That made more sense than sending her with so little protection. The richly appointed caravan would act as a decoy upon the main road, while Nyset’s heir took a route less traveled, less likely to be a target for bandits.
Or a target for Parsathean raiders.
“They left Ephorn separately only one day past,” the woman insisted. “That can be verified by the guards at the east gate. Now, please”—fearfully she glanced over her shoulder, to where Ephorn’s great white walls gleamed—“I must return before my absence is discovered. I have told you all that I can.”
All that she had been instructed to. But Maddek would not detain her. The fear in her glance had appeared genuine enough—and he could not know whether she’d had any choice to play the part she’d been given.
But that part was over. Now the choices were his.
He looked to Etan. “Escort her back to the gate.”
Maddek waited until they were beyond the glow of his fire before speaking to Enox—aware that every warrior who had been sleeping nearby was listening. All of them had awoken when the woman arrived.
All of them yearned to avenge their queen and king as hotly as he did.
Sitting up, Enox drew her heavy furs around her bare shoulders. Her keen eyes searched his face. “What will you do?”
To the woman who had lured his parents to their deaths? “Toss her rotting corpse over Syssia’s wall.”
Slowly she nodded. “Do you wish for me to take a handful of warriors and fetch her to you?”
A cold smile touched Maddek’s mouth. “No.”
That was the only answer Enox needed—and was the one she likely expected. Maddek would pursue Nyset’s heir himself.
Wry amusement curved her lips before she eyed the warrior bedded down on Maddek’s right, who had been following their exchange with sharp interest. “Kelir, you and your five will accompany Ran Maddek and serve as his Dragon.”
Ran Maddek. It marked the first time any of the warriors called him by the title that had belonged to his mother and father. But it was not Maddek’s title yet. And wouldn’t be, unless all of Parsathe claimed his voice as theirs.
Enox met his grim look with a lift of her chin. She had never liked hearing him called Commander. That was the alliance’s title, not a Parsathean’s. “When you find Nyset’s heir, please add my greetings to yours.”
Maddek would—a greeting given by the sharp edge of a blade. As soon as Zhalen’s daughter was within his grasp, he would make her pay for her treachery.
Vengeance would be his.
CHAPTER 4
MADDEK
At dawn, the riders of Parsathe struck hard for home—with Enox at their head. The same dawn saw Maddek and his Dragon guard upon the road to Toleh, a half night’s journey already behind them.
But a half night’s journey for the Parsatheans was a full day’s for a bridal caravan, and that train of soldiers and wagons was in Maddek’s sight by the following morning. Another ten days of travel lay ahead for the caravan—and its escort would not know until too late that the bride had not arrived in Toleh with them.
Before they were seen, Maddek veered hard south through the trees that rose tall on either side of the road.
Riding alongside him, Kelir cast a doubtful glance over his shoulder—toward the caravan, though it was already out of sight. Over the thunder of their horses’ hooves, the warrior called out, “Are you certain we can trust the Syssian woman’s word?”
“We will soon see!” Maddek called back.
Because he could not be certain. But everything she had told him before begging to return to the city held the ring of truth. If Zhalen had hidden the daughter away until she was of marriageable age, then he would not likely expose her now, before she had fulfilled her purpose.
But Kelir’s concern was not unwarranted. What better way to lure Maddek to an ambush than by placing a path to vengeance in front of him?
Yet even an ambush would be welcome. Eagerly Maddek would meet an attack and spill the blood of anyone who challenged him.
By midday, they reached the southern path. The road’s soft earth had not seen recent passage. So either they were ahead of the daughter or no daughter was coming.
But if there was to be an ambush, it would be Maddek’s. The forested hills provided cover. A steep and narrow stretch of road offered a strong position.
All was quiet but for the chittering of birds and small feathered lizards that raced about on two feet. Infrequently came the howls and screams of the predators that prowled these forests and the heavy tread of the giant reptilian beasts that foraged the treetops.
The midday sun began its slow slide west. Shadows lengthened. But the Syssian messenger had not spoken false, for as evening gold began to gild the clouds, Danoh’s signal sounded from her post high above the road, the trilling chirp of an infant drepa.
A dozen soldiers—ten mounted, and two driving a carriage. Harnessed to it were four horses too light-boned to pull such a burden over such a rough road for such a distance. Little wonder they lagged so far behind the caravan—and Maddek would not have to worry that those horses would outrace his mare. Unlike a Parsathean’s mount, the carriage horses had been chosen for their elegance rather than their strength.
That was also what it meant to be civilized. And for it, they would lose a bride to a barbarian.
Maddek bade his warriors to remain behind him and urged his mare onto the road. He came over the steep rise as the soldiers and carriage reached the narrowest part of the path, hemmed in by the thick growth of conifers and ferns on either side. The horses strained against their harnesses to pull the weight of the carriage up the incline.
Shouts rose from the soldiers, crossbows swinging up to their shoulders. But they did not look to another soldier for an order.
They waited for one.
Waiting for word from within the carriage, Maddek realized. By Temra’s fist, he prayed it was that murdering dog-king, Zhalen.
His prayer was not answered. The man who poked his head through the carriage’s curtained door was not the father but another son. Maddek would have thought it was Bazir but for his hair, lighter and longer than the sly-tongue’s. The smirk was the same, as were the moonstone eyes.
Maddek called out, “Give to me Nyset’s heir!”
Zhalen’s son barked with laughter. “Or what? You have been forbidden to harm me, raider!”
So he had been. Maddek allowed a smile. “When they find your meatless carcass and the bones of your soldiers scattered across the road, they will believe you fell to the apes. Not to men.”
Another bark of laughter was the only response before the son disappeared into the carriage. The soldiers looked to each other uneasily. Syssian men, not Zhalen’s hired Rugusian soldiers.