The Sentinel

CHAPTER 11

The river Arrabar was in slow flood as the sea of fallen stars seeped back to the Vilhon Reach, turning grassy plains into marshes and stands of timber into islands of yellow leaves. A hundred leagues distant, a jagged ridge marked the line of earthmotes the goddess Chauntea had dropped across the valley to hold the sea back and give her worshipers time to bring in the harvest. Closer by, a cluster of thatched roofs marked the location of a drowned village, and it seemed clear to Arietta that had the caravan tarried to rest along the way, it would never have reached the river in time to cross. As it was, the stone bridge ahead was nearly submerged, with its abutments hidden below the surface and muddy water lapping at the haunches of its arches.

“What a happy sight!” said Malik. He was riding next to Arietta, between her and Joelle. “Now that we’ve made it, perhaps Faroz will let us take the time to cook our meals before we eat them.”

“We haven’t made it yet.” Joelle pointed to the far end of the bridge, where Kleef and twenty more guards were galloping ahead to scout the ground on the far side of the river. “This would be a good place for an attack.”

“Who is there to attack us?” Malik asked. “Even Kleef has not seen an orc for three days. Perhaps we have finally outrun the brutes.”

Arietta and Joelle turned to Malik simultaneously, both of them with a single eyebrow cocked in doubt. The orcs had been trailing the caravan for a couple of tendays now, mounting raids so frequently that Faroz had hired more guards at Xorhun. Arietta had even forsaken her place at the front of the column, choosing to ride with Joelle and Malik so she would be available to help defend the Eye.

After a moment, Arietta said, “I fear that’s wishful thinking, Malik. Those orcs wouldn’t quit that easily.”

“Why should they not?” Malik asked. “They are on foot and the caravan is mounted. It is a wonder they keep catching us at all.”

Malik had barely spoken when an alarm cry rose from the far bank of the river. Arietta turned to look and, fifty paces up the slope, saw a mob of stooped figures charging from a copse of duskwood trees. With stocky bodies armored in leather and thick gangling arms bearing two-handed axes, there could be little doubt they were orcs-and almost certainly orcs from the same horde that had been shadowing the caravan.

Arietta saw Kleef draw his sword and spur his courser into a charge. The other guards hesitated, clearly surprised by the maneuver, then grabbed their own weapons and raced after Kleef. Only a single rider remained behind, a gaunt figure in robes who dropped his reins and gestured, then drew something from a sleeve and flung it toward the orcs.

A thunderous crack rang out across the river, followed by a brilliant flash that flattened dozens of orcs. Kleef reached the mob a few breaths later, his huge horse pounding through a tangle of fallen orcs as he whirled to face those who were still standing. His great blade began to rise and fall, flinging heads and limbs and broken axes in every direction, and Arietta felt her heart rise into her throat.

Which was only natural, she told herself. Kleef was not only a courageous warrior and an honorable man, he was a fellow-in-arms. Surely, even her mother would have understood that.

Still, Arietta did not let her breath out until the rest of the guards had reached the mob and taken positions on Kleef’s flanks. The horsemen quickly formed a line and became a galloping, wheeling wall of death that stopped the orc charge cold-even if it did fail to send the survivors running for the trees.

“It looks like they’re serious this time,” Joelle said. “Have you ever seen orcs fight like that before?”

“Never,” Arietta said. “But then, I haven’t seen many orcs fight before-only the ones who have been attacking the caravan.”

Joelle smiled and started to reply, but stopped when the sound of galloping hooves rumbled up the road ahead. Arietta dropped her gaze to the near side of the river and found Faroz’s golden-eyed second-in-command-a genasi earthsoul named Majeed-leading two dozen guards up from the bridge.

“Keep moving!” Majeed waved a hand toward the river, the energy lines on his skin blurring into a fan of golden radiance. “We cross now!”

For a moment, the caravan seemed too confused to obey. But, as Majeed and his men continued past, cries of alarm rose from the back of the column. Arietta strung her bow, then twisted around in her saddle and saw a second mob of orcs pouring from a tree line above and behind them. Like their fellows on the far side of the river, they were broad-bodied and muscular, with stooped postures and arms that reached almost to their knees. Most were armed with two-handed weapons-either battle-axes or spiked clubs-but some carried slings or crude bows instead.

