Blood of the King - Khirro's Journey Book 1 Page 0,52
five hundred meters wide and stretched the length of the border, the trees cut down centuries before to provide wood to build the guard towers dotting the frontier. Originally built to discourage bandits and refugees, the kingdoms maintained the non-barrier more out of habit than need. During wartime, however, no doubt the border guards would be more wary.
A fingernail moon cast sparse light as they watched torches flicker in tower windows and a foot patrol pass between the towers at irregular intervals. After an hour’s observation, a whispered discussion between Athryn and Ghaul decided they’d attempt the crossing one by one. They’d already let the horses go knowing they couldn’t sneak them across the border.
Ghaul glanced at the sky and Khirro followed his gaze: clear, as it had been for a month. No wisp of cloud hid the moon. Ghaul looked at the others, then nodded silently. They tightened straps and secured loose items then, without a word, Ghaul broke cover, moving swiftly across the field, crouched low and halting at the slightest hint of movement. Khirro reminded himself to breathe as he watched Ghaul zig-zag over the bare expanse, choosing a path which took him farthest from the towers. After a few minutes, Athryn sent Elyea and Maes.
A finger of fear prodded Khirro’s heart, shaking him. It didn’t matter who they were or why they were here, any soldier manning the outposts wouldn’t ask questions before launching an arrow or swinging a sword. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction they’d come, wondered how difficult it would be to find one of the horses and make his way home.
That’s why Athryn will send me next: they don’t trust me.
A burst of anger flared but quickly disappeared.
I thought of leaving. They shouldn’t trust me.
Elyea and Maes stopped suddenly and dove to the ground. Khirro’s breath caught in his throat, anger and fear forgotten. He squinted into the night but saw no sentry, darkness and distance obscuring all save outlines and shapes. A tense moment passed. Ghaul’s form had disappeared long ago and he assumed he’d reached the forest on the other side—the forest of Vendaria. Beside Khirro, Athryn’s lips moved, forming a wordless whisper of breath. As if in answer, Maes rose, helped Elyea to her feet, and they continued, darkness swallowing them after another minute.
Khirro jumped when Athryn touched his shoulder.
“It is time,” he whispered. His black cloth mask and the cowl of his black cloak covering his blond hair concealed all but the scant glint of moonlight in his eyes; Khirro might not have noticed him crouched beside him.
Khirro’s heart climbed into his throat, threatening his breath; Athryn urged him forward with a gentle push. Out of the brush, Khirro felt like he’d been thrust naked into the middle of a busy marketplace, exposed and vulnerable. He crouched low, scuttled across the field. His foot struck a rock, kicking it away, and he stopped, listening, not breathing. When he heard no other sounds, he moved forward again more slowly, the weight of pack and shield on his back suddenly immense. The stillness of the night amplified every creak of his armor to ear shattering levels. In his mind, an unseen voice challenged him, the whistle of an arrow cloaked in darkness came to pierce his heart. He stopped, kneeling, pausing to catch the breath which had fled him.
To Khirro’s right, a guard tower loomed, slivers of light leaking through shuttered windows and under closed door. He looked left and made out the next watch tower in the line a little farther away. His legs didn’t want to move but Khirro forced them to creep forward, eyes pinned to the near guard post. Each step brought more confidence and he straightened, moved more quickly expecting the guard tower door to swing inward at any second.
Directly between the two towers, his foot caught in a clump of weeds and he pitched forward to the ground.
Khirro turned his shoulder, took the fall on his back. The clank of shield impacting ground seemed as loud as a clap of thunder. He rolled off it, came to a halt lying on his chest, sweat cold on his forehead. Afraid to breathe, he strained listening for any sound of men but heard only crickets chirruping and an owl call out a question that went unanswered.
No noise from the guard post, no door or window thrown open.
Carefully, Khirro rose. A figure to his left startled him and he turned toward it but it moved