CHAPTER 3
Cap
The sweet song of a bird filtered through the aspen trees that surrounded them.
A squirrel chittered back angrily, scolding the bird for its happy tune while the squirrels still frantically collected nuts against the approaching winter.
The bird ignored it, continuing its call as if it hadn’t a care in the world.
Swinging down from the saddle, Cap patted his horse, silently apologizing for not removing Farrell’s tack. He pulled the reins over the horse’s head and looped them over a nearby branch, secure enough that his mount couldn’t pull away but loose enough to undo quickly.
“Tucker, you’re on guard duty. Take care of the horses and stay alert. If we come back in a hurry, the horses need to be ready by the time we arrive.”
“Aw, Cap, really? You’re leaving me behind?” the tall, wiry boy whined. “When you agreed to let me come today, I thought you were going to let me join the action. I’m not a child. You’re letting Rouge go, and she’s a girl!”
Cap sighed as he adjusted the quiver on his hip. “You are a child, Tucker; you’re only fifteen. Rouge is a woman. And much more skilled at the sword than you are.”
Rouge smirked, tying a green handkerchief over her distinctive red hair. “Tough luck, Tuck. Maybe next time.”
“Nineteen isn’t that much older,” Tucker grumbled. He buttoned his lip when Cap fixed him with a commanding gaze.
“Guarding the horses may seem less exciting than the raiding party, but it’s still important. The quicker our retreat, the more likely we escape.”
The teenager bowed his head. “I understand,” he mumbled. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
Cap checked his sword belt and the bow sheath across his back one more time, then pushed some loose hairs out of his face. He might have to give in and let Rouge cut it for him; it was starting to get in the way.
Pulling his hood over his face, he motioned to Rouge and Jean-haut as he headed into the trees.
“Cold?” Jean-haut asked, tilting his head to the side. The forester had his own dark green cloak thrown open, only clinging to him by the tie around his neck. The trees were thinner on this part of the mountain, so a light breeze made its way through to ruffle his short brown hair.
Shaking his head, Cap scanned the surrounding trees as they walked. “No. This area doesn’t get many travelers, but that is no guarantee.”
Rouge rolled her eyes. “You and your caution.”
If he was truly as cautious as she implied, he would have brought more people on this trip. His source claimed the messenger would be alone, so three people should be sufficient. Especially given Cap’s skill with both the bow and the sword.
But the General’s new taxes meant increased patrols.
“Feel free to plan the next attack yourself,” he said simply, raising an eyebrow that she couldn’t see past his hood. “But don’t be offended if I stay home.”
Jean-haut huffed a laugh. “He’s got you there, sis. Cap’s abundance of caution may come with the position, but your hair fits the stereotype.”
Small tongues of flame danced across her hands as she scowled at her older brother.
“Control yourself, Rouge,” Cap snapped. “It’s the middle of October, and the mountain hasn’t had rain in a month.”
Her lips pinched together, but she balled her hands into fists, extinguishing the flames.
“Sorry, Cap,” she mumbled, not looking at him.
Magic-using friends could be helpful, but sometimes he wished their magic only manifested with their hand signs. Emotionally fueled magic was unstable. And Rouge was strong enough that she could set a wet forest on fire if she was upset enough.
“Just be careful. I’d rather not race a fire back to Tucker and the horses.”
The descent grew steeper. He shifted his weight, angling his body sideways as he navigated the leaf-covered forest floor. Next to him, Jean-haut dug his staff into the ground, using it as a walking stick.
When the road appeared through the trees, Cap pulled his bow from its sheath.
“Hoods up,” he said quietly, scanning the trunks for the one he wanted.
Much of the road had a gentle slope on either side of it, but in this spot, it dropped off sharply on one side with a sheer face along the other.
Add the sharp curve shortly before, and it was a beautiful place for an ambush.
“No one’s going to recognize me.” Jean-haut gave him an easy grin. “Why can’t I maintain better visibility?”
Cap shook his head. “You’re one of the king’s foresters. Some of the guards know you.”
“You’re also barely five feet tall,” Jean-haut’s much taller sister snorted. “Trust me, that makes you memorable.”
