Chapter 11 #4
As before, the brigands didn’t seem to take
any notice of her hoots as they went about the business of spitting
a rabbit over their fire and arranging their gear. Roark, tied to a
tree again, lifted his head, cocked it, nodded once, and uncrossed
and crossed his legs.
Alina watched and waited until they’d cooked
and eaten the rabbit and were beginning to settle for the night,
and then she led Beasty toward the line of horses, one slow, silent
step at a time, until they were no more than twenty paces from the
horses. Alina let go of Beasty’s reins and half ran, half crawled
to hide behind a hedge of bushes as the gelding walked up to the
other horses.
“Hey,” one of the men called out. “Isn’t that
Rob’s horse?” He stood and approached Beasty, who started to back
away. “Yeah, it’s his gelding all right,” the man said, grabbing
Beasty’s dangling reins. “Always was a twitchy thing.” He jerked
Beasty’s reins and led him over to the line and tied him off with
the other horses. Then he looked Beasty’s gear over, took the water
and the wineskins off the saddle and uncorked them. “Hey.” He
lifted the wineskin. “It’s still half full.”
“Bring it over here,” another of the men
said. “We owe it to Rob to finish it for him.”
While she couldn’t hear what they were saying
as they sat swilling the wine, she could tell when they were
starting to feel its drugged effects by how their voices and
laughter grew louder like braying asses. Then their voices turned
singsong and sporadic, and finally they were silent. She waited a
while longer before she crept out from behind the hedge and stopped
and stood among the horses.
The brigands made no indications of noticing
her as they all lay in various positions of repose around the fire.
One on his back, staring up at the night sky, his jaw slack,
another on his side, his gaze fixed on the fire, and the third
lying on his back, mesmerized by his own hands as he waved them
around. Still, she crept around the edges of the camp, one slow,
sure step at a time, waist blade in hand until she was standing in
front of Roark, who’d been watching her every move.
He grinned, slow and easy, his rain eyes
shining in the low glow of the camp’s fire. Alina grinned back and
untied the rope around him, her grin growing as Roark took a deep
breath in and blew it out, and then he held his bound wrists up to
her. Alina untied his wrists and he grabbed her and pulled her to
him and kissed her. Hard.
“I should be angry with you for not riding
out like I told you to,” he whispered hoarsely. “But thank you, my
lady owl. Thank you for freeing me.”
“I wasn't going to let you be taken by the
likes of them.” She nodded at the drugged men. “Not when I could
prevent it.” She wound up the two ropes as Roark stood on stiff
legs and cocked an eyebrow at her. “You’d have done the same for
me, my stubborn stag.”
He chuckled. “Aye, lass. I would have.” He
looked over at his captors, lost in their dreams. “You drugged them
with the White Milk?”
Alina grinned. “I did. When Beasty showed up
at my camp last night, I remembered the story of my grandmother and
grandfather, how they’d been drugged by tainted wine.”
“Beasty?”
Alina nodded toward the horses. “The rangy
roan. It was as if the fates sent him to me.”
“Maybe they did,” Roark said, rolling his
shoulders and his neck. “If so, they have a twisted sense of
humor.”
“At the very least,” Alina agreed. She looked
over at the brigands. “What do you want to do with them?”
“From what I understand, the effects of the
White Milk will render them useless until well into tomorrow,” he
said. “If we tie them up and leave them, chances are they’d die of
exposure before they managed to get loose, and we don’t need any
more murder charges against us. While their motives were purely
mercenary, they didn’t beat me or starve me, even after I killed
two of them in a fair fight,” he added. “And they did let me turn
Artur loose.”
Alina heard the catch of Roark's voice at the
mention of Artur. “You did it for his own good,” she reminded him.
“He would’ve foundered and died in pain if you hadn’t cut him
loose. At least this way he’ll have a chance to rest and heal.”
“Aye, if his hoof doesn’t worsen and he
doesn’t founder anyway, or get attacked and eaten by wolves.”
Alina gave Roark’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You
did what you could for him, and he was doing fine when I last saw
him. He’s a big, strong stallion who’d give as good as he got.
Maybe once we get to Silver Water Keep, you can come back for
him.”
“Maybe,” Roark said. “After you’re safely
away.”
“Speaking of safely away.” Alina looped the
ropes in her hand over her shoulder and lifted her chin toward the
men’s gear and horses. “I say we take what we want of theirs,
including their horses, and leave them to hoof it out of here.”
“Agreed. You go through their gear and I’ll
saddle their horses.”
Alina added another small sack of beans and
dried meat to their foodstuff but left the men their waterskins and
flints while Roark stripped their saddles of any extra rope,
leaving their extra clothes and bedrolls on the saddles.
“Pull off their boots,” Roark said. “We’ll
toss them as we go, slow them down a bit while they’re
tender-footing it and searching for them.”
When they’d finished, he knelt down next to
the man who’d controlled the noose around his neck. “Shaw,” he said
sharply. “Shaw.” He grabbed the man’s jaw and held his face so that
they were nose to nose. “I’ve no idea if you’ll remember this,” he
told the glassy-eyed man. “But know that I held your life in my
hands and I didn’t kill you.” He tied the short piece of rope that
had bound his wrists around Shaw’s neck. “Come after me or the girl
again, and I won’t be so generous.”