“Tomorrow, they’ll reach Telaga Pass between Mount Telaga and Mount Frane, a narrow gap that will force them to travel singly in a line for a time. I know another way where they can’t take their horses, but we can take our mules. Two of us can lie in wait. We can pick them off as they emerge while others attack from behind. There will be no escape, and their greater numbers won’t be of much help.” The gleam in Jayra’s eyes faded. “Which means another day without your husband. I’m sorry.”
Draylon’s heart stuttered, but he wouldn’t let on the personal importance of getting Yarif back. After all, most people still thought the marriage purely political, and Draylon’s reasons for rescuing Yarif equally political. Even Draylon had yet to figure out his feelings. Jayra stared expectantly. “What is it?”
After a long moment, Jayra murmured, “Your consort appears malnourished and weak. He’s been beaten. You told me of his fighting skills, but he’ll be of little help once we attack. The man can barely walk.”
“They’re starving him, beating him?” Yes, Draylon had heard the screams while scouting the mountains above Illa’s camp, but hoped they’d belonged to someone else. Maybe a mercenary who’d defied the commander. Every fiber of Draylon’s being demanded he attack now, get Yarif to safety.
But they must have plans in place. Be ready. Strike when the greater number was vulnerable.
He’d been on too many campaigns not to know the cruelty some warriors meted out. If Jayra did the whipping, she’d been trained, as Draylon had, on exactly how far to take a flogging without inflicting permanent damage.
And how to inflict the maximum torment.
Jayra nodded, her hood sliding back from her bald head. She immediately pulled on a knit cap. “It seems that way. But don’t worry. Game is plentiful in the mountains at this time of year. We’ll catch rabbits and fish for him.”
Draylon pulled back from the ledge. Having to lead their horses slowed Illa down while the sturdy mountain mules gifted by Vihaan remained surefooted.
Even if the asshole assigned to Draylon liked to bite.
Another day. One more day.Hold on, Yarif. I’m coming.
Draylon didn’t sleep, tossing and turning in his bedroll until taking his turn at guard. Last night, Jayra reported more screams. Once more, Rufe kept Draylon from attacking without a plan. Sharp knives dug at Draylon’s heart.
Did Illa know he was here and hoped to force him to act hastily? No, judging by reputation, she inflicted pain for her own pleasure.
Draylon would gladly cut her down where she stood. She’d pay for harming Yarif. An old mentor once said the potential for good existed even in the vilest of people. Until Illa, Draylon hadn’t once doubted the words.
The sky hung heavy as dawn rose, gray clouds hiding the tops of nearby mountains.
The mountain guide approached while they broke camp. “Those are snow clouds. Snow falls fast and hard in these mountains this time of year. If the weather becomes ugly while those horsemen are in the pass, they’ll be trapped. We hope they sense the danger and hurry through. Have you ever fought in snow?”
A campaign against bandits in Herix came to mind. “Yes, but only a light dusting.”
The woman nodded. “If I thought you’d agree, I’d suggest we leave and let the mountains deal with them. Within hours, this snow can reach your waist.”
Abandon Yarif? Never! The horror on Draylon’s face must have shown, for the guide added, “We’ll have to move quickly if we’re to save your mate.”
“What happens when we defeat them?” Draylon would focus onwhennot if.
“There is an abandoned village nearby, with a few sturdy houses left intact. It’s a defensible position. There’s also a keep farther on that appears to be occupied. Either will provide protection until the storm passes.”
“As much as I’d love to secure Yarif in a nice, warm keep, we cannot let our presence be known.”
The woman nodded. “This is why Captain Jayra has men clearing two village houses and laying in supplies and firewood. We will be ready.”
“How many men?”
“Two. Once the fighting starts, we’ll leave one man in the village.”
“That leaves us with only seven to take on sixteen.”
The woman’s mouth hitched on one side. “I know. Almost makes you pity the poor unsuspecting bastards, doesn’t it?” She strode away toward her mule, Draylon close behind her. How reassuring, her faith in her fellow mercenaries. Vihaan said they were the best. With his illustrious career and many battles, he should know. Convincing new lands to join the empire wasn’t easy, nor was fighting off Verlan’s frequent attacks.
Vihaan had survived both.
Rufe approached, holding his mule by the reins. “You know, this grouchy old beastie is growing on me.” He gave her an affectionate pat.
Draylon snorted. “Because you have so much in common. I remember a time when you said the same about me.” He clapped Rufe on the shoulder. “The mercenaries have found a village for us to hole up in until the coming storm passes. Promise me that you’ll take him there if you find Yarif first.”