“Five feet, one inch, thank you very much,” Jean-haut calmly stated. Pulling his cloak around his shoulders, he draped the hood over his head. Then stepping swiftly behind Cap, he took a swipe at his sister’s legs, but she hopped over his staff with the ease of long practice.
“Nice try, Jean, but you’ll have to be faster than that to catch me,” she taunted.
He swung again, this time at her waist. She staggered backward, drawing her sword with impressive smoothness for her off-balance state.
It was why Cap had brought her and left Tucker with the horses.
“Enough,” he said firmly. “We don’t want anyone nearby to hear us.”
Jean-haut pulled back just before he connected with Rouge’s sword. Offering Cap a jaunty bow, he replied, “Your wish is my command. Where do you want me?”
“In a tree as my backup. Rouge, you’ll be lookout at the corner.
Make sure you scout the area for guards first.” They both nodded before scurrying off to their designated positions.
For himself, Cap chose a tall enough tree to hide above the road but with sparse enough branches to quickly swing down at Rouge’s signal.
He didn’t want to be flying through the air when the messenger came into sight.
Time passed slowly while he waited. Cap perched motionless on his branch, watching as first a weary horse pulled a carriage around the corner and then a group of four horsemen trotted under his feet from the wrong direction.
Finally, a whistle mimicking a bird call floated through the air. Slipping his bow into its sheath, he flipped around and swiftly lowered himself. The bow was back in his hands and an arrow nocked before the rider appeared around the bend.
Lurking in the shadow of the trees, he waited until the rider was almost upon him. Then he jumped out onto the road, raising his bow and drawing in one smooth motion.
“Halt,” he barked.
The horse tossed its head and shied sideways, startled by his sudden appearance. Its cloaked and hooded rider tightened his grip on the reins, pulling the animal back under control with the ease of a skilled horseman.
“Halt?” echoed a melodious alto voice. “You do not look like one of the king’s guards.”
Cap’s bow dipped in surprise. “The General is sending women now?” Did the man think that Cap would be swayed by her pretty face? Or that Cap would treat her more gently than the men who had crossed his path?
“Do you mean General Valentin? I heard that he was regent of Amitié in Prince Raphael’s absence.” Her amused voice sounded foreign. A Ralnoran accent, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Are you the bandit that I’ve heard so much about?”
Her voice tugged at him, whispering that it was safe to lower his guard. What could he have to fear from a cultured, foreign woman?
But she had a quiver at her waist and a strung bow across her back. He would be foolish to assume that she was less skilled than Rouge.
“What if I am?” he gruffly replied.
She lowered her hood, revealing a chestnut braid and a sly smile. Pretty, indeed. “Then I would be relieved.” She leaned forward. “I’ve been wandering the roads of your kingdom for weeks looking for you. I want to join your band of thieves.”
A snort escaped his lips. So that was the trick. “We’re not thieves. And I don’t accept volunteers unless I know them. Now if you’ll toss me your satchel and saddlebags, I’ll let you be on your way.”
“On my way?” Her brows lowered, lips pushing forward in a pout. “Oh, no, I ran away to throw in my lot with the famous Amitian bandit. I have no intention of going home.”
“What are you, twelve?” he scoffed. Gesturing with the arrow, he said, “Give me your bags or climb down and let me grab them myself.”
Her shoulders pulled back in a taut line. “I am not a child,” she hissed through gritted teeth. If she had Rouge’s magic, she would be lit up like a bonfire about now. There was a fire in her eyes as strong as anything his friend’s flames produced.
“Running away from home to join a bandit. Sounds very grown up,” he deadpanned. But he needed to wrap things up; another traveler could arrive at any moment. “Tell the General to provide you with a better cover story next time. Now, bags.”
“Dismiss me, will you?” she grumbled under her breath. Placing her hands on the saddle, she began to swing her right leg back to dismount.
And Cap, without meaning to, let his bow dip, the string relaxing as the lady complied with his request.
Before he could blink, she had her bow in her hand and an arrow drawn. He scrambled to raise his own again, but her arrow was already flying toward him. Straight for his head.
Curse General Valentin for sending a woman!