Thrain - Part 21: Stray Knives
Thrain and Haverth talk prisoners and stray knives, and then Leon suddenly loses one.
Need a recap? Chapter summaries
As small as the two carts this invasion dragged along with them were, they made an awful lot of noise. That might not have been so bad if she wasn’t directly next to it, the reins of her horse plus a rope linking her securely to the back of a grain-carrying, rumbling annoyance.
Her wrists ached, tied tightly to the horn of her pommel and with little more than a few inches of leeway. Wrapping her face, the Snouf-filled cloth ensure her magic wouldn’t work now, and even for a while after discarding it. Ironically, it did prevent her from inhaling the absurd amounts of dust kicked up.
Galloping back and to her left grew loud. Turning, she saw another scout passing up the ranks, headed to the front where her captor and his circle of foolishness trotted, well ahead of the dirt and noise. He steered his horse around her, which she felt at least a little joy in making them do, and it had the added benefit of keeping her further from the dust of the carts and main line of marching men.
Her eyes widened. Nudging Aleric with her knees, her horse perked up and responded quickly, taking her extremely close to the cart.
–
The more arid climate of northern Haelstra kept tree and grass small and sparse, and the wind leapt and danced across the wide endless expanse with little to heed it. While they were non speaking terms yet, Thrain felt as Serbus did. These plains challenged him to ride out and know their measure, and seek the ends where the wind flew.
As were such compulsions at almost any time they were felt, he had other challenges to prioritize.
“Where has good Higdir indicated our guard tower lies?”
The General grunted. “Claimed west, towards Engelda.” They had ridden in silence at length for some time; a greeting was required on neither part. “But Leon confirmed; it lays on the east, sighting the river.”
He smiled. “Excellent news. We can appear to use his information once more. Get the scout up here, I would like to plan our distance from sighting it, to make the blunder believable.”
Nodding, Haverth let out a shrill whistle. A gallop soon followed, the scouts at the rear one less as Leon broke from them and made his way towards the front.
As he began to pass by the middle of the convoy, a steed bearing the captive Runecaster strayed out, too fast for Leon to avoid. They collided in a kicking of dust and whinied protests from the horses. To his credit, the scout controlled his mount, neither falling from it nor running him into the ground.
Several men moved towards her, and Thrain briefly wheeled Serbus around to see if she had succeeded in freeing herself. The look on her face, plus how she strained against the ropes, seemed to indicate she had not. Checking Serbus back to the front, he waited for Leon.
“There is much spirit in her yet, despite the bindings and our success. One wonders what her plan would even be, should she have gotten free then. Even so…” He turned in the saddle briefly. “She retained control of her mount as well, with no reins.”
“Pah. Prisoners try escaping. Perhaps now she’ll fall upon a stray knife in the night.”
Thrain turned back. “It would be a pity to find out you cannot control your men.”
The grey-bearded veteran turned to meet his eyes in an all-too lazy fashion. “I control them completely.”
The gems upon the curved black metal glowed, as of yet unseen beneath Thrain’s coat.
“The-sun shines!” Lean’s golden-coated Tirfael trotted lightly up, bearing the wide-eyed boy forwards. His voice only betrayed a little nervousness.
The Bastard of Jard breathed in deeply, and let it out slow. “May it blind our enemies.”
He let the moment stretch out. Such sharp and pointed silence speared the space that even Leon rolled his shoulders as if trying to dislodge it. But protocol dictated Leon should speak if he knew the order of business; he did not. The General then, had to.
Haverth waited a moment longer, but not so long as to risk Thrain needing to speak. He gritted his teeth. “Boy. Lay of the land at the tower. What approach lets a guard or three escape?”
The scout cleared his throat and settled into the ease of performing a known duty. “Easy enough sir, with the way they built it and such. A copse of trees and brush grows thicker, I deem it an old riverbed, perhaps an oxbow off of the Aegishull.” Well prepared, he withdrew a folded map from his coat and unfurled it. “Approaching a bit from the west should realistically prevent us from sighting the tower, especially if we shouldn’t know it is there.”
“We had better hope they have horses, then,” Thrain said.
“Uh, I–” Leon looked down for a moment, clearing his throat. “I can’t promise there are horses, but we have seen no free-range steeds on this side of the plains, and near the tower there was dung, some old and some only a little old.”
Thrain eyed him appreciatively. “Well spotted, then. Instruct Haverth on how we may best adjust our course to appear surprised by this tower; I must search our prisoner.”
“Search her?” The General asked.
“I would think so. Leon?” He turned in his saddle to the scout, who saluted, this time a bit easier, swelled a bit with the compliment given him. “Missing anything on your person?”
The youth’s face paled again. “I–” After a brief search, his face turned bright red.
He was missing a knife.
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