Instead of mounting an uphill charge as Kleef had, Majeed and his men joined the rearguard and quickly formed a battle line across the hill. A wizard raised a wall of fire between them and their enemies, and the orcs vanished behind a blockade of crimson flame.

By then, the caravan was pouring onto the bridge. Taking care to keep abreast of Malik and Joelle, Arietta nocked an arrow and began to watch the terrain along the caravan track. Twice before, the Shadovar had taken advantage of an orc raid to come after the Eye, and though they had lost warriors each time, she was not fool enough to think they would hesitate to try it again.

Arietta was almost at the bridge when the cane grass downwind of the trail began to quiver. At first, she thought the motion might be caused by water seeping into a low-lying pocket of ground, but then the stalks began to divide, as though someone were running through them.

“Ambush!” she cried. “They’re invisible!”

Arietta loosed her first arrow past Malik and Joelle-drawing cries of surprise from both-then heard the guttural groan of a wounded warrior. In the next instant, a flight of stones and arrows came arcing toward the caravan, and the grass grew thick with charging orcs.

“Down!” Joelle yelled.

Arietta was already flattening herself behind her horse’s neck. She heard arrows whizzing over her head and felt her mount shudder as a stone bounced off his skull. He stumbled for an instant and nearly fell, then regained his footing and sprang forward. She glanced up to see a ribbon of blood running down the side of his head.

In the next moment, the air erupted with clacks and sizzles as the caravan returned the attack. A din of orc grunts and squeals joined the cacophony of shrieking humans and horses, and panicked voices behind Arietta yelled, “Go! Ride!”

She urged her mount forward, then looked over to find Joelle leading both strings of pack horses. Beyond the heartwarder were yet more orcs, charging up the slope, armed with hand axes and short swords and trampling their fallen fellows. Malik was nowhere in sight, and Arietta could only assume that the instant the battle began, he had used his god’s blessing to go into hiding.

As her horse raced onto the bridge, Arietta nocked another arrow and twisted around to fire back over her shoulder. The fastest orcs were less than five paces from the road and were turning to charge onto the bridge behind her.

Arietta loosed and saw her shaft take the lead orc high in the chest, above his leather breastplate. It wasn’t the throat shot she had been hoping for, but it made the brute stumble and pause to snap off the shaft.

Then a plummy voice rose from the party of eladrin traveling behind her, and a tremendous crackling erupted from the ground beneath the orcs. They continued to come, not even bothering to glance down until a tangle of thorny stems shot up to entangle first their feet, then their entire bodies.

A trio of the brutes managed to leap free and cut the horses from beneath a handful of riders. They were soon felled as the caravan raced past, attacking with everything from rusty sabers to coin-filled saddlebags to golden wands.

Someone well back in the column sent a fireball streaking into the thorn wall, and the entire hedge burst into flames. Arietta turned away quickly, but still found herself sickened by the sweet black smoke that billowed from the hedge.

And then Arietta and her companions were twenty paces onto the bridge, with no orcs in pursuit and dozens of riders between them and shore. Arietta hung her bow from her saddle horn, then loosened her sword in its scabbard and began to watch the bridge’s walls for emerging Shadovar.

“That was too close.” Joelle’s voice was difficult to hear over the din of screams and squeals coming from the burning thorn wall. “I hope that blood is your horse’s.”

Arietta glanced down and realized her left side was coated in blood. Since she felt no unusual aches or numbnesses, she assumed it had all come from her horse’s head wound.

“I’m fine, but I think my mount may need a few stitches,” Arietta said. “What about you?”

“A few lumps.” Joelle glanced down at her far thigh. “And an arrow wound.”

“An arrow wound?”

Arietta reached across and took the reins of both pack-strings. They were nearly halfway across the bridge, and the sounds of the battle behind them were starting to fade. She glanced back and saw nothing to suggest that the fighting would spill onto the bridge-nor any sign that she and her companions were being pursued by orcs or Shadovar. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned back to Joelle.

