Amergin, who came and went like a ghost, offered to go on an extended reconnaissance and restore his ring of traps. Howland agreed.
“Don’t get caught!” he said in jest. The idea that Rakell’s idle troopers could catch the elusive Kagonesti seemed ridiculous.
With a new sling made for him by Caeta and a sackful of stones and stars, Amergin slipped away.
The sun was setting. Farmers carried on their threshing by torchlight, and the womenfolk prepared special harvest cakes for everyone. Howland and his little troop sat in a half-circle by the village well, eating hot barley cakes smeared with wild honey and fresh butter.
Raika said, “If I ate like this every day, I wouldn’t mind the low pay!”
“If you ate like this every day, you’d be bigger than Khorr,” Carver quipped.
Raika aimed a kick at the kender, who scooted out of reach. When he made a few more unkind remarks about Raika’s increasing girth, she got up to give him a real blow.
She never delivered it. The half-eaten cake fell from her fingers.
“Hey, don’t waste good food!” Carver protested.
Raika pointed to the horizon. Howland jumped up, shading his eyes against the setting sun.
The low rise south of Nowhere was two miles distant, separated by fields stripped clean by the harvest. Sitting along the ridge were a line of horsemen. By the setting sun’s ruddy light, Howland could see the gleam of steel.
One of the village women saw the horsemen too and let out a shriek. People ran back and forth, snatching up children and dashing to their huts, only to remember they were filled to the rafters with earth.
Someone beat the bronze gong by the well. Howland barked, “Stop that noise! Stop it, I say! It’s only a scouting party!”
Robien cracked the joints of his long fingers and said,
“Shall we go after them?”
“No. There’s no point. We can’t stop Rakell from returning. If we reveal ourselves now, it’ll only makes things harder for us later.”
They stood to arms all night. Villagers sent to take up spy positions in the hollow barley sheaves reported small bands of horsemen riding around the village all night, but none closed in. This might have been because of the Kagonesti traps they blundered upon. Many were found sprung, and several marauders were killed. Men and horses were also injured, and the brigands evidently spooked. By the next morning, all the village’s spies, Amergin included, reported the enemy had ridden away. There were none in sight.
It seemed like a miracle. Was their fear of Rakell’s band exaggerated? Had the enemy been repelled by a few forester tricks and traps? Many thought so. Raika and Carver loudly proclaimed victory, and more than a few villagers rejoiced.
Two men did not celebrate. Malek still burned to free Laila from Rakell’s thrall, and Howland uth Ungen remained at his post by the well, carefully honing his sword.
CHAPTER TEN
The army of robber lord Rakell did not appear that day or the next. When they were three days past the deadline Rakell had set for his return, the people of Nowhere grew confident they had escaped another brutal invasion. Amergin ranged farther and farther out from Nowhere, seeking Rakell’s riders, and found none. He scoured the land as far south and east as the stream where Hume was killed but could find no fresh signs of the enemy.
Caeta spread the news, and the farmers wept with joy. Even those who’d lost loved ones to Rakell’s first visit were vastly relieved.
Amidst a growing mood of celebration, Malek sought out Howland. He found the Knight at the edge of the south barley field, alone, whittling a gnarled stick.
“I don’t believe the danger is past,” he said without preamble.
Howland shaved off a curling wisp of wood no thicker than a feather. “I agree.”
Malek looked relieved. “You do? What can we do, then?”
“The initiative has passed to the enemy. For now we can do little but wait and watch.”
Malek swept the Knight’s judgment aside with a swift wave of his hand. “I can’t do that! Laila lives, and I must find her!”
Howland stopped whittling. “Are you willing to do that, even if it means you never return to Nowhere?”
“What do you mean?”
“Some unforeseen event has thrown the bandits off their schedule, something more serious than Amergin’s traps. Rakell may have encountered the dragon overlord. He may have been defeated by another, superior force. He may have gone away to ravage another province. We won’t be safe until we know for sure. Are you willing to track him down wherever he went?”
Malek didn’t hesitate. “Yes!”
Howland nodded. “What about your brother? Will he go after his captive son?”
The young farmer looked over his shoulder at the cluster of weather-worn huts that was his home. “Larem is his only boy. He’ll go, too.”
“Make sure, then bring him to the well at sundown.”
Come dusk, Malek and Nils presented themselves to Howland. With Howland was Robien.
“Welcome,” Howland said to the brothers. “I asked Robien to lend us his counsel.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll be as straight as I can with you: Far from being safe, as everyone thinks, I believe we’re stll in danger. Rakell is on the move with his entire force, however large that may be, and I’m sure he’ll show up here sooner or later.”
“Why do you think so?” asked Malek.
“I’ve turned events over and over in my mind all day. The bandit chief is doing exactly what I would do in his place. I’m convinced Rakell’s gone on a wide sweep north or south of us, and he’ll turn around and strike when it suits him. He knows something’s amiss in Nowhere, and he’s trying to draw us out.”
“How could he know?” said Nils.
Howland scowled. “In many ways, I’m sorry to say. It’s my fault. We made ourselves too well known at the stream crossing, digging the trench and with the elves’ traps. Add these things together and you get one answer-armed resistance, centered on the village.”
Four farmers, well-soaked with homemade beer, lurched past with Carver, singing loudly. They hailed Howland as they went by.
“Poor fools,” Robien said. “They’ll be shocked when the enemy reappears on their doorstep.”
Malek said, “Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it!”
“Find your bride.”
Malek flushed with excitement. He was about to swear his life to the task, but Howland cut him off.
“Save the heroic declarations,” he said. “What’s needed now is resolve, not posturing. I want you two-” he nodded at Malek and Nils-“to strike out on your own. One of you go northwest, the other southwest of the village. Search out Rakell’s force.”
“Why can’t you go?”
“I don’t dare send my people,” Howland explained. “I need locals who know the land and who won’t look out of place if they get spotted. Go as far as four days’ journey from Nowhere,” he told them, “and circle back to cover as much ground as possible.
“Know this: You may not find anything,” added Howland. “You’re tracking men on horseback and a pack of ogres, but they are skilled at moving with speed and stealth. But we must try to find where the enemy is. Will you do this?”
“We will,” Nils said for both of them.
They collected food and water for eight days’ travel. Before crossing the plank laid over the trench, Robien stopped Malek and pulled the sword from his scabbard.
“What are you doing?” Malek exclaimed.
“No farmer carries a sword. If you’re caught, the enemy will know you’ve been away from the village to buy arms.”
“He’s right,” said Howland. “Leave the weapon.”
“You can’t send me out unarmed!” Malek cried. “That blade has Rakell’s name on it!”
“You can have a knife and a staff,” said the Knight. “No more. Your purpose is to find the enemy, not attack him.”
Grudgingly, Malek unbuckled the Quen sword belt and gave it to Robien. He and Nils crossed the trench and walked away from Nowhere, heading due west. They would stay together three or four days, and if they didn’t find Rakell they would split up.