of the trail, out of sight. He moved as quietly as he could back the way they had just come. It was nearing noon, so there were few hiding places around the trail. The trees were not particularly dense here, but a few clumps of brush and some tightly packed large boles provided him with cover.
Martin was perhaps half a dozen yards down the trail when a familiar voice said, ‘If I were a Keshian assassin, you’d be dead, my love.’
Slowly turning, his expression one of exasperation, he said, ‘Beth?’
She stepped out from behind a nearby tree trunk. ‘Congratulations on hearing me. I didn’t think you would after I caught up with you, two hours after you passed the roadblock.’
Martin was still tired and already feeling the pressure of leadership. Now he felt close to rage at being disobeyed by the woman he loved. As if reading his mind, she said quietly, ‘Before you make a fool of yourself, listen. You don’t want these lads from Ylith thinking you can’t control a woman. Especially when them obeying you might be the difference between the success of this mission and death. I know you take your duties very seriously, Martin, but there are going to be times you’ll need to listen to me. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
Whispering through clenched teeth, he said, ‘Then why did you put me in this position, Beth?’
‘Because I love you, even though you’re an idiot at times.’ She put her hand on his arm. ‘Of the five of you, you’re the only one who’s spent time on the west side of the Grey Towers. These men may be able hunters and trackers, but this is new territory for them. Odds are almost certain you’re the worst bowman and hunter in the band. You don’t have a tenth of my skill and knowledge. While you were studying history and language, my father and I were hunting from the Straits of Darkness to Elvandar.’
Martin knew the last to be an exaggeration, but not by much, so he said nothing.
She moved closer. ‘Martin, I love you with all my heart, but if I can keep you safe, I will do just that, no matter what orders you think I must follow. Now, do we understand each other?’
‘Beth—’ His tone left no doubt that at that moment there was no understanding, just a young man feeling betrayed and embarrassed.
She cut him off. ‘Look, why are you following this trail?’
He blinked, as if he didn’t understand the question. ‘Because it’s leading us up into the peaks, towards where the Star Elves have built their city.’
‘And you call yourself a student of history,’ she said softly.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘The Tsurani invasion. Surely you studied the maps.’
‘Of course I did …’ He let his voice fall off and his anger drained away as he realized what she was saying. ‘This is the crest trail, the false trail, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘This trail ends five miles ahead at an impassable ravine. It’s why both the Kingdom nobles and the Natalese Rangers left it unguarded. You want the trail a half-mile downslope.’
Feeling foolish, he said, ‘Thank you, but you could have reminded me back in Ylith.’
‘You’d just get lost somewhere else. We have many days of travel ahead, my love, and who knows what will be waiting for us the closer we get to those elves? Either Brendan or I would double your chances to survive, and admit it, I’m a better choice than Brendan; I’ve travelled these trails more and I’m a better archer.’
Finally Martin turned, motioning for her to follow. He whistled and the four hunters from Ylith appeared from cover. ‘Tom, Jack, Will, and Edgar; Lady Bethany of Carse.’
Tom and Jack were brothers, fourteen and fifteen years of age. They had been too young to fight when the Keshians had first arrived in Yabon, but were now keen to do their bit. Will looked to be in his fifties, with his grey hair and a sallow complexion, but his eyes were sharp and focused. Edgar was a slightly stout man with a bald pate, grey beard, dark eyes and the shoulders of a brawler. All held bows and moved like experienced hunters. Tom and Jack exchanged glances, but neither of them spoke.
‘She’ll be taking point,’ Martin told them. ‘Let’s go.’
Beth said, ‘If memory serves, there’s a dry streambed ahead we can use to get downslope to the next trail.’ She spoke as if this was the expected route and no one said a word. The four hunters from Yabon might not know the young prince well enough to say for certain, but all of them were convinced he was in no mood for questions.
Beth set off at a slow trot and the others followed in line.
Days passed quietly. The forest above was thin as they followed the upper game trails. This part of the Grey Towers was below the timberline at the peaks, but still high enough that the foliage was less dense, hence less difficult to pass. It also made it easier to be seen if they weren’t careful, but Bethany was proving to be a skilled trail-breaker.
Martin was still nursing his injured pride five days into the march, but it was fading as he was forced to admit her reasoning was borne out by the ease with which she led the party. Several times she negotiated them around difficult spots that would have confounded him, forcing him to double back and find another path.
They ate trail rations, avoiding campfires at night, so this foray lacked any sense of the fun Martin and Bethany had known hunting with their fathers. There was a quiet urgency and earnestness about the mission that was more sobering than any admonition Martin could have made. Everyone knew lives were at stake, their own and others’.
Bethany would rise at dawn and move off at a distance to relieve herself. She had instructed Martin and the four hunters in ways to relieve themselves leaving as little evidence as possible. At first Martin thought she was showing off her trail skills, but after a few days he realized that their body odour could betray their whereabouts. Bethany had taught them how to bathe in a cold stream and rid their garments of stench, using rocks and some oil pressed out of pine bark. Martin had stood guard while she bathed and the five men had rotated guard duty while cleaning themselves.
On the fifth day of their journey the rains came.
Even in midsummer, the weather on the west side of the Grey Towers could turn suddenly. Driving rain, even hail, was not uncommon. They were on the ‘wet’ side of the mountains, as the trail they followed from the road looped to the west of the peaks; storms off the Endless Sea would drench the west face of the peaks, leaving the east side of the mountains dry. Enough rain got over the peaks that the east faces were replete with rivers and streams, rendering the mountain pastures and lower meadows fertile farm land, providing many of the cash crops shipping from the ports of the Free Cities, but they were less plagued with marsh-like depressions, stagnant pools and mosquitoes. Martin decided that in addition to what the history books said about the Keshian colonization of Bosania, the simple truth was that the east side of the Grey Towers was just a nicer place to live than the west side, which is why it was more densely populated.
The troop was less troubled by the terrain than by keeping dry: for much of that fifth day they all huddled under a granite overhang that provided some shelter. In the last hours of the afternoon the storm blew out, and the late sun found the six members of Martin’s scouting party standing, arms outstretched, catching as much of the sun as they could to accelerate drying out, looking like nothing so much as a group of turkey buzzards trying to warm themselves in the sun.
Martin
