The Ippos King (Wraith Kings #3) - Grace Draven Page 0,87
already low, softened even more. “There are four archers among us who are far more skilled than the rest. Without them, you might survive.” He backed away. “Good luck, sha-Anhuset.”
He returned to the boats where the others had already begun boarding. Chamtivos regarded him from his place at the bow of one boat, reminding Anhuset of a snake studying unsuspecting quarry. Karulin ignored him, and she guessed he'd not turn his back on his master, figuratively or literally, any time soon.
She watched them row away, leaving her and Serovek without provisions or weapons of any kind. She'd expected no less. Wrists and ankles still bound, she'd have to find a way to cut herself free, otherwise she was useless to Serovek and herself. A small, triumphant cry burst past her lips when she discovered a treasure folded into the creases of the gag cloth tucked under Serovek's shoulder: an eating knife. Small, easily hidden, and just as sharp as any fighting blade she normally carried.
Chamtivos had a traitor in his midst, or at least a man who felt it necessary to even the odds a little more between predator and prey. Karulin had managed to wrap the knife in the gag cloth without anyone noticing, including her, relying on the hunch that Anhuset might want the cloth as either a bandage or a weapon. He was her enemy, her adversary, but at least an honorable one, unlike that craven dog to whom he gave allegiance.
She cut her bonds away and used the gag cloth to create a makeshift sheath for the knife. Chamtivos might have stripped her of her weapons, but she wasn't without. She had teeth, claws, Karulin's knife, her training, and her wits. They'd not find her easy prey to hunt and kill.
Serovek was another matter. Up close he looked in even worse shape, battered and bloody. No doubt she'd find more contusions and worse under his clothes. His breathing was quick but not labored, a good sign that. Even if his captors had broken a rib or two, they hadn't punctured a lung.
She lifted a few strands of his hair, sticky with blood, away from his abused face. “The cruelties of lesser men inflicted upon a greater one. I'm sorry, Serovek.” The sight of his injuries seated a cold fury deep in her gut, and she almost wished Chamtivos and the gutless lackeys he commanded would turn their boats around start the hunt now just so she'd have the pleasure of ripping their heads off and feeding their bodies to whatever lurked in the lake's depths.
It was late morning, and she had less than a full day's cycle to get herself and Serovek to some form of shelter and plan how they might survive. “Come on, margrave. We can't stay on the beach forever.”
They were exposed on the beach. The conifer wood covering most of the island offered the camouflage of shadow as well as darkness that she saw far better in than her human adversaries. There would be places to hide. Small caves, outcroppings or niches, swales overhung by tree branches with deeper ditches that could serve as ambush trenches. Anhuset hoped the island dwellers were less menacing—and smaller—than what she'd seen in the lake itself.
She eased Serovek onto his stomach, wincing when he emitted another groan. “This is only going to get worse for both of us before it gets better,” she assured him.
Kneeling at his head, she hooked her elbows under his shoulders and clasped her sore wrists at his back. He sagged in her arms, dead weight, his head resting between her breasts.
“And humans complain the Kai are heavy,” she muttered. “I think I could carry Magas easier.”
Widening her stance, she slowly raised him to his feet, using her legs to support him. With his feet still dragging the ground, she wedged her thigh between his legs, grabbed his left hand with her right and draped it over her shoulder. Every punch and kick she'd taken after head-butting Lewelis made itself known in the sharpest way when she pressed her head to Serovek's side, squatted and curved him over her back for a lift off the ground.
Sweat trickled down her face and dripped into her eyes as she took one staggering step, then another and another toward the tree line.
She adjusted her weight and that of her burden until she had her legs solidly under her and could walk without staggering. Soon, she adopted a steady pace, Serovek heavy on her but not