 
Ghostwalker

The Chronicles of Zanthora: Book One

By Ben Cassidy

Copyright 2013 Ben Cassidy

Smashwords Edition

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Books in the Chronicles of Zanthora:

### Ghostwalker

### Throne of Llewyllan

### Soulbinder

### Demonbane

### Oracle (Coming Soon)

### Tales of the Two Rings

### Daughter of Llathe: A Tale of the Two Rings

### Tales of the Two Rings: Volume 1 (August 2013)

### Tales of the Two Rings Volume 2 (September 2013)

Dedicated to my wife Rachel;

my greatest supporter, encourager, and friend

Chapter 1

Simon was pouting, and frankly Kendril just didn't care.

It was raining, and they were both soaked and miserable. Kendril had struggled to keep them on the forest path, if you could even call what they were currently on a path. It was more like a track. For squirrels.

"Do you want me to say you were right?" Kendril called back over his shoulder. "Is that what you want?"

Simon gave no response. Still pouting.

"Fine," Kendril said. He slipped on a particular muddy section of the trail. "You were right. We should have gone left and not right. Are you happy now?"

Simon gave a loud snort.

All in all, Kendril had to admit, it was turning into a fairly rotten day. It had started about two hours before, when he had turned them off the main forest path onto what had looked like a promising shortcut. Simon had voiced his objection at the time, but Kendril had ignored him.

The promising shortcut, however, had quickly revealed itself to be a little less than what Kendril had hoped for. To make matters worse, it had started raining, and for the last hour and a half the two unfortunate travelers had been stumbling, slipping, and sliding down an increasingly muddy and rock-strewn trail.

And Simon wasn't letting him hear the end of it.

"Look, I already _said_ I was sorry," Kendril said. "What more do you want from me?"

Simon brayed loudly, and dug his hooves into the mud.

Kendril yanked on the mule's bridle. "We can't turn around now, for Eru's sake."

The mule brayed again, and snorted angrily.

Kendril bit back a nasty response.

Stupid animal.

The real problem was that Kendril was no woodsman. He never had been, and probably never would be. He felt out of place here in the wild, with deer and wolves the only company for miles. A good-sized town or village was far more to his liking. At least a town had inns, with warm food and cold ale.

And beds. Feather beds, even. Kendril couldn't remember the last time he had slept on a genuine feather bed. The last few days he had been forced to sleep out in the open, with a rock for a pillow and a mule for a fireside companion. It was enough to drive any normal person insane.

So now Kendril was soaking wet, chilled to the bone, and plagued by the knowledge that his mule was a better woodsman than he was.

Things couldn't get much worse.

Simon brayed again. He nipped at Kendril's back.

" _Another_ break?" Kendril looked back at the beast. "Simon, it's pouring out here. The sooner we're off this trail the better. Let's just keep--"

The mule stamped his legs, and tossed his head back and forth.

Kendril frowned, then gave a defeated sigh. "Alright. Five minutes, no more. I mean it."

The mule gave a happy swish of his tail. Kendril ignored him.

They moved off to one side of the trail, trying as best they could to shelter under the overhang of the tree branches above them.

It didn't do much good.

Simon nudged Kendril again, pushing him hard with his nose.

"What now?" Kendril said irritably. "You've got your break. Don't push your luck." He pulled his black cloak around him. Rain dripped from the rim of the dark hood that covered his head.

Simon whined, then pushed Kendril again.

"Stop it," Kendril snapped. "I'm not giving you a carrot, so don't—"

There was a crack of gunfire, and a tree about three feet away from them exploded into a flurry of bark and splinters.

For a moment Kendril just stared at it blankly, too surprised to move.

The next instant he threw himself off the forest path. He drew a pistol from his belt as he rolled into a patch of ferns.

Simon lurched back a few steps, but didn't bolt. He settled instead on giving a loud bray.

Kendril ripped the hood back from his head, then snapped back the firing pan cover on his flintlock pistol.

He waited for a moment, listening to the sounds of the forest around them. There was nothing but the steady patter of rain falling on foliage and Simon's soft braying.

With careful, deliberate movements, Kendril peered out of the fern bushes he was in, his pistol at the ready.

He couldn't see very far through the falling rain. A rocky outcropping about ten feet high bordered the muddy trail ahead on the right. To the left the dark forest beckoned menacingly. A mist clung to the trees up ahead, and looked like it was slowly spreading in his direction.

Years of experience told him that the shot had come from a musket, but the accursed fog was making it hard to see the telltale smoke.

He lowered himself down again, then shifted carefully over to his left and hid behind a moss-covered stone amidst the underbrush.

Simon continued to stamp the ground anxiously.

Kendril had been wrong. He was being shot at. The day had just gotten worse.

Moving as carefully as he could, Kendril began to crawl through the undergrowth to Simon, who was still standing uncertainly in the middle of the path. Every so often Kendril stopped and peered out at the trail ahead, but he still couldn't see a thing. Tendrils of mist began to waft in across the path, blocking his sight.

So who was ambushing him? Bandits? They usually hunted in groups. So far there had only been one shot, and fortunately for him that had been poorly aimed.

Kendril scowled, rain dripping off the leaves onto his face. It seemed rather unlikely that bandits would stake out a path like this, one that obviously hadn't been used in some time.

Then again, maybe it made it easier for them to hide the bodies.

Simon brayed nervously.

"Steady, boy," Kendril whispered. He pulled himself forward another foot, holding the pistol tightly in his hand. "Steady." He glanced up the trail again.

For a moment he thought he saw movement in the trees towards the top of the rocky outcropping, off to the right of the trail.

He blinked and rubbed the rain from his eyes. At least one ambusher was up there, then.

Kendril threw a glance at the mule. The animal hadn't bolted, at least not yet. That was a good thing, because the beast was carrying all of Kendril's supplies on his back, including his long rifle, which jutted out from underneath one of the packs.

Kendril carefully lowered the cover for the firing pan on his pistol back down, then whipped back his black cloak and shoved the gun into his belt. His eyes never left his rifle, which swayed unsteadily on Simon's back.

Kendril took a deep breath, tensed himself for a moment, and then sprang to his feet.

Surprised by his sudden appearance from the bushes, Simon almost started away, but Kendril was too quick.

He grabbed hold of the rifle and yanked it free of the pack, then dove for the bushes again.

There was another sharp crack, and a cloud of dirt and mud exploded two feet away from Simon's left leg.

This time the mule reared, then bolted back up the path.

Kendril tumbled down the gentle incline to the left of the trail, wet branches slapping his face. He ripped the leather cover off the flintlock, then snapped back the hammer on the rifle.

He always kept his guns loaded and dry, even if everything else on him was soaking wet. A man's life, especially in a place like the Howling Woods, was only as good as his gun.

Fortunately, Kendril's rifle was the best money could buy. Bringing the firearm up to his shoulder, he sighted along the barrel, crouching in the shadows of the bushes for cover.

The mist was already beginning to flood into the forest around him, blocking his view of the outcropping.

Kendril cursed under his breath, then crouched low. He dashed off a few feet to his right and leaned against the wet bark of a nearby tree. The rifle never left his shoulder. He brought the barrel up once more and scanned the tree line on the other side of the trail.

Nothing.

He was beginning to suspect that there was only one person ambushing him. He would have seen others by now, if there had been any to see. Two or three men would have little to fear from a lone traveler in the woods. They certainly wouldn't have stayed hidden for this long. But one man would likely stay low, reloading his musket and taking a shot when he could.

Kendril moved his gloved hand back to the stock of his rifle, his eyes never leaving the trees on the other side of the trail. He wasn't too worried about Simon. The mule was easily startled, but he should wander back eventually. Besides, it wasn't safe to go after the beast while there was still a sniper lurking in the undergrowth.

He waited, rain pattering softly on his mud-stained cloak and dripping off his elbows. The slimy bark of the tree pressed into the side of his face, but he never took his eyes away from the notch on the end of his rifle barrel. He remained crouched in the semi-darkness of the rain and bushes, waiting and watching.

For several minutes Kendril remained almost motionless, the long barrel of his rifle as steady as a tree branch. Rain dribbled down his face and neck. He could feel the cold drops slide underneath his collar.

Just as he was wondering if his ambusher had crept off, he saw something move.

Kendril shifted the rifle as he saw the distinct shape of someone's head lift itself out of the bushes in the undergrowth on top of the outcropping. Through the rising mist Kendril could just make out a musket or rifle of some sort in the person's hand.

Kendril's finger dropped to the trigger of his rifle as he lined up the barrel. He waited two more heartbeats.

The man began to stand up cautiously, his musket at the ready.

Kendril fired.

The flint sparked and the rifle kicked back into his shoulder with a roar. Kendril's vision was instantly obscured by a flash of flame, followed a split-second later by a blossoming cloud of smoke.

It was a good rifle, and even through the growing mist and spitting rain it was a hard shot for a marksman like Kendril to miss.

There was a shriek of pain, followed by a strangled curse that echoed down the trail.

Kendril leapt out onto the trail and slung the rifle onto his back by its strap. He dashed through several growing puddles on the path as he drew two pistols from beneath his cloak, holding one in each hand.

As he reached the start of the trees by the outcropping safely, he dodged into the undergrowth for cover. His breath panted out in white wisps in the cold air as he knelt down in the wet ferns, pistols at the ready. He scanned the trees and bushes around him for a moment, then re-holstered his pistols, took the rifle off his back and carefully began the process of reloading it. As he did so he continued to watch the forest in front of him carefully.

He had hit the man, there was no doubt of that. And now he was on the same side of the trail as his attacker, though he couldn't see him anymore through the trees and mist.

Kendril jammed his ramrod down the length of the rifle barrel, pushing the bullet and the cloth that held it snugly in place along the metal grooves. His eyes never left the forest in front of him.

To his left was the muddy trail, just a few feet away. Ahead of him the forest began to slope upwards, and somewhere beyond the crest was where his attacker had emerged from the bushes. The hill before him ended abruptly to the left in the steep rocky outcropping. It was an ideal spot to wait in ambush for travelers coming up the trail. Kendril had no doubt that that was why his attacker had chosen it.

After a minute and a half, Kendril slapped the ramrod back into its slot on the undercarriage of the rifle. The weapon was fully loaded once more. The complicated reloading process for a rifle generally took much longer than for a smoothbore musket, but it was far more accurate at a much greater distance. It was times like this that made Kendril glad he had it.

Still, in this heavy undergrowth a rifle wouldn't be of much good. Kendril slung the long arm onto his back, and pulled out one of his pistols. Taking another deep breath, he began to creep forwards. His eyes scanned the woods around him alertly.

Moving slowly and cautiously, Kendril made it to the top of the forested hill. Gently moving a fern out of his way, he saw the sudden drop-off to his left, and the trail ten feet below.

Before him was some blood on the tangled grass.

Kendril gave a wolfish grin, then followed the red trail, trying to move as quietly as possible through the undergrowth.

It was not a difficult track to follow. The man was bleeding badly. It was hard to go more than five or six feet without seeing another few spots of blood.

Kendril wasn't a skilled pathfinder by any means, but even a half-blind child could follow a trail like this one.

He was just starting to consider whether he should break off the pursuit and find his mule again when he emerged into a small clearing.

Kendril instantly dropped to one knee and scanned the open space before him with his weapon at the ready.

There was what looked like a campsite on one side next to a couple tall trees, a log that had obviously been used for a bench, and a smoldering campfire. Some pots and pans lay strewn around the ashes of the fire.

Kendril bit his lip, grimacing. It was a small clearing, but large enough if his attacker was waiting for him to come into the open so he could ambush him again.

Then again, Kendril doubted that the man was any kind of condition to fire his musket at this point.

Kendril ducked out into the open clearing, his pistol ready for quick action. The trail of blood led to the campfire, and Kendril dashed through the tall grass until he was next to the log. He glanced down at the fire pit.

It had been put out hurriedly, and not too long ago.

A soft moan to his left caught his attention. Kendril spun around instantly, his pistol leveled and ready to fire.

He almost dropped his weapon in surprise.

Tied against one of the trees by the remains of the campfire, her back to the wet bark, was a young woman. She wore a tattered green dress, her blonde hair hanging in disarray around her face. Her head hung to one side, and her eyes were closed. Her face was pale, almost white, and the side of her head was stained with dried blood from a wound to her right temple, where a large purple bruise still lingered.

For a moment Kendril hesitated, unsure of what to do. This hadn't exactly been what he had expected to find.

A twig snapped behind him, and Kendril turned swiftly, his pistol again at the ready.

A man dressed in a simple hunter's clothes emerged from the forest twenty feet away. One hand clutched his bloody side, the other held a sword. His eyes were wild, with an almost crazed look to them.

He started to come forward.

Kendril pulled the trigger of his pistol. There was a brief spark, then a flash, but nothing else.

The gun, damp from the rain, had misfired.

The bandit came at him, swinging his heavy sword at Kendril's head.

Cursing, Kendril tossed his pistol away and ducked back from the blow.

The blade swiped through the air where his head had been moments before, and the man staggered off-balance from the missed swing.

Kendril turned and drew his own short sword with his free hand.

The man recovered, bringing his sword down once again in a clumsy attack.

Kendril blocked the blow with little effort, then slashed in with his own sword and caught the man in the neck with a well-aimed thrust.

With a strange gargling noise, the bandit collapsed to the ground, then rolled over onto his back. He didn't move.

Kendril took a step back, then quickly wiped his blade clean on the grass before returning it to his scabbard. He picked up his pistol from where he had tossed it on the ground and glanced back towards the girl.

She was still lying unconscious against the tree.

Turning back to the man he had killed, he searched him, but found nothing on him save some musket balls, powder, and a small knife.

Kendril turned away in disgust, and raised his hood again against the falling rain. He looked back at the young woman.

If it hadn't been for the dried blood on her face, she would have looked almost peaceful. She certainly was beautiful, even despite her wretched condition.

He sighed and stuck his pistol back in his belt. One thing was sure.

He was through taking shortcuts.

****

Chapter 2

It didn't take very long to find Simon. The mule was wandering aimlessly in the bushes a little ways up the trail. He brayed happily when Kendril appeared.

"Faithful as always, huh?" Kendril asked the beast as he grabbed his bridle. "First sign of danger and you bolt like a rabbit."

Simon gave him a sloppy kiss on the side of his face.

Kendril pushed the mule's head away. "Come on," he said. "And stay close this time, okay?"

The mule grunted his acknowledgement.

Kendril had half-hoped the woman would just be gone when he returned. It would certainly have made things easier. He could have searched around for a bit, shrugged his shoulders, and continued on his way. But she was still there, right where he had left her. It didn't look like she had moved at all.

Simon gave an unhappy snort at the smell of blood.

Kendril gave him a sour look. "Quit whining, you big lout. Here, hold still."

He removed some items from the pack on the mule's back, then tied Simon to a branch on one of the nearby trees.

The animal immediately began searching the undergrowth for something to eat.

With a sigh, Kendril pulled his gloves on, then turned to the woman.

He cut her bonds, and then carried her over to one of the logs by the campfire, resting her gently against it. After a quick search for the driest pieces of wood he could find, he started a small fire, warming some water over it while he pulled some clean cloth out of the saddlebag.

Within ten minutes he had cleaned out her wound with the water and tied the white cloth over it as a bandage.

That done, he heated up some more water, made some coffee, and leaned back against one of the trees, drinking the steaming liquid out of a tin cup and watching the rain soundlessly.

About half an hour later, the girl gave a sigh. Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at the fire for a moment, closed her eyes, than opened them again.

With a jerk she sat upright, the blanket falling from her shoulders. She stared quickly at Kendril, her eyes wide with fear. She opened her mouth, but the words seemed to catch in her throat.

Kendril didn't look at her. "Are you hungry? There's some bread, if you want. A little bit of dried meat, too."

She pivoted her head, taking in the small campfire, and Simon tied up a few feet away. She turned her gaze back to Kendril.

"What do you want with me?" she said.

He shrugged. "I don't want anything with you."

The woman gave him a confused look. "Where am I?"

Her eyes were blue, Kendril noticed. He had been betting brown.

"Somewhere in the Howling Woods. Don't ask me exactly where. I'm not quite sure myself. Do you know how you came to be here?"  
The woman began to answer, then stopped. Her eyes showed a flash of puzzlement, then fear. "I...I don't remember," she said, her voice shaking a bit. She reached up, and gingerly touched the bandage on the side of her head.

Simon snorted, pawing the ground.

Kendril ignored him. "Looks like you took a pretty nasty blow to the head," he said. "You were probably out for a while. Are you injured?"

The young woman stared at the campfire, then back at Kendril. "No. No, I don't...I don't think so. Just this." She touched her bandage again. She stared at Kendril, her eyes showing her uncertainty.

He glanced up at the cloudy sky. The rain was finally dying down. "I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're wondering. What's your name?"

She started, then stared into the fire again. She closed her eyes. "I don't remember."

Kendril tilted his head. "You don't remember your own name?"

She opened her eyes again. "I don't remember anything. I can't..." Her voice began to break, but she fought back her tears with determination. "I can't remember anything," she continued, her voice steady once again. "It's like I just woke up by this fire for the first time."

Kendril leaned forward. "You don't remember who attacked you? Where you were before this?"

She shook her head.

Kendril got to his feet, shaking the raindrops off his cloak. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," she said. "Yes, I can try."

He stretched out a gloved hand.

She took it, rising rather shakily to her feet.

Kendril led her away from the fire, supporting her with one arm.

They reached the body of the dead man lying in the grass. Kendril flipped it over with his foot, watching her face carefully. There was no sign of recognition in her eyes.

She glanced away quickly. "You killed him?" There was new fear in her voice.

"He tried to kill _me_ ," Kendril responded testily. "Ambushed me on the trail back there. I followed him back here and found you tied up. You don't recognize him at all?"

She shook her head again.

Kendril scowled. Wonderful.

By the time they reached the campfire, she was able to walk by herself. She lowered herself onto the log, clutching her knees with her hands.

Kendril remained standing, leaning against one of the trees a few feet away. "Let me get this straight. You can't remember anything? Nothing at all?"

She nodded slowly, the color draining from her face. A tear streamed down her cheek. She bit her lip until it grew white.

Kendril mumbled a curse, staring out across the clearing for a moment. If she was lying, she was a pretty convincing actor. His gut told him that she wasn't. Unfortunately, that meant that the only other person who could answer his questions was lying dead a few yards away.

"Well," he said finally, "I suppose we should get moving, if you feel well enough to travel. I can take you as far as the Outpost, about a day or two from here. Maybe someone there will recognize you."

The woman looked at him. "The Outpost?"

"Yeah. Just a trading post mostly, but the closest thing to civilization for a ways. If we're lucky you'll remember something by then. Do you think you can travel?"

The woman drew the blanket around her, staring down into the campfire. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I can walk."

Kendril chuckled. "I've no doubt you can. I was thinking you could ride Simon, though, at least for the first part. He's stronger than he looks."

She glanced over at the mule, who was scratching his flank against the tree trunk. "Your mule?" she asked.

Kendril nodded. "Why don't you grab something to eat, and then we can head out when you're ready."

She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "I'm not very hungry."

He nodded. "All right. There's some coffee here, if you want it. You can warm it up again on the fire. I'm going to see if I can find more water. I'll be back in a few minutes." He turned to go.

"Why are you helping me like this?" the woman asked suddenly.

Kendril turned around. A smile crept across his face. "What was I supposed to do, leave you to the wolves?"

"Thank you," she said.

Kendril nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said.

The trail ahead didn't get much better, but at least the rain looked like it had stopped for the day. The sun even managed to break out a few times, though only for brief moments.

At first Simon was not happy at the prospect of carrying a passenger, but Kendril had a talk with the beast in private. After explaining the situation and bribing the animal with a carrot from the saddlebag, Simon seemed a lot happier. Kendril even carried one of the saddlebags and the rifle, so as not to tax the creature. The air still had a distinct chill to it, so the woman kept the blanket, wrapping it tightly around her as she sat on the back of the mule.

They walked for about two hours in silence, Kendril leading and Simon trotting behind with the precious cargo on his back. Every few minutes or so Kendril would halt them, and check the trail behind them for a few moments. Simon didn't seem to mind the frequent breaks. The woman said nothing, but Kendril could tell that she was still weak enough to need the breaks as well. She didn't complain, though, and she was gradually getting more color back in her face.

Kendril was just returning from one of his brief scouting trips back down the trail when he saw the girl rubbing Simon behind his ear. The mule was grunting and snorting in pleasure. She glanced over at him with a smile.

"I think I've found your mule's favorite spot to be scratched," she said.

Kendril grabbed the saddlebag from where he had dropped it on the ground, slinging it over his shoulder. "Don't spoil him."

She laughed. "I hardly think that's possible. He really is a pleasant creature." She turned her head, fixing Kendril with her bright blue eyes. "I just realized...I know the mule's name, but not yours."

He smiled. "Kendril. I don't suppose you've remembered your name yet?"

Her smile faltered. "No." She scratched the mule in silence for a moment. "You don't believe me, do you? About not remembering anything?"

Kendril dropped the saddlebag again. His back was aching anyway. He looked away for a moment, back down the overgrown trail. "I think we all have things we'd like to forget." He looked back at her, running a gloved hand through his brown hair. "But I've never heard of someone losing their memory before."

The woman surprised Kendril with a smile. "I can't tell you if I've heard of it or not." Her face suddenly grew more serious. "I'm telling you the truth, Kendril. If I could remember anything, I'd—"

He raised a hand. "It's all right," he said. "There might be someone in town who can give us some better answers. At any rate it's beyond me." He glanced down the trail again.

"Why do you keep checking behind us?" The girl straightened, looking back down the trail herself. "What are you looking for?"

Kendril rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Nothing in particular. Just being careful."

"Careful of what?"

"Just a thought, that's all. It seems kind of odd to me that there was one man with you out in the woods all by himself. What exactly was he planning to do?"

She glanced quickly down at the muddy trail. "Well, I suppose—he might have..."

Kendril shook his head. "Then why was he watching the trail? He couldn't have seen me or heard me if he was back at the campsite. He was waiting at the outcropping, and watching for someone or something."

"You think there might be others?" asked the woman quietly.

"I don't know. It's possible. Either way, I think the more distance we put between us and that place, the better." He reached down and grabbed the saddlebag. "How are you holding up?"

"A lot better, thanks." She smiled. "I get a little dizzy from time to time, and my head is still pounding, but it's starting to ease up a bit."

Kendril slung the saddlebag over his shoulder once more. "So what exactly am I supposed to call you?" He smirked. "Until you get your memory back, at least. Calling you "lady in the green dress" will get pretty old."

"It's jade," she said suddenly.

"Pardon?" Kendril gave her an odd look.

"It's jade," she repeated. "The color of the dress. Not green. Jade." She reached up with a confused look, touching her bandage. "That's odd. I just...." She gave him a strange look. "I don't know why I know that. It just seems important for some reason."

"All right, then." Kendril stepped ahead onto the trail, grabbing Simon by the bridle. "Why don't I call you Jade, then? When you remember your real name, you can let me know."

She gave a shy smile, nodding her head. "Sounds good."

"Then let's go, Jade," said Kendril, turning towards the trail. "We have a few more hours before nightfall to find a place to camp. By tomorrow we should be at the Outpost."

The three figures started down the trail once more.

"She's gone!" The man emerged from the bushes out onto the road, gasping for breath.

For a brief moment there was only stunned silence. The eight horsemen stared down at the man, their mounts anxiously pawing the muddy ground.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" said one of the riders in an icy tone. He was dressed in a long blue cloak, with a black hat on his head which sported a large red feather. His sleeves ended in frilly white lace. "Where's Nedric?"

"He's dead," sputtered the messenger, still trying to catch his breath. "His body's back by the camp."

The man in the blue cloak turned violently in his saddle, startling his horse. " _Dead_?" he hissed at one of the other riders. "So where exactly is the _girl_ , Montrose?"

The second rider didn't respond at first, but pulled a wooden pipe from the pocket of his long brown greatcoat, casually filling it with tobacco. A wide-brimmed hat cast a dark shadow over his face, almost obscuring the long scar that ran down through his right eye, covered over by a black patch. His good eye, rising above the dark stubble on his face, was a sharp gray color. A large double-bowed crossbow, fitted to hold and fire two separate bolts, was hanging from the saddle next to him. Hanging from the other side of his saddle was an iron mace, the head of which had been molded to resemble a clenched fist. Without a word he calmly lit his pipe, and gave it a few preliminary puffs. The other horsemen looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" said the man in the blue cloak again. "What exactly do you want me to tell his Lordship?"

The man called Montrose pulled the pipe away from his mouth, and stared down at the trail. "You can tell him that we've run into an unexpected delay, but that he'll have the girl by the time he specified." He stuck the pipe back in his mouth, and then gave his horse a sharp kick, moving forward on the path.

"That's it?" The first man's face was beginning to turn various shades of red. " _That's it_!?"

Montrose stared down at the path, then glanced at the forest to the left of the trail.

The first man swung his horse around, his fingers clenching the harness tightly. "You told me Nedric could handle himself. You said that we would have the girl _tonight_." He spread his hands, gesturing around them mockingly. "Well? Here we are, your man's dead, and the girl's nowhere to be found."

The other men remained silent, but several of their hands moved towards their weapons. They were dressed like their leader, in mud-spattered greatcoats and cloaks.

Montrose blew a wreath of smoke in the air, and tapped out some of the cinders from the pipe, which fluttered towards the ground before fading into nothingness. "Obviously I was wrong about Nedric," he said quietly. "Still, we couldn't keep the girl with us. They would have found her, and we'd all be hanged by now." He stared quietly at the rocky outcropping in front of them.

"Well, the Guard have her now," spat the first man bitterly.

Montrose shook his head. "I don't think so." He pointed with the end of his pipe to the trail behind him. "Those tracks there. One man, with a donkey or mule of some kind. He was shot at here," he pointed to a nearby tree where the bark was shattered by a musket ball, "and ducked off the trail there." He replaced the pipe in his mouth, and took another puff, the tobacco glowing dully.

"How do you know he wasn't one of _them_?" persisted the first man.

A soft chuckle filled the chilly air. "One man? Leading a donkey? I hardly think that would be an effective rescue party. If he was one of the Guard you can bet a dozen others would have been with him, and they would have been riding chargers." He blew a soft cloud of smoke into the air, where it hung for a moment, drifting lazily apart. "More than likely some local hunter or trapper came down the trail here. Nedric may have been seen, or maybe he panicked, or maybe he just thought he had an easy kill and decided to indulge in a little banditry." He smiled bitterly. "In any case he must have been here, watching the trail, instead of in camp, watching the girl. A couple shots were exchanged, and he got the worst of it."

"And so did _we_! Now the girl's gone, along with this hunter or whoever he is."

The sunlight was beginning to fade, causing the shadows to lengthen across the trail. Montrose turned his horse around to face the men behind him. "Yes, and where exactly are they going to go?" He cocked his head. "The Outpost? Let them try. These footprints are fresh. They can't have left here more than twelve hours ago. They have one donkey, and we're all mounted."

"What if they turn around?"

Montrose grinned evilly. "Backtrack? Then they run into us. Besides, there's nothing behind us for days in any direction. No, they'll head for the Outpost all right. I'd bet my last copper on it."

The man's face curled into a sneer. "And what if they give you the slip? Move off the trail and into the woods?"

Montrose's face darkened. His horse took a step closer, so that he was only two feet away from the man in the blue cloak.

The first man swallowed hard, his eyes showing the first sign of fear.

"Now you listen to me, because I'm only going to say this once," said Montrose in a low voice. "Out here, you're on _my_ turf. And I don't need any prissy aristocrat telling me how to do my job. Am I making myself clear?"

The man swallowed again. He licked his lips nervously. "Yes," he finally managed.

Montrose smiled. "Good. Because if you insult me again, I'll bash your head in, regardless of what your boss is paying me. Understand?"

The man's face turned pale. He glanced anxiously behind him, only to see the hostile eyes of the other riders staring back at him. He turned back to Montrose, and briefly nodded his head.

"Good," said Montrose. He leaned back in his saddle, and took another puff of his pipe. "Now, to answer your question, they won't go off the trail, because unless this trapper is a complete idiot, he'll know that two people wandering alone in the Howling Woods will be wolf-meat by dawn. And unless they've got carrier pigeons, they have no way of communicating with anyone. So as of right now, we're the only ones who know where they are, and where they're heading." He snapped his fingers, which caused the man in the blue cloak to jump involuntarily. "Regvar, Derik!"

Two of the horsemen separated from the others, and rode up to his side.

"Get to the Outpost. There'll be precious little moonlight tonight, so don't gallop, or you'll throw one of the horse's legs. Go at a good trot. You should make it to the post before dawn. Lie low, watch who comes in and out. If you see the girl, you watch her, make sure she doesn't leave, and wait for me, understand?"

The two riders nodded, both smiling cruelly at the young nobleman, who was still visibly shaken.

"Good. The rest of us will camp here tonight, and at first dawn tomorrow we'll follow the tracks. If they do go off the trail, or bypass the Outpost, I'll send Queltin for you. And no funny business," he added, glowering at the two riders. "You get to the Outpost, and you hold tight. No women, and no drinking. If you do, by Eru, I'll skin you both alive. Got it?"

The two nodded, then raced off into the gathering darkness. The sounds of their horses' hooves faded into the night.

Montrose sighed. "We'll make camp here tonight. Uther, Harold, take care of Nedric, will you? See that he gets a proper burial."

The two other riders nodded, and then led their mounts off the trail, disappearing into the undergrowth.

Night was growing all around them. The man in the blue cloak cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to offend you. Of course you are the best, that's why you were hired for the job. I'm just a little jumpy, you understand? There weren't supposed to be any hitches."

Montrose blew a small smoke ring that drifted quietly through the air. "No plan is free of hitches," he said. "We'll have the girl by tomorrow night. No later."

The other man straightened the lace around his sleeves. "What about this mysterious companion of hers?"

"Well," said Montrose with a strange glint in his eye. "I think he probably knows a little too much by now, don't you?"

The man nodded slowly. "I see," he said, his voice still a bit unsteady.

The one-eyed bounty hunter smiled. "Don't worry, my friend. I'll make sure he doesn't tell anyone."

With a soft chuckle, he gave his horse a sharp kick and disappeared off the trail.

****

Chapter 3

With a start, Kendril woke up.

For a moment he could not remember where he was. Then it came back to him. The forest. Jade. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. In the trees around him he could hear the first birds, greeting the rising sun. He listened to them for several moments, and pushed back the last lingering traces of his dream.

When he opened his eyes again, he sat up, his back instantly protesting the movement. He quickly surveyed his surroundings. Simon was tied to a nearby tree, and was chomping on something in the undergrowth. Sunlight was glinting through the trees, painting the world around him in a red and orange glow.

Jade was sitting on a rock a few yards away, tending a small fire and watching Kendril intently.

He gave a heavy sigh, brushing some loose grass and dirt from his clothes.

"Good morning," she said.

Kendril nodded, rubbing his eyes. "Good morning."

She leaned back on the rock. "I made some coffee, and got a fire started. I hope you don't mind. I didn't want to wake you."

He threw a disapproving glance at the fire.

"I tried to get dry branches," she said quickly. "I don't think anyone will see the smoke. The forest is so thick here, it's hard to see through the trees anyway."

Kendril was about to respond, but bit back his comment. The idea of a hot beverage right now made a fire seem worth the risk. He stretched his arms, then his neck. "Thanks. I see you haven't forgotten _everything_."

She gave a half smile. "No."

Simon sniffed the morning air, then issued a plaintive whine.

Kendril gave the mule an irritated look. "No," he said.

Simon whined again.

Jade gave the animal a confused glance. "What does he want?"

"Coffee." Kendril moved closer to the fire, grabbing a tin cup and sitting down with his back to a tree. "He doesn't actually like it. He just wants some because we're having it."

Jade raised an eyebrow. "Because we're having it?"

Kendril poured some coffee into the cup. "He's just jealous. He thinks he's missing out."

The girl laughed. The sound seemed somehow refreshing.

"What a peculiar creature."

"You don't know the half of it." Kendril took a sip of the coffee. "Did you sleep well last night?"

Jade glanced down at her cup. "Not really. You?"

Kendril watched the steam rise from his mug. "No. I never do when I'm out in the wild."

There was a brief silence. The birds continued singing, their cheerful music echoing across the treetops.

"You were talking in your sleep," said Jade quietly. She lifted her eyes from her mug, fixing Kendril with a questioning glance. "Just now, before you woke up. It sounded like you were having a bad dream."

Kendril didn't respond, but took another drink instead.

Jade looked as if she was going to say more, but stopped. She looked away for a moment, then smiled. "So what exactly is it that you do, anyway? When you're not out saving damsels in distress, I mean?"

Kendril rested his head back against the tree. "Oh, nothing in particular. Odd jobs here and there."

"Anything illegal?"

He lifted his head, giving her a funny stare.

She blushed. "I'm just curious. I mean, you're out in the forest, with just a donkey and a lot of..." her eyes flickered down to the pistols just visible beneath his cloak, stuck into his belt. "Well, weapons."

Rubbing a hand over the dry stubble on his chin, Kendril smiled dryly. "No, nothing illegal. Not generally, anyway. I—" he paused for a moment. "You might say I do a lot of mercenary work."

She nodded. "I see. A soldier, then?"

"Kind of."

Jade sighed heavily, a smile half-forming on her face. "For someone with nothing to hide, you sure are being evasive."

Kendril chuckled. He took a large swallow of coffee. "Personally, I never trust someone unless they're hiding something from me. A person who is completely open is almost always up to something."

"Is that why you trust me? Because I'm hiding everything?"

"I thought you couldn't _remember_ anything," said Kendril. "That's different than deception."

She smiled. "I _could_ be lying, you know. Maybe I do know everything. Maybe I just don't want to tell you."

"The thought had occurred to me," said Kendril lightly.

"Then why are you helping me? Why risk your life for a complete stranger?"

Kendril shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Jade shook her head, resting her chin in her hands. "You're a strange man, Kendril."

He smiled again, but there was a sudden flash of sorrow in his eyes. "We should change that bandage before we get going. It shouldn't take too long."

