Time slowed. It might be that whoever had shot at him hadn’t stayed around to see if any real damage had been done, but had instead fled back down the trail to alert Raven. Or he might be in the trees on the other side of the road, waiting to see if Tal emerged.
At last Tal grew tired of waiting, so he slipped off his horse, tied her to a bush, and headed off on a course which ran parallel to the road. He moved south, and at the narrowest point he could find, dashed across the road, then turned north. If Raven’s ambusher had fled south, he’d see signs of it; but if he was still waiting for Tal to show himself, he’d be ahead.
Tal dodged silently through the trees. He kept his ears and eyes open for any hint of an attacker’s whereabouts.
Then the man coughed. Tal froze: the sound came from not more than a dozen yards ahead. Tal knew that a sneeze or cough had killed more than one man. He waited, listening for any other sound to betray the man’s location.
Tal moved slowly, one foot lightly placed on the ground, shifting his weight before picking up the other foot. He wanted no disturbed leaves or cracked twigs to give away his presence.
Then a smell assailed his senses. The breeze blew from the northwest, coming through a pass in the mountains, and suddenly Tal could smell the man’s stench. He hadn’t bathed in weeks, and he must have been in the middle of all the smoke yesterday, for his scent was acrid.
Tal strove harder to listen and to look, and then he saw the man.
He was pressed up against a tree, keeping his body close to the bole, holding another arrow ready and his eyes scanning the trail anxiously for any sign of Tal. Tal assumed the man had been told not to return unless he brought Tal’s head.
Tal targeted the man and moved in an arc, until he had a certain killing shot. Then he said softly, “Put down your bow.’’
The man froze. He didn’t turn his body, but his head moved so that he could see Tal out of the corner of his eyes. He opened his hand and let the bow fall to the ground.
“Turn around, slowly,” said Tal.
He did so, until he was standing with his back to the tree. Tal aimed his arrow at the man’s chest.
“Where’s Raven?’’
“South, maybe two miles, waiting for me to bring you in or for you to come riding into his next trap.’’
“What’s your name?’’
“Killgore.”
“How long have you been with Raven?’’
“Ten years.’’
The bowstring twanged and suddenly the man named Killgore found himself pinned to the tree. His eyes went wide and he looked down a moment, then his head fell forward as his body went limp.
“Ten years means you were at my village, murderer,” Tal said quietly.
He left Killgore pinned to the tree and hurried back across the road to fetch his horse.
Now there were only three left, and Tal knew they were waiting for him two miles down the road.
Tal swore. It was a big meadow, and he understood instantly why Raven had chosen it. It was too large for Tal to hide in the trees and pick off anyone from cover.
Raven and his two remaining raiders sat their horses in the center of the field, hands casually resting on the horns of their saddles, waiting.
Either Tal would ride into view, and they’d continue on south, or he would appear, and they’d have an end to the chase, one way or the other. Tal weighed his options. He could hide in the trees until Raven gave up the wait and continued south, or went back north to see what had happened to Killgore. But he had only a bag full of berries and a skin of water, and he was extremely tired. He would only get weaker by waiting.
Raven was tired, too, no doubt, but he had two other swords with him.
Tal held the title of the world’s finest swordsman, at least until the next tourney at the Masters’ Court, but there were three of them, and they would be fighting from horseback. Tal had no illusions that they’d consent to dismount and meet him one at a time.
He took a deep breath. It was time to end this.
He picked up his short bow, put an arrow between his teeth and another in his bow hand. Urging his mount forward with his legs and with one hand on the reins, Tal rode into view.
The three mercenaries saw him and without fuss drew their weapons. Tal felt a sudden rush of hope. None of them appeared to have a bow.
Thanking the gods that Rondar had been a good riding instructor, Tal shouted and brought his mount to a gallop. He rode straight at the three men, keeping his eye on Raven, who sat in the center.
Raven didn’t move, but his two companions did, spurring their mounts in a circling move, so that Tal would have to turn his back on someone. Tal released the reins, letting them fall across his horse’s neck as he stood up in the saddle, gripping the horse hard with his knees.