“This mountain is cursed,” a soldier moaned. “I’m never coming up here again.”
“Nor me either,” said the other. “Let’s stack the bodies over there.”
Another soldier marched up to them. “At least they’ll be getting a ride down the mountain, eh? Lucky sods.”
“Don’t joke,” someone said, rubbing his gloved hands over the arms of his cloak. “This place gives me a strange feeling. It’s over, though. The Fountain didn’t save her after all. It was all a riddle. A farce.”
“Aye. You two grab that one.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alensson feigned the mask of death as he listened to their approaching footsteps. His mind was sharp, but his limbs were still unusable. One soldier grabbed his ankles. The other hoisted him beneath his arms. His heart throbbed with pain and wretchedness.
“Come on, lift. Don’t make me carry the bulk!”
“I am lifting! I thought we’d only be carrying one corpse back down the mountain in the wagon, not this lot too.”
Through his lashes, Alensson saw that he had been positioned right near the brazier. All the torches were out, but there were still some smoldering coals left in it. Genette had kept him by the fire while she had willingly frozen to death. She’d positioned him so that his back and neck were to the brazier, his face toward her so that she could look at him in her final moments. His heart ached for her, for his wife, for the child he’d not see until his own death. How different things could have been had Chatriyon chosen better things. How different indeed.
As they lugged him away, he cast a final look at her stiff body, watching as another soldier unlocked the chains. Her mouth had frozen into a smile of victory.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Black Knight
Ankarette and Alensson were hidden in a hollowed-out trunk near a gurgling stream. They had rested there for several hours and continued their hushed conversation until the crack of wood nearby had alerted her. There was something dreadfully wrong. Ankarette’s senses were taut with danger. It was not possible that their pursuers could have found them this quickly. The riders who had accosted their wagon had been the outriders of a larger force bent on hunting them down. They had scarcely stolen the mens’ horses and tunics when the sound of approaching soldiers reached them. Ankarette had sent the two Espion into the woods on the left and urged them to return with reinforcements. Then she and the duke had taken the strongest of the beasts and ridden on ahead, only to find a picket of stakes blocking the road. At first Ankarette had thought the pickets were a trap, but then she’d realized these were the border defenders of Occitania, here to alert King Lewis of troop movements from his rival on the throne in Kingfountain.
She and the old duke had plunged into the woods on the right side of the road in the hopes of losing their pursuers. Then they’d ditched the horses to provide a false trail and found refuge in the hollow trunk. But their pursuers hadn’t taken the bait.
All her ruses were failing.
The forest was thick, full of moss-covered trees, and furrowed with deep ravines and gulches. There were plenty of places to hide, but the poisoner knew she could not stay still.
“I don’t understand how they keep on our trail,” Ankarette said in a low voice, deciding it was better to flee before they were surrounded. The two departed the trunk and hiked side by side eastward, trying to reach a break in the woods. She knew Eredur’s army was nearby. If she could only reach it, they would be protected, and she knew her king would value the prize she had brought.
The duke was breathing heavy in short order. He was much older than her, but still had the strength for a long march. “It’s happened to me before,” he said darkly. “Every time I’ve risen against the king, he knew where to find me. His spies are everywhere.”
She shook her head. “This is more than spycraft, Alensson. I can sense Fountain magic at work. It’s subtle and I cannot determine the source . . . but it’s coming from behind us. He sent someone who is Fountain-blessed to hunt you. What I don’t understand is why they let us get this far. Why didn’t they stop us from leaving the city?”
“I don’t understand it either, Ankarette.” He dodged a low-hanging branch and then lifted it so she wouldn’t have to duck. He had not lost his courteous manners.
There was a call coming from the woods on the left. It could have been a bird, but she recognized it as a human sound. The soldiers were trying to flank them, to encircle them.
“This way,” she said, tugging at his sleeve, leading him toward a ravine with a trickling stream at the bottom that joined the one they had left. “There was a river that leads to the king’s camp,” she said. “I remember seeing it before I left. I think we are drawing near. This brook may feed into it.”