The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,127
puppet to another controlling it for your king, you'll be imprisoned if caught. Or killed.”
He shrugged. “I'll take the risk. I'm more useful to his lordship there, and I can help without going anywhere near the fortress itself. I know enough people in the surrounding villages who'll help and feed information to me. I can even send someone to Saggara with news if you wish it, and no one at High Salure will know.”
It was a good idea and one she embraced. She tossed him the pack, weighted with a supply of road rations. “Take this.”
He caught it neatly in his arms. “What about you?”
“I'm not the one still convalescing and getting my strength back. You need it more than I do, and I can hunt.” She offered him the Kai salute. “Good luck to us both.”
He returned it with a Beladine one. “Sha-Anhuset, it has been a privilege to travel and fight alongside you.”
With a last wave, he turned the gelding and continued down the path that would eventually take him to High Salure and its surrounding territories. Her vision sharpened with the falling light. The less traveled path she took leveled out, and she put Magas back into a steady canter, feeling the earth beneath them gently descend toward the distant plain below.
The days it took to reach Saggara stretched for eternity, though her reason told her she made good time. She rested Magas when necessary, foraged or hunted only when her belly tried to gnaw its way to her backbone, and dozed for no more than an hour or two during the day, resolutely shoving back the memories of her time with the margrave at the monastery and the worries that plagued her now over his fate.
By her best guess, she was a day out from Saggara when she spotted a lone rider taking one of the roads that led to the ferry Serovek's original party had used to get them down the Absu. She recognized the rider's posture and as they rode closer to where she watched, half hidden by an outcropping of rock and trees, she recognized the rider himself. Ogran.
“You murdering piece of shit,” she said through clenched teeth. Cold fury washed over her.
Her claws bit into her palms with the urge to split the lying, betraying bastard from gullet to bollocks. She had no doubt he'd turned on his unwary traveling companions the instant they were out of Serovek's sight, killing them without hesitation. The gods only knew where he'd tossed their corpses.
Had he returned to the valley to ascertain the fate of the rest of Serovek's party and report back to Bryzant? Anhuset smiled thinly. His unfortunate comrades wouldn't be the only ones never to reach their destination.
In no hurry, he kept a leisurely pace on the road. Anhuset eased Magas back into the trees before dismounting and tying his reins to a low branch. She'd cover more ground and make less noise on foot. Keeping parallel to the road, she raced through the forest, descending slope so that by the time she was even with the road, she was ahead of her prey, waiting.
She hurtled out of the concealing tree line so fast Ogran only had time to jerk in the saddle and grunt before she leaped on him, her weight and momentum throwing him clear of the horse to land on his back with Anhuset atop him. The horse bolted, leaving its stunned rider behind.
Ogran howled when she struck him, breaking his nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils, and she shoved his arms down when he grabbed for his face, pinning both under her knees. “Who paid you to betray the margrave, maggot?” Anhuset knew the answer, but she wanted to hear him say it.
He struggled under her, glaring and spitting expletives at her. She grabbed his head by his ears and slammed it back into the dirt, hard enough to make him see stars but not enough to crack his skull. His breathing turned to gurgling gasps when she laid her palm against his throat and pressed just enough to feel his larynx spasm. “I will break every bone in your body, one by one, Ogran, and then I will gut you like a fish if you don't answer me. Who paid you?” She wanted to hear him say it so she could force-feed the words back to him.
“Bryzant,” he finally said on a wheezy gasp. “High Salure's steward.”
Anhuset lifted her palm, and Ogran inhaled a deep breath. Even