The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles #3) - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,20

city been spared the ravages of the devastation and time?

It made me wonder if this was another place that Griz and his cohorts had avoided, fearing that the dark spirits of the Ancients held up the walls. He and Kaden walked ahead of us, traversing the twisting trail down the side of the mountain. Rafe wouldn’t let them ride. He said it was safer to have them walk just ahead of Jeb and Orrin, who still had their bows at the ready, even though Kaden’s and Griz’s hands were firmly tied behind their backs.

“Would you really have killed them in cold blood?” I asked.

“It’s no less than what he ordered for me.”

“Tit for tat? Is that how this soldiering stuff works?”

An annoyed hiss escaped through Rafe’s teeth. “No, I wouldn’t have killed them on the spot. I probably would have waited for Kaden to do something stupid in the heat of the moment—which he surely will—and then I would have killed him. Oh, wait, excuse me! I forgot. We’re all in good hands. Griz promised to fall on him if he got out of line. Do I have that right?”

I returned his sarcasm with a steely glare. “Next I’m going to order him to fall on you. Save your cynicism. All I needed to know was that you wouldn’t kill them in cold blood.”

Rafe sighed. “But it doesn’t hurt for them to think that I would. I don’t trust either of them, and we still have a long way until we reach the safety of the outpost.”

“How long have you known they were following us?”

“I’ve suspected for a few days now. I saw white smoke early one morning. A campfire being doused, I guessed. What I can’t figure out is how they caught up with us so fast.”

“I know.” As soon as the last knot was tied on his hands, Kaden’s long-ago explanation, no other way, pinched inside me. It was another of his lies. At the very least, he had deliberately painted a picture that made me assume things.

“Kaden led me to believe that the bridge into Venda had replaced the old footbridge that used to span the river. I’m guessing, dangerous or not, somewhere not too far from the Sanctum, it still exists. Which means if Griz and Kaden got across, others probably did too. He may not have been lying about the squad.”

Rafe reached up and raked his fingers through his hair. This was news he didn’t want to hear. If we had a lead at all now, it was only because the snow had covered our tracks.

Commotion broke out in front of us. The scrape of gravel, the whinny of horses, and startled shouts exploded across the air.

Whoa!

Back up!

Watch out!

The trail was suddenly bedlam as horses stumbled into one another. Rafe’s sword flashed from its scabbard. I instinctively drew mine too, though I didn’t know what I was defending myself from.

Orrin’s horse was rearing back, and the others were trying to control their skittering horses on the narrow trail. For a few seconds, confusion reigned and then we saw what had happened. Griz had fallen, blocking the path. Kaden knelt beside him, yelling for someone to untie him so he could help Griz.

Rafe ordered everyone to hold their positions, as if he suspected a trick. He dismounted to investigate, but we quickly saw where Griz’s cloak had fallen away, revealing bloody, wet fabric on his side. His face was waxy and damp, and I knew it was no trick. The wound Jorik had inflicted days ago was still bleeding.

“What happened?” Rafe asked.

“It’s nothing,” Griz growled. “Just give me a hand—”

“Shut up,” Kaden told him. He looked up at Rafe. “It’s from the battle on the terrace. He took a sword in his side. I tried to bandage it, but it keeps opening back up.”

Griz snarled at Kaden and tried to rise on his own, but Rafe held him down with his boot. “Don’t move,” he ordered, then yelled over his shoulder for Tavish. “Come take a look at this.”

Kaden was escorted several feet away by Orrin and directed to sit while Tavish examined Griz. The rest of us hovered, watching as Tavish pulled up Griz’s filthy vest and shirt, and then cut away the sodden bandages.

Sven groaned when he saw the wound, and I stifled a shudder. The eight-inch gash was caked with dried black blood, and the skin around it was red and inflamed. Yellow pus oozed from the wound.

Tavish shook his head, saying he