Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [106]
“I must be drunk,” he said to his chestnut gelding. “But why am I drunk out here?”
The gelding snorted as if wondering the same thing.
A few miles on, the river road curved sharply, and as he rounded the bend, Camdel saw three men on horseback. In his muddled way he knew that they were waiting for him. Of course, it was Sarcyn and Alastyr, and that third man was doubtless some servant. Doubtless he was here to buy some opium with those jewels. At last it all made sense.
“Well met, my friend,” Alastyr said. “Are you ready to come with us?”
Camdel started to agree, but suddenly a thought came into his mind. Don’t! They’ll hurt you! The thought sounded so loudly, so urgently, that without a moment’s pause he wrenched his horse’s head around.
“Here!” Sarcyn spurred his mount after him.
Run!
Obediently Camdel kicked his horse, but just as it sprang to a gallop, it screamed in agony and reared. Camdel was thrown forward hard; he clung to its neck as it staggered. He saw a sword blade flash up and slit the horse’s throat. Barely in time, he kicked his feet free of the stirrups and rolled off as the gelding went down. He staggered up, groping for the hilt of his sword. Then a sharp blow caught him across the back of the head, and he crumpled into darkness.
“Good work, Sarcyn,” Alastyr said. “Gan, get those saddlebags! We’ve got to get on our way fast.”
“Cursed nuisance about that horse,” Sarcyn said, kneeling down by Camdel. “We’ll have to steal him another one.”
“I’ve been thinking that we should just kill him and be done with it. Things are much more dangerous than I thought they’d be. Don’t forget, there’s a war going on around here. We might meet a patrol or suchlike on the roads.”
Sarcyn looked up with a flash of mutiny in his eyes.
“I know I promised, but—” Alastyr hesitated, remembering the Old One’s warning that his apprentice hated him. “Ah, well, he doesn’t weigh much. You can tie him onto your horse until we get another.”
“I want a little of my own back from this stinking swine. Besides, we can use him for the ritual.”
“So we can, and tonight. Ye gods, I’m exhausted.”
Their mute servant, Gan, hurried up with the saddlebags. Although Alastyr was tempted to open them and gloat over the jewels then and there, time was short. Nervously he glanced round, half-afraid of seeing some noble lord and his full warband riding toward them. Camdel was going to be a blasted nuisance. He felt hurt, he realized, that Sarcyn would hate him, after all he’d done for the little gutter rat! Still, there was no time to worry about such things now, and hatred or not, Sarcyn was too useful to get rid of.
His head throbbed, blinding him, and there were arms around him. But where was he? On horseback. Somewhere. Camdel opened his eyes and saw green meadows around him. The Auddglyn. He’d tried to escape. With a groan he twisted in the saddle and realized that his ankles were tied to the stirrups.
“Awake, are you?” Sarcyn said.
Camdel realized, then, that Sarcyn was riding behind him and holding him on the horse. He heard the sound of other horses following them. The green meadows danced and shifted in his tormented vision.
“My apologies for the blow on the head,” Sarcyn went on. “But we couldn’t have you just riding off like that.”
“Why? What do you want me for?”
Sarcyn laughed, a little mutter under his breath.
“You’ll find out tonight.”
Camdel was too exhausted to ask more. Although he was thoroughly trained in weapon craft, and had indeed won several tournaments, he’d never ridden to war or indeed exerted much of any kind of energy in his life. The pain took over his mind for the rest of the long, miserable ride.
At last they rode up to