Brian McClellan - Forsworn

“Dominik is hurt,” Norrine said, “but he says he can still drive.”

Erika cleaned and bound Dominik’s wound herself. The old driver had taken a bullet in the arm, but it had missed the bone and she managed to dig it out with her knife. Treating bullet wounds wasn’t common to a noblewoman’s tutoring, but Santiole had taught her enough.

Erika was forced to push Santiole and Tirel in a ditch and cover them with snow, with the hope of recovering the bodies come spring. For Duglas and his companions, she dragged their bodies over two hundred yards and dumped them into a deep crevasse, along with Duglas’ infernal air musket.

They camped there that night and Dominik seemed much recovered in the morning. She sat beside the ditch for nearly an hour, staring down at Santiole’s grave, haunted by memories of the fight. Duglas had been the better duelist. Without the black powder, they’d all be dead now. Had this powder mage girl been worth Santiole’s life? She clutched Santiole’s sword-a prized weapon made from the finest Starlish steel-unable to leave it in a ditch for some highwayman to find.

She finally decided that Santiole would wish to see this finished, and roused herself from her stupor. She had to be strong. She was heir to a duchy, after all. She couldn’t afford to mourn, not with Adro still several days away and so much at stake.

The road soon left the high mountain passes from Norport and descended onto the Amber Expanse. Known as the breadbasket of the Nine Nations, the fields and pastures of the Expanse seemed to roll on indefinitely towards the horizon. Erika was glad to leave the snow behind even if the fall air was still cold. Norrine rode in silence, avoiding Erika’s gaze.

The northern highway wound along the foothills of the mountains, looking out over the expanse, turning northward toward the city of Budwiel.

Budwiel sat between two great monoliths of stone where the mountain range split into a mighty valley. The Addown River, runoff from the Adsea, flowed through the city to water the Amber Expanse. The carriage crossed the river at nightfall and began a mile-long gentle ascent that ended at Budwiel’s gate. The wind picked up and seemed to blow right through the carriage walls. Erika put her head out the window and looked toward the dots of light that marked the city walls.

Soon they’d be in Adro and beyond the influence of Nikslaus and his Longdogs. They would finally be safe.

She looked toward Norrine. The girl slept soundly in the corner of the carriage, wrapped in furs. She stirred and let out a whimper. Erika adjusted the fur around her shoulders. Yes. It had been worth it. This girl was a powder mage, kin in sorcery in a land where being a powder mage meant death unless you had the name of a great family to protect you. The thought of Santiole’s death sickened Erika. She hoped the mistress-at-arms would be pleased to see them reach safety at last.

“My lady!” Dominik called. “Riders on the road behind us! Coming fast!”

Erika put her head out the window and looked back down the road. There they were, at least a dozen of them on horseback, carrying torches and gaining ground fast.

Was it more Longdogs? Bandits? It could be anyone.

The pressure in Erika’s chest threatened to turn into full-blown panic. She was only a few hundred yards from the gates of Budwiel. She had come too far to fail now.

“Faster!”

Dominik whipped the horses into a gallop and the carriage jolted hard on the dirt roads.

“What’s the matter?” Norrine asked, wakened by the sudden jostling. Erika ignored her and stared at the gates of Budwiel, silently urging the carriage faster. A glance behind her said the riders were coming up too quickly. They would be on them just outside the city gates, which would find her still on Kez lands.

“Norrine,” she said. “When I tell you, you have to leap from the carriage.”

The girl’s eyes grew wide.

Erika went on, “Get into the ditch as fast as you can. It’s deep, it’ll conceal you from the torches. You mustn’t make a sound.”

Norrine nodded bravely.

“Dominik,” Erika called. “Stop the carriage.”

“Are you sure?”

“Now!”

Dominik reined the horses in quickly and Erika took Norrine by the hand. “Out to the left, go quickly.”

The girl opened the door and scrambled into the ditch without hesitation. Erika composed herself, wrapping the furs around her and easing back into her seat as if unconcerned. Within moments the sound of galloping hooves closed in and surrounded the carriage, and men’s voices shouted at Dominik.

The carriage door was yanked open and Erika stared into the eyes of Duke Nikslaus. Sorcerous fire danced upon the tips of his gloved fingers, casting half his face in shadows and causing Erika to shy back.

“My lord Nikslaus,” she asked, “is that you?”

The fire disappeared from his hands and the duke jerked the blanket away from Erika, then moved the pile of furs from the other corner. “Why did you run when you saw us?”

“My lord? You gave me a pit of a scare,” Erika said. “We thought we’d been set upon by bandits again.”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

Nikslaus’ jaw flexed angrily, all hints of his cordial, graceful attitude gone. “You know bloody well who.”

“I don’t!” Erika’s heart pounded and she wrung her hands to keep them from trembling. “If you’re looking for Santiole, she was killed by bandits on the high pass, along with my grandfather’s man Tirel.” The panic came through in her voice and she urged herself toward tears, as a woman who might break into hysterics at any moment.

Blind obliviousness was her only weapon now.

The tightness in Nikslaus’ jaw disappeared slowly and he stepped out of the carriage, conferring with one of his men.

“You were set upon by bandits ?” he asked when he returned.

“Yes! Five of the filthy bastards. They killed Tirel and wounded Dominik. Santiole killed two and I, one, before they retreated. Santiole died from her wounds.”

“You fought them?”

“I had to!” Erika said, forcing indignity into her voice. “We were fighting for our lives.”

Nikslaus seemed to consider this for a moment. “Three of my men are missing. They were on the same road as you.”

“Most likely ambushed by the same band of highwaymen that attacked us.” Erika took deep breaths, her hysterics only partially faked, and tried to gather herself.

“Bandits,” Nikslaus said flatly. “Like the bandits in your grandfather’s forest.” His tone indicated just how convenient he thought her story was.

Erika leaned forward, jutting out her chin. “The king needs to clean up his bloody roads,” she exclaimed. “You’ve lost, what is that, five of your men now? And both Santiole and Tirel have been with my family for decades. They’ll be impossible to replace.”

Nikslaus sniffed and retreated from the carriage once more. “Search the fields and ditches along the road,” she heard him say. “Question the driver.”

A voice answered him in a whisper, likely thinking Erika too frazzled to hear. “Shall we kill them both, my lord?”

“We’re a stone’s throw from Budwiel’s walls, you bloody idiot,” Nikslaus hissed back. “There will be a dozen witnesses.”

Questions were directed at Dominik but the old man played his part perfectly. Erika watched with no small amount of trepidation as Nikslaus’ men swept through the nearby fields with torches held high and leapt down into the ditches to search them by hand. She kept the pommel of her sword in a vice-like grip and wondered if she’d be quick enough to draw, killing Nikslaus before he could react with Privileged sorcery.

Nikslaus returned to her carriage about ten minutes later. He crawled inside and sat across from her, exactly where Norrine had been a quarter of an hour ago. His face was lit eerily by the light of a torch outside the window.