position she was not forced to hear Shadow as he extolled his virtues to anyone who would listen. It appeared that the guard considered him of a class worthy of their recognition and they deigned to talk to him. They must have regretted their condescension after ten miles of Shadow going on about the fascinating business deals he had put together with the people of the Blue Crescent Islands, far to the west. Even the most polite would have switched their attention away when he began explaining the intricacies of letters of credit and deep discounts.
As the morning passed, Rain had plenty of time to take in the landscape around her. The road was surprisingly bad. She wondered if the ambassador had purposely taken them by a back route to avoid notice because this couldn’t possibly be the main route from a major port to the capital. King Ramil would exile any commissioner who let the surface of a Holtish road reach this level of disintegration. When attention could be spared from the potholes, she bathed her gaze in the soft greens of the hillside, the random hummocks of stone, the woods losing their autumn livery to black-branched nakedness. The trail wound up into the mountains, following a ridge giving spectacular views down into the valleys either side. In one narrow gully, she spotted the mouth of a mine shaft sunk into the rock, slag heaps slipping down the slope, but it looked abandoned.
Late in the afternoon, as the shadows stretched across the road, the cavalcade funnelled into a narrow gorge, a castle-like crag rising to the right, steep slope to the left. White sheep moved between the fallen rocks, grazing on the meagre vegetation.
Living off such a land would be a harsh existence with bitter winters and only a few crops and sheep between the inhabitants and starvation, but there was also something elemental about seeing the bones of the land peeping through the thin skin of turf. She was getting new ideas for her designs already, a window that combined the moss green of the land with the grey of the rock. Perhaps if she got the colours right, she would be able to capture the pearly blue light she had seen on the ocean?
And there—perfect! A falcon corkscrewed in the sky above. That would go in the window too: the creature in harmony with the wild land it ruled from on high.
A scream rent the air. Confused, Rain looked to the bird, wondering if it was a falcon cry she had heard.
‘Take cover!’ shouted the rear guard.
Cover? Cover from what? And where?
Before she could react, her mare whinnied in pain and bolted across the open ground. Thrown backwards, Rain reached wildly behind her to grip on to the saddle and her hand brushed the feathers of an arrow planted in the horse’s flank. With a toss of her head, the mare ripped the reins from her rider’s fingers. Rain felt herself slide. She grabbed her saddlebag to stop herself falling but to no avail. The strap holding the leather sack snapped and Rain went flying. With a painful thump, she ended up on her back on the grass, still holding the bag, but the horse was fast disappearing back the way they had come.
Overhead the falcon circled once then sped off eastwards. Rain knew she had to move but she was stunned by the fall, her hip throbbing where she had made contact with a stone. Lucky it hadn’t been her head.
The clash of weapons brought the urgency of her situation back to her. Rolling on to her knees, she crawled to the shelter of a large rock and peeped out at what was happening on the road. The guard around the ambassador, thinned by the volley of arrows, fought at close-quarters with scores of hooded men. Dressed in the green of the hillside, more and more rose up from the grass, overwhelming the escort with their numbers. The bandits concentrated their attack on liberating the baggage train from the column, killing anyone who got in their way. She picked up a stone, meaning to bombard their attackers, but she was too far away. Bile rising in
As the morning passed, Rain had plenty of time to take in the landscape around her. The road was surprisingly bad. She wondered if the ambassador had purposely taken them by a back route to avoid notice because this couldn’t possibly be the main route from a major port to the capital. King Ramil would exile any commissioner who let the surface of a Holtish road reach this level of disintegration. When attention could be spared from the potholes, she bathed her gaze in the soft greens of the hillside, the random hummocks of stone, the woods losing their autumn livery to black-branched nakedness. The trail wound up into the mountains, following a ridge giving spectacular views down into the valleys either side. In one narrow gully, she spotted the mouth of a mine shaft sunk into the rock, slag heaps slipping down the slope, but it looked abandoned.
Late in the afternoon, as the shadows stretched across the road, the cavalcade funnelled into a narrow gorge, a castle-like crag rising to the right, steep slope to the left. White sheep moved between the fallen rocks, grazing on the meagre vegetation.
Living off such a land would be a harsh existence with bitter winters and only a few crops and sheep between the inhabitants and starvation, but there was also something elemental about seeing the bones of the land peeping through the thin skin of turf. She was getting new ideas for her designs already, a window that combined the moss green of the land with the grey of the rock. Perhaps if she got the colours right, she would be able to capture the pearly blue light she had seen on the ocean?
And there—perfect! A falcon corkscrewed in the sky above. That would go in the window too: the creature in harmony with the wild land it ruled from on high.
A scream rent the air. Confused, Rain looked to the bird, wondering if it was a falcon cry she had heard.
‘Take cover!’ shouted the rear guard.
Cover? Cover from what? And where?
Before she could react, her mare whinnied in pain and bolted across the open ground. Thrown backwards, Rain reached wildly behind her to grip on to the saddle and her hand brushed the feathers of an arrow planted in the horse’s flank. With a toss of her head, the mare ripped the reins from her rider’s fingers. Rain felt herself slide. She grabbed her saddlebag to stop herself falling but to no avail. The strap holding the leather sack snapped and Rain went flying. With a painful thump, she ended up on her back on the grass, still holding the bag, but the horse was fast disappearing back the way they had come.
Overhead the falcon circled once then sped off eastwards. Rain knew she had to move but she was stunned by the fall, her hip throbbing where she had made contact with a stone. Lucky it hadn’t been her head.
The clash of weapons brought the urgency of her situation back to her. Rolling on to her knees, she crawled to the shelter of a large rock and peeped out at what was happening on the road. The guard around the ambassador, thinned by the volley of arrows, fought at close-quarters with scores of hooded men. Dressed in the green of the hillside, more and more rose up from the grass, overwhelming the escort with their numbers. The bandits concentrated their attack on liberating the baggage train from the column, killing anyone who got in their way. She picked up a stone, meaning to bombard their attackers, but she was too far away. Bile rising in
Similar Books
