“Lay down your swords,” he said to his men. He could barely speak. “We surrender.”
Lesser men might have wept. Evann forced himself stiffly upright. At least, as he’d once heard King Graben say, while you lived, you still had hope.
As he watched, first Lothar, then Harrach, then the others lowered their weapons. Hawk’s men moved forward, disarming everyone. Only Harrach had done real damage; two men lay dead at his feet.
And Uwe—Evann knelt to check on the boy. He was breathing, but unconscious from a blow to the head. Blood covered the right side of his face. He also had a deep cut on his right arm and another on his side, laying bare his ribs.
Evann looked up. “Is there a healer among your men?” he asked Hawk.
He’ll be sewn up at camp. If he lives that long.”
Evann swallowed. They’d been fools to believe they could sweep in here and kidnap Hawk. Bowspear had to be laughing at them now, calling them fools and toasting their deaths.
He glanced at the others. Reddman and Shurdan were on their feet again, nursing arm wounds. They wouldn’t be fighting again in a long time, he thought. They were down to four swordsmen. The odds did not look good.
“Line up.” Hawk commanded, returning to his horse and swinging up into the saddle. “It’s a long march back to camp, but we can make it by nightfall if you run.”
Evann slowly rose. “We’ll need a litter.”
Hawk motioned to two of his men, and they galloped to the small patch of trees. Evann watched them dismount, take hand axes from their saddlebags, and begin hacking down saplings.
Evann had become completely disoriented and had no idea where they were. A long rope tied his wrists to Hawk’s saddle, and he stumbled a bit as he allowed himself to be pulled along. He didn’t have the strength to struggle anymore—not that it would have done any good, guarded as he and his men were by so many of Hawk’s soldiers. They had been half marched and half dragged across the plain all the day. Now, in darkness, they had reached a new chain of mountains.
Rounding a low hill, they came upon a large camp of several dozen tents and a few long, low wooden buildings. Several huge bonfires burned, and tall torches had been stuck into the ground, providing light.
The tents formed a semicircle around the mouth of a cave. Hawk drew up there and dismounted.
Panting, bone weary, Evann sank to the ground. Around him, his men did the same. He felt sick and dizzy. His arms ached. Cuts and bruises covered his knees and legs, mementos from all the times he’d fallen and been dragged.
Hawk had shown no compassion or mercy. He had called only two short breaks, and neither Evann nor his men had been given any water. Perhaps Uwe had been the lucky one, he thought, despairing.
Hawk swung down from his saddle and handed the reins to one of his men. The others began leading the horses off toward one of the long, low buildings … probably stables, Evann thought.
Hawk didn’t seem to think the prisoners were very dangerous anymore. Exhausted, with their hands tied, sprawled on the cold, hard ground, Evann knew they wouldn’t be a match for anyone.
Hawk grinned cruelly as he gazed down at Evann. “Not so full of spirit now, are you?”
Evann closed his eyes and winced. He wished he’d fought to the death.
Laughing, Hawk stepped to the mouth of the cave. A faint sickly green glow seeped from somewhere deep within.
“My lady!” Hawk called, stepping into the cave.
“We met with success!”
“You have them, pretty-pretty?” asked a high warbling voice like fingernails on slate. Evann shuddered at the sound.
“Yes, my lady!” Hawk vanished from sight. Evann thought he heard sounds of kissing from within.
An instant later Hawk returned, a broad grin on his face. Taking Evann’s rope, Hawk jerked him to his feet.
“Your prisoners,” he called into the cave, “are waiting, my lady!”
Evann saw movement in the shadows. Slowly a creature—a hideous old woman from the waist up, a mass of huge serpents from the waist down—glided forward slowly and into the torch-light.
Evann felt his heart seize up. He wanted to go screaming into the night. He wanted to run and never look back. How could they have hoped to succeed against this thing?
“Magic!” the Hag hissed, drawing to a stop before them. She reached out and ripped the protective talisman from Evann’s cloak, then went down the row of prisoners, doing the same to each of Evann’s men. She threw each of Candabraxis’s little protective charms to the ground, spitting on them and letting her serpentine abdomen writhe upon them, grinding them into the earth.
“What do you have to say?” she demanded of Evann when she finished. “You invaded my lands. You brought foul magics before me. Why should I not kill you? It would be a simple thing, my pretty-pretty one.”
Evann shuddered and averted his gaze. “We mean you no harm,” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking in fear.
Hawk said, “They claimed to be searching for me. They want me to return with them and end some battle in Grabentod.”
“Fools …” the Hag said.
“What do you want me to do with them?” Hawk asked. “Shall I string them up, so you can watch their bodies twisting in the wind?”
She cackled. “Such pretty-pretties they would be! No, no, sweet boy, I will attend to them myself, one by one, boiling them to make powerful potions.” She produced an inhumanly shrill laugh.
Evann felt a chill run down his back. It was a fate he wouldn’t have wished on even Parniel Bowspear.
“As you will, Mistress,” Hawk said with a grin.
Still cackling, the Hag undulated toward her cave and vanished from sight.
Hawk turned to go, but Evann leapt forward to block his way. They wouldn’t have much time before the Hag called them. There had to be some way Evann could save his men.
Then he saw the talismans lying on the ground where the Hag had thrown them. They seemed a little muddy, but unhurt. If they were still potent—
“Hawk,” he said, “I know now where your loyalties lie. The Hag is a powerful mistress. But I beg you, at least have mercy on the boy. He’s done you no harm.”
“Eh?” Hawk turned to look at Uwe. He frowned a little, as if remembering his own youth.
Evann pressed his point. “The Hag would never miss such a little one. I can make it worth your while to save him.”
“How?”
“I’ll pay you—you’re a soldier. You know the value of gold.”
“You have gold?” Hawk asked. He looked Evann over slowly. “Where? My men didn’t find any when they searched you.”
“It’s hidden,” he said. “It’s inside my amulet— yes, there on the ground.” He nodded toward the spot where the talismans lay.
Hawk bent and picked one off the ground. A subtle change swept over his face as he held it in his hands, turning it over and over. His expression lost some of its sharpness, and the ruthless, fanatical gleam in his eye seemed to fade.
Or had Evann imagined it? He hesitated, unsure. What if Hawk had another charm? Would two double their power? He had to try it.
He licked his lips. “I don’t think it’s that one,” he said quickly. “The one lying next to it… yes, there.”
Hawk picked up a second talisman. As he held them both in his hands, he turned to Evann, and it seemed to Evann that a strangely confused look crossed his face.
“What—” he whispered.
“Yes,” Evann breathed. The amulets were working. Together, two of them had begun to protect Hawk from the Hag’s charm.
“Get a third one!” he said.
Hawk slowly turned toward the cave. “Mistress…” he whispered.
“She’s nothing to you,” Evann said in a low voice. “You don’t need her. She’s bewitched you. What you need are more of the amulets. There’s gold hidden in all of them. Pick them up, Hawk. Pick them all up.”