The young woman touched the cloth wrapped around her head. "Thanks."

Kendril got up, and knelt by the fire. He grabbed the kettle of water. "This should do," he said. "It's cooled down a bit. Come here and I'll wash out the wound. How's the pain?"

Jade shrugged as she got down off the rock and knelt next to him. "Much better than yesterday. My head isn't pounding quite as bad." She laughed. "My back's killing me, though."

Kendril smirked, pulling out his thick black gloves from his belt. "That's what you get when you sleep on pinecones and rocks."

To Jade's surprise, he put both leather gauntlets on, then carefully began to remove her bandage.

"It doesn't look too bad. Not infected or anything, at least." He pulled a new cloth from the nearby saddlebag, and dipped it in the warm water. "Now hold still. This will probably sting a tiny bit."

He worked quickly and quietly, dabbing at the wound and washing the area around it.

Jade winced occasionally, but her eyes continued to follow Kendril's gloved hands. As he was finishing tying the new bandage around her wound, she summoned the courage to speak.

"Why the gloves?"

Kendril leaned back for a moment, shaking some of the water off his fingers. "What?"

Jade tenderly felt her clean bandage. It seemed pretty secure. "Your gloves. I noticed you put them on before you changed my bandage. Wouldn't it have been easier without them?" She smiled. "Or are you just afraid to touch me?"

Kendril hesitated for a moment. He slowly began taking his gloves off, shoving them in one of his trouser pockets. "Well—" he began, then stopped, his face flushing slightly. "Actually..." he started again.

Jade brought her hand up to her mouth as the truth hit her. "You _are_ afraid to touch me? I'm so sorry. I was just joking. I didn't think—"

Kendril gritted his teeth, rising and walking over to the mule. His shoulders seemed to slump a bit, and then he turned back around.

Jade continued to watch him, stunned into silence.

Kendril paused, as if considering each word carefully. "I made a vow, a long time ago, not to touch a woman. Any woman. Not just you." He shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm forbidden from experiencing the pleasures of the flesh. No skin to skin contact at all."

Jade stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Why would you make a vow like that?"

His face turned dark. He stared silently at the saddlebag. "Penance," he said simply.

Jade felt a shiver run down her spine. "Penance for what?"

Kendril lifted his gaze to meet hers. For a moment she could see a depth of pain and anguish in his eyes that she hadn't noticed before.

"I'd rather not say."

"I see," Jade said in a small voice, even though she really didn't. She rose to her feet, brushing the grass off her dress. "Anything else I should know?" She tried to keep her tone lighthearted, but the words somehow came out flat.

Simon stomped one of his feet as Kendril tightened the strap on the saddlebag, buckling it into place. "I have also vowed never to ride a steed, nor use a gentleman's blade."

Jade picked the blanket up off the ground, wrapping it around her shoulders. "A gentleman's blade?"

Kendril glanced back at her. "A sword more than two feet in length." He finished tying off the saddlebag on Simon, then turned to face her once more. He scratched Simon behind the ear absently as he spoke. "We should get to the Outpost by this afternoon. Once we're there, hopefully we'll find someone who will recognize you, or who can help you with your memory loss." His voice grew suddenly weary. "Either way, I think we should probably part ways there."

The words surprised Jade by the sudden stabbing feeling they created in her chest. She turned her face away, staring into the brightness of the rising sun.

"I certainly don't want to be a burden to you, Kendril—"

Kendril shook his head quickly. "It's not like that, Jade. I'm—" He stopped mid-sentence, biting his lip in thought. "I would be the burden for _you_."

She looked back at him, her face betraying her confusion. "I don't understand," she said simply.

Kendril pulled out a pistol, and carefully checked the flint with practiced moves. "I'll stay with you at the Outpost until we can find your family or friends." He gave a hollow smile. "After that you'll probably be happy to be rid of me."

Jade tried to respond, but couldn't think of anything to say. Kendril glanced at the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees.

"Come on," he said. The sudden softness in his voice was gone, replaced by the steely hardness of before. "The sun's well up. There's some cheese and bread in the saddlebag. We can have breakfast on the way. Are you ready to travel?"

She nodded, her head abuzz with questions she couldn't find the courage to ask.

"Good," said Kendril in a crisp tone. "Let's get moving."

The Outpost, much to Jade's disappointment, was just that, and not much more.

They arrived at what passed for the western gate in the late afternoon. A slight drizzle had begun to fall again, and they were both damp and cold by the time they reached the entrance to the post. A wooden stockade surrounded the motley collection of buildings and trading posts inside. The gate itself was standing wide open.

One miserable-looking guard stood under a makeshift shelter, a pole arm slouched across his shoulder. He was huddled in a ragged poncho, water dripping intermittently from the rim of his steel helmet. He didn't even bother to raise his weapon as Kendril and Jade drew near.

"Who goes there?" he called, then broke into a short coughing fit.

"Bandits," replied Kendril, his raised hood hiding his face. "We're here to storm your town and carry off your women."

Jade stared at him in horror.

The guard gave another rattling cough. "Joke's on you," he said with a chortle. "We don't _have_ any women." He waved his arm for them to enter.

Kendril gave a mock salute, then led Simon by the bridle into the compound.

Jade looked over with concern at the guard, but he had already settled back into the driest position he could find.

The muddy street stretched ahead for about a hundred yards or so before ending at the eastern wall of the stockade, where another gate was standing wide open. Various wooden buildings stood along the street on each side. Some horses were tethered out along the street, standing patiently in the wet weather. From several chimneys smoke drifted into the sky, curling over and over as it disappeared into the air.

A group of men were sitting out under the overhead protection of one of the porches, talking and laughing. All were dressed in animal skins and rugged clothes. Another man staggered across the puddle-strewn street, singing loudly to himself and taking occasional swigs from a bottle in his hand. To the left was a particularly large building made of stone and wood, with smoke pouring merrily from its chimney. The sound of laughter and clinking dishes came from inside. Several horses were tied up outside, including a magnificent white charger.

"Welcome to the Outpost," said Kendril. "Not much, is it?"

Jade glanced nervously back at the gate. "You could have gotten us both killed back there with that little joke of yours."

"Oh, I doubt it. Things tend to be pretty low key here." He halted for a moment, pointing ahead. "That's our first stop. _The Laughing Dragon_. Closest thing resembling an inn we're going to find here, I'm afraid. Their ale's not bad, and at least they have a fireplace where we can dry off." He turned, his boots squelching in the mud. "Any of this look familiar to you?"

Jade looked around, trying to focus on each building. "No. As far as I know, I've never been here before."

Kendril nodded. "Right. Well, let's get something to eat."

They tied Simon up to the post in front of the inn. At first he wasn't at all happy about being left in the rain, but Kendril managed to dig around in the saddlebag and find another carrot, which Simon took eagerly. Holding out a gloved hand, he helped Jade down, and the two of them walked up the stone steps to the entrance. A sign hung over the door, with a carved and crudely painted figure of a dragon. Underneath it was written, in even cruder script, _The Laughing Dragon_.

Kendril wiped his boots off on the mat lying on the porch, then pushed the door open, causing a little bell to tinkle inside.

They stepped in, the door closing out the sound of the rain behind them. The room was large, reeking of beer and sawdust. Gray light from outside shone through the windows and onto the warped floorboards beneath their feet. About half a dozen tables were set up around the room, and several people were sitting around them, talking and drinking. A crackling hearth stood against the left wall, and a large moose head was set directly above it. A simple wooden staircase was in the far left corner, leading up to the second floor. Ending by the staircase and running along the length of the far wall was a bar, made out of wooden planks set on empty barrels. To the right and behind the bar a door led back into the kitchen, from which a constant clanging and clanking could be heard. To the right was a closed door, and along the right wall were a number of hooks on which were hung several wet cloaks and hats.

"Well, at least they have a fire," said Jade.

"Right," said Kendril slowly, eyeing a group of men playing cards at one of the tables. "You can dry out by the hearth, if you want. I'll try to get us some rooms."

Jade nodded. "Sounds good. I'm drenched." She skirted between two of the tables, and took a seat by the fire, rubbing her hands briskly and then holding them to the warmth of the blaze.

Kendril stepped up to the bar. The bartender glanced over at him, and furrowed his eyebrows.

"What'll ya 'ave?"

"Two rooms for the night. I have a mule outside."

The bartender wiped down part of the counter with a filthy towel. "Only one room left," he said without looking up from his work.

Kendril continued to stare at the bartender. "Just one?"

"Take it or leave it." He flipped the towel over his shoulder.

He gritted his teeth. "I'll take it."

"Claus!" the innkeeper cried, clapping his hands together. A young boy came running out of the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"This here fella's got a mule out front. See to im, will 'ee?"

The boy nodded, then turned for the door. The bartender sniffed loudly as the lad disappeared out the front. "Stable's in the back. Your room'll be the last on the left, top o'the staircase."

"Thanks," said Kendril. He turned to go.

The bartender caught a brief glimpse of the pistols stuck in Kendril's belt. "Hold it," he said. Kendril gave him a questioning look. "I'll 'ave no trouble here, and no fights, understood?" He gestured to Kendril's weapons. "I run a clean an' honest place."

Kendril fixed the bartender with a penetrating stare for a few tense seconds, then turned again and walked away.

Jade looked up as he approached. "Did you get our rooms, Kendril?"

He nodded. "Your room's up the stairs, last on the left. I'm going to go outside for a moment, get our bags and make sure that Simon gets settled."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Settled?"

Kendril shrugged. "He gets skittish in new places. Think you'll be okay for a few minutes?"

Jade cocked her head and smiled. "Go take care of your mule, Kendril. I think I'll be all right for five minutes without you here. I am a big girl after all, even if I have lost my memory."

Kendril cast a suspicious glance at the group playing cards a couple tables over. "I'll be back soon." He moved to the door, then stepped out into the cold and wet.

The fire crackled merrily as Jade leaned back in her chair, staring at the flames. The warmth seemed to soak its way through her fingers and toes, filling her entire body with comfort and security. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat against her face.

"Excuse me," a sudden voice said. "May I join you?"

Jade opened her eyes to see a tall handsome man standing between her and the fire. He was dressed in expensive-looking clothes, with a purple cape hanging from his shoulders. His hair was dark, and a neatly trimmed goatee covered his face. At his belt hung a large sword in a scabbard.

"I would love some company," said Jade, gesturing to a chair. "And you are?"

"Maklavir, at your service." The man moved smoothly into the chair, whipping his cape out of the way. "And may I have the honor of your name, madam?"

"Jade," she said without thinking. She hesitated for a moment. The fact that she couldn't remember her real name came back to her with a painful stab.

Maklavir tilted his head slightly. "Something wrong, Miss Jade?"

She sighed. "No, no. And please, just Jade is fine."

The man gave a warm smile. "Just Jade it is, then. I was playing cards over there when I noticed you sitting here by yourself." His eyes flashed to the bandage around her head. "You're injured. Nothing serious, I hope?"

A tavern maid arrived at the table before Jade could answer.

Maklavir glanced up at the woman. "Ah, yes. Nothing for me, thank you, but perhaps for the lady?" He looked over at Jade.

"Oh...no, no thank you. That's very sweet, but I couldn't—"

Maklavir waved his hand. "Don't be silly. It would be my pleasure. Some stew, perhaps? You look positively drenched."

Jade hesitated for a moment, then finally gave in and nodded her head.

"Splendid," said the man brightly. "Some of your stew for the lady, then. On second thought, I'll have some as well. A beautiful woman should never have to eat alone."

The tavern maid took the order, then disappeared towards the back.

Maklavir stroked his goatee, giving Jade a thoughtful look. "The man you were with before," he said, "is he...?"

Jade stared at him for a moment, then gave a short laugh. "No, no. Nothing like that."

Maklavir's face brightened a bit, but darkened just as quickly. His voice lowered. "I see. You're not in any kind of...trouble, are you?" He left the sentence unfinished, and lifted his eyes to the bandage.

She looked down at the table and shook her head. "Oh, no. He's done nothing but help me." She smiled. "In fact, he won't even touch me. Some kind of vow that he's made."

Maklavir gave her a curious look. "What kind of vow?"

She thought for a moment, trying to remember. "He told me he was forbidden from touching a woman, riding a steed, or using a gentleman's blade."

"Hmm." Maklavir nodded slowly, as if in thought. "Sounds like the kind of vow a Ghostwalker would make."

"A what?" The man sighed, tracing a carved line on the wooden table with his fingernail. "A Ghostwalker." He looked up suddenly. "How well do you know this friend of yours, if you don't mind me asking?"

Unexpectedly, a flash of doubt entered her mind. "Well—" she paused, the reality of the situation hitting her once again. "Not long. Only a day, I think."

Maklavir lifted his eyebrows. "You don't sound very sure."

Jade stared down at the table. She didn't know this man, but then she hardly knew Kendril, either. Without her memory she felt completely lost.

"I can't remember anything," she said finally. "Nothing before yesterday, anyway. It's all a blank."

Maklavir was silent for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, and Jade noticed a sudden kindness in his eyes. "I see," he said simply. "I'm sorry. Amnesia, eh?"

She looked up with a start. "You've heard of this before?"

Maklavir nodded. "Most assuredly. I knew a stableman's boy who was kicked in the head by a horse once. Couldn't remember a blessed thing for several months."

Jade felt a flood of relief, but it was quickly followed by a cold thrust of fear. "So he remembered everything eventually?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes." Maklavir paused uncertainly. "Of course, there was a chance he wouldn't. At least that's what his father told me the physician had said. Apparently in some cases the condition is permanent."

Jade felt her heart sink. "You mean I might never remember who I am?"

The man lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Jade. There's just no way to tell. Not yet, anyway. Of course, I'm no doctor."

Jade shook her head, willing the tears away. "What were you saying about...Ghostwalkers? Why are they called that?"

Maklavir shook his head. "They consider themselves dead to their friends and their family. At least that's what I've heard. They're a rather secretive group. Tend to keep to themselves." He glanced at the fire as a log split from the heat. "They're doomed men. Some would say damned. Most seem to take their vows as some kind of penance for a terrible sin or crime they've committed. They spend their lives seeking redemption for it."

Jade thought about her secretive companion. What Maklavir was saying certainly seemed to fit. "What exactly do they do?"

Maklavir shrugged. "Depends on who you ask. A lot of people seem to think they're nothing more than a band of thieves or assassins. Others believe them to be in alliance with...darker powers." He folded his hands, tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully. "Truth is, no one really knows. I've heard stories of Ghostwalkers showing up at the strangest places at the oddest times. Sometimes they have been known to come in the middle of the night to a village or town and confiscate books or papers, or even people."

Jade shuddered. "Why?"

"Eru only knows."

"Are they..." she hesitated, looking for the right word, "dangerous?"

"Undoubtedly," Maklavir replied without hesitating. "I would also add mentally unbalanced, psychotically violent, and extremely paranoid." He raised his eyes over Jade's head, looking behind her. "Did I leave anything out?"

Jade turned and saw Kendril standing ominously behind her.

"Kendril," she said, feeling vaguely embarrassed, "I didn't hear you come up."

He pulled up a chair that faced the front door, then sat down, his eyes on Maklavir. "I don't believe we've been introduced," he said quietly.

"Maklavir," the man responded easily. If Kendril's steady gaze unnerved him, he certainly didn't show it. "You must be Kendril, I presume?"

Jade felt suddenly awkward. She tried desperately to think of something to say, but nothing would come.

"Ah," said Maklavir brightly as the tavern maid returned with two steaming bowls of stew. "Splendid. Our food has arrived."

****

Chapter 4

The food was surprisingly good, and Jade was suddenly aware how famished she was. She quickly finished her first bowl, and Maklavir kindly ordered her another, ignoring her feeble protests. Kendril was content with a mug of ale, which he drank slowly, his dark eyes watching Maklavir's every move. Jade could feel the growing tension at the table, and decided that some conversation was better than the brooding silence.

"So, Maklavir," she said, fishing a potato around in her stew, "what brings you to the middle of the wilderness?"

The man chuckled. "Nothing in particular. This is more of a stopover for me than anything else. I'm headed west towards Windspoint, looking for work."

"What kind of work?" asked Kendril quietly, the first words Jade could remember him speaking since the food had arrived.

Maklavir grinned. "I'm a diplomat by trade, though I dabble a bit in local laws and treaties. Border disputes, inheritances, property deeds, that sort of thing. I look for work wherever I can find it." He took a bit of stew, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Diplomatic work?" Jade asked curiously. "Have you ever worked with kings and queens, then?"

He took a sip of water from his mug. "A long time ago, yes. I was at the court of King Luxium of Valmingaard. I spent many years there. A most wonderful time, I must say." He stopped eating for a second, a wistful look coming into his eyes. "Unfortunately, I was compelled to end my employment there."

Kendril eyed the diplomat carefully. "A woman?"

"Kendril!" Jade glanced over at him in shock.

Maklavir gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look, as if noticing Kendril for the first time. "Yes, actually." He put his spoon down on the table.

The Ghostwalker leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "What did you do, try to run off with the King's daughter?"

"Daughter-in-law, actually," said Maklavir. He picked up his spoon again, calmly scooping up a piece of meat from his bowl. "The whole thing was rather complicated, really. I had made some arrangements for King Luxium's son Kanthar to wed Princess Driana of Kalingland." He took a bite, waving his spoon in the air. "It was a master stroke, really. The two kingdoms would have been united, and believe me, they both needed it. It would have secured peace in that region for a long time." His face soured. "Unfortunately, I miscalculated."

"Lack of self-control is hardly a miscalculation," said Kendril dryly.

Jade shot the Ghostwalker a harsh look, then looked back at Maklavir. "It's all right, Maklavir. You don't need to tell us all this."

The diplomat picked up his water mug, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Why not? It hardly matters anymore. I simply misread Prince Kanthar's feelings for the lovely Driana." He paused for a moment, as if remembering. "Unfortunate that she did not return them."

"I'm very sorry." Jade glanced over at Kendril, who was still watching Maklavir carefully.

"Not at all." Maklavir sighed. "There are times when I miss life at court, though."

Jade took another bite of her stew, chewing a carrot thoughtfully. She swallowed, feeling the pain in her head returning. "Valmingaard," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

Maklavir put down his mug. "I beg your pardon?"

"Valmingaard," she repeated. "That name sounds familiar, like I've heard it before." She looked at Maklavir, her face suddenly brightening. "It's...it's a cold place, isn't it? In the north?"

The diplomat raised his eyebrows. "I'll say it is. The winters there were awful. No matter how many fires we lit, we could never keep the palace warm."

Kendril looked over at Jade with interest. "You're starting to remember something?"

She shook her head, instinctively touching her bandage again. "Yes," she said, "and no. I remember Valmingaard, but I don't know why or how."

"Have you been there before?" asked Maklavir.

"I'm—I'm not sure." Jade winced as her headache began to return. "I think so...I have images in my head of dark woods, and a mountain range covered with snow."

Maklavir settled back in his chair. "Sounds like Valmingaard. The palace is very close to the northern mountains. The view from the Crystal Tower is breathtaking."

Jade stared out the windows of the tavern. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still ominously gray. "It's so hard," she whispered. "Remembering, but not remembering at the same time. It's like I'm looking at myself in the mirror, but I can't see my face."

The table was uncomfortably silent for a few moments.

Kendril pushed his now empty mug away. "Well, it's stopped raining, so I think I might as well take a look around." He got up from the table, glancing back at the group of card players behind them. "Better go before it gets dark out, anyway."

Jade stretched her legs out towards the fire. "I think I'll stay here by the fire a while longer, if you don't mind."

"So will I," said Maklavir with a gleam in his eye.

"Alright then," said Kendril slowly, giving the diplomat a suspicious glance. "I'll be back soon, Jade."

He turned, heading towards the front door of the inn.

Jade leaned back in her chair, listening to the sound of the fire crackling and hissing.

"So how are you feeling now?" asked Maklavir, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

Jade smiled at the diplomat. "Safe," she said.

It had just started to rain when two riders materialized out of the darkness.

The single sentry at the western gate sighed heavily, then rose to his feet, feeling the rain fall in cold drops on the back of his neck. He stepped out into the road, his pole arm slung across his shoulder. He squinted to see the shadowy shapes of the riders. One was wearing a broad-brimmed hat, the other a long cape with a feathered cap.

"Who goes there?" he called.

The riders continued forward at a slow pace, their horses' hooves clopping noisily in the mud. They made no response.

Instinctively, the sentry grabbed his pole arm, swinging it off his shoulder. "I said who—"

A hand clapped over his mouth, cutting off his words. Before he could react, a blade from behind slashed across his throat. A second later his body collapsed to the ground.

The two riders came up to the sentry's motionless form. Calmly wiping the bloody knife clean on a wet patch of grass, his murderer nodded back towards the town. "She's in the tavern. Derik's keeping a watch on her."

Montrose grunted, staring down the dark street stretching away from the gate. Four more riders appeared behind them, trotting quietly up to join them.

The nobleman seated next to Montrose looked down at the sentry's body with distaste. "Do you intend to kill everyone in the town?" he asked with a sarcastic tinge, his eyes watching as the sentry's dark blood mixed with the rain and mud.

Montrose shook his head slowly. "Not unless they give us trouble, which I doubt. Most of the people here will keep their heads down and leave well enough alone." He turned to two of the four riders who had just joined them. "Get to the far gate and dispatch the sentry," he said. "And do it quietly."

They nodded, and rode off into the town.

Regvar sheathed his knife, then dragged the corpse off the road into the bushes.

The nobleman glanced nervously into the scattered buildings of the Outpost. "What about the other guards?"

Montrose chuckled. "I doubt there _are_ any other guards, Sir Reginald. These sentries are probably it. The Post is a trading town, not a fortress."

Reginald snorted, straightening his feathered cap. "So you're just going to barge in there and grab the girl?"

"More or less. I don't expect this will be too difficult."

"That's what you said about the getting her the _first_ time."

Montrose turned in the saddle, and gave Reginald a look that made the nobleman swallow his next words.

"Don't worry. This time, I intend to be _extra_ careful."

"Your hand is showing again."

Jade quickly pulled back her cards, giving Maklavir a startled look. "Was it?"

The diplomat didn't look up from his cards. "Yes."

Jade nodded slowly, looking down at her hand again. "Sorry. All right, I bet...five." She gave Maklavir an expectant look.

He leaned back with a sigh. "I fold."

"Already?" Jade's voice was filled with disappointment. "Don't you want to..." she stopped for a moment, remembering the term, "call?"

"No." Maklavir laid his cards face down on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. "I already know your hand is better than mine."

Jade slapped her cards down on the table. "How?"

Maklavir chuckled as he crossed his arms. "Well, even if there wasn't the fact that you were showing your hand to the entire tavern, you've been grinning like a Cayman corsair ever since your drew your cards."

"Oh." Jade pursed her lips. "Well, it's a very fun game. I'm sure I'll get better the more I play."

The diplomat scooped up the cards, shuffling them easily back into the deck, then slipped them into his pocket. "I'm sure you will."

The common room of the tavern was nearly empty, save for the two of them. A solitary trapper was sitting at the bar, but he had just finished his last drink and was preparing to leave. A few scattered candles lit the room in a dim orange glow, and the tavern maid was cleaning a nearby table, whistling an old drinking song. The storm that had been threatening all evening had started about twenty minutes before. Outside there was an occasional rumble of thunder, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the windows.

Jade glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, it's late. I should probably go to bed." Her eyes drifted to the tavern door. "I wonder where Kendril has gone? I thought he'd be back by now."

Maklavir shrugged. "You did mention that he was planning on parting ways with you. Perhaps he's already left."

Jade nodded sadly, looking back at the finely dressed man sitting across from her. "Perhaps. I was kind of hoping to...well, to have his company tomorrow. I still can't remember anything." She sighed, rubbing her temples.

"I certainly wouldn't dream of leaving a lady like yourself all alone in such a place," Maklavir said with a smile. "I would be happy to accompany you as long and as far as is necessary."

The beautiful girl's face brightened. "Thank you, Maklavir. That's very kind."

His eyes twinkled briefly. "It would be delinquent of me to do otherwise. Go ahead and head off to bed, if you like. I'll meet you here for breakfast in the morning."

Jade stood, then bent over and gave Maklavir a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you again. For being such a gentleman." She gave him one last parting smile, then headed up the stairs.

Maklavir watched her disappear, then kicked his legs up on a nearby chair, chuckling quietly to himself. The common room was empty now. The tavern maid had disappeared. The fire was slowly burning itself out. He yawned, staring at the last dying embers.

It was about time for him to retire for the evening himself, he thought.

A cry from the kitchen suddenly broke into his thoughts. The tavern maid was shouting something, and there was a clattering of pans.

Maklavir jerked his head towards the kitchen door behind the bar. A second later it burst open, and Kendril strode through, his hood and cloak soaked with rain.

The tavern maid followed after him, angrily pointing back towards the kitchen. "The back door is not for guests!" she said angrily. "Only the front!"

Kendril ignored her, flinging his hood back. He glanced quickly around the room.

"Didn't expect to see you again," Maklavir said in a cool voice.

"Where's Jade?" Kendril said brusquely. His eyes continued to scan the room, especially the direction of the front door.

Maklavir nodded towards the stairs. "Gone to bed. Just a few minutes ago. Why? Is some—"

Without another word Kendril yanked a pistol out from beneath his cloak, cocked it, and made for the stairs.

The tavern maid gasped at the sight of the weapon and fled back towards the kitchen.

Maklavir didn't move for a moment, his mind trying to digest the scene before him. Then, as Kendril neared the top of the stairs, he cursed under his breath and sprang awkwardly to his feet, kicking over the chair he had been resting on.

Putting one hand to his sword hilt, he ran toward the staircase.

"So you're just going to wait?"

Montrose took a long pull on his pipe. "Yes. I'm just going to wait."

They were in one of the Outpost's many small trading shops. The owner of the store was upstairs, lying tied up in his bed. One of Montrose's thugs had broken in earlier, after closing hours, and bound the poor merchant at knifepoint. Now the place was serving as a kind of headquarters for Montrose and his gang. The one-eyed leader himself sat on a rocking chair, facing a window that looked out onto the street. Reginald stood nearby, looking out another window. Directly across the street from them was _The Laughing Dragon_. Rain battered loudly on the roof above, and pounded the muddy street and wooden walkways outside. A sudden silent flash of lightning lit up the street, revealing an empty and desolate sea of mud.

Reginald turned, walking to the store's front counter. Four of Montrose's men, whose names Reginald couldn't remember, lounged about in wooden chairs behind their leader. Empty jars of molasses were on the floor by their feet, as well as the remains of a leg of ham and several loaves of bread. Montrose had strictly forbidden any of them to touch the liquor in the store, or even to light a candle. So far they had grudgingly obeyed.

Reginald turned back to the window. "She could get away." Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

The bounty hunter blew a smoke ring. "She won't. First of all, I've got a man covering each gate. Second, she doesn't know we're here, so she has absolutely no reason to leave in the middle of the night, especially in weather like this. Third, I can see the inn quite clearly from right here, and I seriously doubt she could get out without me seeing. And finally," he turned, his one good eye gleaming darkly, "quit talking, or I'll cut out your tongue and use it for a wall hanging."

Reginald ignored the man. He looked out the other window. "Bloody rain."

Montrose said nothing, but simply puffed quietly on his pipe.

A door opened in the back of the store, and the men behind Montrose instantly leapt to their feet, readying their weapons. They quickly relaxed, however, when they saw that it was one of their own number.

"I talked with one of the stable boys," the thug said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "The girl's there, all right, staying in the last room on the left side, by the window. There's some fancy gent staying there too, but aside from that it's just the innkeeper and the wench."

Montrose didn't turn his head, but continued to gaze out the window. Smoke curled up from his pipe. "What about the trapper?"

The thug shrugged. "He left, earlier today. Hasn't been back since."

"He's gone for help!" Reginald hissed.

"Without the girl?" Montrose grunted. "I doubt it. Besides, where would he go? It's more than three days ride in any direction to the nearest town."

Sir Reginald frowned. "So now what?"

" _Now_ ," said Montrose slowly, putting his watch back in his pocket, "we wait."

****

Chapter 5

Jade was just sliding between the sheets of the bed when the door to her room was violently kicked open. She gave a startled cry and pulled the sheets up.

A man in a dark cloak entered the room, a pistol in one hand. As he moved quickly across the floorboards, Jade recognized the figure.

"Kendril? What--?"

The Ghostwalker made a motion for her to stay silent. He pushed himself up against the side of the window, then glanced outside at the stables and stockyard wall behind the inn. He grunted, then stuck the pistol back in his belt, turning from the window.

"Get dressed," he said. "Now."

She stared at him in shock, the bed sheet still pulled up to her neck. She opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance.

Maklavir appeared at the door, sword in hand. He looked quickly from Kendril to Jade, then back to Kendril, and thrust his blade forward.

"If you try to harm her, you'll have to go through me first!"

Kendril gave the diplomat a half-amused look, then pointed at Jade. "Be downstairs in two minutes." He turned to Maklavir, who had a rather dumbfounded expression on his face. "Let's go," he said, pushing his way into the hallway. He closed the door behind him. "We need to talk."

" _I'll_ say," said Maklavir, struggling to replace the sword in its scabbard. "Just where have you been? And what in the Halls of Pelos were you doing, bursting into that poor girl's room like that?" He followed Kendril down the staircase into the tavern.

The innkeeper was standing by the bar, listening to the frantic barmaid sputtering on. He looked up as they appeared.

"You!" he said, pointing at Kendril. "I told you I'd 'ave no trouble in my inn!"

The barmaid retreated a few steps in fear.

The Ghostwalker reached the bottom of the stairs. His eyes swept meticulously over the room.

Maklavir finally managed to replace his sword. "I think you've stirred things up here a bit, Kendril. Perhaps—"

He was cut off as Kendril suddenly drew one of his blades. He smashed Maklavir against the wall and pressed the cold steel against his neck. The diplomat struggled to breathe as Kendril pressed him against the wooden surface.

The barmaid screamed, then fled back into the kitchen.

"Tell me right now," snarled Kendril. "are you with _them_? Are you?" Thunder rumbled overhead, louder than before.

The diplomat coughed, his hands held wide in surrender. "My good man," he said, his voice surprisingly collected, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Kendril pressed the razor sharp edge of the blade a millimeter closer. "Look me in the eyes," he said, "and say that."

Maklavir stared defiantly at the Ghostwalker. There was a heartbeat of silence before he spoke. "I'm here by myself. I assure you I don't know who these others are that you're speaking of. And," he added, "I think you're a raving madman. Now kindly remove this sword from my throat before you get blood on my cape."

The Ghostwalker stared at him for a moment, snorted, and pushed away. He sheathed his short sword as quickly as he had drawn it.

Maklavir staggered back to his feet, rubbing his neck.

"What in Eru's name is going on here?" he demanded. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Kendril shot a look at the stairs, then the front door again. The bartender and the tavern maid had disappeared into the kitchen. "Is anyone after you?"

Maklavir blinked. "Pardon?"

"Any jealous husbands, cheated card players? Anyone who would want you dead?"

The diplomat felt his mouth go dry. "Not that I'm aware of. Why do you ask?"

Kendril turned back to the stairs. "Because someone is watching this place."

Before Maklavir could respond, the kitchen door burst open. The innkeeper reappeared, an ancient-looking blunderbuss held in his hands. The tavern maid cowered behind him.

"Leave," he said roughly, pointing the firearm at Kendril. He lifted his eyes in Maklavir's direction. "And you. Both of you get out."

Maklavir lifted his hands. "What a splendid idea. We were just thinking of taking a walk outside, weren't we Kendril?"

"No one is leaving," said Kendril in a steely voice. "Not until I say so."

The innkeeper took a step forward, the barrel of the blunderbuss a few feet from Kendril's face. "I'll blow your head off if'n you don't. I warned you, I did, about brawlin' in here. I warned you. I won't have no fights in my inn."

A sudden creak at the top of the stairs caused all eyes to shift upwards.

Jade was standing uncertainly at the top of the staircase, her eyes wide at the scene below.

"Kendril--?" she said hesitantly.

In a movement quicker than the eye could follow, the Ghostwalker grabbed the barrel of the blunderbuss and jerked it up towards the ceiling. In the next fraction of a second he tore the weapon out of the surprised innkeeper's hands, then flipped it around so that it was pointing right back at the man's face.

The innkeeper went deathly pale. "D—Don't k—kill me," he stammered, lifting his hands slowly. "Please. I—"

"Shut up," Kendril said irritably. "No one's going to kill you. Just sit down against the wall." He gestured at the tavern maid with the gun. "You too." They quickly complied.

"Shall I search them for valuables?" Maklavir queried dryly.

Jade hurried down the staircase. "Kendril, what on earth are you doing?"

The Ghostwalker turned, laying the blunderbuss down on the bar. "We've got a problem," he said. "There are nine men outside, and they mean trouble."

The young woman stopped short at the bottom of the stairs. "What?"

Kendril pulled out one of his pistols, and quickly began to check the firing mechanism. "Nine men. Two of them were already here. The other seven came into town about two hours ago."

Jade sank into a chair by the dying fire, one hand on her bandaged wound.

Maklavir gazed at the girl with some concern. "Then perhaps we should leave."

Kendril looked up from the gun, and gave both Maklavir and Jade a look that sent chills down their spines. "We can't," he said in a low voice. "They've killed the sentries at both gates, and they're watching this place right now. I only managed to get in here by crawling on my belly from the stables to the back door, and I'm still not sure they didn't see me." He slapped back the lock on the pistol with a sharp click. "We're trapped."

The tavern maid gave a whimpering cry and folded her arms over her head. The innkeeper simply stared at Kendril in dumbfounded disbelief.

Maklavir tried to swallow, but found he could not. "What do they want?" he asked, his voice still measured.

"I don't know," said Kendril. He finished checking his first pistol, then pulled out another. He looked over at Jade, who was staring at the floorboards. "I was hoping Jade might help us out with that."

The woman looked up, her face a mask of confusion and fear. "What, me? I don't know, Kendril, I—" she buried her face in her hands. "I still can't _remember_ anything..."

