They had seen few people the day before, and Selfer did not expect to see many until they were nearer the cities again. Besides keeping the Company busy, he had wanted to look for the old north track Arcolin had mentioned. So far he’d seen nothing but narrow trails. He rode with a wax tablet on his thigh, sketching the route they were taking and trusting his horse to pick its way on the trail.
“Captain!”
That cry brought his head up. He shut the cover on his tablet and shoved it and the stylus into the bag hanging from the front of his saddle as he looked around.
And there, off to his left, was the evidence that someone intended to use a northern route. Below the hilltop route he’d chosen, on the north side of the hill, trees covered the slope … but a line divided them, running back to the east. It was clearly a new-cut track, straight and wide enough for a cohort in marching order and for the largest wagons. Selfer was sure it connected with the north road that ran from Pler Vonja to Sorellin and then on to the Copper Hills.
The line stopped almost below their present position. He could not see the road itself … but with the company halted, he could hear the chunk and ring of axes biting into wood. Whoever was down there had not heard them … yet.
Quick hand signals for silence, for change of direction. No movement of so many could be truly silent, but they came down from the ridgeline and into the upper trees, scouts deployed ahead of them, with as little noise as possible. Selfer had sent ten hands back, to descend well behind the sound of axes, and four hands ahead. The officers’ horses had been sent, with the pack animals, down the south side of the ridge, where they would not be seen or heard. When they were in position, he signaled all to descend, still as quietly as possible.
He estimated they were halfway to the line itself when the sound of axes stopped. He halted the advance. Voices … he could not tell how many. It was nearing midday; were they stopping for a meal, or had they realized they were being stalked? Moments passed like days. Then he heard someone walking in the woods, grunting a little as he moved uphill. They had sent their own scout; some noise had alerted them.
The enemy scout looked like a brigand, very like the brigands who infested Vonja outbounds. He passed the first line of troops without noticing them—and two, rising behind him, threw him down and gagged him before he could yell, trussing him thoroughly. It had taken no time; it had caused no noise. But, Selfer thought, it was time to move quickly. He still had no idea exactly what they faced below.
As they neared the clear-cut trace, Selfer could see that those actually doing the work were gaunt, dressed in little more than rags, shackled together in pairs and trios. Twenty … thirty … as many as forty of them, some harnessed to a stoneboat, struggling to move rocks others loaded on. Some struggled to hack branches off newly felled trees and drag logs to the side of the track. Perhaps a dozen or so well-fed men in rough clothes with whips and clubs yelled orders.
Selfer did not wait to find out who the workers were; he signaled for the attack. As his men charged from the trees, the guards turned on the workers, clearly intent on killing them. Only a few faced the soldiers to hold them back. These were overrun almost at once, and the rest of the fight was short and bloody as the troops tried to kill the guards while protecting the men in chains.
When it was over, all the brigand-looking men were dead but for the scout they’d captured and left trussed up the slope. So were fourteen of those they had supervised, for some of the prisoners, unarmed as they were, had fought back rather than wait for Fox Company to finish the job.
“Who are you?” Selfer asked. Those who were left looked as if they could scarcely stand, but they had lined up in rows.
“Corporal Nannsir, sir. We’re what’s left of Sobanai Company, sir, and we surrender to the Duke’s Company under the Mercenary Code.” Blood ran down his arm and dripped off his hand, but he stood stiffly upright. “They thought it was a patrol from Foss—never come this far before, he said, but it couldn’t be let go back, and they must not know about us.”
“Sobanai! We heard in Valdaire that the entire company perished of disease. Yes—of course you are under our protection, under the Mercenary Code.” He turned to his nearest sergeant. “Feed these people, patch them up. We’ll camp here—bring the supplies down—and start back tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir,” Nannsir said. “I—I don’t know your right name, but—but you carry the Fox’s mark. I thought then we might be saved.”
The rest of that day, Fox Company set up camp, and took care of the former prisoners.