The Wizardwar - Elaine Cunningham [60]
"Now there's only one way in," Andris said, pointing to the pass leading out of the clearing.
"And only one way out!"
A woman's voice, harsh and heavily accented, rang through the clearing.
The jordaini whirled, just in time to see a large net spinning toward them from behind a precarious pile of rocks. The weighted net slapped into them and brought them down in a tangle of limbs.
Over a dozen Crinti warriors stepped from the shadows of small caves, planting themselves in a circle around the edge of the net and holding the jordaini trapped beneath. One of them, a tall woman with crimson tattoos encircling her upper arms, looked Andris over appraisingly.
"Elf-blooded or not, I did not think you would return. You have also spoken with Kiva?"
Matteo noted the stunned expression that crossed his friend's face, the flicker of confusion and indecision.
"No," Andris said shortly. "I didn't know she had returned."
"Then you brought the humans here on your own. Well done." The big Crinti pulled out a sword and slit open the net over Andris. She reached down and hauled him to his feet.
Her gaze skimmed her other captives. Her strange, blue eyes narrowed when they settled upon Matteo. "This one killed Whizzra. It was his woman who summoned the dark bines."
"My friend," Matteo corrected.
Shanair laughed and cast a sly glance toward Andris. "And here is another of your 'friends?' You do not choose them wisely. This one betrays you, and the girl was not strong enough to master what she summoned. She is dead now, or gone beyond the veil, which is much worse."
She turned to her warriors. One of them had a large, powerful crossbow cranked and ready, leveled at Matteo's chest. The chieftain jerked her head in Matteo's direction. "Kill him first, but slowly."
The gray archer smirked and lowered her aim.
"Wait," Andris said. He pulled out his jordaini daggers. "I've known this man since boyhood. A crossbow is too swift and too kind."
He turned to Matteo. He flipped both daggers, caught them by their points, and sent first one then the other spinning toward the captive jordain.
The first dagger struck the ground near Matteo, neatly slicing through the tied ropes of the net. Matteo thrust his arm through the opening and closed his hand around the handle of the second, spinning dagger.
A risky move, catching a thrown dagger, but one the two of them had practiced together since boyhood.
Matteo sliced through the net and burst out into the clearing, drawing his sword as he came. He dropped into guard position, prepared to hold off the Crinti's blades as Themo and Iago struggled free.
As he moved, he saw Andris whirl and seize the woman's crossbow. The jordain forced her aim up at the large, unstable rock formation that had hidden the Crinti ambush.
Boulders tumbled down into the clearing, bringing more stones with them.
Andris hurtled forward, driving Iago toward a small overhang. The four jordaini flattened themselves into the scant shelter as the thunder and dust of falling rock filled the clearing.
"She was wrong, you know," Matteo shouted at Andris. The pale jordain sent him an inquiring look. "The Crinti chieftain. She said I do not choose my friends well."
A quick look of gratitude flashed in Andris's pale eyes. "Obviously she never met your horse Cyric."
The two jordaini shared a chuckle. When the avalanche ceased but for echoes carrying the grumbling thunder from mountain to mountain, they came cautiously out, swords ready.
Most of the Crinti had gone down under the tumbling stone. Some shifted weakly, others lay bloody and still. Only a few Crinti were left standing-odds the jordaini could reasonably face. The chieftain staggered to her feet, her wild, steel-gray hair crusted with blood.
"Another traitor," she said, eyeing Andris with disdain. She spat at the ground. "You are not worth fighting. She is not worth fighting for. We go."
The surviving Crinti turned and disappeared through the pass, swiftly melting into the