Maklavir placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's all right, Jade." He glared at Kendril. "How do you know it's _her_ they're after, anyway? It might be _you_ , for all we know."

Kendril looked up from his pistol. "What? A nice guy like me?" He glanced over at the two tavern workers, who were still sitting against the far wall. The tavern maid was weeping softly. "Relax," Kendril said gruffly. "I'm not going to hurt either of you. But no one can leave right now. If the men watching this place see it, we're done for."

Maklavir sat down in a chair next to Jade, his hand still on her shoulder. "If they're after one of us, then why haven't they made their move?"

Kendril crossed to the window, edging up against the wall and peering carefully between the cracks in the curtains. "I don't know. My guess is that they're waiting until later. They've been quiet so far, and I think they want to keep it that way. No one else has even noticed the sentries are dead, as far as I can tell." He moved the curtain slightly with his finger and peered out. "They think we don't know they're here. As far as they're concerned, they have all night to make their move."

Maklavir shivered. "I see." He rubbed Jade's shoulder. "What exactly do you propose we do?"

Kendril scowled. He looked at Jade, then the innkeeper and the tavern maid, then back to the front door. "I'm not exactly sure. They have all the exits covered, and the whole place is being watched." A rumble of thunder sounded loudly overhead, and the rain seemed to suddenly increase in tempo.

"Can we try to make it to one of the gates?" asked Maklavir hopefully. "Sneak out without being seen, perhaps, and overpower the guard?"

The Ghostwalker shook his head. "I doubt it. I barely made it in the back door by myself. All of us trying to make it without being seen would be near impossible."

" _You_ can leave," said Jade suddenly. All eyes turned to her. She brushed back her hair, her eyes filled with resolve. "You can _all_ leave, right now. It's me they want, not you. I'm sure of it. I'll stay here. Please," she said after a short pause, "it's your only chance. I don't want to be responsible for anything happening to any of you."

Maklavir shook his head. "We don't _know_ that it's you they want. For that matter, we don't know what they want at all."

"It's me. It has to be." She glanced at Kendril. "You think so, too, don't you Kendril?"

The Ghostwalker said nothing, but quickly looked away.

Jade sighed. "Please, I'm asking all of you. Leave me here. It's the only way."

"Absolutely not," said Maklavir. "I know the situation seems grim, but I have no intention of abandoning you to these thugs. Not without a fight, at least."

Kendril smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that."

The men were tense. Reginald could feel it, like a static charge in the air. They no longer sat, but stood uneasily by the door, fingering weapons and glancing periodically out the windows. Only Montrose remained seated in his rocking chair, chewing thoughtfully on his now unlit pipe. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the thunder and lightning were drifting further away. It looked like the worst of the storm was over.

Montrose pulled out his pocket watch once more, just as he had done half a dozen times in the last half hour or so.

"Eleven twenty-three," he said quietly.

A few of the thugs dared a peek out the window. Even through the falling rain, it was obvious that candles were still flickering in the common room of the inn across the street.

Reginald sat down in one of the wooden chairs, swishing his cape to one side. "You understand she is not to be injured?"

Montrose nodded, his eyes looking out the window. "We'll keep her alive."

"And keep your hands off her. That goes double for your men."

The bounty hunter grinned. "Don't worry, Sir Reginald. We won't so much as touch a hair on her head."

"This is completely insane."

Kendril checked the latch on one of the windows by the front door of the tavern. Outside the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

"How so?"

Maklavir gaped at the Ghostwalker. " _How so_? There are nine men out there, Kendril. You can't possibly think we can fight them all at once. It's madness."

Kendril shifted to the door, and checked the lock carefully. "If they don't know we're on to them, then we have a chance."

The diplomat shook his head in exasperation. "You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious." Kendril turned away from the door, then moved quickly back to the bar. He glanced over at the flickering candles along his way, frowning. He jerked his head in the direction of the bartender and the tavern maid, who were still crouched obediently against the wall. "What time do you close the inn?"

The innkeeper seemed surprised by the question. "Uh...around eleven thirty, I guess."

Kendril scowled as he looked at the clock resting on the fireplace mantle. "Right." He turned back to the innkeeper and tavern maid. "You have a cellar or basement?"

The bartender nodded his head towards the door set against the right wall. "Just the pantry, but—"

"Good." Kendril gestured towards the door. "Both of you get in there, and keep your heads down. No matter what you hear, don't come out if you want to live."

The two nodded their understanding, then quickly scrambled for the pantry door. It clicked shut behind them.

Maklavir got up from his chair, glancing at the clock himself. "For pity's sake, try to think this through logically, Kendril."

"I have." The Ghostwalker picked up the blunderbuss. "Are you in or out?"

The diplomat blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Kendril held the blunderbuss out to him. "In or out? It's this or the pantry. Your choice."

Maklavir looked with vague disgust at the weapon. He swallowed, thinking quickly. "We could try to parley," he said with the first note of desperation in his voice.

Kendril shook his head. "We have nothing to bargain with. Unless you want to give them Jade. Besides, I don't think these guys are interested in talking."

Maklavir took a step back. "We still might be acting prematurely. They might be after someone or something else entirely. It may not be us—"

"They're watching the inn right now. We're the only ones here. They're coming _tonight_ , Maklavir."

"You don't know that for sure—"

"Wake up, Maklavir!" Kendril snapped. "They've already killed two guards. Why in the Halls of Pelos would they wait?"

Maklavir played his last card. "We could try to get help," he said. "There are others here in town. Perhaps—"

"We can't get out of this inn without being seen. And even if we could, no one here would help us. They're all just drifters, mostly hunters and trappers. They'll lie low and save their own skins." He thrust the gun forward once again. "You said before you wouldn't give Jade up without a fight. So here we are. What are you going to do, Maklavir?"

The diplomat hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixated on the blunderbuss. Then, very slowly, he reached out and took the weapon.

"I'm in."

Kendril nodded. "Good man. There are two entrances to this place, one in the front and one in the back. I think I can cover things out here, but I need you to guard the rear."

Maklavir nodded slowly. "Tell me what to do."

Kendril vaulted over the counter, flinging open the door to the kitchen. "Keep this door open, and watch the back door, through there." He pointed at it through the rows of pots and pans. He looked Maklavir in the eyes. "Whatever happens, and no matter what you hear out here, don't take your eyes off that door for even a second, understand?"

The diplomat nodded silently. "I understand. What then?"

"If anyone comes through, shoot them. Don't wait to see who it is, and don't hesitate. Just fire."

"I see," said the diplomat nervously. "I should warn you, I'm not much of a marksman."

"You don't have to be. This blunderbuss will hit anything standing in front of you. Don't worry about aiming. And don't even think of shooting into the front room. You'll hit me along with anyone else."

Maklavir peered nervously into the darkened kitchen. "And what happens if the first shot doesn't stop them?"

Kendril sighed. "Then use that sword you've got attached to your belt."

"Ah, yes." Maklavir tugged at his goatee nervously. "About that. To be honest, I'm afraid that I'm really not much of a swordsman. Actually, the weapon is largely decorative."

Kendril's eyes narrowed. "All right, then make sure you don't miss with the blunderbuss." He glanced into the dark kitchen. "I suggest hiding behind that cabinet, there. Probably your best cover."

"And where should I be?" Jade's voice came suddenly from the stairway landing. Both Kendril and Maklavir glanced up.

The green dress was gone. In its place she was wearing a pair of worn trousers, a blue shirt, and a large vest. On her head was a broad-brimmed black hat, with a yellow feather sticking jauntily from the top. A pair of well-traveled boots was on her feet.

She smiled, giving a mock pose. "I found these in the closet upstairs. So what do you think?"

Maklavir smiled. "Not bad. New look, I take it?"

"Tuck your hair in," said Kendril, "and try to keep the hat pulled down low."

Jade came carefully down the stairs. "Do you really think this will fool anyone?"

Kendril walked quickly around the edge of the bar. "Probably not. But in the dark, it might be enough to confuse them, especially if they're looking for a woman in a dress."

The young woman walked over to one of the tables. "So where should I be?"

Kendril blew out one of the candles, giving the clock on the mantle another glance. "The pantry. That door, over there."

"Absolutely not." Jade walked over and blew out two more candles. The room grew dark, lit only slightly by the dying glows of the fire.

"This isn't a debate," said Kendril roughly. "Get into the pantry, and stay there until I tell you things are safe."

"I'm not going to hide out while you two risk your lives up here." Jade took off her hat, pushing her hair up into a bundle and then putting it carefully back on again. "I'm staying whether you like it or not." She glared at Kendril defiantly. "Now where do you want me to be?"

Maklavir leaned in through the open kitchen door. "Best to just give in, Kendril. I've found that arguing with a woman is a rather pointless endeavor."

Kendril frowned. "All right. Get behind the bar."

Jade crossed her arms. "I told you I wasn't going to hide—"

The Ghostwalker moved swiftly to the bar himself. "If you want to stand out in the middle of the room and make yourself a better target, go right ahead. As for me, _I'm_ getting behind the bar." He dropped behind the counter, resting his back against a large barrel.

For a moment Jade looked indecisive, then she walked around the counter, and plopped down beside Kendril.

"So," said Maklavir's whispered voice from the darkness of the kitchen. "What do we do now?"

Kendril closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bar. "We wait."

****

Chapter 6

The inn was deathly silent, save for the light patter of rain on the windows and the last few spits and crackles from the fireplace. Jade closed her eyes, listening to the dull sounds. Even the thunder had vanished, and the storm seemed to have lost most of its fury. With each passing minute, fear seemed to envelope her more and more. The darkness of the common room certainly didn't help. She glanced over to her right, seeing Kendril's dark shape just a few feet away. The Ghostwalker had not moved since he had sat down. For a terrifying moment, she wondered if he had fallen asleep.

"Jade?" his whispered voice came out of the darkness, dispelling her fears.

She nodded, then realized it was too dark too really see. "Yes?"

Kendril shifted slightly, and Jade could feel his face turning towards her. "Do you know how to reload a pistol?"

The question took her slightly by surprise. "Uh...I don't—no."

There was a rustling of fabric, then she felt a cold wooden and metal object being thrust into her hands. "Time to learn. I won't have time to reload during a fight, so I'll need you to do it for me. Can you handle that?"

"Yes," she whispered back, feeling the awkward shape of the gun. "Yes, I think I can. What do I do?"

"The gun's already loaded, but I'll walk you through the motions." Kendril reached out a hand, and Jade felt a small, heavy paper tube pressed into her palm. "This is a pistol cartridge. It's filled with gunpowder with a bullet at one end. It's made out of stiff paper, and tied at the top. Pinch the end. You can feel the bullet."

Jade did, and felt the hard lump. "Yeah, I feel it."

"Good. When you reload the pistol, you have to bite off the end of the cartridge, pour the gunpowder into the barrel, then the bullet, and then the paper cartridge itself."

"The paper? Why?"

"It holds the bullet in place, so it doesn't fall out." Kendril's voice was still in a low whisper, so that Jade had to lean forward to catch his words. "Feel under the barrel of the gun. There should be a small ramrod."

Jade found it. "Okay."

"You pull that out, then stick it down the barrel a couple of times to jam the bullet and the gunpowder all the way down. Two or three sharp, hard motions. Understand?"

She felt the metal ramrod. "Understand. Then what?"

"Replace the ramrod. If you don't put it back, you could lose it, or worse, leave it in the barrel when the gun is fired. After that, thumb back the flintlock, and it's ready to fire." He was silent a minute, listening to the tapping of the rain on the windows. "All right. Can you repeat it all back to me?"

Jade felt her stomach tighten, but grasped the cartridge tightly in her hand. "I bite off the end of the cartridge, pour the gunpowder in the barrel, then the bullet—" she hesitated.

"And the paper."

"And the paper. Then I pull out the ramrod, jam it down, replace the ramrod, and click back the lock." Finished, she lifted the gun in her left hand. It felt remarkably heavy. "It doesn't sound that difficult," she said with more confidence than she felt.

"It's not," said Kendril quietly. "Problem is, it's easy to get flustered when a lot is going on. There'll be other people shooting, shouting, and swinging swords. You have to focus on what you're doing, and ignore whatever's happening on the other side of this bar. Here's two more. Keep them safe." He dropped the cartridges into her hands.

Jade felt her hands begin to tremble. She closed her hand tightly around the cartridges, trying desperately to steady herself. "I'll try."

His hand reached over and gently took back the pistol. Jade heard him cock it with a sharp _snick-click_. She clasped her hands together. They were shaking pretty badly.

"Kendril?"

"Yes?"

She heard the fireplace give a loud crack. "I'm not sure how much good I'll be to you. I'm—" she paused, taking a deep breath. "I'm scared. More scared than I've ever been before." She gave a sudden soft laugh. "That I can remember, anyway."

Kendril's voice softened slightly. "You'll do fine."

She was quiet for a minute. Jade glanced over through the shadows at the man next to her.

"Are _you_ afraid?"

For a moment there was silence. Finally Kendril's voice broke through the darkness between them. "Many things frighten me, Jade," he said in a low voice. "But not death."

"Now," said Montrose, snapping his pocket watch shut.

The five men moved to the door and out onto the porch.

Sir Reginald retreated into the corner, glancing anxiously out the window.

Montrose got up from his rocking chair, hefting his crossbow easily in one hand. Ignoring the nobleman, he stepped out onto the porch behind his men.

The street was deserted. There was little light at all, and the shape of _The Laughing Dragon_ could be seen like a towering shadow before them. The rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. Somewhere amongst the rag-tag buildings of the Outpost a dog barked.

The men moved into the dark street, fanning out as they crossed the muddy ground. Montrose walked slowly behind them, his crossbow in his hands and his eye watching the buildings around them carefully. His mace dangled by the leather strap that held it to his belt.

The first two men moved quietly up the stone steps, and flattened themselves on either side of the front door to the inn. One of them drew a long, gleaming knife, smiling cruelly. The other already had a long sword in his hand. He looked around cautiously.

A third man vaulted up the steps, and bent down by the door. A pair of lock-picking tools were in his hands.

The last two thugs stayed near the bottom of the steps, their backs turned to the inn and their eyes carefully scanning the empty street.

Montrose remained standing a few feet away, his crossbow now slung across his shoulder.

"Be quick about it," he hissed.

With a nod, the man by the door began to fiddle with his tools.

Jade was almost drifting to sleep herself when a sudden creak from behind the front door of the tavern jolted her back to reality. She froze, not even daring to breathe. Another creak followed, then what sounded like a shuffling of footsteps outside. She glanced over at Kendril, who hadn't moved.

"Kendril..." she whispered, her heart leaping up into her throat.

He nodded slightly in the darkness, but said nothing.

There was a sudden click and a rattling from the front door. Jade felt her heart stop.

They were coming.

"It's a shame, really," whispered the thug with the sword, looking down curiously at his comrade picking the lock. "Killing people in their beds and all, I mean. Not much of a challenge."

"Shut up, Queltin." The man trying to pick the lock shifted, trying to see better what he was doing. "And keep your voice down. If Montrose hears it he'll belt ya."

Queltin mumbled something incomprehensible.

The man with the long knife sniffed loudly. "Ain't ya got that lock open yet, Harold? C'mon, let's move!"

"Maybe if you'd shut up for a minute, Danforth, I could get this thing open—" there were a couple more moments of silence, and then a loud click. The thug by the door stood with a smile. "There," he said triumphantly. "We're in."

With a loud creak, the front door swung open.

Jade glanced over at Kendril, her heart racing. He continued to sit silently, his back against the bar.

There was the heavy tromp of a boot, and then another.

Jade's whole body felt paralyzed with fear. She held her breath, watching Kendril desperately.

"Cover your ears," he whispered.

In one horribly quick motion he stood and whipped out two pistols, both pointed in the direction of the front door.

Before Jade could even move a muscle one of the pistols fired, belching out a combination of flame and smoke in the direction of the front door.

Harold was two steps inside the door and Danforth was right behind him when the gun went off.

Harold's head jerked back, and Danforth felt something warm and wet strike his own face as the body of his companion slammed back into him, knocking them both out onto the porch.

Queltin leapt away from the door as a second shot tore through the wooden frame, showering splinters in all directions.

With a bellowed curse Montrose brought his crossbow up, crouching for cover by the steps. He struck the nearest thug on the arm. "The back! Move!"

The two henchmen at the bottom of the steps leapt into action, racing through the puddles towards the side of the inn.

Danforth struggled to his feet, spitting and swearing. He searched the porch desperately for his knife.

With a snarl, Queltin moved back to the door, his sword held at the ready. With a yell he kicked the door in, then charged into the inn.

Kendril had no sooner finished firing his second pistol then he dropped both of the smoking firearms next to Jade. He vaulted over the bar. "Reload," he ordered, then whirled to face the door across the dark, table-strewn room. Reaching within the folds of his cloak, he drew two short swords, holding one in each hand.

Jade, her hands shaking almost uncontrollably, reached for the pistols.

The first gun report made Maklavir instantly crane his neck to the open door behind him. He was just in time to see the flash and hear the roar of the second gun, then remembered what Kendril had told him about the back door. With a muttered expletive, he turned back, lifting the heavy blunderbuss. It felt awkward in his hands. He didn't think he had ever shot a firearm in his whole life.

Gritting his teeth, he brought the weapon up to his shoulder.

One thing was for sure. He had to make the first shot count.

Queltin kicked a chair out of his way, then pushed over a table as he moved across the crowded common room.

A shadowy figure, dressed in some kind of dark cloak and holding two short swords, stood between him and the bar.

Queltin spat onto the ground, then launched into the attack, his sword sweeping in a tight arc towards his foe.

To his surprise, the man deflected the blow, and Queltin himself had to dodge out of the way from the counter attack.

With sheer animal ferocity the black-cloaked man attacked and forced Queltin back under a hail of blows.

The henchman tripped on a chair, crashing into the mantle of the fireplace and barely ducking out of the way before one of the short swords cut a swathe where his head had been moments before.

From the shadows Danforth suddenly appeared, his long knife aimed at the man's back.

Queltin allowed himself a smile, waiting for the unexpected thrust to end the fight permanently.

At the last moment, the man twisted out of the way and Danforth's blow met empty space instead of his opponent's ribcage.

With supernatural quickness, the black-cloaked man slashed one of his blades across the length of Danforth's outstretched arm.

The thug screamed, grabbing his torn arm. He lurched forward into a table.

Queltin dodged back and kicked a stool out of his way.

Montrose had been wrong. There was no way this was some mere trapper or hunter. Trappers and hunters didn't fight like _this._

For the first time in a long while, Queltin felt a sudden stab of fear.

Jade struggled to find the cartridge, then realized it was on the floor next to her, right where she had placed it before.

She fumbled with it in her hand, and brought it to her mouth amidst the ringing sounds of blade upon blade and tables being overturned from the other side of the bar. Gripping the cartridge between her teeth, she tore open what she thought was the top, but quickly realized that she had pulled _too_ hard.

The paper came away easily and gunpowder flew out, filling her mouth with its acrid taste and scattering all over the floor.

Jade spat in disgust, more gunpowder spilling from the open cartridge. A scream sounded from the other side of the bar.

Panicked, she poured what was left of the gunpowder into the barrel of the pistol, but then somehow lost hold of the paper, which fluttered down somewhere to the dark floorboards. Kneeling, she swept the ground with her free hand in a vain attempt to locate it.

She couldn't find it anywhere.

Montrose glanced hurriedly up and down the street. No one had emerged yet, but they would. The commotion in the inn would get someone's attention eventually.

Not that it really mattered anymore.

Holding the crossbow steady in his left hand, he reached for his mace with his right, then raced up the stone steps of the inn. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Derik, who he had posted at the western gate, as he came running over.

With a snarl, Montrose waved him away. "Back to the gate!" he shouted. "Don't let anyone leave!"

Leaping over the mangled body of Harold, Montrose barged through the door.

The back door to the kitchen cracked from the first kick, then burst wide open from the second. Two men staggered in, their weapons prepared to strike.

Maklavir took a deep breath, then thrust the heavy blunderbuss forward.

"Gentlemen," he called out in a merry tone, "you are outnumbered and outgunned. I suggest you beat a hasty retreat, or I may have to inflict unnecessary injury upon you." He lifted the blunderbuss towards a collection of pots and pans hanging near the startled henchman, and fired.

The blast filled the small room with a deafening roar. Pots and pans clattered wildly in all directions.

"Company!" Maklavir cried as he dropped the firearm and drew his sword. "Prepare to fire!"

With a terrified motion the two henchmen scrambled back through the door, flying as if a pack of wolves were at their heels.

Maklavir smiled as he tried to re-scabbard his sword in the darkness. "Sergeant," he said jovially, "have the men stand down."

Jade rose to her feet, struggling to cock back the flintlock on the pistol. She tried to keep the barrel of the pistol elevated, so the ball wouldn't roll out. She was about to yell out to Kendril when she realized she had forgotten to use the ramrod. Was there even any point without the paper?

Swallowing a curse, she uncocked the gun, then reached for the ramrod underneath. At that exact moment, she looked up at the scene before her.

Even in the dim light of the inn, she could see the overturned tables and chairs. Several figures were moving through the darkness, jerking to some strange dance as the sharp sounds of steel on steel bounced off the walls. Entranced, she stared at the fight, the ramrod and pistol momentarily forgotten.

A shadowy shape she recognized as Kendril was fighting with a sword in each hand, viciously fighting with another man armed with a sword. A second man had picked up some weapon from off the floor, a dagger of some kind, and was cradling his arm as if he had been badly hurt.

Jade watched in fascination as Kendril parried a sword thrust from the first man, then an instant later dodged a slash from the knife by the second man.

The Ghostwalker kicked the man with the knife in the mid-section, hurling him back into the coat racks against the wall, then spun and blocked two quick blows from the swordsman.

Jade had just remembered the ramrod again when another figure came through the front door, holding some kind of weapon in one hand and what looked like a crossbow in the other. Jade gasped as he lifted the crossbow, preparing to fire.

"Kendril!" she screamed, her voice almost drowned out by the metallic blows of the sword fight.

With a sharp _thrump_ the crossbow fired.

Kendril instinctively whirled to one side. The crossbow bolt thumped into the wall and missed him by inches.

The crossbow man's head jerked in Jade's direction, and he took a step forward. For one brief, terrifying moment, Jade could make out a shadowy face under the broad-brimmed hat. The man was wearing an eye patch. She wilted back against the liquor cabinets, dropping the pistol with a clatter to the floor.

She knew his face.

Maklavir had just managed to get his sword back in his scabbard when he heard Jade cry out from the front room. Without thinking he pulled the blade loose once more, then turned towards the door behind him. For a second he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at the back door that still hung ajar at the far end of the kitchen.

Those two weren't coming back any time soon. And Jade was obviously in trouble.

Swallowing his fear and better sense, Maklavir made for the common room.

Kendril was starting to suspect he might be in a bad spot.

The man with the sword was fairly decent, and the other one with the knife was making things doubly difficult. And now there was a third one with a crossbow. If it hadn't been for Jade he would probably be wearing the bolt as a chest ornament right now.

Either way, this fight had been going on for far too long.

With a lightning quick move, Kendril feinted to the swordsman's right, then spun and slashed for the right side of his face. A ragged scream and the sound of a sword clattering to the ground told him his blow had been on target.

Without looking to see the extent of the injury, Kendril whirled once more, dancing back as the knife-man stabbed forward and cleaved empty air.

In one deft move, Kendril caught the man's outstretched arm under his own right arm and yanked him forward. At the same moment he reversed the sword in his left hand and stabbed it between his right arm and side, and underneath the thug's outstretched arm.

With a certain degree of satisfaction Kendril felt the blade bite deep into the man's side. He withdrew the sword, flipping it back aright in his hand before the stricken man could even give a strangled cry. The man collapsed to the ground, his knife skidding towards the fireplace.

It had all taken less than a second and a half.

It was the girl, and there was no doubt she recognized him. She was dressed in a man's clothes. The green dress gone.

_Clever_ , he thought, _if only she had kept her mouth closed_.

Montrose stepped forward, his eyes riveted on the young woman behind the bar. He was just raising his mace when someone burst through the door behind the bar, a sword in his hand.

For a split second the bounty hunter smiled, thinking the men he had sent around the back of the inn had finally arrived. Just as quickly, however, he realized that the man who had just entered the room wasn't one of his henchmen.

Whoever he was, he would die right now. Montrose yanked the crossbow up, the second arrow of his double-layered crossbow still unfired.

The man with the sword stopped cold, staring at the crossbow aiming straight at him.

"Oh dear," he said.

Montrose tensed his finger on the trigger of his weapon.

Just before he could fire, a chair flew out of the darkness and smashed into his side. His crossbow jerked off target. The weapon fired and the bolt hurtled forwards.

The man with the sword gave a cry and tumbled back into the kitchen.

Montrose thudded against the wall, and was still trying to get a fix on what was happening when a short sword came swinging out of the darkness at him. Only years of experience enabled him to dodge the blow that should have taken his head off. He crashed back against a table, cursed loudly and blocked another blow with his mace. His enemy's blade rang loudly from the parry.

Pausing for a half-second, Montrose glimpsed the man who was attacking him. He was wearing a long black cloak, black leather gauntlets, with a short sword in each hand and a face like a demon.

It was the man's face that made Montrose hesitate. It was a face that held no fear and no restraint of any kind. There was no sanity in it.

In one startlingly clear instant he realized that he had underestimated the situation badly. He _would_ get the girl, but not like this. He had to regroup his men, rethink his plan, and try to salvage what he could of this mess.

Montrose made his way back to the front door, blocking blow after the blow from the battle-crazed man in front of him. He stumbled backwards out the inn door, then tripped down the stone steps of the tavern and fell onto his back in the muddy street. For a brief, terrifying moment he thought his attacker might follow him, but he saw a dark whirl of the man's cloak just inside the door as his opponent turned back into the inn.

Scrambling to his feet, Montrose spat angrily onto the ground.

Queltin knelt nearby, cursing softly as he pressed a dirty rag, dark with blood, against the right side of his face. His cheek was cut from top to bottom.

The two men he had sent around to the back of the inn were standing awkwardly by, looking rather sheepish.

One of them stared dumbly at the tavern. "We was outnumbered, boss. They had...they was _organized_. We couldn't do nothing, there was too many—"

"No," cut in Montrose savagely. "Not outnumbered. _Outsmarted_. And outfought." He glanced up the street. People were beginning to peer from out of windows, and some were slamming shutters closed. He already knew they wouldn't interfere. The trappers and hunters in this town had learned long ago to mind their own business.

Montrose turned to the inn, staring bitterly at its black shape. "You in the tavern, listen up! You're surrounded, and there's no way out of this place. Give us the girl, or we'll kill all of you." With that he wiped the mud off his face and glanced over at his men.

Uther was dutifully watching the street with his crossbow held at the ready. Queltin was trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his face.

"Get back to the porch and keep an eye on the street and the tavern," Montrose said to Uther as he passed him. "Shoot anyone who tries to escape."

With that he and the other henchman turned back to the store, with one or two nervous glances over their shoulder.

"Maklavir!"

Jade rushed to the open kitchen door, seeing the diplomat sprawled on the floor just inside the doorway. His sword lay on the ground by the bar.

She quickly knelt by him. "Are you all right?"

The finely dressed man swore loudly. "Don't touch me!" he shouted in a frantic tone. "Stay back!"

Jade felt her stomach flip. "Are you hit?"

"Hit?" Maklavir cursed again, moving carefully and awkwardly across the floor. "I'll say I've been hit." He stretched out his hand gingerly towards the kitchen door, reaching for a crossbow bolt that was pinning the edge of his purple cape to the wood. Biting his lip until it turned white, he yanked the projectile loose. His cape fluttered to the ground.

"Blast!" he cried, tossing the arrow aside. "Blast and double blast!"

Jade put a hand to her heart. "Thank Eru it was just your cape."

Maklavir pivoted his head in her direction. " _Just_ the cape? _Just the cape_? Do you have _any_ idea how much this cape is worth? Better if he had shot me in the leg or arm. At least _that_ would heal." He pulled himself to his feet, stretching out his cape to survey the damage. "I paid top coin for this in Archangel. Look at that tear. Ruined. Utterly ruined." He gave a small moan and tossed the cape aside.

Hiding a smile, Jade stood as well. "I'm sorry, Maklavir."

Kendril walked up on the other side of the bar, sliding his last sword into its scabbard. "I thought I told you to watch the back door," he said.

Maklavir leaned over, and retrieved his own sword. "Jade was in danger. Besides, I chased the blaggarts off. I doubt they'll be back for a while."

"Oh, they'll be back," said Kendril, turning his head to look at the open front door. "You can count on it."

****

Chapter 7

"Where's Danforth?"

Queltin winced as he shifted his head. "I—I don't know," he said uncertainly. "He was right beside me, in the tavern—"

"Then he's dead," said Montrose matter-of-factly. He stuck his unlit pipe in his mouth, chewing furiously at the end. "That makes two." He muttered a curse, his eyes watching the inn through the store window.

Sir Reginald paced back and forth by the store counter, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "That's it. I have to leave, and leave quickly. I can't be seen with the likes of you, and I certainly can't be seen by _her_." He stopped, straining to see out the window into the darkness. He could only make out the shape of Uther, who was outside on the porch keeping watch, his crossbow at the ready. "Your whole plan has gone to hell, Montrose. Talin's ashes! What happened, anyway?"

"I'm still trying to figure that one out myself. The girl's still inside, though. I saw her myself."

Reginald grimaced as he watched Queltin pull away his dirty rag, revealing the bloody wound on his face.

Regvar, another of the henchman, leaned in close with a lantern, holding a needle and thread in one hand.

Queltin took a quick draught from a bottle of whiskey. "Do it quick," he said.

Sir Reginald quickly turned his head as Regvar began to sew up the wound. "So what went wrong? Does she have help?"

"Oh, she has help all right, but it isn't the Guard." Montrose continued to stare out the window, deep in thought. "I can't quite figure it out."

"Well you'd better figure it out fast." Reginald turned, then quickly averted his eyes as they fell again briefly on the gruesome scene in the corner. Queltin had yet to make even the slightest sound as his wound was sewn up.

Montrose stared silently out the window a few moments more, then looked over at Reginald. "Well, I suppose you'll be off, now. I'll help you saddle your horse." He began to move towards the back of the store.

Reginald seemed slightly taken aback. "Uh, thanks." He gave one last quick glance at the operation going on behind him, shuddered, and followed the bounty hunter out the back door.

Outside the night air was quiet and fresh after the recently fallen rain. Reginald's horse was still tied up near the rear of the building. Montrose brought it over.

"There's a Ghostwalker with her," he said as he handed the reins to the nobleman.

Reginald stared at the bounty hunter. "What?"

"A Ghostwalker." Montrose repeated.

Reginald shook his head. "That's impossible."

Montrose fixed the nobleman with a steely glare. "Are you calling me a liar? Or worse, stupid? I know what I saw. The man in there was wearing a hooded black cloak. I went into that place with five men. Two of them are dead. That was no trapper."

"That doesn't make any sense." Reginald clutched the bridle of his horse, his mind racing. "No sense at all. How could someone have found her this quickly?"

"Funny. I was just about to ask _you_ that." Montrose gave Reginald an unnerving stare. "I think there's something you're not telling me, _Reggie_."

"No, no, I've kept nothing from you. I swear—"

"Nothing, eh? So you want me to believe that this Ghostwalker just happened to be in the inn when we went in? _Waiting_ for us?"

Reginald thought furiously. "It has to be a coincidence. If the Ghostwalkers were onto us, they'd have a dozen of their cultists here, not just one. Not to mention the Guard." He soothed his horse, who was starting to stamp impatiently. "At any rate, he's only one man, Ghostwalker or not. Surely you can take care of him."

"Don't worry about _my_ end of the deal," Montrose snapped. "I'll have the girl when and where we agreed. I'd worry about _your_ end. The price for this little kidnapping of yours just doubled."

Reginald's mouth dropped open. " _Doubled_? Are you mad?"

"It's either that or I walk out of this town right now, along with what's left of my men."

"This wasn't part of our deal," hissed Reginald, still holding the horse's bridle with one hand.

"The _Ghostwalker_ wasn't part of the deal, either," Montrose shot back. "As long as he's with her, things are a lot harder for me."

The nobleman vaulted onto the horse, pulling the animal into place. "Fine," he said in a cold voice. "Double it is. Just have the girl at the right time and the right place." He trotted a few steps past the bounty hunter, staring down at the man in the darkness. "And don't mess up again, Montrose." With that he kicked his horse sharply, galloping off towards the western gate.

Montrose watched the nobleman go. He stuck his pipe angrily between his teeth once more, still unlit.

He didn't know how this Ghostwalker had gotten involved with the girl, or what he knew of this whole affair. But he would make the man pay for the deaths of Harold and Danforth.

Now he just needed a plan.

Kendril filled the pewter mug in his hand to the brim with ale, then shut off the tap and took a long drink.

"I say, do you really think this is a good time to get inebriated?" Maklavir sat down at one of the tables, eyeing the front door nervously.

Kendril walked around the side of the bar, the mug in his hand. "We're outnumbered by a vicious gang of thugs, trapped like rats in this inn, and probably won't live to see morning. Sounds like the perfect time to get inebriated to me." He sat down at another table, facing the door and windows that looked out onto the street.

Jade couldn't take her eyes off the dark shape on the ground that she knew to be the body of the man Kendril had killed. The Ghostwalker had turned over a table to block the lower half of the front door to the tavern and act as a primitive barricade, so she couldn't quite see the body of the henchman out on the porch, but she knew it was there all the same. Kendril had positioned another makeshift barricade across the back door.

"Shouldn't we close the door?" she asked rather timidly.

Kendril set the mug down on the table, then calmly dumped both his pistols on the surface before him. He picked up the first one, and quickly and efficiently began to reload it. "No. We've lost the element of surprise. We need to see them when they come again."

Maklavir glanced at the dark shape of the body on the floor, looking as if he was going to be ill. "You really think they'll come again? We seemed to have chased them off the first time round." He paused, his attention caught by something out the door. "There goes one now, if I don't miss my guess."

