“Seven or eight days, I guess. Tarja could tell you exactly.”
“Are we going to keep this pace up for another eight days?”
“No. The horses couldn’t take it, even if we could. We’ll ease up in a day or so.”
“You think Cratyn will come after us, don’t you?”
He nodded, all trace of his previous good humour gone. “Jenga won’t tell him where you are, but there are plenty of people who know you were in the camp. We have to assume he’ll hear about it, sooner rather than later.”
“What if he catches us?”
“He won’t. We’ve got too big a head start and we’re not stopping for anything. Once we’ve crossed the Glass River, he’ll have no chance of finding us.” He stopped and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead lightly. “Stop worrying about it.”
She lay her head on his shoulder and stood in the circle of his arms, surprised at how comforting it was. It was a real pity he was a Hythrun. She could easily grow accustomed to this. To feel so secure, so...
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me,” he chided. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to carry you all the way back.”
She drew back from him, annoyed that he had disturbed her pleasant, if rather unrealistic, daydreams. “You are so rude sometimes! I’m sure you do it just to aggravate me.”
“Rude I might be, but I’m still not going to carry you,” he said with a grin.
“A true nobleman would.”
“That’s because most true nobleman are inbred morons with more brawn than brains. I could cite your husband as a prime example.”
“I didn’t choose him, you know.”
“Which says something for your good taste, I suppose. Come on, we’d best get back before Tarja sends out a search party.”
Stifling a yawn, Adrina took his hand and they walked back towards the fire and the welcome prospect of a good night’s sleep. She glanced at him as they walked back through the darkened trees and reminded herself sternly that Damin Wolfblade might be very disarming when he wanted, but he was, first and foremost, her enemy. His desire to keep her from Cratyn was nothing more than political, and she had better not forget it.
They were on the move by first light the next day. Poor Tam was on the verge of tears as she struggled to mount her horse, but Adrina found she was much better than she expected. Although she would have preferred to ride with Damin or Tarja, she took her usual place in the very centre of the column surrounded by Raiders, Defenders and Fardohnyans who had orders to die before any harm was allowed to befall her.
They kept to the road that wound south towards Cauthside, in part because it was the fastest route, and in part to disguise the size of their group. They had left the border in significant numbers and there was no need for any pursuing force to think that had changed. Scouts ranged ahead and behind them, scouring the countryside for signs of pursuit, or unexpected danger. Now that Medalon had surrendered, any Defenders they met heading north would be enemies and both Tarja and Damin agreed that in this case running was more prudent than fighting.
She had heard them discussing their plans late into the night as she lay by the fire, her head resting in Damin’s lap and he unconsciously stroked her hair. She drifted into sleep listening to Tarja explain his plans for the men who waited for him in Testra.
She understood now why Jenga had wanted Tarja to resign from the corps, why he wanted him to escape the border while he still could. It had little to do with the Lord Defender’s affection for him. Tarja was an expert guerilla fighter and Jenga wanted him to do to the Kariens what he had done to the Defenders when he led the heathen rebellion. He didn’t have the men to take on the Karien invaders directly but he would make life very difficult for them.
Adrina fell asleep and dreamt of ambushes, and sabotage, and hit-and-run raids on places she had never heard of.
They stopped just after midday at a small brook that tumbled over moss-covered rocks beside the road. The water was icy, but the horses seemed grateful. Adrina stood by her mare as she drank her fill, munching on a wedge of hard cheese, when one of the forward scouts came thundering through their midst. He skidded to a halt in front of Damin and Tarja, turning his mount sharply to avoid barrelling them over.
“Defenders!” he panted. “A thousand at least. Headed this way.”
“How far?” Tarja demanded.
“Five leagues. They’re not moving very fast, but if we stay on the road, we’ll ride straight into them.”
Tarja grabbed his mount and swung into the saddle. “Show me.”
The scout turned his mount and galloped off with Tarja on his heels.
“Almodavar!”
“My Lord?”
“Get everyone off the road. Make camp in that stand of trees we passed a league or so back. No fires, no noise. You know what to do.”
Damin was mounted and racing down the road after Tarja before Almodavar had a chance to acknowledge the order.
Adrina patted her mare with a weary sigh then climbed back into the saddle. Almodavar got them organised in a very short time, the urgency of their situation not lost on a single man. They rode back along the road at a canter, until Almodavar called a halt when they neared the trees.
The copse was a fair way back, separated from the road by a broad stretch of long brown grass. The captain studied the tree line for a while then stood in his stirrups to look over the surrounding countryside. Then he turned and cantered back in the direction they had come from.
“What’s the matter?” Adrina asked the guard on her left.
“If we ride through that grass, your Highness, we might as well put up a sign telling them where we are. The captain’s looking for a way to reach the trees without leaving any tracks.”
Adrina nodded, rather impressed by the Hythrun eye for detail. They waited for another few minutes before Almodavar returned.
“There’s a gully back that way that leads toward the trees,” the captain announced in Medalonian, for the benefit of the Defenders among them. “But we’ll have to lead the horses, it’s too treacherous to ride through. Once we clear it, we’ll have a bit of open ground to cover, so we’ll cross it in single file.”
He did not ask for questions, or expect any. Adrina followed her guards and picked her way through the gully after the young man who had told her of Almodavar’s intentions. A bubbling stream coursed through the centre, perhaps a tributary of the brook where they had stopped earlier. The rocks were slick and the icy water splashed over her boots. She was dressed in trousers and a warm jacket, as was Tam – there was no point in advertising their presence by dressing like ladies – but her feet were starting to numb by the time she led her mare out of the gully and mounted for the ride to the trees.
There was no respite when she reached them, either. Almodavar ordered no fires to betray their presence so she settled down for a long cold wait until Damin and Tarja returned.
Adrina was sitting with her back to a tall poplar, Tam’s sleeping head resting on her shoulder, when the sound of galloping horses woke her from a light doze. Expecting to find Damin and Tarja returning, she gently moved Tam’s head onto the cloak they were using as a rug and struggled to her feet. She found Almodavar waiting at the edge of the trees as a Defender and a Raider galloped toward them through the grass, making a mockery of his effort to conceal their hiding place.
“That’s not Damin and Tarja,” she pointed out as the horsemen drew nearer.
“The Raider is Jocim, one of the rear scouts,” Almodavar agreed. “I don’t know the Defender.”
They waited until the men had almost reached the trees before waving them down. Jocim stayed in his saddle, but the Defender jumped down, almost collapsing with exhaustion as he hit the ground. Almodavar reached out an arm to steady him, but he waved it away.