her eyes.

"Your home," Camille said while nodding in a direction Helgaer had already, with the surety of a migrating bird, marked.

Helgaer turned, quickly scanned the forest beneath them and pointed at a smaller peak below them. "Yours."

Camille nodded with satisfaction.

Helgaer traced, as best she could, her path down from Vreeland, working out roughly where the bandits had attacked her—and her, the bandits. The distance she had travelled with the crossbow bolt still stuck in her side impressed even her.

Her hand went unconsciously to the wound.

"How is it feeling?"

Camille had appeared to be still looking out across her hunting range, but had missed nothing.

"It is not paining me at all. I was remembering."

Camille walked over to her side, scanning the forests quickly before pointing. "The bandit camp was there, on the other side of that ridge." It was exactly where Helgaer had worked out it would be.

"Why did you come to my aid?"

Camille was silent for just a second too long before shrugging off-handedly. "I hate bandits. And a woman, alone, fighting so well? I thought that was a person I should meet."

"Fighting so well? You asked me if I wanted to die."

"You made a nearly fatal mistake."

"The unexpected can happen to anyone. Nobody should let fear control their actions."

Camille's lip twisted. She unslung her bow, placing it with care on the ground, then began unrolling her cloth parcel.