Kendril looked up sharply just in time to see a horseman go flying by, galloping towards the western gate. He scowled, replacing the ramrod and setting the loaded pistol down. "Just one. I imagine he's going for reinforcements."

Maklavir sighed. "Lovely. This is a fine mess we're in."

The Ghostwalker said nothing, but took a quick drink from the mug, then picked up the second pistol.

Jade saw his confused look at the half-loaded weapon. "I'm sorry," she said, feeling her face grow warm. "I—You were right about the reloading. I panicked...."

Kendril gave the pistol a few whacks against the side of the table, knocking the small amount of gunpowder and lead ball out. "It's all right." He blew sideways into the barrel.

"No, it's _not_ all right," said Jade, sliding down into a chair by the bar. "You were depending on me."

Kendril set the unloaded firearm down, and took another drink of ale. "Don't worry about it."

Jade took off her hat, shaking her hair loose. "You could have been killed."

The young man sighed. "Forget it, Jade. I wasn't expecting you to get it loaded anyway."

She gave him a quizzical look. "What?"

Kendril shrugged. "Many trained soldiers can't even load properly when they're in the heat of battle. I didn't really expect you to."

Jade felt a sudden surge of anger. "Then why did you tell me to reload your guns in the first place?"

Kendril looked over at her for a moment, and she caught what looked like a half smile on his face in the darkness of the room. "It kept you busy, didn't it?"

She stared at him incredulously. "Oh, I get it. You just wanted me out of the way, huh? So I wouldn't cause you any problems? Is that it?"

He shrugged again, looking back at the door. "Basically."

Maklavir winced.

Jade shot up out of the chair. She snatched the unloaded pistol off the table where it lay next to Kendril's hand. "Maybe I should try again, then," she said sharply.

Kendril held up a pistol cartridge, his eyes still on the door.

Jade gave him a cutting look, then snatched the object out of his hand. She retreated to a nearby table.

"What 'ave you done to me inn?"

With a startled move Kendril turned to his side. One hand reached for the loaded gun on the table before him. He relaxed when he saw the innkeeper peering out of the pantry door, his eyes wide at the overturned tables and chairs.

His gaze fell back on Kendril. "You scoundrel!" he hissed. "You've ruined me, you 'ave. Look at all—" His voice faltered as he suddenly saw the henchman's body. He threw his glare back at Kendril. "You bloody _murderer_!"

"Get back in the pantry, and don't come out again until I tell you to." Kendril jerked his thumb to the pantry door. "Move it, unless you want to get killed."

"Unless the lady would like to stay," said Maklavir hopefully. "It might be safer for her up here, where we can protect her—"

Kendril glared at the diplomat.

"Right," said Maklavir. "I suppose the pantry would be best."

With a sniff and a muttered curse the innkeeper disappeared behind the door once more.

"There," said Jade, replacing the ramrod underneath the pistol. "It's loaded." She walked over to Kendril's table and put it down carefully.

He picked it up, examining it carefully. "Looks good."

Jade smiled. "I'm a quick learner." She sat down at the same table he was at, glancing at the open front door. The smile suddenly disappeared from her face. "That man," she said quietly, "the one with the crossbow. I recognized him."

Maklavir's head shot up.

Kendril set his mug back down as quickly as he had picked it up.

"Recognized him?" Maklavir looked at her with concern. "You _know_ the man? From where?"

The young woman closed her eyes. "I...can't remember. I just have this image in my head. I can see his face, with the eye patch, and the hat. It's daytime, in the forest, and there's shouting, and screaming..." She opened her eyes and quickly looked away. "That's it. I'm sure it must be something specific I'm remembering, but I can't quite place it." She shook her head in complete frustration. "How long is it going to take before I _remember_?" She looked up at the two men, and her eyes filled with tears. "I'm going to be like this forever, aren't I?"

"No," said Kendril gently. "You won't. It'll come back, Jade, just give it time." He picked up the pistol again. "You did a good job on this, by the way. Very professional."

Jade wiped the tears away quickly, shaking her head to stop any more from coming. She gave Kendril a faltering smile. "Thank you." She looked over at Maklavir. "Thank you both. I can't tell you—"

"Now, now," said Maklavir. "There's nothing to thank us for. We're glad to help."

Kendril gave the diplomat a sharp look. "Speaking of which, aren't you supposed to be watching the back door?"

Maklavir raised his eyebrows. "You don't think they'd come through there again, do you?"

The Ghostwalker rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Why _wouldn't_ they come through there again, Maklavir?"

"Ah." The finely dressed man nodded quickly. "I see. I hadn't really given it that much thought, actually. I'm not used to thinking strategically, you understand."

"Tactically," Kendril corrected.

"Come again?"

"Never mind." Kendril sighed, shaking his head. "Why don't you watch the back door, then?"

" _I'll_ watch the back," said Jade suddenly, rising to her feet.

Maklavir looked at the girl in surprise. "Um, I don't think that's such a good idea, Jade. I mean, what if—"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "How hard can it be? If I see anything, I'll just yell." She gave Maklavir a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, I won't try to fight anyone off by myself or anything. I'll stay hidden."

The diplomat looked over to Kendril for support.

The Ghostwalker gave a wry smile. "I thought you told me it was pointless to argue with her, remember?"

"I'll only be a few feet away," Jade said. "There really is nothing to worry about, Maklavir. Besides," she added, "it will give the two of you time to talk over how we're going to get out of here alive." She turned to the back door.

"Jade," said Kendril. She stopped, looking back. He lifted one of the loaded pistols in his hand. "Just in case."

She stared at it blankly for a moment. "Don't you need it?"

"Don't worry, I have another one."

"Tuldor's beard," Maklavir remarked in disbelief. "Exactly how many weapons do you _have_ , anyway?"

Kendril ignored him. "Take it, Jade. You still have those extra cartridges I gave you?"

"Yes." She took the gun. "I won't need this, though."

"You never know."

She turned and walked around the bar, then vanished into the darkness of the kitchen.

Kendril lifted the pewter mug to his mouth again. He kept his eyes on the front door.

Maklavir watched Jade worriedly until she disappeared, then pulled a chair up next to where the Ghostwalker was sitting.

"Do you really think sending her back there was wise?" he asked in a whisper.

Kendril wiped his mouth off on the back of his sleeve, then put the mug down again. "Is she any safer in here?"

Maklavir scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose not. Should we light a candle or something? It's awfully dark in here."

"No."

"Why not?"

Kendril motioned to the open front door. "Because there's a man across the street with a crossbow who is watching us right now, along with Eru knows how many other snipers. As long as it's dark in here, they can't see us. If we light a candle, they may start shooting through the door or the windows."

"Oh." Maklavir gave the door an anxious glance. "You'll forgive me for saying so, Kendril, but I'm beginning to think this is a rather hopeless situation we're in. Do you happen to have any plan of how we're going to get out of here?"

"Yes." The Ghostwalker leaned forward, reaching beneath his cloak to the small of his back. To Maklavir's amazement, he pulled out yet another pistol, setting it down on the table by the first. "The way I figure it, they're going to come back, so there's no sense in staying here."

The diplomat nodded, his eyes still on the gun. "Right."

Kendril picked up the weapon, examining it carefully. "So we attack."

Maklavir stared blankly at the Ghostwalker. "We _what_?"

"Attack." Kendril checked the flint on the pistol, one eye still on the front door. "We're dead if we stay here. It's only a matter of time. We have to get out of this town now, and we have to do it fast."

"You do realize that there are only three of us?" asked the diplomat slowly, as if speaking to a small child.

With a soft _thunk_ , Kendril set the pistol back down on the table. "If you and Jade can make it to the gate, I think I can hold the others off. You would just have to take out the one guard. Can you do that?"

Maklavir leaned forward. "You want an honest answer?"

"Preferably."

"Then no, I don't think I can."

Kendril gave the diplomat an exasperated look.

Maklavir shrugged helplessly. "I'm an ambassador, Kendril, not a soldier. I'm trained in law, not combat." He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "We can't do this. It will never work."

"So what exactly do you propose, Maklavir?" Kendril turned his head in the darkness, his voice burning like acid. "That we just stay here and die?"

"Of course not." Maklavir straightened up. "But there has to be a better way. I've no doubt that you're a capable warrior, but trying to take on five other men at the same time is a bit much, isn't it? You'd be killed for certain."

"Probably," said Kendril somberly. "But at least you and Jade would have a chance."

Maklavir shook his head. "That's not the most ideal plan I've ever heard, Kendril."

"No, Maklavir, it isn't," Kendril said, the irritation sounding through in his voice. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not in the most ideal of situations here. Believe me, I've thought this through, and I can't see other realistic option. We wait here, and they'll kill us. We attack, and they'll probably kill us, too, but at least we have a chance to break free."

"There has to be some other way." Maklavir thought for a moment. "What about another way to get out? Besides the gates?"

Kendril gave a shake of his head. "The stockade is too high. We could never climb it, and they'd see us if we tried. What other choice do we have? Chop through the walls with hatchets? Dig under them? All without being seen?" He picked up the pistol again. "No, making a rush for it is our only chance."

Maklavir's face seemed to suddenly light up. "What about blasting through the wall?"

Kendril bit back an angry response, and took a deep breath. "With what? We'd need a barrel of gunpowder, and the explosion would probably take out half the outpost."

"Oh, I don't think you'd need a barrel. Depending on how thick the logs are, I'd say no more than a few small charges. Even the sturdiest structure can be brought down as long as there are explosives placed in the right spots."

Kendril turned his head, staring at Maklavir as if seeing him for the first time. "You know how to do that?"

"Oh, certainly. It really isn't that hard. Just a matter of learning the right techniques." He smiled. "Explosives are kind of a hobby of mine, really. Why, when I was young, I—"

"How much gunpowder would you need?" Kendril interrupted.

Maklavir thought for a moment. "Not very much. I have some small charges I keep in my saddlebag, out in the stable."

Kendril leaned in, his voice low and deliberate. "Let me get this straight. You could blow out a section of the wall? Large enough for us to get through?"

"Certainly. Of course, it would be slightly more difficult at night with everything all wet. I usually don't work under those kind of conditions. Well," he added after a slight pause, "there was one time, a few years ago in a small border town near the Snowy Mountains. Of course, that situation was rather exceptional. For some reason, people seemed to get the idea that I was _cheating_ at cards—"

"I'd say this is a pretty exceptional situation, too," said Kendril in scathing voice. "Just tell me, yes or no—can you do it?"

Maklavir looked him in the eyes. "Yes, I think I could. It certainly beats charging out to our death, at any rate."

For a moment there was silence, then Kendril gave a broad grin. "Why Maklavir," he said, clapping the man on the shoulder, "maybe you aren't entirely useless after all." He got up quickly from the chair and headed for the back of the inn.

"Why thank you," mumbled the diplomat.

"How's the face?"

Queltin touched his cheek gingerly. "It hurts like Void fire, but I can fight."

"Good," said Montrose. He turned to the window, staring across at the shape of the inn that continued to defy him.

Regvar ran his thumb absently down the blade of his basket-hilt rapier. "So, what's the plan, boss?"

Montrose gave a low growl, his eyes fixed on the inn. "I'm thinking."

Queltin dabbed at his stitched-up wound with a handkerchief. "The one with the pistols is trouble. I don't know who he is, or what his business with _her_ is, but he's a demon with those swords of his. I'm not sure I could take him on again one-on-one..."

Their leader grunted. "I know." He cleared his throat. "So we don't try. No matter how good he may be, there's only one of him, and he bleeds like the rest of us." He turned from the window. "There's another one, too. I took a shot at him back in there. I'm not sure if I got him or not. But the important thing is that _she's_ still there."

Regvar scratched his head. "So how many are there?"

"At least two. Maybe three. And her."

"So what do we do?" asked Queltin impatiently. He squirmed as he pressed the cloth against his face once more. "Another assault? It didn't work too well last time."

Montrose rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No," he said. "I think I have a better idea."

****

Chapter 8

Jade stood up from where she was hiding as Kendril entered the kitchen. He moved quickly through the dark room towards the back door.

"What's going on?" she asked, just as Maklavir appeared in the doorway as well.

"Change of plans," said Kendril. He glanced carefully out the back door, his pistol held at the ready. For several moments he peered out into the night, then turned back inside. "Looks clear."

Maklavir stumbled awkwardly through the dark kitchen, stifling an obscenity as he smashed his knee against a low cabinet. "You're sure we can't light just _one_ candle?" he asked miserably.

"No," replied the Ghostwalker sharply. He took hold of the table he had set in front of the back door, moving it carefully and quietly to one side. "And keep your voice down. Jade, I need you to watch the door."

The girl gave a confused look. "I thought I _was_ watching the door."

"The _front_ door," Kendril clarified. He cleared the table away from the back door, peering outside once again. "Maklavir, get over here."

"I'm trying," said the diplomat calmly, piecing his way through the darkness. "I can't see my bloody hand in front of my bloody face in here."

Kendril leaned up against the wall. "Stables are about twenty yards away. We'll have to crawl there."

Maklavir stopped short. " _Crawl_? In the mud?"

Jade glanced in a confused fashion from Kendril to Maklavir. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on here?"

"We're getting out, that's what's going on." Kendril grabbed Maklavir, and pulled him against the wall on the other side of the door. "Maklavir here says he can blow through the stockade wall."

"Blow through the wall?" Jade repeated dumbly. "With what, gunpowder?"

"Yes. Well," said Maklavir hurriedly, "I _might_ be able to. I won't know for sure until I see the wall up close."

Kendril snapped his head towards the diplomat. " _Might_? You told me it would be no problem."

Maklavir peered nervously outside. "Yes, well you were talking about a suicidal attack. Besides, I don't _think_ it will be a problem. The sooner I can examine the wall the sooner I can tell for sure."

"My," said Jade with a smile, "it looks like you two have come up with a fantastic plan here."

Kendril ignored her. He looked at Maklavir, jerking his thumb towards the back door.

"Get going."

"Um, yes." Maklavir tapped the hilt of his sword nervously. "I don't suppose I could simply walk to the stable, and just duck down quite a bit?"

Kendril sighed heavily. "Maklavir, it's mostly grass. Hardly any mud at all. Now would you _please_ get going?"

The diplomat moved to the door, giving Kendril a cold glance. "This is a silk shirt I'm wearing. If any of my clothes get damaged, I'm holding you responsible."

"Maklavir..."

Smoothing his shirt, Maklavir nodded. "All right, all right, I'm going." He slipped out the door, falling onto his hands and knees after inspecting the wet grass carefully.

Kendril glanced back at the common room. He bit his lip, his mind quickly running through different options.

"All right," he said after a moment. "I want you to follow Maklavir. Out the back and to the stable."

Jade gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look. "What about you?"

Kendril moved quickly to the door leading back into the common room. "I'm going to stay here. If they make another move on the inn, I'll try to hold them off." He shrugged. "Hopefully they'll think we're all still in here."

Jade nodded. "I see. Here, you'll need this," she said, holding out the pistol Kendril had given her earlier.

The Ghostwalker shook his head. "Keep it for now. We're not out of the woods yet." He paused for a moment. "Or _into_ the woods, as the case may be."

She shoved the pistol carefully back into her trouser belt. "So you just want me to wait in the stable?"

Kendril tried to see if he could spot Maklavir's shape from where he stood, but it was too dark to see. "Yes. Assuming this crazy plan actually works, run for the wall as soon as it blows. Get out as fast as you can, and don't look back. And get Simon, too. He might need to be calmed a bit. Loud noises tend to scare him."

Jade took a deep breath. "All right. And we'll meet you outside the wall?"

Kendril gave her a stern glance. "Don't wait for me. I'll find _you_. Just keep going."

She looked at the man she had only known for less than two days, and felt a sudden pang of fear. "Promise me you will," she said quickly, without even thinking.

Kendril was silent for a moment, as if taken by surprise.

"Just...just promise me you'll come, okay?" she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"Jade," said Kendril in a low voice, "I'll come. You have my word." He smiled. "Besides, I want my mule back."

"Everyone still in place?"

"Aye." Regvar moved to the window, staring out between the wooden panes. "Derik and Calham are still at their posts."

Montrose nodded. "Good. Now let's get moving. Queltin, soak those rags, and be quick about it. Regvar, find some flints. Make sure they spark."

"Right boss." The second henchman began rummaging through the supplies on the shelf. "Got some."

There were four liquor bottles all together, taken off the shelf behind the store counter. Queltin and Regvar had lined them up carefully on the ground.

Montrose took a step back, watching Queltin carefully as he soaked four white rags in the alcohol, then stuffed one into the top of each bottle.

"All right," he said quietly. "You both know the drill. Any questions?"

Both henchmen were silent.

"Good," the one-eyed bounty hunter grunted. "Let's get to it, then."

The horse was right where Maklavir had left him, chomping quietly on some hay. Maklavir had won the animal in a game of chance about a year before, and the steed had served him faithfully ever since.

"How are you doing, Veritas?" he whispered, walking carefully across the straw-covered ground towards the beast. The horse whinnied quietly in response. He quickly checked the saddlebag, and removed several small pouches, all tied tightly with string. Smiling, he turned.

There was a man standing there, pistol in hand.

Maklavir dropped the pouches in surprise and reached frantically for his sword. He tripped backwards onto the ground, losing his grip on the hilt of his weapon.

There was a soft giggle. "It's _me_ , Maklavir," came the voice.

The diplomat gave a sigh of relief. "Ah, Jade. Talin's ashes, you nearly scared the life out of me. Where's Kendril?"

She knelt down next to him, brushing some of the straw off his shoulders. "Back in the inn. He told me to come out here with you." She picked up one of the pouches of gunpowder, eyeing it uncertainly. "Do you really think this will work?"

Maklavir rose to his feet, picking pieces of straw off his clothes. "There's only one way to find out."

The four men splashed through the muddy street, trying to move as quickly and quietly as they could. Regvar and Queltin were in front, both clutching a bottle in each hand, a rag sticking out the top. Behind them Montrose and Uther followed close behind, their crossbows trained at the front door of the inn.

Without a word Regvar and Queltin both broke off to the right, skirting the front of the inn and ducking out of sight of the door and the windows. Queltin stopped at the corner of the inn, while Regvar continued running along the side towards the back. Montrose and Uther remained in the middle of the street, each watching the tavern in front of them for any signs of life.

Setting one bottle down in the mud, Queltin pulled out his flint, and began striking it, his back turned to the cold breeze. After a few moments he lifted a bottle in one hand, the rag beginning to burn brightly.

Montrose smiled to himself. This time they wouldn't fail.

Kendril leaned against the entryway between the kitchen and the common room, trying to watch both the front and the back doors at the same time. If the men outside had seen either Jade or Maklavir move to the stable, they had certainly not done anything about it yet.

He chewed on his lower lip, tapping his fingers repetitively on the door jam. He hated waiting like this. The men across the street would strike again, he knew. It was only a matter of time. He just hoped—

A sudden movement caught his attention, centering his vision on the front door. A light bobbed up the stone steps outside, then turned in the air, almost like someone was holding a candle or lantern of some kind--

Kendril hurled himself to one side as a flaming bottle tumbled in through the front door. It crashed and exploded against a table, splashing burning liquid onto the chairs and floor nearby.

The door to the pantry flung open as Kendril leapt over the bar, ducking low behind a table. The innkeeper stared out in dismay, his eyes wide with horror.

"My inn!" he cried, his hands covering his face. "They're burning my inn!"

The fire had already begun to burn up one of the sidewalls, and smoke was quickly filling the common room.

Kendril gritted his teeth. He couldn't put this out. It was too intense. He waved his pistol towards the front door. "Get out!" he yelled over the crackling of the flames.

The innkeeper stepped into the room, staring at the fire as though in shock. "My inn, my inn!" he kept repeating over and over.

The tavern maid came out of the pantry, and quickly caught the man by his arm. "Jorath!" she shouted, tugging him towards the door. "Jorath, please! We have to go!"

Kendril turned to the kitchen door, but just as he did so he caught sight of a man at the inn's back door. He lifted his pistol, but was already too late.

Another burning bottle flew into the kitchen and shattered on the counter that Maklavir had been hiding behind before. Burning liquid spewed everywhere.

Kendril ducked back into the common room and watched as the tavern maid finally managed to pull the innkeeper out the front door. The fire was blazing out of control now, and smoke was already starting to sting his eyes. Coughing, Kendril began moving around the bar just as another bottle came crashing through a window into the common room, adding to the inferno.

Kendril took an uncertain step back. The flames were blocking the front door. He turned to the kitchen, but stopped cold at the entrance. Fire was already dancing madly across the kitchen cabinets.

He was trapped.

"I got him," called Uther as he tracked the second of two people who had just emerged from the inn. A moment later he fired crossbow. The shot pegged the man squarely in the throat and knocked him back against the stone steps of the inn.

The woman screamed, falling onto the dying man's body.

"Get her," snarled Montrose.

Queltin appeared out of the shadows, his sword in hand. He grabbed the woman by her hair, yanking her roughly out into the street.

Montrose strode over. Uther hurriedly reloaded the crossbow behind him.

The woman could only scream shrilly as Montrose jerked her head around, then spat onto the ground.

"It's not her," he said, pushing the tavern maid back to the ground. He turned back to the henchman behind him. "Uther, get around and help Regvar cover the back. I don't want anyone getting out."

Still fumbling with his crossbow, Uther dashed for the rear of the inn. Fire was blazing brightly through the front window, and smoke was pouring out the open front door.

Queltin pulled the woman up by her hair, swinging back his sword to strike at her neck. The woman gave out a shrill scream, pulling at the arm that held her hair.

Montrose glanced over."Queltin!" he snarled. "Let her go."

Almost reluctantly, the henchman let go of her hair and lowered his sword.

The woman fell down into the mud, then tottered to her feet. She ran off down the street.

Lifting his crossbow again, Montrose turned back to the inn.

"What's going on?"

Jade looked out through the stable door, which was open just a crack. She gasped. "The inn's on fire!"

"Wonderful," said Maklavir sarcastically as he tied a matchcord to one of the powder bags. "It's absolutely absurd to expect me to work under these kind of conditions."

"There's a man, too. He has his back to us. It looks like he's watching the inn." Jade turned, looking anxiously at the diplomat behind her. "Kendril's still in there! We need to help him, Maklavir."

He snorted, flicking one last piece of straw off his shirtsleeve. "Somehow I doubt that Kendril is in any need of help from either of us. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wall to blow up."

The fire, he had to admit, was a pretty good idea. Why storm a building when you can just get everyone inside to come out to you? If they didn't, of course, they'd all burn to death, but that saved the trouble of killing them. And Kendril had no doubt that both exits of the inn were covered. Even if he risked the flames to get out, he would no doubt be shot down as soon as he made it outside.

Which left him, all things considered, in a pretty rough spot.

Kendril turned from the kitchen, coughing from the smoke that was filling the common room. Flames danced crazily over the wooden floor, and fire was crawling rapidly up the walls. The chairs and tables were a raging furnace. As soon as the support beams caught fire, the whole second story of the inn would come crashing down. It was just a matter of time.

The Ghostwalker frantically swept his eyes over the roaring inferno, trying desperately to think of a way out. His eyes caught sight of the staircase. The railing was starting to burn, but otherwise it looked intact.

His decision made in the space of a heartbeat, Kendril leapt over the bar.

For the second time that evening Maklavir found himself crawling across the ground, and he found it no more pleasant than his first experience. He had left his cape with Jade, along with the animals. Not that it particularly mattered. He would no doubt be dead in the space of two minutes. Then again, he was a gambling man at heart. Say three.

Wincing at the prospect of what his clothes must look like at this point, Maklavir flipped over onto his back, lifting one of the pouches filled with gunpowder and inserting it carefully into the crack between two logs in the stockade wall. He pushed it firmly but carefully with his fingers, making sure it was wedged in place, then made sure that the matchcord was properly attached. He pushed himself further down the length of the wall, risking a look back to see what was going on.

There were two men now, both no more than fifteen yards away. Thankfully they both had their backs to him, and hadn't seemed to have spotted him yet. That was a small miracle. Their attention seemed to be riveted on the inn. Of course, if either of them turned around they would no doubt see him, and probably the one with the crossbow would shoot him dead.

Hard to miss at fifteen yards.

Maklavir stopped again, pressing yet another powder pouch into the stockade wall. Well, this was certainly going better than he had expected. Perhaps he really would get out of this alive after all. Someday, no doubt years from now, he would look back on this moment and laugh. Well, perhaps not laugh, but—

One of the two men turned their head in Maklavir's direction. The diplomat froze instantly, the blood running cold in his veins.

Had it been two minutes, then, or three?

The second floor hallway was filled with smoke, but it hardly mattered. Kendril always made it a point to check out his surroundings, and he had been upstairs before. The room he had rented—had it been just earlier that afternoon? It seemed so much longer ago now. In any event, the room he had rented was the third door on the left, the one at the end of the hall. And at the very end of the hall, looking out the east side of the inn, was a window.

And that window was going to save Kendril's life. Or be the death of him. Either way, he thought as he ran down the hall, it certainly beat burning to death.

He struck the window with his left shoulder, and felt the glass shatter out into the night.

"Hey," said Uther suddenly, tapping Regvar on the shoulder. "What's that, back behind us?"

"What's what?" asked Regvar, turning to look.

A sudden shattering noise from the side of the inn caused them both to turn. For a second, they stood there in stupefied silence, then Regvar swore loudly.

"They're getting out the windows. Come on!"

The question wasn't really whether the fall would hurt. Any drop from the second floor of a building was going to hurt. The real question was how badly it would hurt, and whether any bones would be broken.

Kendril hit the ground with a roll, trying to absorb as much of the shock as possible. Shards of glass littered the grass around him as he slid to a stop down a slight slope, rolling three times before he came to rest. He stood quickly, one hand reaching for the pistol he had holstered.

Remarkably, it didn't feel like any of his bones had snapped. Even more remarkably, he couldn't feel the sharp burn of any cuts yet, either. In front of him was the large shape of the inn. He was looking straight up at its east side, smoke and flames pouring out of every possible opening. .

A sharp cry spun his attention to the right. A man came running around the back of the inn, a basket-hilt sword in his hand. As soon as he saw Kendril, his face twisted into a snarl, and he launched himself forward.

With his other hand reaching for his second pistol, Kendril brought the first up to fire.

He only hoped that Maklavir could actually blow a hole in the wall.

Otherwise, they were all as good as dead...

Montrose heard the shattering of glass, even over the flames and cracking timbers of the inn. It sounded as if it had come from over to the right. He took a few quick sidesteps in that direction, while still keeping one eye on the front door of the inn.

Queltin gave him a questioning look.

Montrose saw someone getting to their feet by the side of the inn. By the light of the flames he could see the figure wore a black cloak.

"It's him!" he called to Queltin. He swung his crossbow around, bringing it up to his cheek.

For reasons that Maklavir was still having problems fathoming, he was very much still alive.

Not that he was complaining, mind. He had always preferred the prospect of living to that of a painful death. The two men who he thought would be his executors had been distracted by something along the eastern side of the inn, and both had vanished out of sight.

It was the chance Maklavir had needed. Fortune had apparently dealt him the cards he needed, and he wasn't about to toss them away.

He got to his feet and shoved another powder bag into the crack between the logs, about a foot above his head. Only two or three more and then there was nothing left but to light the fuse.

And hope the gunpowder wasn't too damp from the rain, of course—

Jade tugged the two bridles she held in her left hand, bringing Kendril's mule and Maklavir's horse close to the stable door. In her other hand she held the pistol, which she was beginning to hope and pray she wouldn't have to use.

It was almost impossible to see what was happening outside through the open crack of the door. She had lost sight of Maklavir, and she couldn't see Kendril, either.

Veritas whinnied nervously, pulling back on his bridle.

Jade stuck the pistol in her belt, rubbing the horse soothingly on the neck to calm him. The smell of smoke was starting to panic the animal.

Truth be told, it was starting to panic her, too.

Kendril's pistol thundered, but his shot was too hurried to be accurate. The bullet went wild and punched into the side of the inn.

Regvar bared his teeth, bringing his heavy blade down at the Ghostwalker.

Kendril twisted to one side and dropped his spent pistol to the ground. He reached for one of his short swords with his free hand.

Regvar slashed through empty air, losing his balance slightly, then made another sweeping strike.

Kendril blundered backwards. His other hand came up with his second pistol, but not in time.

The sword was going to cleave his head in two, and if he stepped back, it would just be worse.

So, with the instantaneous reasoning born from long years of fighting, Kendril leapt forward, and smashed the top of his head into Regvar's face.

The henchman stumbled back with a cry of pain, blood gushing from his broken nose. His sword swiped through empty air.

That one second of hesitation was all Kendril needed.

The Ghostwalker drew his short sword and swung it hard at the thug's neck. The sharp blade tore though Regvar's throat, almost severing his head completely. The man tumbled to the ground.

Kendril was already moving.

Without looking to see what damage he had caused, he rotated to look behind him, his second pistol at the ready.

Another man was coming right at him, a sword held ready to attack. It was the same thug he had fought in the inn earlier, and he didn't look too happy.

Kendril blasted off a quick shot with his pistol, filling the night air with a sharp flash and stench of gunpowder. At the same moment he dropped to the ground.

A crossbow bolt tore through the air where Kendril had been. He had no idea where it had come from.

Queltin gripped his sword in both hands, bringing it down in a frenzied blow.

Kendril artfully rolled to the side. The sword missed him and plowed into the ground. Pivoting, Kendril swiped his own blade at Queltin's exposed knee.

The henchman was too wily to be caught by such a trick. He dodged out of the way, then lurched his sword back for another strike. Two of the stitches on his cheek burst from the effort.

Kendril leapt to his feet and blocked one blow from the swordsman, then another as Queltin came at him again. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a man with a crossbow out in the street in front of the inn, waiting patiently for an open shot. By the back corner of the inn was another man, hurriedly reloading another crossbow.

Kendril was caught in between. It was only a matter of time before he took a bolt in the back or the chest.

Blazing cinders scattered down in all directions as part of the inn wall collapsed. A column of smoke and fire roared up and blocked the way to the front street. The inn was a raging inferno by now. The entire structure was ready to collapse.

If Queltin sensed the danger, he didn't seem to care. With blood streaming down his cheek from his reopened wound, he charged at Kendril again, his war cry lost in the roar of the flames.

The intense heat searing his back, Kendril stepped forward to meet certain death.

With a shuddering groan the front section of the inn collapsed, sending up a swirling cloud of sparks. Montrose took a few steps back as part of the porch caved in as well. His view of Queltin and the Ghostwalker was completely blocked. Had they been caught in the flames?

He raced back down the street, splashing through a large puddle as he came to the front of the burning inn. Nothing could still be alive in there. Either the girl was dead, or she had somehow escaped.

If she had gotten out of the inn, she couldn't have gone very—

Montrose stopped in his tracks. The stables. Of course. It was possible, given a little luck, that someone could have crawled from the back of the inn to the stables without being seen from across the street.

Keeping clear of the showering spray of burning fragments and heat, Montrose turned to the left side of the inn.

Only one way to find out for sure...

Jade barely had time to leap to one side before the stable door came crashing open. Maklavir came in and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Did you do it?" Jade asked.

Maklavir grinned. "We'll know in about fifteen seconds."

A burning timber crashed down. It barely missed the spot where Uther was standing. He jumped back, uttering a strangled curse.

The whole inn was coming down, and he would go with it, if he wasn't careful.

Grabbing his half-loaded crossbow, he turned away from the two men fighting in front of him.

Montrose was paying him well, but not _that_ well.

Kendril parried another blow. His sword vibrated from the impact.

Queltin slashed his sword back again and barely missed the Ghostwalker's chest. A muffled roar came from within the burning inn beside them as part of the second story floor collapsed.

Sweat ran down Kendril's face. The heat of the blaze was scorching the side of his face. He lashed out with a counterblow, then darted quickly off to one side.

Queltin came at him again, oblivious to the growing danger around them.

As he moved back, Kendril's foot slipped on a wet patch of grass. With a sharp sense of panic he felt his entire leg slide out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard.

Queltin came towards him, and lifted his sword for a killing blow.

Montrose cleared the back of the inn, seeing the dark shape of the stables in the flickering glare of the fire. The towering stockade wall was just behind it. He raised his crossbow as a sudden shape came running towards him from his right.

"Don't shoot!" the man cried. "It's Uther."

Montrose lowered his weapon, pointing back behind the inn. "The stables. Let's move."

"That's funny," said Maklavir thoughtfully. "It should have gone off by now. Perhaps I was counting wrong."

"Maybe we should—" Jade's voice stopped mid-sentence. She was peering out of the crack in the stable door once again.

Maklavir quickly straightened. "What's wrong?"

Jade recoiled from the door, desperately reaching for the pistol in her belt. "It's _him_! The man in the inn. He's—"

Her words were suddenly drowned out by the roar of a huge explosion.

****

Chapter 9

The blast caught Queltin completely by surprise.

He instinctively ducked, thinking for a moment that someone was firing a cannon behind him. But even as he turned his head, he knew the noise was too loud.

An entire section of the stockade wall had simply disintegrated, sending pieces of wood flying in all directions. A huge column of smoke was billowing out across the grass, stretching up into the dark sky.

Queltin suddenly realized he had let his guard down for a fraction of a second. He turned back to his opponent, but the Ghostwalker was already gone.

He whirled frantically, sword at the ready, but he couldn't see the man anywhere. Choking smoke filled the air all around him, making it difficult to breathe. Queltin held the sword at the ready, backing up as he desperately attempted to find his enemy.

It was no use. There was too much smoke. He could barely—

With a lumbering crash the inn wall came smashing down, fire and burning debris raining down around him. The henchman glanced up just a split-second before flaming death enveloped him.

Queltin didn't even have time to scream.

Montrose was striding towards the stables, reaching for his mace, when all of a sudden he found himself looking at the night sky. The stars were moving, he noticed. No, he thought, _he_ was moving.

And then he hit the ground.

Splinters of shattered wood sprayed in all directions as Montrose came sliding to a stop, about twenty feet away from where he had been before. Blood ran down his neck from a cut. He tried to get to his feet, but fell backwards again, his ears still ringing from the noise.

When he finally managed to sit up, he gaped in astonishment.

Someone had blown a hole in the stockade wall.

