Quietly, he started untying the rope.
The sound of a snapped twig brought him around with a sharp jerk. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised—him or the night watchman who had just stepped out from behind the tree. Ferrin leaped before the guard had a chance to register what was happening.
Both went down with a thud. Ferrin grabbed for the man’s mouth, and the guard began punching Ferrin in the side, each hit excruciating. Ferrin’s eyes watered as he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. His grip was slipping. The guard reached for his knife, and Ferrin slammed the side of his hand down on top of the guard’s throat.
The guard’s eyes went wide as he gasped for breath. Ferrin ripped the man’s knife from his belt and buried it in his chest. The guard stopped moving.
That’s one down. He made his way back to the horses and used the knife to cut the rope. These particular animals must have been trained for battle. None of them had so much as whinnied during Ferrin’s scuffle with the guard.
After lowering the rope, he found one of the mounts had already been saddled. It was mighty generous of someone to have gone to all the trouble of having it ready for him. Whoever it belonged to must have been planning on going into the city later.
Ferrin kept a close eye on the men around the fire as he carefully swung his leg up and over the saddle. Bladder’s whistle hung from his neck. He held it up, and sparing one final look at the wagons, he stuck it in his mouth and blew.
The sharp trill of the small instrument snapped all the horses to attention. Ferrin released another long blow and dug in his heels.
Goat Face was the first one completely out of his bedding and on his feet. In one hand he held a sword and in the other, a large cudgel. The captain must have been sleeping with them in his hands to have pulled them so quickly. The look on the captain’s face was worth it all. He couldn’t have been more surprised had the dark wizard himself walked out of the woods and greeted him with a handshake.
Ferrin drove his horse directly at the men in their beds, not so much because the way out happened to be directly beyond but because Ferrin had every intention of trampling as many of them as he could. Unfortunately, Goat Face was on the other side of the pit. But he did manage to crush one guard who had gotten tangled in his bedding in all the confusion. Another got a solid boot to the face when he tried leaping at Ferrin’s horse.
As loud as he could, Ferrin continued blasting away on Bladder’s whistle, making sure to keep his horse’s attention focused on him and not the other guard’s attempt at stopping the animal. Behind him, Hatch’s voice filled the small clearing.
“Get to your horses and go after him!”
Ferrin directed his mount down the same path they had entered by. Eventually, it would lead him back to the main road. He spared a quick glance over his shoulder. Guards were running in all directions, throwing on boots and grabbing weapons. Most were heading for the horses.
He spared once last look at the wagons before the trees took them from sight. “I’ve done what I can. The rest is up to you, my friends,” he whispered, then turned and urged his horse even faster.
It was never a smart thing to give a horse its reins in the cover of darkness, let alone on a road he was unfamiliar with. But what choice did he have? He had to reach the city before they caught up with him, and he wasn’t sure how far away it was.
Ferrin had gone about a mile when he reached the main road. He turned his horse eastward and snapped the reins. He had never been to Syrel. In fact, he knew absolutely nothing about it. He only hoped it was large enough to hide in while he found a way to remove the collar.
The clear sky overhead allowed a little light to push its way through the trees to help guide his horse. He turned his head to listen for any sound of pursuit, but the wind blowing in his ears and the hard pounding of his horse’s hooves overpowered everything else.
Ferrin had only traveled a couple of miles before he reached an opening in the tree line. He pulled his horse to a stop at the top of a rise and let the poor animal breathe. Its nostrils flared, sending out puffs of smoke in front of him. The lights of the city spread out below like a layer of glow flies covering the top of a field. Syrel was larger than he had expected. It wasn’t half the size of Rhowynn, but certainly large enough to hide in. He snapped the reins and his horse reluctantly started forward once more.
Surprisingly, the moon hadn’t made its appearance. It must not have been as late as he had thought. However, as close as they were to the mountains behind him, the sun didn’t have far to go to set.
He eased up on the reins as he neared the outer walls, not wanting to alarm anyone standing guard. The gates were still open, and a couple of wagons loaded with unsold vegetables passed him on their way out. The two men nodded in Ferrin’s direction but continued to stare when they caught sight of his ragged condition and the strange piece of metal around his neck.
Ferrin was hoping to ease on through, but two of the guards stepped out and blocked his way. Both men carried swords at the waist, and there were two more, carrying bows, near a small guard shack on the right. Ferrin wanted to glance over his shoulder to see if Goat Face and the others had broken through the tree line yet, but he was afraid it would make the guards even more suspicious.
“State your business,” one of the men said as the other grabbed the horse’s reins.
“I’m here for a smithy.” He noticed the men staring at the collar around his neck. He tried smiling to ease the tension as he raised his hand and stroked the metal’s outer edge. With the state of his attire, Ferrin was sure that no matter what he said, it would be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism. “I see you noticed my work. I was designing a new sort of neck bracelet for a lady patron of mine who had a request for something unique. She likes standing out in a crowd. Not that she needs a collar to do that.” He tilted his head to try look at the clamp. “Not exactly my taste, of course,” Ferrin said with a chuckle, “but when a woman pays in advance, well . . .” He shrugged. “How could I refuse?”
The guards didn’t seem too impressed with his story. Ferrin turned in his saddle as if trying to stretch and cast a quick glance behind him. He could see the white robes of the Black Watch pouring out of the woods on top of the rise. They were still too distant to count how many had followed him, but from the size of the group, it looked to have been most.
Ferrin turned quickly to finish. “As I was saying, she found a set of ancient symbols she thought would add a touch of flair to her attire and asked me to etch them into the sides. The point is, I finished the work, but when I went to try it on, I got the flaming thing stuck around my neck, and now I can’t seem to get it off.”
The guards looked at him like he was an imbecile. Ferrin felt like one after such a preposterous story.
“You made it a touch big, don’t you think?” the watchman on the right said as he took another look at the piece of metal around Ferrin’s rather large neck. Of all the questions they could have asked him, this one spoke volumes as to why these particular men had been chosen for the night watch.
Ferrin grinned and raised his arms out in front of his stomach. “You should see the woman.”
The guards laughed. The man in front released Ferrin’s horse and waved him on through. “Good luck with your, uh . . . bracelet.”
“My thanks, gentlemen.” Ferrin started his horse forward but then pulled back on the reins and turned in his saddle. “Oh, I almost forgot. Which way to the closest smithy?”
The two guards looked at each other.