“How bad?”

“I don’t think it’s in very deep.” Joelle switched her reins to her right hand, then lowered her left toward her thigh and instantly looked a little less anguished. “Nothing that can’t wait until we’re safe.”

A muffled tumult rose ahead. Arietta feared for a moment that the orcs on the far side of the river had recovered from the cavalry charge and were mounting an attack. But when she looked, she saw Kleef riding back across the bridge, hugging the balustrade as his big courser pushed past the long line of nervous riders and jittery pack animals.

On the slope above, the few orcs who had survived the cavalry charge were racing for the trees. A company of guards rode back and forth behind the fleeing orcs, picking off stragglers and making sure the rest did not return to renew their attack. The caravan had a clear route onward-at least for now.

Kleef soon arrived, then drew up and studied the far end of the bridge for a moment. Once he seemed convinced the rearguard had the battle there in hand, he wheeled around to ride alongside Joelle. His gaze slid from Joelle’s injured thigh, to Arietta’s blood-soaked flank, to the empty space between the two women where Malik usually rode.

“Malik?” he asked.

“He’s fine.” Joelle glanced over her shoulder, looking back between the two strings of pack horses. “Behind us.”

Arietta followed her gaze and saw nothing for a moment. Then a colorless blur appeared between the second horse in each string, and she realized there was another horse trotting between them. Lying stretched along the horse’s back, clinging to its neck, was a scrawny figure in a shabby gray robe.

“He looks healthy enough to me,” Kleef agreed. His gaze dropped back to Joelle’s thigh. “You want me to snap off that arrow?”

“Not on your life,” Joelle said, growing pale. “You can help me cut it out later.”

Kleef shrugged. “Your choice, but it’s going to be a while before the caravan can stop to regroup. You’ll ride easier without the shaft swinging around like that.”

“I’m holding it,” Joelle snapped. “Don’t you see that?”

Kleef looked more amused than offended. “Now that you mention it, I do.” He peered past Joelle to Arietta, searching her flank for wounds. “How about you, my lady? Are you hurt?”

“The blood is my horse’s,” Arietta said. “I’m fine.”

Kleef gave a nod of relief, then asked, “What happened?”

“What happened is that Faroz has entrusted our safety to a buffoon and a fool!” Malik answered. He sat upright in his saddle and urged his mount forward-until he found himself caught between the two sets of pack-leads that Arietta was holding. “You failed to scout the bridge approach. There were orcs hiding in the grass!”

Kleef glared at Malik as though considering whether to toss him off the bridge or cut him in half, then finally turned to Arietta. “What’s he talking about? We did scout that ground.”

“You wouldn’t have seen them,” Arietta said. “The orcs were invisible.”

“Invisible?” Kleef frowned, thinking. “I didn’t know orcs used that kind of magic.”

“It gets worse,” Joelle said. “They waited until we were the ones in front of them.”

Now Kleef really began to look worried. The companions had already begun to suspect that the orcs were after the Eye of Gruumsh. But they had been hoping the reason the horde hadn’t launched an all-out attack yet was because they didn’t know exactly who they were after, that the same magic that kept the Eye hidden from the Shadovar was preventing the orcs from determining which humans had it.

After a moment, Kleef said, “There’s no doubt now that the orcs and Shadovar are working together. That explains the invisibility magic and how they knew to look for Joelle and Malik.”

Arietta shook her head. “Then where are the Shadovar? Why help the orcs at all, if they don’t intend to take advantage of the attack?”

Kleef fell silent for a moment, and then his eyes slowly began to widen. “Because it wasn’t the real attack.”

“They were shooting at us with real arrows and pelting us with real rocks,” Malik said. “If that is not a real attack, then I am not a real man.”

“They were just trying to see how we would react, probing our defenses.” Kleef looked forward again, to where Faroz and the nobles were starting to lead the caravan up the hill. “The attack will come later, after they’ve had time to consider what they saw.”

“How much time do we have?” Joelle asked. “Enough to heal the wounded and prepare more magic?”