Jade suddenly felt herself thrown against the stable door, as if a giant hand had hurled her. She fell to the floor, the pistol sliding out of her hands. The whole wooden building swayed under the force of the explosion, rocking back and forth for a moment. She heard the frantic sound of the animals braying and whinnying in terror.

Then, everything swirled into darkness.

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the ground with a dull throbbing pain in her skull. She instantly reached up for the bandage on her head, but quickly withdrew her hand as she winced in pain.

A figure knelt down next to her. "Jade, are you all right?"

She nodded, trying to clear the dust from her mind. "Yeah, I think so. Just give me a moment."

"Right. I'll get the animals." Maklavir leapt to his feet, then grabbed the bridle of his horse and tried to soothe the creature. He looked down at Jade. "I think I might have used a bit _too_ much gunpowder. Still, all in all not too bad, wouldn't y—"

The stable door flung open. A man with a loaded crossbow in his hand and a patch over one eye stepped inside. His boots crunched on the straw-covered ground.

"Well, well, well," Montrose said with a sinister grin. "What have we here?"

Jade scrambled backwards and felt her back hit against a stall. She started to reach for her pistol, then realized that she had lost it in the explosion. A quick glance showed her that it was lying on the ground by the bounty hunter's feet.

Maklavir raised his hands, dropping the horse's bridle. "Why hello there," he said in a light-hearted tone. "Just us stable hands back here. Anything we can help you with?"

Montrose swiveled the crossbow in the diplomat's direction. "Shut up." He glanced at Jade. "You're coming with me. Get up."

"Surely we can make some kind of arrangement," said Maklavir quickly. He stepped from behind the stall, his hands still in the air. "Is there something you want?"

"I want _her_." Montrose shifted his finger slightly on the finger of his crossbow. He looked at the girl again. "Get to your feet. Now."

There was a sudden sharp click from behind the bounty hunter.

Montrose grunted. "About bloody time, Uther. Find Quel—" He turned, his words catching in his throat.

Kendril was two steps behind him, his face and clothes smeared with soot. He held a pistol three feet away from Montrose's head.

"Drop it," the Ghostwalker snarled.

Montrose dropped the crossbow with a thud to the ground.

Kendril leaned against the door, wiping sweat and ash from his forehead. "Maklavir?"

The diplomat stepped forward. "Yes?"

"Get Jade and get out of here as fast as you can." He grabbed Montrose, the pistol still aimed at his head, and pulled him out into the night air, pushing him around to face the burning inn.

"One false move and I'll blow your head off," Kendril reiterated.

"I have no doubt," Montrose commented dryly.

About twenty yards away Uther came limping up, his crossbow loaded and ready to fire.

"Tell him to drop it and stand back," said Kendril.

Uther stopped uncertainly, his crossbow held at the ready. Part of the inn crumpled behind him, sending up a sudden flare of sparks.

Montrose said nothing.

Kendril jammed the pistol against the back of the bounty hunter's neck. " _Tell him_."

Montrose ground his teeth together. The hot barrel of the gun pressed into his skin. "Drop it, Uther."

The henchman gave Kendril an enraged look, then carefully set the crossbow on the ground.

"Maklavir!" Kendril shouted over his shoulder.

"Coming," came the reply. The diplomat appeared at the door, leading his horse. Jade appeared behind him, pulling Simon along. The pistol was in her free hand. The mule whined plaintively as he saw Kendril.

"Get going," said the Ghostwalker, the gun still against Montrose's neck. "I'll catch up."

Jade glanced at Montrose nervously. "But—"

" _Just go_ ," said Kendril, his eyes watching Uther carefully. "I've got things covered here."

Maklavir drew his sword, glancing in the direction of the inn. "Hurry, Jade. We don't have much time."

The young woman gave Kendril one last parting look, then quickly followed Maklavir to the smoking hole in the stockade, pulling Simon quickly behind her. The mule tugged obstinately on his bridle, braying and looking back at his master.

Kendril watched carefully until both Jade and Maklavir disappeared into the shadows of the forest beyond the wall. He tightened his grip on the pistol as he saw two other men come running around the side of the inn. One had a musket, and the other a sword in his hand.

Montrose glanced over without moving his head. It was Calham and Derik, the two men he had posted at the gates. They had come running after they saw the explosion. They stopped warily about twenty feet behind Uther, and looked uncertainly at Montrose.

"Well," said the bounty hunter slowly, the barrel of the pistol still pressed against his neck, "I would say it's your move, Ghostwalker. Are you going to kill me?"

"I will if you don't shut up," snapped Kendril. His eyes darted toward the hole in the stockade wall. He needed to give Maklavir and Jade as much time as possible.

Uther tensed slightly, his hand moving slightly towards the crossbow.

Montrose gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Kendril shoved the barrel of the pistol into Montrose's neck so hard that the bounty hunter grunted.

"Tell your man to drop that musket."

Montrose licked his lips. "I have a better idea. How about we talk this over, one civilized human being to another?"

"I don't think we have anything to talk over. Tell your man to drop his gun."

"Or what?" said Montrose. "You'll kill me? If you intended to do that, I think you would have shot me already. I'm the only bargaining chip you have, and not a very good one at that. If you kill me, I guarantee you that these fine gentlemen will kill _you_."

"I've taken on your men before."

"So you have," said the bounty hunter. "You seem to be quite a talented swordsman. I could use a man of your ability. Perhaps we could come to some kind of arrangement."

Kendril smirked, his gaze shifting quickly back and forth between the armed men in front of him. "You can't be serious."

"I'm perfectly serious. Whatever she's paying you, I'll beat. Name your price."

Kendril kept his eyes locked on the men in front of him. "She's not paying me anything."

Montrose chuckled darkly. "Oh, I see. So you're just helping the poor girl out of the kindness of your heart, eh?"

"That's right."

"Everyone wants something." Montrose turned his head slightly, looking at Kendril out of the corner of his eye. "Even you, I'll bet."

"I'm not for sale," Kendril replied sharply. "And keep your head forward, or I'll blow it off."

Montrose turned his head back towards the glare of the fire. "You seem a reasonably intelligent man. How far do you think you'll get with her and that clown she's with? We're three days from the nearest town, and that's by the main road. Wandering through the woods will take even longer. You can't seriously think that you'll make it."

"I seem to be doing fine so far."

The bounty hunter gave a sinister chuckle. "What, just because you've killed some of my men? You've gotten lucky, Ghostwalker. This is a battle you can't win."

Kendril's lip curled up into a snarl. "Care to bet?"

Montrose's voice dropped a notch. "Walk away. I won't stop you. It's your last chance of making it out of this alive. Stay with the girl, and I'll kill you myself."

Kendril shoved Montrose in the direction of the smoking hole in the wall. The pistol hovered by his head. "You can try."

The three henchmen spread out. Uther grabbed his crossbow from the ground. They kept pace with the Ghostwalker and his hostage, spreading out across the rain-soaked grass. The inn continued to smolder behind them.

"So you're going after her?" Montrose shook his head bitterly. "You're a fool then, and a dead man."

Kendril paused before the smoking ruin of the stockade wall. He was careful to keep Montrose between himself and the henchmen. "We'll see."

He kicked Montrose forward, then dove through the shattered opening behind him into the underbrush.

Montrose cursed as he fell on his stomach, then quickly rose to his feet and reached for his mace that hung from his belt.

Derik's musket thundered away, the musket ball whistling off into the darkness of the forest.

A fleeting shadow was all Montrose had time to glimpse through the blasted stockade before Kendril's form vanished entirely into the blackness outside the Outpost wall.

Uther ran up next to Montrose and lifted his unfired crossbow.

"Don't bother," said Montrose, waving Uther to put the weapon down. "It's pitch black out there." He felt suddenly weary. "We need to regroup."

Uther reluctantly lowered his weapon. "Regvar's dead," he said in an agitated tone, "and last I saw of Queltin he was over by where the wall collapsed."

Montrose turned, wiping the sweat off his face. "I know."

"We can't keep doing this," said Uther. "That man's a demon. He's already killed four men."

Montrose spun on the thug, his face turning red. "And what do you suggest, Uther? We let them go?" He moved his face close to his henchman's. "I've never backed out of a contract yet, and I'm not about to start now. There's too much riding on this to stop."

Derik shuffled uncomfortably. "Maybe Uther is right, boss. We could all end up dead if—"

"None of us is going to die," Montrose cut in. He looked at his remaining men, glancing from face to face. "If you leave now, you'll regret it for the rest of your lives. Think about it, gentlemen. There may be fewer of us now, but that means a greater share of the pay off. And," he added, watching his men's faces carefully, "our bounty has been doubled."

The men gaped at him as their minds quickly did the math.

Uther rubbed his nose, deep in thought. "That's enough to make us all rich men," he said in astonishment.

" _Very_ rich men," said Montrose. "Now let's hurry up. We don't have long until morning."

Calham blinked. "You're not thinking of tracking them at night?"

"We don't have to," said Montrose with a cruel smile. "This time, we'll let them come to us."

The pistol was empty.

It had been, actually, the entire time that Kendril had been holding it to the bounty hunter's head. Between the swordfight and the collapsing inn, he hadn't had time to reload either of his guns. But it didn't really matter now. His bluff had worked, and he was still alive.

That was all that mattered.

Branches whipped wildly across the Ghostwalker's face as he plunged ahead into darkness, the pistol still clenched tightly in his right hand. He tried to stay low, glancing back over his shoulder once or twice. The glow from the burning inn behind him was becoming more and more difficult to see.

He was just turning to look into the blackness in front of him when he collided head on with someone in the darkness and knocked them both to the ground.

"Kendril?" came Maklavir's sputtering voice after a moment. "Is that you?"

Spitting a twig out of his mouth, Kendril rolled over. Damp leaves were plastered to his cape and trousers.

"Yes, it's me. Where's Jade?"

"Over here," came the young woman's voice. From behind her Kendril heard Simon give a happy snort. "Are you all right?"

The Ghostwalker got to his feet, brushing the foliage off his clothes. "Yeah. What in the halls of Pelos are you two doing waiting here? I told you to get going, not stand around in the middle of the forest."

Kendril sensed more than saw Maklavir shrug in the gloom.

"We figured you'd never find us if we wandered too far. You can't see your hand in front of your face out here."

Kendril brushed by the diplomat, grabbing Simon's bridle. "Well if I can find you, so can that bounty hunter. Let's get moving."

The three of them started forwards into the darkness, their feet crunching on leaves and branches as they went. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted forlornly in the trees.

"So what do we do now?" Jade whispered as they walked.

"Well," said Kendril with a glance behind him, "assuming we're not eaten by wolves, I'd say we should try to make for the next town."

"And what then?" Jade rubbed the mule's nose absently. "We don't even know who we're running _from_ , Kendril. How do we know which direction is safe?" She shook her head viciously. "If only I could remember _something_..."

"One thing is for sure," came Maklavir's voice, "we can't go far through the forest like this, especially at night. Poor Veritas almost broke his leg at that last incline." He pushed a wet branch away from his face. "For all we know we're going in circles out here."

Kendril rubbed his gloved hand across his face. "For once, Maklavir, I agree with you. Thirty more minutes, and then we stop. That should be far enough into these woods to be safe." He looked up at the branches above their heads. "They'll be after us again at first light, though. We need to be ready to move out before then."

Maklavir stepped carefully around a moss-covered log. "You're sure they'll keep coming? Maybe they've had enough."

"Oh, they'll keep coming all right." Kendril shook some raindrops from his hood. "This leader of theirs is as determined as they come."

"So where do we go?" Maklavir asked, an edge of frustration in his voice. "They're undoubtedly mounted. We only have one horse and a mule. How exactly are we supposed to outrun them?"

"We can't," said Kendril. "We can only elude them. They may be faster, but they don't know where we are or where we're going. If we can make it to a good-sized town, then we can try to get some help from the local authorities. Until then, we're on our own."

"Sounds like jolly good fun," said Maklavir sarcastically. He took a deep breath. "Right, so which way do we go, then, east or west?"

"North," said Kendril, staring ahead into the darkness. "That way we'll stay off the main road." He glanced through the gloom at the diplomat. "North of here is mostly marshlands, if I remember correctly. Might be a good place to lose some unwanted company."

"Or gain even more. Aren't the marshlands crawling with bandits?"

The Ghostwalker shrugged. "Right now I'd take the chance of bandits over the certainty of those bounty hunters." He stopped and patted Simon on the muzzle. The beast grunted affectionately.

"This looks like a good enough spot. We'll camp here, and get moving again in the morning when we can see what we're doing."

Maklavir tried to stifle a yawn, but was unsuccessful. "It's been a long night."

Kendril nodded, his eyes grim.

"It will be an even longer day."

****

Chapter 10

There was a continual flourish of movement, a rustle of flowing gowns that filled the ballroom. Music flowed gently across the scented air, and Jade stood entranced in the middle of the room as she watched the people around her swirl and dance in perfect unison. The men were dressed in immaculate uniforms, the women draped in dresses of vibrant colors and hues. They danced, hand in hand, oblivious to the young woman standing in their midst.

It was a dream, of course. It had to be. None of this was real. Yet, at the same time, it felt oddly familiar in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. She strained to see the faces of the people around her, but they were always hidden, sometimes by a darkened shadow, sometimes by a whirling piece of silk. Jade felt anger and frustration rising in her as she looked around desperately, trying to recognize any face, _any_ person in the dancing crowd. She knew this place. She had been here before. It was important, somehow....

She reached out for one of the dancers and vainly tried to catch hold of the edge of his cape. If only she could talk with one of them for a moment, ask them a question. They _knew_ who she was. They could tell her everything she needed to know. She lunged again, barely missing the hem of a woman's dress as she sailed by. Jade ground her teeth in frustration, and felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.

A sudden chill ran up her spine, taking her thoughts away from the people dancing around her. She spun around, staring into the twirling mass of dancers.

Something was moving towards her. Slowly, deliberately, it wove its way through the dancers. She could feel it as much as she could see it. A dark shape, cold and relentless. It moved straight towards her.

Jade stumbled backwards, and a sudden fear crowded into her mind. She tried to cry for help, but her mouth made no noise, and none of the dancers noticed her distress. They continued to brush by her, intent on their waltz. None noticed the chilling presence that moved ever closer across the dance floor.

Jade closed her eyes, feeling terror overwhelm her. A hand reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder...

"Jade?"

She woke suddenly, a familiar gloved hand on her shoulder. Jade stared up at the pale face hovering above her. It took her a few seconds to make sense of what she saw.

"Kendril?" She sat up, leaves falling down around her. It was still dark. "What time is it?"

Kendril rose to his feet. "Just before dawn. Sorry to wake you, but we need to get moving. That bounty hunter and his men will be on our trail come first light."

Jade staggered to her feet, brushing the dirt and twigs off her trousers and shaking off the blanket she had used for the night. Her eyes still burned from lack of sleep. "Where's Maklavir?"

"Over there, getting the animals ready. Hungry?"

Jade folded the blanket, shoving it under her arm. "Not really." The air was still cold. She shivered, suddenly wanting to wrap the blanket around herself again.

Kendril nodded. "We've got some bread and dried meat. It should make a gourmet meal in a couple hours." His smile vanished. "Gather your things together quickly, Jade. We have to be moving before the sun comes up."

She felt her stomach contract. "I understand," she said in a small voice.

Kendril turned and disappeared between two trees.

Jade got to her feet, rubbing her shoulders painfully. The dream still echoed in her mind, and the terror she had felt before still lingered. The early morning air seemed to close in around her on all sides. Unseen phantoms lurked in the pre-dawn blackness. She suddenly wished that Kendril had not left her alone.

Drawing her vest around her against the cold, Jade crunched through the leaves in the direction Kendril had taken. It was strange, she thought to herself, how glad she was to have him around. She had only known him for a little while, yet his presence was somehow reassuring.

She stopped for a moment, shivering again against the cold. In front of her she could just make out the shadowy forms of Maklavir and Kendril as they packed up the animals. She felt a sudden pang. Both these men were risking their lives to help her, and they barely knew her. She owed them everything, and she had no way to thank them.

The dream came back to her mind once again. She was sure it meant something. It held a clue, something about herself, something she felt she could almost remember, but was still shrouded in darkness.

Shivering again, but this time not because of the cold, she stepped towards her two companions.

The dawn came cold and gray, and the chill from the previous night continued to persist. A heavy fog hung over the forest, clouding the dripping branches and brambles in an impenetrable curtain. The blanket of mist seemed to silence the normal sounds of the forest, and as the three travelers made their way through the undergrowth they were met with nothing but a ghostly silence.

Jade felt particularly cold, and was not able to stop shivering until Maklavir noticed her, and handed her a blanket from off Veritas' back. She had smiled her gratitude, then wrapped herself in the coarse wool. It helped some, but not much.

Kendril led the small group, his rifle cradled in the crook of his arm. Simon following dutifully behind. The Ghostwalker looked continually apprehensive, as if he expected something to leap from the surrounding mist at any moment. He continued to scan the area around them as they walked, occasionally muttering quietly to himself.

Not that it really mattered. The fog hung so heavily that visibility was cut down to almost nothing. If there was a path or trail to be found, they would certainly miss it in this. Jade could only hope that the fog might also slow their pursuers, though she somehow doubted it.

And then there was the man with the eye patch. Who was he? How did she know him? Jade shuddered at the memory. That man, whoever he was, was somehow tied in with her past.

The past she couldn't remember.

"Are you all right, Jade?" Maklavir's voice broke Jade out of her thoughts. He was looking at her worriedly.

She managed a smile. "I'm fine. Sorry. Just thinking about...well, everything."

Maklavir nodded glumly, looking back in front of him as he led Veritas along. "Not remembering anything yet, I suppose?" he added hopefully.

Jade frowned. "I don't think so. Nothing important, anyway. I had a rather strange dream last night. A lot of people dancing around in a ballroom. I have no idea what it means."

The diplomat sighed. "I'm sorry about all this, Jade, I really am. I wish there was some way I could help."

She gave a tender smile. "You've helped more than enough all ready, Maklavir. More than I would have asked or expected."

Kendril's sudden materialization out of the mist in front of them caught both of their attention.

Maklavir stopped, patting Veritas reassuringly. "What is it?"

"A road." The hood covering his head darkened the Ghostwalker's face. "Just a few yards ahead. I can't see too far down it either direction, but it looks like it keeps going for a ways."

"These woods are crisscrossed with paths and small roads," said Maklavir. "We were bound to hit one sooner or later."

"Yeah, well this one's pretty big. Large enough for a good-sized cart, I'd say. It might be the road to Calbraith."

Jade glanced over at Maklavir, then back at Kendril. "So what do we do?"

The Ghostwalker shook some of the water off his cloak. "The way I see it, we have two options. Either we can follow the road and take our chances out in the open, or we can cross it and head into the forest on the other side." He turned to look into the swirling mist behind him. "Neither is very good, I'm afraid."

Jade rubbed her icy cheek, feeling the relative warmth of her hand against it. "Why not?"

Simon came trotting over and nudged Kendril insistently. The Ghostwalker irritably waved the beast away. "If we follow the road we risk our pursuers catching us on it. It would be hard to avoid being seen. Then again, we could certainly move a lot more quickly, and at least we would have some clue where we're going. As long as we're moving through the woods like this I have no idea where we are at all. We certainly can't go very fast."

Maklavir scratched his goatee. "Do we know where this road goes? Which direction, I mean?"

Kendril sighed. "Not really. With all this fog, I can't really tell. We might hit a sign or marker, though."

Jade's stomach growled suddenly. Simon bumped her affectionately, and she rubbed the beast's nose. "Well, at any rate I'm starved. Did you say we had bread?"

"Yes. Hang on, I've got it." Maklavir began to dig into one of the saddlebags, then tore a small loaf in half, handing part to Jade and taking a bite out of the other half himself. "Never pays to make a decision on an empty stomach, I always say."

The Ghostwalker scowled. "We can't linger here for long. We have to keep moving."

"Just for a moment, Kendril," said Maklavir. "Time for two bites, no more. It's been a long night."

The young man pushed back his hood, nodding wearily. "That it has. All right, a moment, but no longer." He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "It will give me a chance to think, anyway."

Jade leaned back against a wet sapling, digging into the stale bread as if it were roast mutton. Her eyes still burned. She felt as if she could fall down right here on the grass and sleep for hours. She shook her head, trying to keep her focus. Kendril was right. They had to keep moving. There would be time for sleep later. Well, she hoped there would be, anyway.

Kendril reached out a gloved hand, touching her bandaged wound. "How's the head?" he asked quietly.

She wiped some crumbs from her chin. "I forgot about it, actually," she said. "It doesn't hurt as much anymore."

"Hmm." Kendril eyed it carefully. "We might be able to take that bandage off now. Let me check." He began to work carefully with his gloved hands, fingering the edge of the bandage and tugging at it gently.

Jade stopped chewing, and stayed still as he worked. She watched his eyes carefully.

A smile formed on the Kendril's face. "It looks a lot better. Not entirely healed, mind you, but I think we can take this off." He removed the cloth entirely, wrapping it up and sticking it in one of the saddlebags.

"Thank you," she said.

"No problem," Kendril responded, grabbing his rifle from where he had leaned it against a rock. "You two ready to move out? We can eat while we walk."

Maklavir gave Jade a curious glance for few moments, then looked back at Kendril. "You've decided which way we should go, then?"

"More or less." The Ghostwalker frowned, checking his rifle instinctively. "My vote is the road. It's a risk, but I think it's the best chance we have of finding some kind of help. We can wander these woods for weeks without getting anywhere. We'll run out of supplies before then, and we'd still be no closer to safety."

Jade touched her wound carefully. It certainly seemed to be doing better. "Won't we be easier to spot out on the road?" she asked.

Kendril nodded. "Yes, but they still have to _find_ us first. They don't know which direction we're going, or which path we may be on." Satisfied with the rifle, he slung it back over his gamble. "Of course, it's a gamble either way."

Maklavir straightened his hat, the feather bouncing jovially. "You've convinced me. Better than being eaten by wolves, I say."

Jade nodded. She felt for the heavy shape of the pistol tucked into her belt. "I agree. The road it is."

The fog continued to hang heavily into the late morning, but slowly disappeared as the day wore on. The sky above the road turned startlingly blue, with occasional white clouds the only trace of the storm from the night before. The sun shone brightly on the ground in front of them, but it was still cold, and their breath hissed out in white vapors as they walked. Jade rubbed her hands continually in a vain attempt to keep warm, and kept the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Maklavir had started whistling a little tune, until Kendril shot him a withering glare. After that, they walked in silence for quite some time.

As they reached a section of the road that sloped gently downhill, Maklavir came up beside Kendril.

The diplomat cupped his hands around his nose, breathing into them to warm it. "Nasty cold spell we're having, eh?"

Kendril continued to scan the woods and road ahead of them, one hand near the stock of his rifle. "Better than rain."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Maklavir. "Rain can't give you frostbite."

Kendril swiveled his head to the right. His eyes probed the dark woods. "It's not cold enough out here for frostbite, Maklavir."

The diplomat chuckled. "I know, I know." He glanced over his shoulder.

Jade was walking several yards behind them, holding the reins to Veritas and huddling in the blanket.

Maklavir looked back to his front and lowered his voice."I wanted to talk to you."

"Then talk."

Maklavir rubbed his arms briskly. "I was wondering...well, actually, I was wondering what your plan is."

Kendril switched his gaze to the left side of the trail. "Follow this road."

"I meant _after_ that."

The Ghostwalker looked over at him.

"Look," Maklavir began, his voice still low, "Jade's in trouble. I don't know what kind of trouble, but it must be something serious indeed." He gave another anxious look behind him, but Jade was oblivious to their conversation. "That man she recognized, the one with the eye patch?"

Kendril's lip curled slightly. "What of him?"

"He wanted Jade _alive_ , Kendril." Maklavir tilted his head. "He could have killed her right there in the stable if he had wanted."

The Ghostwalker shifted the rifle in his arms. "What's your point?"

Maklavir gave a soft sigh. "I guess I don't really have one. She claims to have no memory of _anything_ before two days ago, right?"

"More or less."

"All I'm saying is that we don't know what we're getting ourselves involved in. It's possible we're in over our heads."

"You think?" Kendril shot back sarcastically.

"Still—" Maklavir began.

Kendril suddenly shot a hand up, silencing the diplomat. His head snapped around to look behind them.

Maklavir followed his gaze. "What is it?"

"Horses!" the Ghostwalker exclaimed, grabbing Simon's bridle. "Everyone off the road, now! Move!"

Jade turned, but the sloping road crested at a hill about fifty yards away, and she couldn't see beyond it. She pulled Veritas towards the grass and trees off to the side of the road, following Kendril as quickly as she could.

Maklavir followed behind them with one hand on the hilt of his sword. He glanced back up the road uncertainly.

"I say, Kendril," he said, "I don't see any—"

Kendril made a motion for him to be silent, then pulled him into the trees. "Get down," the Ghostwalker ordered. "Hurry!"

And then, suddenly, they all heard it. From over the rise, unmistakable in the clear cold air, came the sound of galloping hoof beats.

Jade pushed Veritas down as soon as they were far enough into the trees. The horse obediently complied. Simon stood around looking confused until Kendril pushed him into some bushes well out of sight. Maklavir dove into the low underbrush by Jade's side. By now the sound of galloping hoof beats echoed through the air, getting louder and louder.

Kendril slung his rifle off his shoulder and aimed it towards the road, steadying it against the trunk of a nearby tree. Jade watched him out of the corner of her eye, then hesitantly reached for the pistol in her belt. She pulled it out and flicked back the lock with trembling hands.

Mere seconds later two riders appeared over the rise, their horses foaming at the mouth. They pounded down the road, flying past the group's makeshift hiding spot and disappearing around a bend, mud flying in their wake.

For a moment none of the three travelers moved, waiting and watching the road.

Jade glanced over uncertainly at Kendril.

The Ghostwalker put up his rifle, returning her gaze. "I'll check it out. Stay here."

Jade nodded, her throat dry.

Kendril slipped through the bushes, heading down towards the now-empty road.

Maklavir slowly took his hand off the hilt of his sword.

Jade's eyes followed Kendril's movements as the Ghostwalker moved out towards the road, rifle at the ready. He scanned the path in both directions for a few minutes, then returned to where she and Maklavir were hiding.

"Either of you get a good look at the riders?"

Jade shook her head. "No. Do you think they were the men who were after us?"

Kendril shifted his weapon slightly. "I don't know. They could have been. They went by pretty fast. I couldn't make out their faces. Anyway, they're long gone now."

Maklavir got to his feet, stretching his legs. "Well they couldn't have been following our tracks very well at that speed," he said hopefully. "They looked more like they were trying to get somewhere in a hurry."

"Yeah." Kendril looked back towards the road. He didn't sound convinced. "I don't like this. We don't know what's ahead of us. Or behind us for that matter."

Maklavir grabbed his horse's bridle. "I've no doubt there's danger out on the road, but if we stay here in the forest we'll run out of supplies before long. This route is our best bet. If we can make it to a good-sized town near Calbraith or Llewyllan, we might be able to get some help."

"Neither is exactly close," said Kendril doubtfully. "Llewyllan must be at least a week's journey east of here. Calbraith is even farther."

"But surely there must be _towns_ that are closer." Maklavir gestured with his hand towards the road. "If this _is_ the road to Calbraith, then it must pass by some kind of habitation."

Kendril sighed. "I don't think this is the main road to Calbraith. None of these surroundings look familiar."

"These woods are huge. There's nothing to say this road doesn't lead us out, even if it's not one of the main thoroughfares." Maklavir shaded his eyes, looking up towards the shimmering shape of the sun through the trees. "It seems to be heading consistently east so far. That's a good sign."

"I agree," admitted Kendril. "Perhaps if we—" his sentence was cut short as he caught sight of Jade.

She was staring, pale-faced, at both of them.

"My dear girl!" exclaimed Maklavir. He had noticed her as well. "Whatever's wrong? You look as though you've seen a ghost!"

Jade blinked, as if waking from a dream. "I—I'm sorry. I'm all right. It's something you said. Llewyllan...Calbraith...." She looked at them helplessly. "I _know_ those names. I've heard them before, I think...I—" Her voice cut off. "I'm sorry, I really don't know what's come over me."

"You recognize the names?" Maklavir leaned forward suddenly, giving the girl a hard look. "Llewyllan? That means something to you?"

Kendril sighed. "My, a geography lesson. This really _is_ helpful." He crossed his arms, looking over at Maklavir.

The diplomat was staring at Jade with an odd expression.

Kendril raised his eyebrows. "What is it, Maklavir?"

The diplomat shook his head, as if awakening from a dream himself. "Nothing, nothing. My mind running away with me, that's all." He put a hand on Jade's shoulder. "At least you're starting to remember some things, my girl. That's an encouraging sign."

"Yeah, well we need to figure out what we're doing from here," broke in Kendril once more. "Do we stay on the road?"

Jade passed her hand over her eyes, as if bringing herself back to reality. "Yes...yes I think we should." She looked at Kendril. "Maklavir is right. If we can find a town, we might be able to get some help. I think we should continue east, at any rate."

"I agree," said Maklavir quietly. He still seemed a little shaken by something. "Those riders may not have been the bounty hunter's men. Even if they were, they don't seem to have seen us."

"It's what they may be doing _ahead_ of us that worries me," said Kendril. "We may be walking into an ambush." He sighed. "Still, I think you're both right. It's this or nothing." He grabbed Simon's bridle roughly, pulling the poor mule away from a juicy plot of grass. "We should stay off the road from here on out, though. We can travel in the woods off to one side. It will be slower, but safer."

Jade nodded. "That sounds good," she said. She started to say something else, but stopped. Her face flushed slightly.

"All right," said Kendril, "let's get going. And keep a sharp eye out, both of you." He turned, leading Simon through the tumbled bushes.

Jade was silent a moment. Her gaze followed Kendril. She turned back to Maklavir. "I can take Veritas, if you like."

"No," said the diplomat pleasantly. "I think I can handle him for a while."

She glanced back in the direction that Kendril had taken. "Okay. I think I might walk up front with Kendril for a while, then." She looked back at Maklavir, and her face flushed a bright red. "And take Simon, I mean."

Maklavir smiled. "That sounds marvelous."

Jade turned, following after the Ghostwalker and his mule.

The diplomat watched her for a moment, his brow knitted into a frown. "Let's hope my mind _is_ running away with me," he said quietly to himself.

****

Chapter 11

The going proved to be much more difficult in the forest. The three travelers once more found themselves tripping over tree roots and getting slapped by branches. The sun continued to shine brightly above, but the shade cast by the trees continued to deny them even that small bit of warmth. The road was always on their left, sometimes clearly visible, and other times lost behind a curtain of foliage. Jade found herself wishing from time to time that they might just risk the open road again. It had certainly been much easier.

Kendril continued to keep his rifle at the ready, and kept glancing nervously out at the road whenever it was visible. They saw no one else, however. Only the cold wind blowing through the trees and the occasional chirping of a half-frozen bird kept them company.

Jade stumbled as they walked, slipping on a slimy rock.

Kendril quickly reached out a gloved hand and caught her by the arm before she fell. "Easy," he said. "Watch your footing."

"Thanks," she said. Simon grunted behind her. She pulled on the bridle. "He seems to want something."

Kendril brushed a low-hanging branch out of his way. "He wants a c-a-r-r-o-t."

"A what?"

He sighed. "A c-a-r-r-o-t. I can't say the word. He knows what it means. I gave him my last one this morning."

"Ah, I see." Jade tried to peer through the trees to her left, but she couldn't see the road. Maklavir was a few yards behind them with Veritas, humming quietly to himself. Jade looked back over at the Ghostwalker walking silently beside her.

"I think it's starting to warm up a bit," she commented.

Kendril didn't take his eyes off the forest ahead of them. "Not much."

Jade brushed back a few strands of her hair, then laughed.

"What?"

She shook her head, smiling. "I was trying to start a conversation. I think you just killed it."

Kendril looked over at her, a half-smile forming on his face. "What should I have said?"

Jade avoided a brown puddle. "Something fresh and invigorating."

"Fresh and invigorating?" Kendril glanced up at the sky. "All right, give me a minute here. Fresh and invigorating. That's a tough one."

The young woman gave a soft laugh. "Surely you can think of something?"

He looked back at her, his face changing slightly. "I can think of one thing." He paused for a moment.

"Well now you've got me curious." Jade smiled. "Are you just going to leave me hanging?"

The Ghostwalker smiled. "No. Perish the thought." He looked away. "Your hair is very beautiful. That's what I was thinking."

She stared at him, suddenly self-conscious. "That wasn't what I was expecting you to say," she said quietly.

Kendril gave a crooked grin. "There, you see? I'm full of surprises." He readjusted the rifle in his hands. "Your eyes are beautiful as well." He turned his head towards her, as if appraising her. "You are a very beautiful woman, all in all. I thought so the moment I first saw you."

Jade seemed to suddenly find her voice. "What, you mean when I was unconscious and tied to a tree?" she laughed. "I hardly think I was a picture of beauty."

"Quite the contrary. Dirt and a little bit of smeared blood can do wonders for a woman's complexion."

She lifted one hand to her head mockingly. "You make a regular habit of rescuing beautiful damsels in distress, I suppose?"

Kendril glanced towards the road again. "You'd be the first, actually."

Jade pulled the blanket further up around her neck. "The first damsel you've ever rescued?"

"The first _beautiful_ damsel. The rest were quite ugly."

She laughed, then gave Simon a brief scratch on the nose. The mule snorted happily. She looked over at Kendril.

"So," she said lightly, "surely there have been other beautiful women in your life. Ones you haven't rescued," she added, then stopped abruptly.

A sudden shadow of pain passed over the Ghostwalker's face. He quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. Her stomach felt sick. "I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to—"

Kendril turned his head away, his face hidden from view. "Forget it."

Jade opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She felt a burning in the back of her throat.

"I say," came Maklavir's voice from behind them, "I hate to interrupt, but does anyone else hear that?"

Kendril and Jade both stopped.

"Water," said Kendril after a moment's silence. "A river?"

"And not far ahead, by the sound of it," Maklavir responded.

