Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,133
song! I think it only fitting that a warrior of my caliber should possess a mighty steed of war such as this one.”
Thalya burst into rich, genuine laughter, doubling over in her saddle. “That is no war stallion,” she gasped. “It is a mare, though I will grant you it is a tall one, and it would be generous to call it broken to the saddle. I thought you knew since the evidence was, ah, plain to see.” She cast a meaningful glance at the underside of the horse.
Syth’s face fell. “Not a war stallion, eh? So that fat fool of a tradesman took advantage of me.” Then he shrugged, and the grin reappeared in a flash as he raised his eyebrows at the huntress. “I thought perhaps it was a kindred warrior spirit that caused the animal to be so unquestionably drawn to me, but now that I know it is female its attraction is, of course, less of a mystery.”
Thalya wiped away mirthful tears. “Better keep your charms in reserve for now, thief, at least until you can tell the difference between stallion and mare. One never knows where the next such mistake will lead you. And I will ignore, for now, your unwise implication that a woman cannot possess the spirit of a warrior.”
The pair quieted as they drew rein before Amric, Syth looking somewhat abashed and Thalya’s face becoming a frozen mask as her emerald gaze fell upon Bellimar. Amric noted that the huntress had never allowed Halthak to heal her, but the bruising and abrasions had subsided enough now that her features were more evident. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, even with her features settled into lines of anger and suspicion, as they were at the moment.
“I must admit, I am surprised to see you all,” Amric said. “Unless you are here to see us off?”
The others exchanged glances, but Bellimar spoke first, the intensity of the old man’s gaze like a physical thing pressing against him. “There are questions yet to be answered, swordsman,” he said. “I will be there when the mysteries are solved.”
“I go where the fiend goes,” Thalya said immediately through clenched teeth.
Amric turned to Syth. The man drew himself up in his saddle, and his words simmered as he spoke. “I spent months in a cell, waiting for an inglorious death at the hands of a madman. I had nothing of freedom, excitement or change in scenery, and no chance to strike out at a deserving foe.” This time when his grin returned, it was a slow, wolfish thing. “At least this madman offers those things.”
Amric looked finally to Halthak, who flushed and gave a sheepish shrug. “Someone has to keep all you mad fools alive,” he said.
The warrior considered making another attempt to dissuade them, but as he looked around at each of their faces he read defiance and quiet determination, and he bit down upon the words before they could form. Who was he to impugn their courage, anyway? They had each made their decisions with full knowledge of what they faced. For their own reasons, each had chosen to accompany him to aid his missing friends and, with luck, all of the lands. He and Valkarr were well accustomed to the battlefield, and Bellimar had certainly seen his share of death, but the others were not so inured. All in all, he decided, he could think of no more valorous act.
He nodded his thanks to them and wheeled his bay gelding toward the city’s southern gate. The riders fell into line behind him, and they rode from the city under the gathering sky.
Twin pairs of eyes, pale and sharp as the hard frost before the first driving winter snowfall, watched from high atop the southern wall of Keldrin’s Landing. As Amric and company disappeared over the first distant rise where the winding thread of road split the rolling green sward, the Elvar assassin Nyar turned to his brother Nylien.
“They depart the city,” he remarked.
“Our lord predicted as much,” Nylien said.
“Our lord is wise, as ever.”
“The Nar’ath will no doubt ensure they do not return,” Nylien said in a sorrowful tone.
“But our lord prefers to take few chances,” Nyar pointed out.
The other brightened. “Just so, brother, just so.”
“There will be many Nar’ath on the move.”
“But we are shadows,” Nylien said with confidence.
“So we are, brother. We are indeed shadows.”
“I believe our lord will wish us to follow, and ensure they cannot affect his plans.”