Chapter 2
“This is bloody idiotic!” Oskar Galbraith growled. “He’s playing us for fools! We should leave now or we’ll lose the light!”
His two friends, Emeric and Magnus, listened to his tirade patiently. Neither replied, which only annoyed him all the more. In frustration, Oskar threw up his hands and continued pacing the courtyard of the tiny manor house in which they’d taken shelter.
Above, the winter sky had turned leaden, threatening the first of the season’s snow, and the last thing they needed was to get stuck here. Couldn’t his friends see that? Couldn’t they see that their mission was hanging by a thread?
“I dinna think he’s playing us for anything,” Emeric replied calmly, brushing a strand of sandy-colored hair out of his face. “His leg is clearly broken.”
“So what if it is?” Oskar snapped. “We’ll tie him to the saddle if we have to. His trial is fast approaching in case ye’ve forgotten!”
“We havenae forgotten, my friend,” Magnus rumbled in his deep voice. “Nor have we forgotten the mission Kai charged us with. And ifyeremember, he told us to get him to his trialsafelyand in one piece. Moving him now would risk his life.”
“So?” Oskar said again. Fury ripped through him, hot and biting. Why were they taking that bastard’s side? Had theyforgotten what he’d done? “He’s going to hang anyway. Who cares if he endures a little pain on the journey? It’s no more than he deserves!”
“That isnae for us to decide,” Emeric said. “That’s up to the king.”
Oskar ground his jaw. He could feel time slipping away with every heartbeat, and with it, their chance for justice. Five days they’d been on the road. Five days without mishap until this afternoon. Oskar was sure he’d tied the bonds securely, so how had the prisoner gotten free? How had he managed his escape attempt?
No matter. As soon as they got him to Edinburgh and handed him over to the king’s men, Oskar’s duty would be fulfilled, and it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. He would have kept his oath and completed his mission. After that, he would have the satisfaction of seeing the prisoner face justice. After everything the man had done, all the people he’d hurt, it would be a satisfying conclusion.
One that was being threatened by his sword-brothers’ hesitation. Couldn’t they see that this was all part of the prisoner’s plan? That he was just stalling them?
“Look,” he said, spreading his hands and trying to sound reasonable, even though he was so angry he wanted to pull out his sword and start chopping things with it. “If we leave now we can be in Arling by sundown. I’m sure there’s a healer there that can take a look at his injury.”
But Emeric was shaking his head. “Arling is a long way. It looks like a bad break to me and if the bone punctures the skin he could bleed out before we could stop it. We weren’t tasked with delivering a corpse to Edinburgh.”
Why did he have to sound so bloody calm and reasonable? Although he loved Emeric like a brother, sometimes Oskar couldhappily throttle him. He took a deep breath and turned to Magnus. “Looks like ye have the deciding vote. What will it be?”
The giant, dark-haired warrior reached up to rub his stubbled chin and then glanced at the sky. It was late afternoon and they’d been on the road since before first light. “I agree with Emeric,” he said at last. “We’ll wait until his injury has been treated and then be on our way. After everything we went through to capture him, I wouldnae want to be responsible for preventing him from facing justice.”
Oskar clenched his jaw. Justice? Dying in a ditch somewhere, alone and forgotten would be justice for that man!
There was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Oskar spun, drawing his sword in a flash and dropping into a fighting stance, but it was only Lord Eberwyn, whose manor house they’d taken shelter in.
“I’ve sent for the healer as ye requested,” he said. Lord Eberwyn was short and unobtrusive, with a bald head and protruding eyes. He didn’t look like he could even hold a sword, much less swing one. Who would have thought he’d once been one of the Order of the Osprey’s most formidable agents? Now retired, he still aided the Order whenever he could—such as letting Oskar and his friends take shelter in his manor house after the debacle today.
Oskar sheathed his sword. “Which way will the healer be coming from?”
“Along the west road,” Lord Eberwyn replied, pointing. “From Abbotsfield down in the valley.”
“Fine!” Oskar retorted, stalking across the courtyard to where their horses were tied up.
“Where are ye going?” Emeric shouted.
“To fetch this healer. If ye are so intent on this, then we better bloody-well speed it up, hadnae we?”
Without waiting for an answer, he untied his horse, swung up into the saddle of the black gelding, and pulled him around to face the gates.