Kendril took his rifle in his hands and wedged his way through two bushes. Jade followed quickly after him. Maklavir hesitated for a moment, then deftly tossed Veritas' bridle over a low-hanging branch and followed his two companions as well.

Simon, left alone for the moment, immediately began chomping on a clump of clover.

Tripping and sliding his way down a short incline, Maklavir tumbled to a stop next to Jade and Kendril, who were already crouching in some bushes next to the road. The diplomat brushed some dirt off his sleeve, then kneeled down next to them.

They were only a few yards away from the main road, which stretched off to the west, disappearing over a small rise. To the east it wound down to the banks of a large river, no more than a hundred yards or more from where they were hiding. The tree line stopped well short of the flowing water, and the area near the river's edge was grassy and clear. The road continued over a large stone bridge, passing into the tangled forest on the other side. An old stone mill stood on the far bank next to the bridge. Over everything was heard the gurgling of the swiftly moving current, the water splashing softly around the stone arches of the bridge.

Maklavir pushed back his cap, scratching his head. "We must be further east than we thought."

Kendril turned towards the diplomat. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "The only river I know of that passes through the Howling Woods would be—"

"The Arneth," said Jade unexpectedly. Both men turned towards her in surprise. Her eyes grew wide. "I—I don't know how I knew that...."

Kendril turned his eyes back towards the road. "Since both of you seem to have known this river was here," he growled, "it might have been good if you had told me ahead of time."

Maklavir pulled his cap back on straight. "The Arneth comes into the Howling Woods, but it cuts out again. Right through the top northeast corner, if I remember correctly."

"I know," said Kendril irritably. "I just didn't realize we'd be hitting it so _soon_."

Maklavir gave his companion a confused look. "But this is good news, right? Hitting the river means we must be close to the edge of the woods. Once we're out, we should be able to find a town, or maybe even—"

"We're not crossing this river," said Kendril, taking his rifle and moving back towards the trees. "We're turning around."

Maklavir leapt to his feet. "Whatever for?"

The Ghostwalker turned around, his figure half-hidden by some ferns. "Because that bridge is a death-trap. Worse than the road. If we walk out onto it, we could be walking right into an ambush."

Jade got to her feet as well. "You don't think the bounty hunter is waiting for us _here_?"

The Ghostwalker gave the bridge another glance. "Why not? It's a perfect place to spring an attack."

Maklavir rolled his eyes. "And you want us to go back the way we came? You can't be serious. For all we know those men chasing us may be on the road _behind_ us."

"Then we go north, or south," said Kendril, "and stay in the woods, out of sight. We can follow the river until it leads us out."

"That could take days," said Maklavir. "We don't have enough supplies to last that long. We certainly can't keep wandering these woods forever."

"I think Maklavir is right," said Jade softly. "We have to take the chance, Kendril."

The Ghostwalker lowered his hood, rubbing his gloved hand across his face. He looked down the road to the west, then back to the bridge. His eyes were red from lack of sleep.

"It looks quiet enough," commented Maklavir helpfully.

"Of course it looks quiet," Kendril said scathingly. "An ambush always _looks_ quiet." He sighed heavily, tapping his hand absently against the stock of his rifle.

Jade sat down again on a relatively dry clump of grass. "You're thinking about those riders we saw, aren't you?"

Kendril looked at her. "Yes." He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting back and forth between the bridge and the road.

"All right," he said at last. He grabbed his rifle and checked the flint. "We'll cross. But I'm going first. You two stay here with the animals, off the trail and out of sight."

"Kendril—" Jade began.

"This is not open to discussion," said Kendril sharply. "I'll go first, and make sure the coast is clear. I'll signal to both of you when it's safe."

Jade swallowed her next comment. She looked over her shoulder at the bridge. A slight breeze rustled through the tree branches above them, making her shiver and pull the blanket closer.

"I should come with you." Maklavir adjusted his cape against the same cold breeze. "Two would be better than one."

"You need to stay with Jade," said Kendril without looking up. He turned the rifle over, checking it over carefully. "If anything _does_ happen, the two of you need to get out of here as quickly as possible." He stood up and took the weapon in both hands. "Stay out of sight."

"Right," said Maklavir, "if anything goes wrong, we'll run off and leave you to your death. That way we can cook your donkey and eat it when we run out of food."

Jade smiled despite herself.

Kendril shot Maklavir a cold glare. "He's a _mule_ ," he said, then started towards the road.

The bridge looked old. Moss and lichen grew in the cracks between the stone, and there was still a trace of dampness from the rain the night before. The sun had done a good job of drying most of the slippery surface, however, and it was not yet cold enough for ice to form. A small railing about three feet high, also made of stone, ran along either side of the bridge. Two small birds were flitting around each other, perched on one side of the railing. As Kendril drew closer they both scattered into the nearby trees.

As soon as the forest on either side of the road melted away, Kendril felt suddenly vulnerable. He searched the banks of the river as far as he could see, his rifle at the ready, but nothing seemed to move. He turned to look over his shoulder, but the road behind him was empty as well. No sign of Maklavir and Jade, either, which was good. At least they had actually listened when he had told them to stay hidden.

It really was crazy, he thought as he stepped onto the bridge. Here he was, risking his life for two people he had met only days ago. Actually, he had met Maklavir just yesterday. It somehow seemed much longer.

The wind was blowing more briskly out on the river, and Kendril's cloak flapped around him in the icy gusts. He pushed his hood out of the way of his face, his eyes watering from the cold air. He felt naked out here in the open, with nothing to hide behind. It was not usually in his nature to make himself such an easy target.

Kendril stopped about a third of the way down the bridge, searching the banks on either side of the river. He stepped to the edge of the bridge, leaning over the railing and looking down into the foaming water below. The only sounds were the whistling of the wind and the noise of the river beneath his feet. Gathering his cloak tightly around him against the breeze, Kendril continued towards the opposite side.

There was still nothing. No movement, no shouting, and no ambush. As Kendril drew closer to the mill, he realized that the wheel was not turning and the windows were boarded up as well. It looked abandoned.

Before he knew it Kendril had reached the end of the bridge. The stone railing on the right hand side merged directly into the mill. A large wooden door in the building's side opened up onto the area just before the bridge. Kendril brought up his rifle, holding it with his right hand while he reached out to test the door with his left.

It rattled, but didn't budge. Locked. He took a step back, staring up carefully at the gray boards covering the windows. It looked like it was home only to owls and field mice. Kendril glanced back down the length of the bridge, then trudged cautiously up the dirt road towards the tree line. The area between the bridge and the forest, like the western side of the bridge, was relatively open, but the road quickly curved out of sight as soon as it entered the forest.

A squirrel pranced madly up the nearest tree as Kendril entered the woods. He examined both sides of the road carefully as he walked, stopping about fifty yards in. For several moments he merely stood and listened, his rifle at the ready and his senses alert.

Everything seemed fine. More than fine, actually. Everything seemed completely safe. Yet there was still an uneasy buzzing in the back of Kendril's mind. Something was amiss here, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. A more accomplished woodsman might have better read the signs, but as far as he could tell nothing was wrong.

He cursed softly to himself, searching the forest again. A bird chattered somewhere in the treetops, answered quickly by yet another on the other side of the road. Kendril hesitated for one moment longer, torn by one last shred of doubt.

They couldn't go back. Maklavir was right on that count. If the bounty hunter had picked up their trail he and his men could be behind them even now. Turning around could be disastrous.

Kendril slung the rifle onto his shoulder, giving one last long look down the road to the east. The sun was starting to descend in the western sky, and the forest was beginning to grow dimmer as the light faded. It would be nightfall in just an hour or so. Their time was running out and he had to make a decision. And he already knew what it had to be.

They had to cross, and they had to do it _now_.

Uneasily, but with a new sense of determination, Kendril turned back towards the bridge.

Maklavir suddenly straightened. "There's Kendril. He's coming back out onto the bridge."

Jade sat up. "Is he okay?" she asked eagerly.

The finely dressed man squinted. "Looks like it." He smiled. "He's signaling. Looks like everything is clear." He got to his feet, untying Veritas from where the horse was tethered at a nearby tree. "Grab that blasted donkey and let's get going."

Jade got up as well, her face showing the relief she felt. "No argument here."

Kendril walked about a third of the way out onto the bridge, then stopped, leaning against the stone railing. He set the rifle down beside him, then gathered his black cloak around him against the wind. On the opposite bank he could see Maklavir and Jade emerge from the trees off the side of the road, lugging the animals behind them. He glanced back behind him once more, but the road leading eastwards into the forest was still empty.

He gazed back at Maklavir and Jade. The two had left the cover of the woods, and were almost to the bridge. But for some reason, Kendril just couldn't seem to relax. He felt tense, almost completely on edge.

Something was still wrong. He could feel it.

Kendril's companions started out onto the bridge, walking side by side. Maklavir said something, and Jade laughed. The sound reached Kendril's ears even where he stood waiting, and he felt a strange feeling come over him. For a moment he allowed his mind to wander, thinking about the strange girl he had only met days before. He glanced down at the stone pavement of the bridge, remembering the sting of their earlier conversation. Jade hadn't meant any harm, of course. She had just been curious. Still, there were some things that Kendril could still not speak of, especially not to her.

He smiled as the sudden irony hit him. Jade couldn't remember her past, and he couldn't talk about his. No wonder conversation between them was difficult.

Scratching the side of his neck thoughtfully, Kendril glanced back up again.

His heart stopped mid-beat.

"She didn't know it had come loose?" Jade giggled, giving Simon a gentle pull. "You're joking."

"Sadly, no," said Maklavir with a twinkle in his eye. "Of course, no one had the courage to tell the Grand Duchess that her wig was askew. The poor woman kept eating her soup for a good ten minutes before she figured it out."

Jade giggled again, covering her mouth with her hand. "Didn't the Grand Duke notice?"

"He," said the young man with a full grin, "was trying too hard not to laugh. His whole face was turning purple. And what's more—" He stopped suddenly, staring ahead. "Hello? What in Eru's name is that man up to now?"

The girl followed his gaze.

Kendril turned towards them, his rifle in his hands. He brought it up to his shoulder, preparing to fire.

Jade felt her stomach drop.

She spun around, Simon's bridle dropping from her hand.

Behind them on the road, not more than a hundred yards away, were two men on horseback with swords in their hands. Both were coming down the road at a full gallop.

It was a trap.

****

Chapter 12

Kendril allowed himself one fraction of a second for grinding self-blame. He should have gone with his gut and avoided the bridge like the plague. It was the kind of mistake an amateur might have made, and he was no amateur. In all likelihood he had just gotten them all killed. Well, he and Maklavir, anyway.

The rifle was at his shoulder in an instant, and without thinking he snapped back the lock, readying the weapon to fire.

Jade and Maklavir had seen the two riders by now, and they were moving as quickly as they could.

Kendril just hoped it would be quickly enough.

He sighted down the length of the rifle, swiftly lining it up with one of the approaching horsemen. It was a difficult shot. His friends were partly in the way, and there was nothing to rest the rifle on in order to steady it.

Two riders, one shot. There was certainly no way he could reload the weapon again before they would be on him. It would be pistol and sword work then.

And where were the other two men? The bounty hunter had had three henchmen that Kendril had seen. There should be four of them all together. Perhaps they had split up?

Tracking the horseman on the right with his rifle, Kendril fired.

Maklavir drew his sword. The steel flashed momentarily in the setting sun.

Jade continued to stare at the two men riding towards them, her body paralyzed with terror.

"Jade!" Maklavir vaulted onto Veritas, breaking her from her trance. He held his hand out to her.

Jade shook her head, forcing herself out of her shock. She grabbed the diplomat's outstretched hand, and he pulled her onto the horse behind him. Simon brayed loudly, turning in all directions in an agitated manner. Jade wrapped her arms around Maklavir's waist, then looked back over her shoulder.

The riders were almost upon them, close enough for her to make out their faces quite clearly. One had a musket slung over his back, but neither had the tell-tale eye patch.

Neither one was the bounty hunter, at least.

She felt Maklavir dig both heels into his horse's flanks. Veritas gave a cry, then leapt forward, his hoofs pounding on the stones beneath them.

At the same moment, a rifle shot cracked out through the cold air.

A cloud of blue smoke exploded in front of Kendril's face and his ears rang from the sound of the gun. He stepped swiftly to the side, slinging the smoking rifle onto his back and reaching for his pistols.

No good. The two riders were still coming. His shot had missed.

Kendril swore under his breath, pulling out a pistol in each hand and readying them to fire.

Oh, well. It had been a difficult shot to begin with.

The white shape of Veritas maneuvered around Kendril's panicking mule, and came racing down the bridge. Maklavir was urging the horse onwards, and Jade was right behind him. The horsemen were on the bridge now, and one of the riders gave a swipe of his sword at Simon, who hurried out of the way, braying like a little mare. Kendril sighed, raising his pistols.

Worthless animal.

Maklavir and Jade were coming up fast. He waved them on with one of his pistols, pressing himself against the side of the bridge. If they could get by, he might be able to hold the other two riders back, or at least slow them down. It wasn't a very good chance, but it was the only one they had.

Just as he was contemplating which horseman to shoot at first, Kendril heard Jade shouting his name over the clattering of hooves. For a moment he couldn't tell what she was saying.

And then, as if the shutters of a lantern had been thrown open, he realized what was going on. He snapped his head to the right and looked behind him.

Two men were emerging from the mill, carrying crossbows. They were blocking the end of the bridge.

There was no way out.

Montrose had never considered himself an exceptionally gifted person.

He was a decent fighter, surely, but no monster in hand-to-hand combat. He was a fair marksman, perhaps, but no archery competitions were in his near future. As for tracking, he was probably as good as most woodsmen, but certainly didn't count himself amongst the best.

No, he was definitely not an exceptional individual in any particular aspect. But there was one thing that Montrose did have in abundance, and it was no coincidence that it was the one thing any good hunter needed.

He was a very, _very_ patient man.

After the events of the previous evening Montrose had begun to think he had bitten off more than he could chew. The Ghostwalker had already killed four of his men, the girl had gotten clean away, and the rest of his men were ready to mutiny and hand him his own head on a pike. Things were about as dark as they could possibly get.

But in the morning, when they had found the trail, Montrose had regained some hope. The Ghostwalker was a fantastic swordsman, no doubt, but obviously knew little about tracking or forestry. The trail they had left behind had been an easy one to follow, with trampled grass, broken branches, and footprints that even an amateur could pick out. Truth be told, the trail had been so obvious that Montrose had at first suspected that it must have been a fake to lead them off in the wrong direction. That had quickly proved to be an unfounded fear.

As soon as he knew the girl and her newfound companions were heading north, he knew that he had them. There was nothing to the west for miles. The girl would head east. It was the quickest way for her to get help, but it would also prove to be her undoing.

There was a bridge, Montrose knew, just a few miles down the eastern road. It crossed the Arneth River, and the girl and the two men she was with had to cross it if they wanted to get out of the woods. It was the ideal spot to trap them, and Montrose was not one to let such a golden opportunity slip by. He had ordered Derik and Calham to continue following their quarry's trail down the eastern road, while he and Uther had galloped ahead to the bridge. Once they had arrived, Montrose had tied up their horses deep in the woods on the far side of the river, then he and Uther had hidden in the old mill, barricading the door and trying to stay as quiet as possible.

There had been some tense moments, of course, like when the Ghostwalker had appeared on the bridge.

Uther had started to remove the boards from one of the windows to shoot the man, and Montrose had been half-tempted to let him. But as always, it was Montrose's patience that won the day. If the Ghostwalker was shot down on the bridge, the girl and the other man, assuming they were somewhere nearby, would flee. The only thing to be done was to wait it out, and try to catch the whole lot of them at once.

Montrose and Uther had held their breaths in the dark, hay-filled lower room of the mill as the Ghostwalker had unsuccessfully tried the door. For a moment the bounty hunter had thought they were given away, but his fears proved false.

The man had continued up the road and disappeared into the forest.

It was here again that doubts began to play over Montrose's mind. What if the Ghostwalker had separated from the others? What if he actually _was_ alone, or going for help while the girl and the other man hid out in the woods? As the seconds had crept by and nothing happened, Uther had become more and more impatient, and Montrose more and more doubtful.

But patience, as Montrose's father used to tell him, is always a hunter's best weapon. A few minutes later, after a suffocatingly long wait, the Ghostwalker had reappeared on the bridge, and signaled the other two, who had come out of hiding.

It had been a near-perfect set-up. Derik and Calham had been tailing the girl, staying just out of sight and waiting for her and the man in the purple cape to break cover and reach the bridge.

And now, as Montrose and Uther emerged from the stuffy mill, he knew that he finally had her.

She and her companions was trapped. There was no place for them to go.

Of course, a trapped animal was always the most dangerous, and the Ghostwalker would not go down easily. The next few seconds would decide everything, and Montrose had no intention of letting his prey escape again.

Taking quick stock of the situation, he barked rapid orders to Uther.

The henchman quickly raised his crossbow, looking for a good shot.

Derik and Calham were bearing down on the bridge from the west, their swords glinting red in the fading daylight.

Montrose allowed himself a quick grin.

He finally had them.

"Maklavir!" Jade cried, pointing to the far end of the bridge.

The diplomat's heart sank.

Two men were emerging from the mill, crossbows at the ready.

Maklavir pulled back on the reins, bringing Veritas to a rearing halt. Jade held on for dear life.

He swiveled his head to look behind him. Veritas champed at his bit and stomped impatiently at the stones beneath him.

The scene was enough to freeze the blood in his veins. The two horsemen were crashing down upon Kendril, who was standing in the middle of the bridge with a pistol in each hand, ready to fire.

Maklavir felt a begrudging swell of admiration for the man. The Ghostwalker might be a less-than-desirable traveling companion, but one could certainly not doubt his courage.

He swung his head back around to the left. The two crossbowmen were completely blocking the end of the bridge. There was no way off.

With a sudden, lurching feeling in his stomach, Maklavir realized that they were all going to die.

His last thought, strangely, was of a feather bed.

Not the cheap kind, but the ones made of real goose down, with the pillows that were so soft and deep that you could sink your head into them and never come out. It had been years since he had slept in a feather bed. Actually, come to think of it, it had been weeks at least since he had slept in a proper bed at all.

Yes, one more night in a feather bed would have been nice. He was really going to miss that.

With a spark and then a roar, both of Kendril's pistols fired, spitting out flame and smoke.

One of the lead balls missed, tearing through the sleeve of the rider on the left. He barely noticed its passage.

The other shot, however, struck the horse on the right squarely in the neck.

With a pitiful scream the animal crashed to the ground, its legs kicking wildly. The rider was thrown clear over the head of his mount, the sword flying loose from his hand and skittering down the cobbled bridge.

Kendril flung himself backwards just as the second horse stumbled over the fallen form of the first, unable to stall its headlong flight.

The bridge was too narrow to allow for much maneuvering. The second rider tumbled off his horse as the poor animal gave a great whinny as it desperately to keep from falling.

The horse of the first rider was already in its death throes, giving out heart-rending screams that mixed with the shouts and curses of the men.

Kendril leapt backwards to avoid the crashing beasts, and deftly holstered both of his pistols. He risked a brief glance behind him.

The idiot diplomat was sitting just a few yards away on his horse, staring at him blankly.

" _Go_!" Kendril shouted. He drew one of his short swords. Without waiting to see if his order was obeyed, he snapped his head back around.

One of the men had gotten to his feet, and was coming at him with a sword already in mid-swing.

Uther spun his crossbow around and lined it up with the white horse and its two riders.

Montrose cursed and smacked the henchman's weapon away. "Don't shoot!" he raged. "You'll hit the girl!"

Uther opened his mouth to reply when the air was torn by two gunshots in rapid succession, followed by a cacophony of horse screams and shouts.

Montrose looked back down the bridge.

Unbelievable. The accursed Ghostwalker had brought down both horses.

Shouldering his crossbow, Montrose leapt up onto the side rail of the bridge for a better shot, squaring the weapon's sights on the man in the black cloak.

It was high time he brought this menace down.

Kendril's shout seemed to wake Maklavir from a dream.

The diplomat turned toward the two crossbowmen at the end of the bridge, then swallowed. Tugging hard on the bridle, he pulled Veritas around and gripped his sword all the tighter.

Right. Death or glory, then, and all that rot.

"Hold on!" he shouted back to Jade, then kicked his heels into the sides of his horse, The animal obediently catapulted towards the far end of the bridge. The diplomat extended his sword down into a striking position, his heart in his throat.

Charging two armed crossbowmen was nothing short of sheer madness. He and Jade would most certainly be killed. Well, _he_ would be killed, at least. As long as Jade stayed behind him she might survive. If he could shield her, that is.

He would try. It was the only gentlemanly thing to do.

Kendril barely got his sword out in time to block the incoming blow.

The harsh clash of metal on metal rang in his ears as the force of the attack smashed him back into the stone railing. He almost lost his footing. The long rifle slung on his back came loose from the impact and clattered to the ground.

He didn't have time to retrieve it.

With blurring speed the henchman hammered his sword down in another blow.

This time Kendril was more prepared.

He caught the blow on the edge of his own sword and deflected it, then pressed forward with an attack of own.

The man tripped backwards and barely managed to avoid the Ghostwalker's flashing blade.

The horse Kendril had shot had finally stopped thrashing, the gushing blood from its wound staining the cobblestones of the bridge. The second rider was screaming obscenities, his leg trapped under the animal's body.

The first rider's horse had regained its footing, and was retreating down the bridge to the west.

The only intelligent one in the lot, Kendril mused.

He came in fast with his blade, throwing two hard strikes at the standing rider.

The man, panicked from the sudden onslaught, barely blocked the attacks. He tripped over the outstretched leg of the dead horse behind him and lost his balance.

Kendril took a step back, then turned for an instant to look behind him.

In that exact moment, something hit him hard on his left side ad threw him backwards.

Jade held on to Maklavir's waist as tightly as she could. The pounding of Veritas' hooves filled her ears as she peered around the diplomat's side.

The bounty hunter with the eye patch was up on the railing of the bridge, aiming his crossbow. She saw him fire, and the weapon gave a low _thump_ as the bolt sang through the air.

A sudden blind terror filled her mind. She turned to look behind her.

Kendril was hurled back against the side of the bridge, and his sword fell to the ground.

He had been hit.

Before Jade quite knew what she was doing, she leapt off the back of the horse.

She hit the ground, bracing her fall as well as she could with her hands. The right leg of her trousers tore open as her knee scraped against the rough stone.

Biting back the pain, she got to her feet, one hand reaching for the pistol in her belt. She ran back towards the stricken Ghostwalker, her knee surging with pain at each step.

Cold air stung Maklavir's eyes as he came up fast towards the end of the bridge. He heard a crossbow fire off to his left.

Rather miraculously, nothing happened.

That was rather odd. A white horse with two riders at point-blank range was a difficult target to miss.

Maklavir swung his sword up. Its keen edge glimmered in the fading light.

The second crossbowmen stared up at him in a panicked and confused manner, as if uncertain what to do.

Maklavir shut his eyes and prepared to strike as Veritas pounded forwards.

He could only hope that his luck would continue to hold.

Kendril felt his lower back slam against the side of the bridge. His vision swirled as he crashed to the ground.

Disoriented, he grabbed at the railing and tried to pull himself back to his feet.

His side flared with a tearing pain that almost blinded him. He lost his hold on the railing and slipped down to the ground again.

He had been hit. Shot by one of the crossbowmen at the end of the bridge, no doubt. Kendril could feel the bolt as it burned like a hot iron in his side. It was a bad wound, he thought as he tried to get to his feet once more. He could already feel warm blood running down his left pants leg.

Grinding his teeth against the searing pain, Kendril managed to make it to his knees and pressed his right hand against his side. He lifted his head and tried to focus through the red fog that was clouding his vision.

The first rider had regained his feet, and was coming at him again. The man drew back his sword for a killing blow.

Kendril started to lift his own sword to parry the strike, until the truth dawned on him.

The sword was no longer in his hand.

Maklavir swung his blade with all his might, closing his eyes at the last moment. He never could stand the sight of blood, his or anyone else's.

He didn't feel his blade hit anything, which didn't really surprise him. What did surprise him was the fact that he was still alive several seconds later.

Opening his eyes, he saw the brown dirt of the road stretching before him, and the trees of the forest looming ahead.

He was off the bridge.

Uther hurled himself out of the way, flattening himself up against the wall of the mill. He covered his head as the white horse and its purple-caped rider flew by him, and heard the _swish_ of the rider's sword as they thundered past.

Montrose screamed out a string of obscenities as he fired off his second shot at the retreating figure.

The bolt flew wide.

"Talin's ashes!" the bounty hunter blared as he leapt down off the railing onto the bridge. "Why didn't you _shoot_?!"

Uther stared at his boss blankly for a moment.

"You told me not to," he said, confusion filling his voice.

Montrose swore again and drew his iron mace. "The girl's not _on_ the horse any more, you idiot! She's on the _bridge_!"

Before Uther could even think of a reply, a gunshot blasted into the air.

The sword was halfway to Kendril's head when it suddenly flew out of the henchman's hands. Sparks exploded from the blade.

The astonished henchman leapt back, holding his arm at the wrist and cursing loudly.

Kendril glanced to the side, ignoring the pain as he moved.

Jade was about ten yards away, a smoking pistol in her hand. The bullet must have struck the rider's sword, he realized, and had almost shattered the blade in the process.

It was certainly one of the best shots he had ever seen in his life.

Kendril turned his head back to the stunned rider. The man had noticed Jade as well.

The henchman's eyes flittered down to Kendril's sword, lying where he had dropped it a few feet away.

Recovering quickly, the man lunged forward and his hand reached for the weapon.

Jade stared. The billowing smoke from the pistol made her eyes water.

She had hit the rider's sword dead in the center. It had been one shot in a million, and one that had undoubtedly saved Kendril's life.

Of course, she had been aiming for the man's head.

A shout from her caused her to whirl around.

Maklavir and Veritas were quickly disappearing into the forest far beyond the bridge, almost out of sight.

The two men with the crossbows were running down the bridge towards her, blocking off any chance of escape in that direction.

With trembling fingers she reached for one of the extra pistol cartridges in her pocket.

Maklavir flinched involuntarily as the crossbow bolt zinged past him. It missed him by a good foot or two.

Incredulous at his good fortune, he urged Veritas on. He was quickly passing down the dirt road into the safety of the forest. A pistol shot sounded from the bridge behind him, but he didn't dare to risk a look back.

The road curved to the left, and he followed it for several seconds. His sword was still in his hand, though the blade was shaking violently for some reason.

Oh, right. That would be because his hand was shaking. And his heart was still lodged in his throat, despite his best efforts to force it back down to its proper place. Charging those two crossbowmen had been one of the most insane things he had ever done. He couldn't quite believe he was still alive.

Actually, he thought, it felt rather good. Not that he'd ever want to do it again, mind.

Kendril, on the other hand, was almost certainly dead by now. The Ghostwalker had bravely given his life for them, for somehow Maklavir doubted that even _that_ man could fight off four villains at the same time.

Still, Kendril's death would not be in vain. At least Jade was safe.

"I say, Jade," he said, turning in the saddle, "We don't—"

He blinked in dumbfounded amazement. Jade was no longer behind him.

Veritas slid to a snorting stop as the diplomat yanked back on the reins. He swung the beast around, staring behind him at the empty road.

The girl was nowhere to be seen.

Come to think of it, Maklavir hadn't felt her arms around his waist for a while, not since...well, not since back on the—

"Oh, bother," he said.

The rider's hand was almost to the hilt of the sword when Kendril slammed into him and knocked the henchman a few steps back.

Off balance, Kendril tried to grab the sword himself, but the shooting pain in his side caused him to stumble. He caught at the rail for support instead and almost blacked out from the pain.

The henchman recovered immediately, and ran back at Kendril with a bloodcurdling shout. One hand reached for a knife at his belt.

Gathering every ounce of strength that he had left, Kendril stepped to the side, then threw himself forward. He smashed into the man and grabbed at the hand trying to draw the knife.

Kendril tried to shout back at Jade, to tell her to run, but his voice vanished in his throat. Pain tore through his body, and purple splotches sparkled before his eyes. He could already feel blood soaking the entire left side of his shirt and pants, even the top of his boots. The crossbow bolt burned into his side. Kendril had to fight every second not to scream from the pain.

By sheer strength of will he fought off the dizzying shock, then spun to the side and aimed a kick at the man's leg.

It was an old trick, but it worked. The rider was so intent on getting his knife loose that he didn't see the blow coming until it was too late.

Kendril's heavy boot snapped the man's knee back and he toppled to the ground. The Ghostwalker staggered back, and reached for his sword lying on the ground.

It was the only chance he had.

Jade ripped the cartridge open with her teeth. She tried her best to hold the pistol steady despite her trembling hands.

Behind her she could hear the sounds of Kendril struggling with the rider, but she tried desperately to ignore the confusion.

In front of her the two men came closer by the second. The man with the eye patch was on the left.

_Concentrate_ , she screamed to herself. What came after the bullet? The paper. Paper came after the bullet. Then the ramrod...

She drew the ramrod and forced it down the barrel of the pistol. The men running towards her were just yards away when she withdrew the ramrod and slid it back underneath the pistol, then snapped back the lock.

She had done it. The pistol was reloaded.

Maklavir started to urge the horse forward, but stopped, hesitating.

What should he do? Go back? At this point he might just be going to his death. He was certainly no warrior, and if Kendril was dead there was no way that he could take on the bounty hunter and his band single-handedly.

But Jade was probably still alive. The bounty hunter had _wanted_ her alive, anyway, and if she was in their hands than Maklavir couldn't do her any bloody good by going back now to get hacked to pieces.

He looked around him at the darkening forest, his mind coming to a rapid decision. The first thing he needed to do was to get off the road, into the woods. Then he could head back to the bridge, hopefully without being seen, and try to tail the bounty hunter and his gang.

It might not be the best course of action, but he couldn't think of anything better. Well, there was always running away, of course, but that wasn't even an option. Well, not a very palatable option, anyway. Actually, it was beginning to sound better and better the more he mulled it over, but he still couldn't leave Jade to her horrible fate.

His mind made up, Maklavir turned Veritas off the road and made his way into the forest.

Kendril grabbed at the sword, but the other man was faster.

The thug gave the hilt a wild kick and sent the blade flying out of the Ghostwalker's reach. With a satisfied grin, the rider pulled out his knife and flipped it over in his hand.

Exhausted, Kendril fell back against the side railing of the bridge. His hand clutched feebly at the crossbow bolt impaled in his side.

His head was swimming. Sharp stabs of pain accompanied every movement he made.

Just a few yards away the second rider had finally managed to get his leg out from under the fallen horse. He hobbled to his feet, leaning unsteadily on his good leg and holding onto the stone railing for support.

"Not so tough now, are you, mate?" The first rider sneered. He held the knife out in front of him in preparation for a strike.

Kendril faltered, and his whole left leg almost collapsed from the unbearable pain. He backed against the cold stone of the railing.

"Are you going to kill me, or just talk me to death?" he gasped.

With a snarl the man pounced forward, and lunged his knife towards Kendril's stomach.

Kendril pitched himself to the side and hooked his elbow around the man's knife-arm as he came forward. He tried to twist the man backwards, but the thug's forward momentum was too much.

Kendril felt his hip smash against the stone railing, and then, still holding onto the rider's arm, he felt himself tip back. White pain flooded his vision.

His back hit stone, and then he fell into space.

Jade retreated a few steps, the pistol held at the ready.

She looked behind her just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of Kendril being attacked by one of the riders. She watched as both men crashed into the side of the bridge as they both struggled for the knife in the rider's hand. They lost their balance, and plunged over the side of the bridge.

And into the river.

Jade flung off her hat and ran to the edge of the bridge. She turned and fired the pistol blindly towards the two men behind her, causing them to duck for a moment or two.

It was all she needed.

Jade sprang onto the railing and shoved the smoking pistol into her belt. She paused for a fraction of a second and took a deep breath.

Then she dove into the water.

****

Chapter 13

The icy impact of the water took Jade's breath away.

She kicked wildly, trying to break back to the surface of the river. After what seemed like an eternity her head burst clear into the open air. She managed to gulp down a quick breath before she went under again, only to surface a second or two later.

She threw her head back, gasping for breath. The air was frigid on her neck and face. Her whole body felt numb from the shock of the cold. Treading water as best she could, Jade tried to look around. Waves splashed into her face at every turn.

The stone bridge was drifting away behind her. She could see men on the top pointing at her and shouting to each other. The current had looked fairly rapid from the bridge, and now that she was experiencing it firsthand Jade realized just how strong it really was. Trees were moving by at an alarming rate on both banks, and when she looked back the bridge itself was already beginning to fade from view.

But where was Kendril?

Struggling to keep her head above water, she tried to look around her, looking for any sign of the Ghostwalker.

There! Over to the left, a brief glimpse of black was visible for just a moment. Then it vanished again.

Jade took a deep breath, then swam towards the spot, her arms plowing relentlessly through the chilly water. As she reached Kendril, she whipped back her wet hair, taking another breath before she managed to get one arm around his shoulders.

"Kendril?" She spat water out of her mouth, trying to turn the Ghostwalker around. "Kendril!?"

He wasn't moving, and his eyes were closed.

Jade felt a sudden pang of fear. She crossed her arm across his chest to hold him, trying to keep his head above water as best she could. By now the bridge was entirely gone from view. Wild trees and brambles beckoned from either bank.

Jade turned herself over, keeping a tight hold on Kendril. Taking another breath, she began swimming with her one free hand towards the nearest shore.

Montrose stared over the side of the bridge, his face a mask of rage. In the distance he could barely make out a shape bobbing in the river. In seconds it disappeared around a bend. Montrose spun back around.

Derik limped over slowly. He winced with pain each time his leg touched the ground. "I think that blasted horse broke my leg," he said. "It hurts like blazes."

"That's all we need," Montrose snarled.

Uther was peering over the side of the bridge. "Boss," he said, "I think I found Calham."

The bounty hunter followed his gaze over the railing. In the river below was a very bedraggled Calham, desperately trying to keep hold of one of the stone arches under the bridge.

