CHAPTER 5
Keenan
They may have had a slope to point them in the right direction, but night fell with no sign of the path.
Keenan argued for heading down the mountain, but Liesl refused to give up on either Oliver or Lord Tobias. So despite his protests, they found a place to camp, set up their tents, and spent the first of several nights in the wilderness.
Knowing that their attackers were likely still in the area.
Needless to say, Keenan didn’t get much sleep.
To make things worse, when the trees thinned enough to give him a view of the surrounding peaks, he didn’t recognize them. And the deeper into the range they hiked, the colder the wind became.
Keenan buried his hands in his pockets, wishing he’d brought a pair of gloves. “You’re from the mountains, right?” He eyed the heavy gray clouds uneasily. “Does it ever snow in spring?”
“Flussendorf’s hills aren’t quite big enough to qualify,” Liesl replied through her chattering teeth. “And I’ve never traveled to the mountains in northeastern Ralnor.”
Puss mewed pitifully. Liesl slowed and scooped up the cat, nestling it under her chin and burying her fingers in its fur.
For a moment, Keenan watched jealously, imagining the soft warmth on his own frozen fingers.
But he gave himself a shake and returned his attention to the landscape.
The valley they were crossing had plenty of boulders large enough to hide a man.
If they were ambushed, he wouldn’t want a cat clambering up his shoulder while he tried to draw his sword.
“Relax, Keenan,” Liesl admonished. “The only good thing about not finding Oliver is that we lost the bandits, too.”
“Unless they’re waiting for us to run out of food.” The ground rolled under his feet, and he stumbled before sneezing violently. “It won’t even be a fight if we’re weak.”
She stepped closer and nudged him with her elbow, then pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to him. “That would be a lot of effort for not much gain. Stop being so paranoid.”
He was supposed to be paranoid, wasn’t he? His job was to keep her safe, and they’d already lost their experienced guard.
White spots began to float across his vision. Maybe the lack of sleep was getting to him. He did feel a little irrational, and the skin under his left eye was twitching.
“You were right.” A trace of surprise colored Liesl’s voice as she held out a hand, palm-up. “It’s snowing.”
Snow. Just what they needed.
“We should hurry and get to the trees,” she continued, grabbing his arm. “I don’t know about the mountains, but if I were at home, I wouldn’t trust those clouds if they have snow in them.”
A quiet sound caught his attention. He twisted to look over his shoulder, then jerked free of Liesl’s grip with a yelp.
“Keenan? What—”
“Run!” He deflected the strike with his leather bracer, grunting in pain as he whipped out his dagger. “I’ll catch up!”
“Are you sure? What if—”
Another brigand sprang forward, but Keenan freed his sword in time to block the blow. He staggered under the man’s weight. Behind him, rocks clattered as Liesl sprinted away. Hopefully without an enemy on her tail, because Keenan had his hands full.
Shoving forward, he managed to disengage from his assailants. They didn’t respond immediately. Instead, they examined him, slowly circling so he couldn’t watch both at once. Keenan spun on his heel, trying to catch one off guard.
The man repelled his attack and stepped out of range.
Why weren’t they attacking? Did they mean to keep him here while their compatriots caught Liesl?
Not acceptable. But how could he escape them?
Yelling in frustration, he leaped forward and thrust his sword at the closer man. The bandit jumped back, but Keenan pursued him. If he fought them one at a time—
Pain flared in his side, and he twisted to fend off the other man with his dagger. They both closed in, and he scurried backward before one could claim his blind spot again.
But instead of pressing their advantage, they retreated to their previous positions. Too far for him to reach, too close for him to dash between.
They repeated the dance twice more. The snow grew thicker, obscuring his opponents and covering any tracks Liesl and her cat may have left. Keenan roared as his foot slipped and the bandits continued to hang back. “What’s wrong with you? Why won’t you simply fight?”
“In a hurry to die?” one of them smirked. “Most people appreciate a rest.”
“A courteous bandit? Tell me another one,” Keenan scoffed.
The man shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he lunged forward, aiming for Keenan’s chest.
The next several minutes were a blur. The bandits were slower than Oliver, but they fought like a pair of stray dogs with a cat, one attacking while the other drew back, then letting the other catch him from the far side.
If Oliver hadn’t taught him to fight with both weapons, he would already be down.
One of the bandits glanced up. “I think we’ve played long enough.” He gave his partner a nod, and they sprang together. One high, one low.
Keenan blocked, but the low swing was a feint. Pain blossomed across his left arm.
The bandit snatched Keenan’s dagger off the ground. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore.”
“I’m not done yet.” Gritting his teeth, Keenan dipped his shoulder and drove it into the man’s stomach. They tumbled to the ground, skidding across the snow.
The bandit shoved him off with a growl. Keenan scrambled away, trying to find his feet. His back collided with a tree.
They had backed him up to the forest? Why?
He pulled his thoughts back to the present. Angry bandit brandishing a sword. Right.
Keenan threw himself to the side as the man struck. Using the tree as support, he clambered upright, then jumped behind it to avoid the man’s next swing.
“Calm down! We need him alive!”
But that didn’t mean they needed him in one piece. He couldn’t fight two men with just his sword, so Keenan sheathed it and sprinted into the trees. The harsh breaths behind him warned him that the bandits had followed.
He didn’t know how long he’d been running.
His cheeks stung with the cold and the snowflakes flitting against them.
Dimly, he noted a lack of feeling in his fingers.
Even his chest was feeling cooler than normal as the sweat from his flight dried.
His left sleeve clung to his skin below his wound, which pulsed painfully with every one of his pounding steps.
But his pursuers still crashed through the underbrush behind him. He couldn’t stop to think about it. Couldn’t angle back toward the clearing, because one of them always cut him off.
His feet slowed of their own accord, and he stumbled sideways into a tree. Shoving himself upright, he swiped a numb hand at his sword. Now was surely when they would take him, and he didn’t plan to give up without a fight.
But when he lifted his tired eyes, the forest was empty.