“No,” Arietta said, taking Kleef’s point. “They’ll hit us sooner than that.”

Kleef nodded. “Before morning.” He scanned the slope above the bridge, his eyes lingering on the tree line. “I need to talk to Faroz. If the scouts can find defensible ground, we can stop early and spoil their plans-for today, at least.”

“Then go,” Joelle said. “If we protect the caravan, we protect the Eye.”

“Most likely,” Kleef agreed. Before leaving, he reached down between his horse and Joelle’s, then he looked up and said, “We’re going to be riding hard. You need to let me do this.”

Joelle hesitated, then took a deep breath … and a sharp crack sounded as Kleef snapped the arrow lodged in her leg. Her mouth fell open, and it looked as though she were fighting to stifle a scream.

Kleef did not look the least bit apologetic. “Give it a minute. You’ll be fine.”

He tossed the broken shaft aside, then rode off while Joelle’s eyes were still wide with pain.

While they remained wide, Malik said, “This is what comes of trusting the clumsy oaf. He loves nothing more than the pain of others.”

Arietta shot him an angry frown and snapped, “If you believe that, you are not only a coward, you are a fool.”

Malik’s eyes flashed with fury.

Looking away before he could reply, Arietta turned back to Joelle. “Are you all right?”

“I will … be.” Joelle was clutching her reins so hard her knuckles had turned white. “Just give me a minute.”

Arietta nodded, then glanced back to make certain there was no trouble coming up behind them.

With nearly a hundred riders between them and the curtain of black smoke at the end of the bridge, it was impossible to tell what had become of the orcs. But she saw no signs of panic, and no spells could be heard cracking or booming above the general din of alarm. The attack was starting to look very much like the probe Kleef had suggested, and by now, Arietta suspected the orcs were halfway up the slope, nursing their wounds and plotting their next attack.

When Arietta turned forward again, Joelle was riding easier, and much of the pain had drained from her face.

“Well, you look better.”

Joelle nodded. “It still hurts, but Kleef was right.” She smiled and added, “I just hate that in a man.”

Arietta laughed. “So that’s why you stopped pursuing him.”

They reached the end of the bridge and started up the slope with the rest of the caravan. When the outriders took their places on the flanks of the column, Arietta decided it would be smart to keep her hands free so she could reach her bow. She passed the leads of both strings of pack horses to Malik-and had to endure five minutes of complaining because that forced him to ride behind her and Joelle instead of between them.

Soon after, a herald came back with word that stragglers would be abandoned to the orcs, and the caravan settled into a ground-eating pace that left Joelle clenching her teeth against the obvious pain of having her leg constantly jostled. Hoping that a little conversation would help keep Joelle’s mind off her pain, Arietta eased her horse near enough that they could talk in quieter voices.

This drew a fresh round of muttering from Malik, but he was far enough behind them that Arietta simply chose to ignore it. She turned to Joelle and spoke in a chummy tone.

“So why did you stop pursuing Kleef?”

At first, Joelle seemed surprised by the question, but she recovered quickly and gave Arietta a sly smile.

“I didn’t think you were paying attention when I was pursuing him.”

“It was hard to miss,” Arietta said. “Though I certainly don’t blame you. Kleef is a good man.”

Joelle’s expression grew wistful. “He is, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

She caught Arietta’s gaze and held it. “His heart belongs to another.”

“Is that so?” Arietta was disconcerted to feel her pulse pounding faster. “I hope you aren’t referring to me.”

“Would that be so terrible?”

“Perhaps not terrible,” Arietta said. “But certainly inappropriate. He’s just a watchman.”

“He’s a Chosen of Helm,” Joelle countered.

“Yes … I suppose there’s that,” Arietta said. “But he still has no title, no lands. What could he bring to a marriage?”

“Marriage?” Joelle seemed genuinely amused. “Arietta, I’m talking love … not marriage.”

Arietta felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Oh,” she said. “I see.”

Joelle chuckled, then reached over and took Arietta’s hand. “Trust me,” she said. “Forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.”

She squeezed, and Arietta’s head began to spin.