"Calham, you idiot!" Montrose shouted, pointing towards the eastern bank. "Get out of that river right bloody _now_!"

"I'm trying, sir—" came Calham's voice, echoing off the stone arches. "The current's really moving down here...."

Montrose turned from the railing in disgust. Uther and Derik stared at him in stupefied silence.

Morons. His men were all complete and total morons.

He latched his mace back onto his belt, taking a quick glance at the sun setting in the west. Less than an hour of daylight left. He looked back towards the river, his mind working quickly.

"All right. Uther, you're with me. Derik, you stay here, make sure Calham gets out of the water, and keep a close eye on this bridge. And get that horse of yours back, too."

"But my leg—" the man began.

"Then get Calham to do it!" Montrose bellowed. "Just make sure no one gets over this bridge. We'll meet both of you back here, before midnight." He began to walk down the bridge towards the east. The sun behind him cast his shadow across the stones.

Uther scurried to catch up with him. "What about us?"

"We," said Montrose without looking back, "are going to collect our horses and find the girl, hopefully before it gets too bloody dark out for us to see."

The henchman looked out at the river. "But how do we know which side of the river she'll come out on?"

"We don't." The bounty hunter rubbed absently at his scar. "But I'm betting that she'll make for the east bank. She knows there's no help to the west." They moved off the bridge, trudging up the road towards the woods. "She's still on foot, so she won't get too far. We'll ride down the east bank, at least as long as daylight lasts, and if we don't find her we'll come back to the bridge, get Calham and Derik, and search the west bank. We'll use lanterns if we have to. I don't think we need to worry about subtlety any more. Not with that Ghostwalker out of the way."

They cut off the trail, into the forest.

There was a loud crack as Uther stepped on an old branch. "You sure he's dead?"

Montrose snorted. "That or close to it. He'd have to be made of iron to survive a shot like that."

"What about the other one? The man in the purple cape?"

Their two horses appeared in the woods just ahead, still tied to the trees where they had left them.

"What about him? If he has half a brain he'll be hightailing it to Llewyllan by now." Montrose grabbed his horse's bridle, his voice lowering. "And if he does decide to cause any trouble, we'll make him regret it."

Jade's legs were screaming with pain by the time she came within reach of the river's edge. Pulling Kendril along with her made the swimming twice as hard, and several times she had thought for sure they were both going to drown. But now, with the grassy bank almost within reach, she doubled her efforts.

Reaching an area where the current wasn't flowing as hard, Jade managed to swim up to the shore. She dragged herself and Kendril up onto the grass. She rolled over onto her stomach, choking for air. Beside her she heard Kendril give a sputtering cough and spit up water.

Her heart rose slightly. At least he was still alive.

She flipped over and pushed the straggling hair out of her face. Her body felt absolutely chilled by the steady breeze on her soaked clothes.

She leaned over Kendril, resisting the sudden urge to touch his face.

The Ghostwalker gave a racking cough, fighting for breath. He laid his head back against the ground. His eyes were still closed and his face was strangely pale.

"Kendril?" Jade asked anxiously, hovering over him. "Are you alright?"

His eyes fluttered open, then shut again. He gave a soft groan. "No," he said in a weak voice. "That was a fantastic shot."

Jade carefully pulled back Kendril's sopping wet cloak. "What?"

"On the bridge," he said. He coughed again. His whole body convulsed with the effort. "I thought I was finished."

"Oh, that." Jade tried to keep her tone light. "Yeah, I'm an expert marksman. Didn't I tell you?" Her voice fell slightly as she caught sight of the Ghostwalker's wound.

Kendril opened his eyes, looking up at her. "How does it look?" he asked quietly.

She leaned back on her knees and cupped her hands over her mouth. "I—" Her voice was quivering slightly. She tried to steady it. "I don't know. It—" She turned her head away despite herself. "I can see the arrow. It looks like it's in pretty deep."

The Ghostwalker shut his eyes again. "As bad as it feels, then."

Jade tried to say something uplifting, but the words died on her tongue. "I—I'm not sure what to do, Kendril. Should—" she hesitated, feeling suddenly sick at the thought. "Do you want me to...pull it out?"

He shook his head. "It would bleed even worse, and we don't have anything to stop it right now." He reached toward his belt with his right hand, grimacing with the effort. He undid a small pouch and put it down next to her. "There's about ten pistol cartridges in there. I had more in Simon's pack, but that doesn't really help us right now."

Jade looked at it uncertainly. "I'm...I'm not quite sure I—"

"Just listen," Kendril said. He closed his eyes again, wincing against a sudden flare of pain. "You still have the pistol?"

She glanced down, feeling with her hand. Amazingly enough, the weapon was still there, tucked snugly into her belt.

"Yes. But—"

"Good. This pouch is waterproof, and the pistol cartridges are coated with wax, so hopefully some of them are still good." He looked up at her again. "You have to dry everything out, Jade. The pistol is soaked. It won't work until you've gotten the water out of it. You'll need to swab the barrel until there's no moisture left, and make sure the flint and the touchhole are dry as well."

"That will take hours, Kendril," said Jade in exasperation. "We have to get moving. That bounty hunter and his men will be here soon."

"Yes they will," he agreed. "That's why you have to get out of here _right now_."

"All right," she said quickly, starting to rise. "Let's go. I think I—"

"Not me," said Kendril. " _You_."

Jade stared at him. "I can't leave you here. You'll die."

His face flinched with pain. "I've got a crossbow bolt in my side, Jade. I'm already dead. It's just a matter of time. If you stay with me then we'll _both_ die."

She shook her head emphatically. "I'm not going to leave you, Kendril. You can't even—"

Kendril gave another horrible cough. Drops of water slid down his face. His voice grew weaker. "Jade, my left side is completely numb. I can't feel my leg anymore. If I...try—" His voice tapered off, and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Kendril?" Jade leaned in, putting her hand on his face without even thinking. "Kendril!?"

His head lolled off to the side.

Jade glanced down worriedly at his wound. She needed to do something, and fast.

Tearing off her vest, she wadded it up and pressed it as well as she could against the wound. She began to shiver all the more with just the heavy wool shirt, soaked as it was with cold water. They were both absolutely drenched, and unless they made a fire they wouldn't be drying off anytime soon.

But a fire would bring the bounty hunter to them like a fly to honey.

She bit her lip, looking out across the river while keeping pressure on the wound.

The sky was emblazoned with a spectacular sunset, the river reflecting the red and purple from the clouds. Jade felt tears come to her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of her shirt, until she realized that it was too drenched to do any good.

She turned back towards her unconscious friend. She couldn't leave Kendril behind. He was still alive, and while he was alive, there was still hope, however slim.

Right now, hope was all she had.

Montrose's horse splashed through a deep puddle of water, left over from the storm the night before. Uther rode right behind him, his crossbow slung over his back.

To their right the dark form of the Arneth River hurried past, barely visible in the gathering gloom. Indeed, it was starting to get so dark that Montrose had to bend almost to the ground to search for tracks.

So far they had found no signs of the girl at all.

Uther glanced behind him, but the bridge was long out of sight. "It's getting dark, boss. Maybe we should turn back."

Montrose straightened in his saddle. "Not yet. We're close. I can feel it."

Uther held back his reply. He glanced nervously at the yawning blackness of the forest to their left.

Muttering under his breath, Montrose pulled out his unlit pipe, stuck it in his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.

They continued for about another minute in silence, the soft roar of the river the only sound.

The bounty hunter suddenly pulled his horse to a stop, peering at the ground intently. He hurriedly dismounted, treading carefully around a patch of grass. For about a minute he stared at the ground, chewing vigorously at his pipe.

"Find something?" Uther asked.

Montrose looked out into the impenetrable darkness of the woods. "It's her. She came out of the river here. There's blood, too. Get your lantern."

The henchman grabbed the lantern hanging from the saddle, and fumbled around with his flint until he had managed to light it. He handed it over to Montrose, who snatched it, slapping down most of the shutters.

"We can't let off too much light," he said. "These marks aren't very old." He cast a thin ray of light onto the ground, focusing his one good eye on the evidence before him. " _He's_ here too."

Uther felt his stomach twist. "The Ghostwalker? He's still alive?"

Montrose snapped the lantern shut. "Not for long. He's bleeding pretty bad. I'm amazed he's even still walking."

"So should we go back and get Calham and Derik?"

The bounty hunter shook his head, taking the pipe out of his mouth and turning it in his fingers. He badly wanted a smoke. "No. If we move fast, we can have them now." He put his foot in the stirrup and hoisted himself back onto the horse. "Don't worry. At the rate that man's bleeding, he won't be any threat to us. And as for the girl..." he let his voice linger off menacingly. "I don't expect she'll be any more of a problem than she was the last time. Now let's get going. Time's a wasting."

Still not entirely convinced, Uther turned his horse towards the woods, and followed Montrose into the darkness.

Jade fell to her knees. The weight of Kendril's arm across her shoulder pressed her down. Panting for breath, she let his arm drop, then let him slump down with his back against a tree.

She collapsed back against a tree herself. Her legs burned with a dull pain.

They had been blundering through the woods together for the past hour or so. Kendril had been leaning on her the whole way.

He was getting progressively worse. It had taken every bit of strength Jade possessed even to get him this far.

She was freezing. Her whole body shook from the cold. Her wet clothes clung to her skin like heavy weights. Her knee still throbbed from where it had scraped against the stone bridge when she had jumped off Veritas.

Of course, it was nothing compared to what Kendril was experiencing.

Jade crawled over to him. She tried to check the wound in his side, but it was too dark to see. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance.

"Kendril?"

There was no response. She leaned in closer. Her breath wisped out in the cold air. "Kendril?"

He stirred and his eyes opened partly. "What?"

"How are you doing?"

His eyes slipped shut again. He didn't answer.

"Kendril?" She grabbed him by his right shoulder and tried to shake him as gently as she could. "How are you doing?"

After what seemed a long while, Kendril gave a feeble cough. "Never...better," he chattered. His whole body trembled uncontrollably.

Jade turned her head away. She looked behind them the way they had come, but she could see nothing but a gloomy blackness.

They had to keep going. She shivered, then looked back at the wounded man beside her.

"Kendril," she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering, "we need to get going again. All right?"

He didn't answer.

She reached over, grabbed his right arm and slung it over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet, pulling a groaning Kendril up with her.

He was getting harder and harder to support. And he was barely walking anymore.

Jade took a step forward and almost collapsed with the effort.

This was crazy. She couldn't keep it up. It would be better just to stop trying, and let the bounty hunter find them. Maybe, if she pleaded with him, he could even get Kendril to a nearby town, to a healer or apothecary. Otherwise—

She stopped short, her gaze riveted on something between the trees. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but she soon realized they weren't.

There, not far away, was the flickering glow of a campfire.

A real, genuine campfire.

With a renewed purpose, Jade staggered on, supporting Kendril as best she could. They were both still dripping wet and shaking with cold, and the thought of a blazing fire was more appealing right now than all the gold coins in the world. But no, she wasn't crazy and she wasn't hallucinating. The fire was very real.

They broke through the thin screen of bushes into a small clearing.

The fire was crackling away cheerfully. A pot of something or other simmered on top. A brown horse was tethered to a nearby tree, and a greatcoat was laid out on a nearby log to dry. The place looked like it was a regular campsite that had been used many times before by different people.

Whoever was using it right now, however, was nowhere in sight.

It was highly dangerous, of course. Jade had no idea whose fire this was, or for that matter where they were. For all she knew, it might be the bounty hunter himself, or one of his men. But by this point she was past caring. If they stayed out in the woods, they would die. Kendril was trembling so violently he could barely stand, even with Jade supporting him. He couldn't go much farther, and neither could she.

She had to take the chance.

Kendril collapsed by the fire and lay in an unmoving heap.

Jade fell down beside him, feeling the sudden wave of golden warmth from the flames flow over her. She had no words to describe how good it felt.

In the light of the fire she could see how bad the unconscious Ghostwalker beside her really was. Most of his trousers and shirt were soaked a dark crimson from his wound. She could see the bloody stump of the crossbow bolt still protruding from his side. His face was deathly white. The only sign that he was even still alive was his continual shuddering from the cold.

Taking a deep breath, Jade grabbed him gently and pulled him with protesting muscles as close to the fire as she could get him.

He moaned slightly, but nothing else.

She leaned back against the log, trying to absorb as much warmth into her quaking body as she could.

What could she do now? There was a horse here, at least. She could take it, if she moved quickly, before the owner came back. Perhaps she could get Kendril to a town, or even back to the Outpost. Someone might be able to help him there. But she needed to move fast.

But somehow, she couldn't get her body to move. She was completely exhausted, and the fire felt too good. Somehow getting Kendril up on the horse at all seemed like an insurmountable task. She could try to go alone, and bring help. But Kendril would doubtless be dead by then.

Jade closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the fire against her drenched clothes. Just a few seconds. She just needed a few seconds more to rest...

A sudden crunch from behind her brought her back to her senses. She sprang to her feet, and whirled around.

Her breath caught in her throat.

There, not more than ten paces away, was the one-eyed bounty hunter, his mace in his hands.

Jade turned, but stopped short as she caught sight of another man emerging from the opposite side of the campsite, a loaded crossbow in his hands.

"Hello, sweetmeat," said Montrose. His one good eye twinkled sinisterly. "Remember me?"

****

Chapter 14

Calham let out a stifled curse as he tripped over a hidden rock on the road. He gave it a vengeful kick that sent it flying.

The mule was right at the edge of the woods, braying loudly and looking around in a confused manner.

Calham moved off the trail, stepping softly through the wet grass toward the trees.

The blasted animal had been carrying on for more than an hour now, and Calham had finally had enough. He had left Derik back at the old mill with a newly fashioned splint on his leg, along with the Ghostwalker's long rifle and short sword they had taken from the bridge. At first Calham had been content to sit next to their fire and dry off, but the mule's incessant bleating had slowly driven him crazy. Now he was determined to grab the beast, and end the ceaseless racket one way or another.

Besides, he had a suspicion that the saddlebags on the animal's back might hold even more of the Ghostwalker's valuables.

The mule stared at Calham and brayed again.

The mercenary slowed his approach, his eyes riveted on the large saddlebags and pack on the beast's back. The animal's previous owner certainly had no more use of them. He was undoubtedly dead by now, most likely drowned.

Calham took a step to the side, crunching down on a small dandelion.

The mule flapped its ears and gave Calham a strange look, but didn't move.

Calham stepped around a small boulder and reached out a hand.

There was a soft snort, but the mule still didn't move.

Calham grinned. Stupid animal.

His hand shot out and grabbed the mule's bridle before the creature could pull back. "Got you!" he sneered.

There was a sudden prick of cold metal against the side of his neck.

"I'd say," came a voice to his right.

The blood draining from his face, Calham started to turn his head.

The sword pressed a fraction of an inch closer and stopped his movement.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," said the voice. "I have always striven to avoid getting blood on this fine blade, but there is a first time for everything."

Calham gritted his teeth and dropped the bridle. "What do you want?"

"For you to get rid of your sword, first of all. Actually, you might as well just take the whole belt off. With your left hand, if you don't mind. Oh, and keep your right where I can see it."

Reluctantly, the mercenary undid his belt. His sword and knife dropped with a soft clunk to the ground. He raised his hands, trying to catch a glimpse of his assailant out of the corner of his vision.

"Now turn around."

"What?"

The man stepped in front of Calham, giving his sword a little a wave. "Turn around," he repeated, as if giving instructions to a particularly slow-witted child.

Calham obeyed, facing back towards the bridge with his hands still in the air. For a moment he considered trying to shout out a warning to Derik, but quickly decided against it. It would only mean his own death.

The point of the sword pressed against the back of his neck. "The man in black and the woman you were hunting," the voice said, its tone suddenly losing some of its charm, "where are they?"

Calham licked his lips. Of course. This must be the second man that had been with the girl, the one Montrose hadn't thought was much of a threat. The henchman turned his head ever so slightly.

"Them? Eru only knows. They went over the bridge, into the river."

There was a moment of shocked silence. "Both of them?"

"Yeah." Calham turned his head back to the grassy slope that led down to the mill and the bridge. A cloud moved in the sky, uncovering the fingernail of a moon above. "The one in black is dead by now. He was shot in the gut. I saw it myself. As for the woman, I doubt she'll make it very far."  
The point of the sword faltered. "Your leader went after her?"

Calham tensed his muscles, bringing his hands down just slightly. "Yeah. And when he returns, he'll skin you alive. And then—"

With a crunch Maklavir brought the hilt of his sword down on the mercenary's head.

The man crumpled in an unconscious heap to the ground.

Simon gave a loud snort.

Maklavir returned his sword to its scabbard. "You're quite welcome," he told the mule. "Frankly, he was getting on my nerves as well." He looked down the slope towards the bridge.

"Well," he sighed, "one down and one to go."

Montrose looked down at Kendril's inert form by the fire, then gave the young woman in front of him a jagged smile.

"Looks like your friend won't be helping you out this time, love. Now it's just you and me."

Jade knelt swiftly and whipped back Kendril's cloak, then grasped the hilt of his second sword and pulled it loose. She backed away, holding the sword out in front of her.

Montrose stepped over a large branch and twirled his mace by the strap wrapped around his wrist. "Well, well. Going to fight your way out of this, are you?" He gave an evil chuckle. "I certainly hope you do better than last time. I'd certainly hate to dent that pretty head of yours again."

Jade swallowed, the sword gleaming dully in the firelight. "Who are you?" she asked, trying hard to keep the desperation out of her voice. "What do you want with me?"

Montrose motioned for Uther to put down his crossbow. The henchman did, and drew his sword. "Want? I just want you to come with me. We can do it the easy way, or the hard way. All the same to me."

"Let's try the hard way," said Jade, surprising herself by her own words. She swept out her sword at the startled henchman.

Uther parried the blow. Their blades latched for a moment, then spun around in a tight circle.

Jade stepped forward into another blow. She hammered Uther's blade and forced him back. The sword felt awkward in her hands.

Uther lifted his sword.

Jade prepared to block the coming attack.

A sudden movement out of the corner of her vision caught her attention, but too late.

Montrose swung his mace at her, and struck her sword with a reverberating clang. The blade flew out of her hands and landed near the fireplace.

The bounty hunter grabbed her by the arm, his mace at the ready. "Nice try," he grunted.

Jade tried to pull back, but instantly her head was filled with a terrifying vision.

She was standing by a carriage, on a road in the forest. One of the wheels on the coach was torn completely off the frame, with no sign of the horses. A dead body lay to the side, a man in some kind of white uniform with an arrow in his back. Screams and shouts filled the air. And then, in front of her, standing with the mace ready to strike, was the one-eyed man, his hand on her arm--

"Grab her," came Montrose's voice, shaking Jade from the memory.

Uther's arms grappled her from behind and pinned Jade's arms to her side.

She struggled, but the henchman only tightened his grip. His unshaven chin rubbed against the back of her neck.

"I hate to damage the merchandise," said Montrose, "but I think I should quiet you down a bit." He lifted his free hand and clenched it into a fist. "Say goodnight, beautiful."

He was about to strike when a hand grabbed his foot, pulling him backwards. Montrose lost his balance and tumbled with a curse to the ground.

Jade stared in disbelief.

It was Kendril.

The Ghostwalker was on his hands and knees, the sword Jade had dropped held loosely in one hand.

Montrose scrambled to get to his feet.

Kendril reared up and slugged him in the face while he was still halfway there. The bounty hunter flew backwards.

Jade could see that the blow had hurt Kendril even more than Montrose. The young man collapsed in agony, his face flinching in pain.

"Kendril!" she shouted. She tried desperately to get loose of the henchman's grip. The man held on even tighter.

Montrose rose to his feet and wiped some blood away from the corner of his mouth. He spat onto the ground, then smiled at Kendril.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you Ghostwalker?"

Kendril tried to raise himself on his right arm, but it buckled and he collapsed again. The sword fell from his hand.

Montrose took a step forward, and kicked it well out of the Ghostwalker's reach.

Jade squirmed even more, but her arms were securely pinned.

"Hold her," ordered Montrose with a glance over at Uther. He looked back at the wounded man in front of him. "I told you if you stayed with the girl I would kill you. I even gave you a chance to go. You should have listened to me when you had the chance."

He gave Kendril a sudden kick in his wounded side.

The Ghostwalker doubled up, gasping in pain.

Jade lurched forward with a cry. Tears clouded her vision.

Montrose circled around the wounded man, his mace bobbing up and down in his hand. "Not so tough now, are you?' he chuckled.

"Please," Jade begged. Hot tears begin to run down her face. "Please, I'll do anything you want. Just don't kill him."

The one-eyed man looked over at her. "You're not in much of a position to bargain for anything, love."

"I'll come with you quietly," she sobbed, the back of her throat burning. "Please, tell me what to do. Anything you want."

Montrose put the tip of his boot under Kendril's shoulder and flipped the man over onto his back. The Ghostwalker was unconscious.

"Please," said Jade again, her whole body going limp in Uther's grasp. "Please."

The bounty hunter's eye flickered darkly. "Sorry, sweetmeat. I'm afraid we're way past that now."

He raised his mace.

Derik was just starting to bite into a stale loaf of bread when a figure appeared on the road, leading the mule behind. Derik shook his head and shifted his aching leg from where he sat against the mill wall.

It looked like Calham had caught that blasted mule after all. Derik could only hope it had been worth it.

"So," the henchman said, swallowing the dry chunk of bread in his mouth, "did the beast give you much trouble?"

"Not too much at all," came an unfamiliar voice. "I have him right here on the back of the mule."

Derik threw the bread away and went for the sword by his side.

Maklavir strode into the firelight and pointed his own sword at the hapless man.

"I admit that I'm not much of a swordsman," said Maklavir airily, "but I suspect that even I would be able to take on a man with a broken leg."

Derik hesitated for a moment, the hilt of his sword in his hand. Then, with a sour look, he dropped the blade.

"That's better," said Maklavir with a smile. The mule behind him trotted into the camp, and Derik could see Calham stretched unconscious over the back.

"What do you want?" Derik asked.

His smile never fading, Maklavir pressed the tip of his blade against the thug's neck.

"Your boots," he said.

Jade closed her eyes at the last moment and turned her head away from the scene in front of her. Her last image was of Montrose bringing the mace down in a killing blow.

But what came next was not what she expected. There was a sudden low whistling sound, and then the bounty hunter screamed in pain.

Jade opened her eyes and stared in astonishment.

The one-eyed man had dropped his mace and was holding his right arm, cursing in pain. A throwing knife was embedded through the flesh of his forearm. Blood was already streaming down his hand.

"Unhand the woman," came a quiet but determined voice from one side of the camp.

Jade looked over, her eyes wide.

A man stood at the edge of the makeshift campsite, a gleaming rapier held in his hand. He wore a simple brown shirt with tan pants, and hardy mud-covered boots. A red bandana was wrapped around his neck, and a wide-brimmed hat was on his head. His hair and beard were a dirty blonde. His eyes sparkled blue in the firelight. All his clothes looked stained and worn by the elements, as if he had spent much of his time outdoors.

Uther immediately let go of Jade, throwing her to the ground and fumbling for his sword.

"I wouldn't," the bearded man warned, his rapier held at the ready.

"Kill him!" screamed Montrose as he tried to remove the knife from his arm.

The henchman jumped forward and slashed his sword through the air.

The bearded man caught the blow calmly on the edge of his rapier, then twisted it expertly off to the side.

Uther recovered his balance and came in again. He aimed a wild swipe at his adversary's head.

The bearded man easily deflected the blow again, moving as if he was at fencing practice. He gave his rapier a sharp downward turn.

Uther dropped his sword with a yelp of pain. He grabbed his hand. Blood flowed from where the blade had slashed it.

The rapier came up to Uther's neck. "Drop the crossbow," the bearded man ordered.

Stunned, Uther swiftly complied.

Jade rose to her feet and stared in awe at the weathered man in front of her.

With a grunt Montrose pulled the dagger free and dropped it to the ground. He wrapped a handkerchief as tightly as he could around his arm with his free hand.

"This is none of your affair," Montrose hissed to the bearded man. "You have no right to intervene."

"This is my camp," the newcomer said slowly, moving carefully forward with his rapier still bobbing before him, "so I think it _is_ my affair."

Jade came back to her senses. "Help me," she said, her voice wavering. "These men are trying to kill us."

"I'm a bounty hunter," Montrose snapped. He grimaced as he tried to staunch the flow of blood from his arm. "These two are wanted fugitives. I'm taking them in."

"He's lying!" Jade blurted desperately. "Please, you have to help us."

The bearded man forced Uther back with the point of his blade, then glanced down at Kendril's unmoving form. His hard stare fastened on Montrose.

"Were you taking this one in, too?"

"He's a dangerous man..." said the bounty hunter, his mind trying to work quickly.

"Doesn't look like too much of a threat right now," the man commented. "What crimes have these two committed, exactly?"

Montrose's face turned dark. "All right," he said after a brief moment. "Name your price. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

The bearded man stared at Montrose in silence for about a minute. His eyes measured the bounty hunter.

Jade held her breath, tears still burning her cheek.

"Get out of my camp," said the man. His rapier came up. "Both of you."

"You're making a mistake," said Montrose hurriedly. "That girl is worth a fortune. Hundreds of coins. You can have whatever cut of it you want."

"Maybe you didn't hear me the first time," said the man in a measured tone. "I said get out of my camp."

Uther cautiously leaned forward to retrieve his sword. The point of the rapier was at his throat in an instant.

"Leave it." The bearded man nodded over to the mace lying on the ground. "And that."

Uther backed off, still cradling his wounded hand.

"You're a fool," snarled Montrose.

"And one other thing," said the man. "I wouldn't think about coming back, if I were you. I'll be watching for both of you."

Montrose stared at the bearded man in frustration and rage, then finally turned, still holding his bleeding arm. Uther hesitated for a moment, then followed his captain. The two disappeared into the night.

Jade sank down onto a log by the fire. Her arms were shaking. "Thank you," she managed.

The bearded man carefully sheathed his sword. He bent down over Kendril, but his eyes flitted up to the forest every few seconds.

"Can you help him?" Jade asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Maybe. He's lost a lot of blood," the man said, examining the wound carefully. "This crossbow bolt will have to come out." He glanced up at the young woman. "Go to my saddle bag and bring me the small blue pouch."

"What about the bounty hunter?" asked Jade, searching through the saddlebags until she found the pouch. "Won't he—"

"Probably," the bearded man said. He tore Kendril's shirt, pulling it up to the Ghostwalker's chest. "He'll have to get back to his horse first to get his crossbow, though, and that should take him a minute or two." He grabbed the pouch from Jade, and opened it. Inside were a number of what looked like salves and herbs of various kinds.

Jade gave him a confused look. "How did you—?"

The man smiled. "They tied up their horses back in the woods. I found them on my way here." He took out a clean cloth, then rubbed some yellowish salve on it. Leaning over, he grabbed a half-full pitcher of water that was near the fire. "I need your help," he said as he worked. "I'm going to take the bolt out. As soon as I do, you need to press this cloth down over the wound, understand?"

She nodded.

"All right," he said, glancing up at the tree line again. "On the count of three, ready?"

Jade took a breath, holding the cloth in her hands.

"One...two... _three_." He grabbed the projectile by the bloody stump, and carefully but firmly wrenched it out.

Jade instinctively turned her head away.

"Now," the man said, his voice calm.

Without looking, Jade pressed the cloth down over the wound.

"Good job. Just keep pressing down." The bearded man got up and walked quickly to his horse's saddlebag. He removed a long stretch of white bandage along with a needle and some thread.

Jade kept her eyes focused on Kendril's face. He was white as a corpse.

Immediately the bearded man was kneeling down again next to her, with the pitcher of water and a clean cloth in his hand. He set the needle and thread down nearby.

"Take it off," he said softly.

She did, and he immediately went to work washing out the wound, then stitching it. There was no pause or hesitation in his actions. In less than three minutes he had washed out the wound and sewn it shut.

"All right," he said again, "put the cloth back again."

Jade pressed the cloth back against Kendril's side. She bit her lip.

"Is he going to make it?" she asked, still keeping pressure on the wound.

The man looked up at her, a sympathetic look in his eyes. "I don't know. The wound's pretty bad, but as long as the bolt didn't pierce any organs, he may have a chance." He nodded towards the cloth in Jade's hand, then started to wrap the bandage around Kendril's side. "That salve is the best I have. It should help to accelerate the healing. It's the best I can do for now."

He continued to wrap the white bandage around Kendril's torso, gently passing it underneath the Ghostwalker's back and crossing it over his chest again.

"So why were those men after you?"

The question took Jade by surprise, and reminded her suddenly of the gaping hole in her memory. "I...don't know," she said, tentatively taking her hands away from the cloth. The bandage was tight enough now to hold it in place. "I...I can't remember anything that happened to me more than a couple days ago. Not even who I am, or where I came from."

The bearded man glanced up at her. "So you don't know who you are, or who those two men were?"

Jade sat back against a log, suddenly exhausted. "I know it sounds crazy, but no, I don't. I can't remember a thing."

He finished wrapping the bandage, then pulled it tight and tied it. "What about him?"

"His name is Kendril." Jade looked down once more at the Ghostwalker's face. "He found me in the forest just a couple of days ago. There was another man that we met, too, named Maklavir." She paused for a moment, suddenly remembering her cheerful companion. "Come to think of it, I don't even know whether he's all right or not—"

"You're both soaking wet," the man said as he pulled Kendril's shirt back down. "What happened?"

She felt a lump form in her throat. "We got ambushed on the bridge just north of here by that bounty hunter. We fell in the river, pulled ourselves out on the bank, and ended up here."

The bearded man leaned back, pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands. He was silent for a moment before he spoke.

"The name's Joseph."

"Jade." She felt her face flush. "Well, not really. I can't remember my real name."

Joseph rose, looking off towards the forest. "I see." He gave Kendril a curious look. "Your friend here is dressed rather strangely."

"He's a Ghostwalker," said Jade.

The man raised his eyebrows. "A Ghostwalker? For someone who can't remember anything you certainly keep strange company, ma'am."

She looked down at the wounded man. "He's risked his life for me countless times in the last few days," she said. "It's only because of him that I'm still alive."

Joseph nodded. He retrieved his knife, wiped the blade clean, then replaced it in a sheath at the top of his boot. "I suspect you have a lot to tell, but there's no time right now. Stay close to the fire, and dry off if you can. I'm going to have a look around, and make sure that bounty hunter doesn't decide to circle back around." He saw the sudden look of concern on Jade's face. "Don't worry," he chuckled as he grabbed his greatcoat off the log. "I know these woods like the back of my hands. No one will get within two hundred yards of this campsite without me knowing it. There are blankets in the left saddlebag. You can keep the fire going as long as you like."

A sudden feeling of security flooded into Jade's mind, something she hadn't felt for a long while. "Thank you, Joseph. I can't begin to repay you for what you've done," she said, the heat of the fire seeping into her bones once again.

The man smiled and gave a slight nod of his head, then melted into the woods.

"How's the arm, boss?"

Montrose scowled, looking down at his tightly wrapped wound. "Fine. No muscle, just flesh." He stopped by the twisted trunk of a tree. Both of their horses were tied up nearby. He reached for his double-bowed crossbow on the saddlebag.

Uther shivered in the darkness. "We're going back?"

"Of course we're going back." Montrose fumbled around in his saddlebag. "We almost had the girl. I'm certainly not going to stop because of some meddling trapper."

The henchman rubbed the cut on his hand gingerly, now wrapped in a dirty handkerchief. "That guy knew how to handle that sword of his," he said with a fretful glance over his shoulder. "I've never seen anyone move that fast."

"So we'll shoot him. Save us both a lot of trouble." Montrose cursed, and threw aside one of the saddlebags. "Where in blazes are my crossbow bolts? Uther, get me yours."  
The thug obediently went to his horse, straining to see in the blackness. "They're not here," he said in a dumbfounded tone. "I had a whole quiver full. I don't—"

Montrose smashed his fist against the saddle. "He must have taken them!"

Uther gave him a confused look. "The Ghostwalker? But I thought—"

"Not _him_ , you idiot. The other one. He found our horses and took our bolts, while we were in the camp." He cursed under his breath.

"How many friends does this girl have in these woods?" the henchman asked in amazement. "I thought you said she didn't have any help?"

"She doesn't," Montrose snapped. "Vesuna's blood! Don't you see? This is a string of coincidences, just plain dumb luck. That man at the campsite, he must have seen our horses, got suspicious, then grabbed the bolts and hidden them somewhere. Then at the campsite he saw you holding a struggling girl, and me about to kill a wounded man. What should he have thought? He probably took us for highway bandits." The bounty hunter cursed again. He held up his wounded arm and flexed his hand.

Uther breathed into his hands. "So what do we do know?"

Montrose snorted. "We have no weapons, and no element of surprise. We need to get Calham and Derik—well, Calham, anyway—and rearm. Then we come back here in force." He turned to Uther, his face simmering with rage. "Let's go. We'll follow the river back to the bridge."

The henchman nodded, then mounted his horse.

Montrose looked back one last time at the direction of the campfire, spat an obscenity, and then mounted his horse as well.

****

Chapter 15

Jade woke with a start. The blanket fell off of her as she sat upright.

For a brief, terrifying moment she couldn't remember where she was. The brooding shapes of the trees all around created an atmosphere of uncertainty and danger.

The disorientation only lasted a moment, however.

Jade pulled the gray blanket to herself, shuddering against the cold. The fire had almost burned out, and the stars above were just visible through the gaps in the trees. Somewhere in the darkness an owl hooted, its cry sounding strange in the still night.

Joseph had not yet returned, though that knowledge somehow comforted her. At least he was out there somewhere, watching for that bounty hunter and his gang of thugs. Even though she barely knew her bearded rescuer, she already felt safe around him.

She had gotten used to trusting complete strangers in the last few days. It was getting to be a habit.

Reaching over towards a small pile of wood, Jade grabbed a large piece and threw it on the dying fire. Joseph must have cut quite a bit earlier in the day, for there was enough there to keep the fire going at least until morning. She had placed the pistols in a neat little row in front of the fire itself, hoping to dry them out as soon as possible. As she watched the fire creep back to life a breeze rustled the tree boughs hanging above her head. Their leaves whispered together in an eerie song.

She brushed the hair out of her face and turned to look at Kendril.

He was lying on his back on the other side of the fire. The blanket she had spread over him earlier that evening was still in place.

Jade pushed her own blanket aside and crawled over to him.

"Kendril?" she whispered, hoping that he had regained consciousness.

There was no response.

She lay down next to his side. The owl sounded in the distance again.

Kendril's face was still a sickly pallor, and for one sickening second Jade thought he was dead. Then she noticed that his whole body was shaking.

Without thinking she reached out a hand towards his cheek, then realized what she was doing and stopped halfway. A few feet away the fire continued to spark and grow as it slowly devoured the piece of wood she had put on it.

"Kendril?" she said again. Her voice sounded loud in the cold night air.

He didn't stir.

Jade took a deep breath, then touched his face gently with the back of her hand.

He was cold as ice.

Jade glanced over at the fire. The blaze was only a few feet away, but Kendril was still shuddering. The heat didn't seem to be making much of a difference.

She reached down and pulled off one of his damp gloves, then took his hand in her own.

It was chilled as well, drained of any warmth.

The wind rustled though the trees again, causing Jade to shiver herself. She looked back into the woods around her, searching for any sign of Joseph.

The man was nowhere to be seen.

Her gaze fell back again on Kendril's pallid face, and she touched it lightly with her fingers.

The icy touch of his skin scared her. The fire didn't seem to be warming him at all, even though she had put him as close to it as she dared. But what else could she do?

She looked around the campsite one more time, but the night offered no solutions.

Jade glanced down at Kendril again, and felt her heart skip just a bit faster. She lifted the edge of his blanket and slid her body next to his. Moving as slowly and carefully as she could, Jade pressed herself against him. She reached her arm across the top of his chest, then rested her head on his shoulder. She was careful not to touch the bandage anywhere near his left side, and kept her body as still as possible.

This close she could feel him trembling, and she shivered as well against his damp clothing. She continued to hold him tightly, however, thankful for the heavy weight of the blanket over both of them. A dull fear clung to her at what would happen if he were to suddenly awaken, but there was no movement from him at all. Even his breathing was shallow and uneven.

_Only a few minutes_ , she told herself as she moved her arm up slowly to rest against his neck.

_Just until he stops shivering, anyway_...

She stayed there for what seemed like a long while, with Kendril shuddering next to her and the fire popping and sputtering beside them. Finally, his shivering seemed to lessen slightly. Then, as Jade closed her eyes, she thought she felt it drop to an occasional shudder.

Jade drowsily considered checking his face again to see how cold he was, but she couldn't seem to summon up the energy to move her arm. She was so warm and so comfortable that she didn't even want to move.

She would rest for just one more minute, she thought sleepily.

Just one more minute....

Montrose was livid.

He had been outsmarted before, certainly, and he had had his share of bad luck in the past, but nothing compared to this. How could so much go so wrong in such a short period of time? It was as if Regnuthu himself were dogging his every step.

He turned, kicking the door of the old mill beside him in pure frustration. It clattered on its hinges, banging back and forth.

"I'm sorry, boss," said Calham again, his face red with embarrassment. He and Derik were both bootless, their bare feet red from the cold. "He took me by surprise. I didn't—"

"Shut up. Just _shut up_." Montrose gave a long, heavy sigh, then closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had underestimated the girl's second companion. The man had gotten the drop on both his men, then had thrown their boots and weapons into the river. To make matters worse, Calham's horse was gone as well.

Morons. Complete and total morons.

Uther fidgeted nervously beside his employer. "What now, boss?"

"I said _shut up_ ," Montrose snarled. "I'm thinking."

The group was silent a moment as Montrose chewed his lip and stared at the road leading over the bridge.

"We need weapons," he said at last. "And horses. That's our first step. Calham, you and Derik take the horses and go back to the Outpost. There's a blacksmith there, and we should be able to get a few decent swords. If anyone asks any questions, tell them you're just a couple of trappers getting some supplies."

"But what about me?" whined Derik as he shifted his weight off his leg. "I don't know how far I can ride with this bone all busted up."

"You're staying at the Outpost," Montrose ordered. He pulled out his pipe and tapped it thoughtfully in his hand. "Sorry, Derik, but you're no good to us the way you are. Hole up somewhere out of sight and we'll pick you up when this whole business is through. No one in town has seen you or Calham, so both of you should be just fine, as long as you don't do anything stupid."

"So what do I do after I get the weapons?" asked Calham.

Montrose reached into his pocket and pulled out some tobacco, then began filling his pipe with it. "Weapons and a _horse_ ," he corrected, "or else one of us will be walking. When you get everything we need, meet us back here, at the bridge. If you're fast enough you might even be able to get back here before mid-morning." He looked up at the stars twinkling brightly overhead. "Then we pick up their trail again."

"With only three men?" Uther asked doubtfully.

The bounty hunter turned, his eye like a blazing coal. "Let me make something clear to you, Uther, and to all of you," he added, looking at the other three men. "I have never failed to fill a contract, and I don't intend to start now. We're going to get this girl, if it's the last thing we do."

Uther shuffled uneasily. "They'll have at least a half-day's start on us."

"Not if they take the Ghostwalker with them," said Montrose. He lit his pipe. "That will slow them to a crawl. It's at least another two days' journey to the edge of the forest, and the nearest town isn't for a ways after that." He puffed on the pipe. The embers glowed in the darkness. "We'll cut them off before they get out of these woods."

"How?" asked Calham.

Montrose's face darkened. He drew a long draught on his pipe, then blew out a stream of smoke.

"We make a deal with the devil."

Jade slowly opened her eyes. The sound of chirping birds filling her ears. She lifted her head and blinked in the morning sunlight.

Sunlight?

Startled, she looked down to see Kendril still beside her, his eyes closed and his breath shallow.

She had fallen asleep next to him.

Embarrassed, Jade got to her feet and pulled the blanket back over the wounded man. She looked up and noticed Joseph sitting on a log by the fire, reading a small leather-bound book. A steaming tin cup of coffee was on the ground by his feet.

"Good morning," he said without looking up from his book. "Coffee's on the fire, if you want some. Sleep well?"

Jade shuffled over to the fire, and sat down on a log across from Joseph. "Yes, just fine." She reached down towards the simmering pot of coffee, and snatched an empty mug from an open pack near Joseph's feet.

The man looked over at her. "You didn't tell me last night about you and the Ghostwalker. For someone you just met a few days ago, you two seem to be awfully close."

Jade felt her face flush. "It's not what you think," she said quickly, holding the coffee pot in one hand and the mug in the other. "He was shivering last night. I was just trying to warm him, that's all. I guess I fell asleep." She looked over Kendril, and her voice dropped. "He can't touch me anyway...it's some vow he's taken. And I don't _really_ know him, after all. I--" She stopped, realizing she was rambling. Turning her head back, she poured some coffee into the mug. "I was just trying to stop his shivering."

Joseph nodded and glanced over at the Ghostwalker. When he looked back at Jade, his eyes were kinder than before.

"I'll check his wound in a few minutes. Hopefully the stitches are holding." He reached down with his free hand, and took a sip of his coffee.

Jade set the coffee pot back down on the grass. "I would be surprised if they weren't. You seemed to know what you were doing." She looked over her shoulder at the gray woods behind her. "Were you out all night?"

Joseph chuckled. "Just about. Your bounty hunter has three companions, one with a broken leg. When I left them about an hour ago two of them had ridden off to the west. The two we met last night are holing up near the bridge."

She stared at him in amazement. "You got that close to them?"

The man shrugged. "It wasn't that hard. They weren't really trying to stay hidden, and the bridge is right out in the open. Anyway, when I last left them they had no horses, and were still tending to their wounds. I doubt we'll be seeing them for at least an hour or two."

Jade took a sip of coffee. It was scalding, and she burnt the tip of her tongue. She gave Joseph an inquisitive look. "What are you reading?"

He let the book fall shut. "The Blessed Scriptures. The Book of Jervis, chapter seven, to be precise."

A bird sang cheerfully overhead. Jade tried another sip of the coffee. "What is it about?"

"The repentance and conversion of Tuldor Swiftblade, King of—"

"Grengaard," said Jade suddenly. "Right before the Second Age of Despair. That was over a thousand years ago."

"Well," said Joseph with a kindly smile, "you seem to know your Scriptures fairly well."

Jade took another sip of the coffee and scooted closer to the fire. "I guess I do." She looked over at the bearded man across from her. "I seem to remember strange things, at odd moments. I don't really know why, or what it all means. It's very frustrating. I feel like I am on the verge of remembering so much, but my mind is still clouded over."

Joseph put the book back in a pocket of his greatcoat. "Give it time," he said gently. "All things heal with enough time."

"I hope you're right." She sighed, holding the warm mug with both hands. For a moment there was only the crackling of the fire and the chirping of birds overhead. She looked over at Joseph again. "All that stuff in the Scriptures is a myth, right? There wasn't really ever an Age of Despair, was there?"

Joseph shrugged, scratching his beard. "I guess that depends on who you ask. A lot of people think it's all nonsense. Of course, most people don't really believe in Regnuthu anymore, or else they just see him as a symbolic embodiment of evil or adversity, or some other such thing." He smiled. "Of course, a lot of people don't even believe in Eru anymore, either."

She looked at him curiously. "What do _you_ believe?"

He took another sip of his coffee, staring at the fire. "I think the Scriptures are right," he said quietly. "I think things are a lot different than the way most people see them."

Jade looked down at her mug, then back at Joseph. "You must be a pretty religious man," she said.

"You could say that," said Joseph with a soft laugh. "Actually, I trained for several years in Kendrake for the priesthood."

Jade raised her eyebrows. "You're a priest?"

Joseph threw the rest of his coffee into the fire, where it sputtered and smoked. "Not exactly. I was never ordained."

"So what do you do?"

Joseph reached into the pack, pulled out some bread and, to Jade's intense delight, cheese. "Oh, odd jobs here and there. I mostly work as a freelance scout for armies when there's a war on, and as a tracker and guide for caravans and merchants when there's not." He tore the loaf in half and tossed part of it to Jade. "I also do some trapping and trading, when the pathfinding work gets a little slow."

The bread was stale, but Jade was ravenously hungry. She dug in. "You seem to know your way around the woods."

The man shrugged, and took a bite himself. "I love being in the wild. Always have, really. There's something very comforting about it." He gestured to the coffee pot. "I think I threw out that coffee too soon. Can you hand the pot over?"

She smiled, passing him the pot. "The bread tastes fine to me."

Joseph took it with a nod. "There's some cheese if you want." He whipped out the knife from his boot, and cut off a large chunk, then offered it to Jade.

She looked at the dagger hesitantly.

He laughed. "I washed it off last night in the river, if that's what you're thinking."

Jade took the cheese with a grin. "Thanks." She glanced over again at Kendril. "When do you think he'll come to?"

Joseph poured himself some coffee. "I don't know. Could be a couple hours, or a couple days. Or—" he stopped mid-sentence, as if remembering himself.

"Or," Jade finished soberly, "he might not wake up at all. Is that what you were going to say?"

The bearded man was silent a moment. He looked over at the fallen Ghostwalker. "He seems like a tough sort. My bet is that he'll pull through." He took a sip of the coffee, then lifted his head. "I almost forgot. You don't happen to know a man in a purple cape, do you? Dressed like a nobleman?"

Her face lit up. "That's Maklavir, the man I met in the Outpost! Have you seen him?"

"I saw someone wandering around the woods to the north, leading two horses and a mule. He didn't exactly look like any of the local trappers. I think he was going in circles when I left him."

Jade gave a relieved laugh. "That would be Maklavir," she said. "Do you think you could find him again?"

Joseph grinned. "I don't think finding him would be very hard." He put down the coffee cup, and looked over at Kendril again. "Moving _him_ is going to be the hard part."

She followed his gaze. "I hadn't thought about that. What do you suggest?"

"Well," he said slowly, "the Outpost is our best bet. It's only about a day from here, and there's an inn we could stay at. But that bounty hunter of yours is at the bridge right now, and the only other crossing is quite a ways to the south." He shook his head. "If we went the long way it would take us two or three days to get back to the Outpost. Might even be better just to head east. It would take about the same amount of time."

Jade gave a miserable shake of her head. "We were already at the Outpost. The bounty hunter and his gang burned down the inn trying to get to me."

The scout gave her an astonished look. "Burned it down!? Were you inside at the time?"

"Kendril was." Jade looked down forlornly at her bread. "He held the bounty hunter and his men off while Maklavir and I escaped."

"Sounds courageous. Crazy, but courageous." Joseph scratched his ear. "Ghostwalkers are a strange lot, from what little I've known of them. A lot of priests I knew back in seminary seemed to think them a kind of cult, and a dangerous one at that."

Jade took another swallow of her coffee, enjoying the feel of the sun on her back. "Do you think they're right?"

The man put down his cup. "Who can say? Things aren't always the way they appear." He took another bite of cheese, chewing thoughtfully. "They may be secretive, but I don't think they're necessarily evil."

A bird flew into a branch above Jade's head, flitting its wings and singing merrily. "So how do we move him?" she asked after a moment's silence.

Joseph took another bite of the bread. "He won't be able to get very far on a horse," he said. "What we need is something to carry him. I think I have an idea. It's not fantastic, but it's better than nothing."

Jade leaned forward. "What is it?"

"Something that would help," the scout said vaguely. He finished off the bread, then rose quickly to his feet. "I'm going to go check your friend's bandage. Gather your stuff together. The quicker we leave, the better."

"All right," Jade said, still a bit confused. As Joseph crossed over to Kendril, she knelt down by the pistols, picking one up in her hands. They seemed dry enough. She collected them, testing the flints in succession.

She glanced back over at Joseph. "What about Maklavir?"

The scout finished tying off a new bandage. "Don't worry. I'm sure we'll catch up to him." His eyes fell on the pistols. "Do you always carry around that many guns with you?" he asked lightly.

Jade gave an embarrassed smile. "Oh, no. These are Kendril's. I was just drying them out."

Joseph walked over, and picked one of the weapons up. He ran his thumb across the flint. "These should probably be sharpened," he murmured, "They'll spark a bit better. Should swab out the barrels with a dry cloth, too, just to make sure there's no moisture left. I have one in the pack, if you want. But they look dry enough." He turned the weapon over in his hands, giving Jade a sidelong glance. "This Kendril...do you know anything about him? Who he is, where he comes from, anything like that?"

"No," replied Jade, getting to her feet. "He wouldn't talk about it. Why do you ask?"

The bearded man handed the pistol back to her. "These are finely crafted dueling pistols. They look fairly expensive." He grabbed the sack lying on the ground. "Just curious, that's all."

Jade looked down at the pistol in her hand with renewed interest, but said nothing in reply.

"Well," said Joseph, latching the sack back onto his horse's saddle, "for now I think our best bet is to put your friend there on the horse. It won't be too comfortable for him, but right now I think it's our only option."

"All right," said Jade. "I'll walk alongside."

Joseph nodded, taking a deep breath of air and staring off intently into the woods. The sun was completely above the horizon now, and most of the frost from the night before had melted away. The air seemed a bit warmer. Already two squirrels were busy hopping from branch to branch overhead.

"Looks like it's shaping up to be a fine day," he said. "Let's head out."

The going was slow, with an unconscious Kendril draped atop Joseph's horse and Jade walking alongside with one hand on his leg to steady him. Joseph often sprinted ahead of them, disappearing silently through the brush. Sometimes he was gone for several minutes. No detail seemed to escape his attention. He listened to every birdcall, noticed every bent leaf or branch, and constantly scanned the ground for telltale marks. Jade often saw him duck back behind them, and she suspected that he was trying to somehow cover their tracks.

It was certainly warmer than the day before, and there was no trace of even a rain cloud in the sky. Birds twittered endlessly through the leafy boughs of the woods through which they traveled, and Jade felt strangely comforted by their voices. The sun was shining bright and full, and any remnants of rain were quickly burning off in wisps of steam. The ground was still muddy in places, however, and she was soon glad to be wearing the boots she had found back at the Outpost.

It was mid-morning before they finally stopped. They had been traveling in a northeastern direction, through heavy woods, though Jade suspected that they would probably hit the main road before long. Kendril was still unconscious, his arms wrapped around the neck of Joseph's horse. His face looked as if it was getting the tiniest bit of color back. Jade took it as a hopeful sign.

Joseph came back from where he had been scouting ahead of their path. "I think we've found your friend," he said. "Unless there are several people running around the Howling Woods wearing purple capes."

Jade felt her heart leap. "Where?"

The scout motioned ahead. "Ahead, about fifty yards or so. I'll take you to him."

A few minutes later they came upon the diplomat. Kendril's mule was sitting obstinately on the ground, and Maklavir was pulling hard on his bridle. His back was turned to them.

"Come on, you wretched animal," he said, giving the bridle a hard yank. "This is no time to take a break."

Simon brayed an uncivilized reply.

Maklavir straightened. "Why, you brutish, undisciplined—"

Jade jumped down a slight incline, running towards him. "Maklavir!"

He looked up in surprise. "Jade? Good heavens—"

She gave him a warm hug. "I'm so glad you're alive."

"Well," Maklavir said with a sardonic smile, "I guess that would make two of us." He held Jade out at arm's length, looking her over. "You're not hurt at all, then? Marvelous. Where is Kendril?"

Jade's face fell slightly. "He was shot, Maklavir. It's pretty bad. Joseph treated his wound, but he's still unconscious."

The diplomat looked at her strangely. "Joseph?" He glanced up, and noticed the scout for the first time.

The young woman stepped back. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maklavir, this is Joseph. Kendril and I would be dead right now if it wasn't for him."

"Well, then," said Maklavir, extending his hand to the bearded man, "I suppose we all owe you a debt of thanks. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Maklavir, diplomat and barrister, formerly of the court of King Luxium of Valmingaard."

Joseph took the outstretched hand. "Joseph," he said.

Simon gave a plaintive whine, shaking his tail and nudging Jade. She rubbed his nose affectionately.

"Good to see you, too, Simon," she said.

The mule snorted happily.

"I have to admit," said Maklavir, readjusting the cap on his head, "I was doubtful that either you or Kendril were still alive. I'm glad to see that I was wrong."

Jade glanced worriedly over at the Ghostwalker, still slumped on the horse's back. "Kendril's barely holding on, I'm afraid. I don't know how much longer we should keep him on that horse."

"I have another plan," said Joseph. "It's not much, but it would mean traveling east for a ways."

Maklavir cocked his head. "You'd be willing to accompany us?" he said, rather suspiciously. "Where are you headed?"

Joseph gave a wry smile. "I _was_ going to the Outpost, but I heard that the inn there has burned down of late."

Jade scratched Simon on the ear. "Joseph is a scout, Maklavir. He could guide us to the nearest town."

The diplomat beamed. "A pathfinder, eh? That's certainly good news. I'm afraid we've been bumbling around rather badly up until now. How much will your services cost, my good man?"

The scout thought for a moment. "Five hundred coins."

Maklavir's jaw dropped. "Five--?"

Joseph gave a hearty laugh and clapped the diplomat on the shoulder. "Don't worry yourself. I'm heading east anyway, so I don't see the harm in taking on a few more traveling companions. Besides, I could use the company."

Jade crossed her arms. "We'll pay you whatever we can when we reach the nearest town."

The scout lifted his hand. "I'm not the kind of man to extort money out of people in a tight spot. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night if I did." He shook his head adamantly. "No money. I'll get you to the nearest town. You can figure out what to do from there."

"Thank you, Joseph," said Jade gratefully.

Maklavir straightened his cape. "You're a good man." He looked behind him, trying to see through the thick woods. "Now all we have to do is to find the road again. I've been staying well away from it, just in case that bounty hunter comes back. It's probably a few miles away from here."

Joseph pointed to the left. "The road? It's about twenty yards that way."

The diplomat stared at him. "You're joking."

A smile formed on Joseph's face. "How did you folks ever get along without me?"

****

Chapter 16

"Here." Joseph waded through ankle-high leaves and grabbed at a large bush.

"Here what?" Maklavir followed behind him, kicking leaves out of the way as he tried to keep his cape from touching the ground. "I don't see anything."

The scout gave a sudden yank on the bush. A camouflaged netting came flying loose, revealing a rickety cart underneath.

"Oh," said Maklavir.

Joseph brushed some stray leaves and branches off the cart. "I found it about six months ago, right here just off the road. Trappers or bandits sometimes hide things like this deep in the woods, so they can have some convenient transportation easy at hand if they need it."

Maklavir peered curiously at the wagon. It was a dusty gray color, with moss growing on the carriage and vines crawling up through the wheels. It was covered with grime and dirt. He wrinkled his nose. "It looks like it has been sitting out here for a while."

Joseph nodded, moving around to the other side of the wooden cart. "Yeah. Chances are someone put it out here and then forgot all about it."

"But if we take it, won't we be stealing?" Maklavir folded his cape over his arm, tired of trying to keep it out of the slimy leaves below.

"Oh, technically speaking I suppose so." Joseph tore a vine away from the wagon. "But that Ghostwalker friend of yours may not make it to the next town if he has to ride the whole way. This cart will make things a whole lot easier for him. Besides, it'll start rotting if it's left out here too much longer."

"I see." Maklavir shrugged. "So what do we do from here?"

"Well," said Joseph as he examined the underside of the wagon, "I'd say we have to get this up to the road."

Maklavir looked unenthusiastically down at the filthy wagon. "You mean _pull_ it up?"

The scout positioned his hands on the back of the cart. "Well, yeah. Or you can push, and I can pull. Either way is fine with me."

Maklavir gave a sigh. "No, pulling is fine." He gingerly grabbed the front of the cart, trying to keep his clothes from touching any part of it.

"Ready?"

The diplomat looked back up at the road. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said with a grimace.

They had found the driest place on the trail possible, under the branches of a large oak tree. Maklavir and Joseph had managed to get Kendril down off the horse and had leaned him up against the rough bark of the tree trunk. After that the two men had gone off the road to the right, into the woods in search of whatever Joseph hoped to find there.

Jade sat down against a tree near Kendril, quietly loading the Ghostwalker's three pistols. There was no sign of the bounty hunter or his men yet, but Jade had little doubt that they would be coming yet again. She kept glancing down the road, expecting the one-eyed man to appear around the bend at any moment.

Simon sniffed sadly at the blood on Kendril's pants, then gave a low whine.

Jade finished the last pistol, then reached over and patted the beast reassuringly on his muzzle. "Don't worry, boy. He'll be fine."

The mule gave her a doubtful look.

She couldn't really blame him. To be honest, she wasn't entirely convinced herself. She looked over at Kendril again. He hadn't shown any signs of life since they had gotten him off the horse.

Simon gave a loud snort and pressed his head into Jade's shoulder.

Kendril moved.

His head rolled on his shoulders, and he gave a low moan, then a sharp intake of breath.

Simon jerked his head up with a start.

Jade moved quickly over to the Ghostwalker's side. "Kendril?" she asked hopefully. She pushed the hood back from his face.

She saw him swallow, then his eyes fluttered ever so slightly, opening to mere slits.

Jade felt her breath catch. "Kendril, can you hear me?" She suddenly realized that she was running her hand down the side of his face. She quickly pulled it back.

"Celeste?" he managed, his voice almost inaudible.

She froze. "No, it's Jade," she managed after a moment. "Maklavir is here, too, over in the woods. How are you feeling?"

The Ghostwalker's eyes slipped shut once again. "Jade," he murmured softly, then was silent.

Simon gave another concerned whine.

Jade absently reached up and stroked the mule's broad nose. She felt strangely pained, and she didn't quite know why. Kendril had stirred from his coma, and that was a good sign.

Still, she couldn't get the Ghostwalker's reply out of her head. _Celeste_...?

A loud crash from the other side of the road suddenly caught her attention. Simon pulled away with a startled snort, and Jade jumped to her feet.

A very disheveled and unhappy-looking Maklavir pulled a gray cart out of the bushes, and a second later Joseph followed, pushing it from behind.

Jade stared at the contraption in amazement.

Joseph pulled away from the cart and clapped his hands together. "This should make things easier. How is he doing?"

Jade felt herself pause for a moment. "Fine," she said, "just fine. He actually spoke a moment ago. I think he's doing better."

The scout moved around to the front of the wagon. "Good. I was hoping that salve I put on the wound would help. It's powerful stuff, that's for sure." He bent over the side of the cart and ran his hand across the wooden planks. "It'll be a bumpy ride. We can put down some blankets to make it a little better for him."

Maklavir clucked his tongue sadly, and twisted his head to look over his shoulder at his cape. "Look at this," he groaned. "It will be nothing more than a fancy rag by the time we ever get to a decent-sized town."

Jade walked over to them. Her mind was still drifting back to Kendril's words. "I'm sure it will be fine, Maklavir," she said absently.

"Fine?" The diplomat pulled up his cape, then let it drop again. "This is fine cloth, you know. Absolutely impossible to get clean." He looked up and noticed the look on the girl's face for the first time. "I say, Jade, are you quite all right?"

"Yes," she said quickly, "I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

Maklavir gave her a curious look, and looked like he was about to say something else when Joseph interrupted.

"All right, the blankets are down," he said, jumping off the cart. "Of course, it's going to be a bumpy ride for your friend either way, but this will still be better than the horse." Joseph jumped down off the wagon and motioned to Maklavir. "Give me a hand moving him, will you? I'll take his shoulders and you can get the feet."

"Uh, sure," said Maklavir hesitantly. He glanced over at Jade again.

She was looking off into the forest.

Maklavir touched her gently on the shoulder. "You sure you're all right, Jade? You look—"

"I told you, I'm fine," she said angrily, brushing his hand away. "Just leave me alone, will you?" She turned her head away again.

Maklavir paused for an awkward moment, then turned and walked across the road to where Joseph was waiting.

The scout was pulling up the Ghostwalker's bandage just as Maklavir approached. Seeing the wound for the first time, the diplomat quickly turned his head away in disgust.

Joseph looked up at him. "You think this is bad, you should have seen what it looked like yesterday."

Maklavir glanced back at Jade, who was still looking away. "He's getting better, then?"

"Yes." Joseph began tying the bandage back in place. "It looks like it's healing pretty fast. Stitches are holding, and there's no sign of infection, so that's good." He stopped for a moment, and scratched the side of his beard. "Everything okay?"

The diplomat knelt down by Kendril with a resigned sigh. "Oh, who can ever tell with women? Something's bothering her, but she won't say what it is."

Joseph gave an understanding grunt, then finished tying off the bandage. He glanced in Jade's direction, and lowered his voice. "You've known her a couple days now, right?"

"Right."

He leaned in, his voice still low. "This thing about her memory...do you...?" He left the sentence unfinished.

Maklavir took off his cap, shaking some pine needles off it. "I don't think she's lying, if that's what you mean. I've heard about a blow to the head taking away a person's memory before. Apparently it happens from time to time."

Joseph nodded, his eyes still on Jade. "Are those the clothes she was wearing when you found her?"

The diplomat replaced his hat. "No, no. She was wearing a green dress. I have it in my horse's saddlebag. Why do you ask?"

"A fancy dress?"

Maklavir hesitated. His stomach tightened inexplicably. "Yes, it was fairly nice, now that you mention it." He gave Joseph a probing look. "What are you thinking, exactly?"

The scout motioned with his head towards the woman behind them. "Just that a girl like _that_ doesn't show up in a place like _this_."

Maklavir felt a familiar tugging of doubt at the corner of his mind. "What do you mean?"

"Have you seen her hands?" Joseph didn't wait for a reply. "They're perfect. Not a single callus on them. Even the fingernails are trimmed. And her skin hasn't seen a harsh day of weather for a long while." He shook his head. "She's been in the wild for several days, and soaked to the skin, and I can _still_ smell perfume on her. I don't know who she is, but she's a _lady_ , that much is for sure. She has to be somebody important." Joseph stopped, and looked over Maklavir's head.

The diplomat turned around.

Jade was walking up to them. She seemed much more composed.

"Do you need any help?" she asked.

Joseph shook his head. "Maklavir and I should be able to get him just fine. Grab his feet, will you?" he said to the diplomat, while grabbing Kendril firmly under the shoulders.

They took the wounded man gently and carried him over to the waiting wagon.

Jade watched in silence as they set him down inside.

Simon clopped up behind her, and pushed his nose into the palm of her hand.

Jade scratched the animal's muzzle pensively for a few moments. "Do you have another blanket?" she said at last, walking over to the wagon.

The two men looked at her blankly.

"What for?" ventured Joseph.

"To cover him." Jade fished around in the saddlebag of Maklavir's horse, and pulled out a blanket. "Here." She leaned over the cart, and spread the cover over the motionless Ghostwalker. "He was absolutely freezing last night."

Joseph nodded. "Good thinking. I'll hook up that mule of his to the front of the cart. He looks like a sturdy beast." He grabbed Simon's bridle and pulled the beast towards the cart.

"Uh, about that blanket..." began Maklavir as he looked worriedly at the spread, "it's made of Arbelan wool, actually, and—"

Jade laughed, and the shadow lifted from her face. "Don't worry, Maklavir. If any blood gets on it I promise I'll get you a new one."

Joseph came back up to them, patting the side of the wooden cart with his hand. "We're good to go. We have three horses, but someone's going to need to stay with the cart."

"I will," Jade said instantly. "Besides, I think Simon likes me best."

Joseph nodded, then mounted his horse. "You two go ahead. I'm going to scout behind us for a ways, just to make sure we don't have any unwanted visitors. I'll be back in a few minutes." With a sharp kick, he goaded the horse into a gallop.

Maklavir and Jade watched him disappear around the bend in the road.

Jade climbed up into the front of the cart, and sat precariously on the narrow wooden plank. "It's good to have someone who knows his way around these woods."

"It is indeed," agreed Maklavir. He looked up at Jade. "About earlier, Jade. I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I'm the one who should be apologizing, Maklavir." She reached forward and grabbed Simon's reigns. "I didn't mean to bite your head off like that. I was just—just tired, that's all."

Maklavir put a foot into the stirrup on Veritas' side, and pulled himself up onto the horse's back. He grabbed the bridle of the henchman's horse and tied it to his saddle. "Not a problem. It's been a rough couple of days."

Jade leaned back against the cart. "That's for sure."

The diplomat started to coax his horse forward, then stopped and looked down at her. "He'll be all right, Jade."

She managed a smile. "I know. Thank you, Maklavir."

He touched his cap in salute, then started forward.

There was no sign of the bounty hunter or his men for the rest of the day, and the road remained clear of other travelers. The sky clouded up about mid-afternoon, prompting Jade to wrap herself in a blanket once more against the cold, but fortunately there was no more rain. Joseph continued to scout both ahead and behind them, but despite his occasional scowls and dark mutterings, he said little. Maklavir continued to ride alongside Jade and the cart, whistling just about every drinking song he knew, along with a few he didn't.

As for Kendril, Jade kept glancing behind her, but he gave no more signs of life. The cart rattled horribly against the dirt road, and every bump and jolt jostled the vehicle around so much that Jade began to seriously think that Kendril might have been better off on the horse. Even still, she said nothing, and the day quickly wore on into evening.

They stopped for the night a little ways off the road, in yet another camping site that Joseph seemed to instinctively know where to find. Simon seemed relieved to finally be released from his harness, though he had been polite enough not to complain too loudly about it during the journey. The cart was pulled up close to the fire, and Joseph quickly judged it better to leave Kendril where he was than attempt to move him again. Jade had noticed that some more color had returned to Kendril's face, and Joseph seemed quite pleased at how the Ghostwalker's wound was healing.

Much to everyone's relief, Joseph judged that a fire was an acceptable risk, as neither the smoke nor the flames could be seen from the road. After a quick supper of salted beef and stale bread, along with some blackberries that Joseph had found near the camp, they settled down by the fire as the stars began to come out one by one.

"I'll keep first watch," said Joseph as he oiled the blade of his rapier. He turned the weapon over, inspecting it carefully. "I'll wake you when it's your turn, Maklavir."

Jade huddled close to the fire, watching the embers glow and pop. "I can take a turn as well."

Joseph shrugged. "All right. Maklavir can wake you when it's time." He glanced off into the darkness towards the road.

Maklavir whipped off his cape, and folded it over one knee. "Everything all right, Joseph?" He took out a small sewing kit.

He nodded. "Yes. No one on the road should notice us this far back. I covered our tracks pretty well."

The diplomat threaded one of the needles by the light of the fire. "But...?"

Joseph paused for a moment, and tapped his thumbs together. "I think we're being followed."

Holding the cape up to the light, Maklavir began mending one of the small tears in the fabric. "Well of course we're being followed. Unless that bounty hunter and his men have given up."

"No, not them. Someone else." Joseph rubbed the side of his nose. "I haven't seen any sign of the bounty hunter. Doesn't mean he's _not_ following us, of course, it just means he's too far behind. But I've been getting strange feelings all day, small things out of place. I even thought I saw something, once, but it turned out to be nothing."

Jade brushed the dirt off her pants, and got to her feet. "It isn't the bounty hunter?"

A lone wolf howled off in the distance. Its cry echoed over the trees. Joseph glanced up briefly at the sound, then shook his head.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's not. I've no doubt he was a decent tracker, but whoever's on our trail right now is frighteningly good."

Maklavir pulled the needle through the fabric, and eyed Joseph warily. "So...should we be concerned?"

Jade walked over to the cart. She pulled up the blanket on Kendril, then brushed away a stray leaf.

Joseph watched her silently, then glanced up at the stars. "Well, whoever they are, if they wanted to make a move they could have done it by now. I don't think we're in any more danger tonight than we have been all day."

"Well that's reassuring," said Maklavir sarcastically. He finished off a row of stitches.

"I just wish I knew who was behind us," said Joseph softly, staring into the fire. His eyes flitted up quickly towards the young woman on the other side of the blaze. "Any ideas, Jade?"

Maklavir gave Joseph a sharp look.

Jade turned away from the cart, and sat back down on the ground near the fire.

"I wish I did." She pulled up her knees, and clasped her arms around them. "I know this is all because of me. I'm sorry, Joseph."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it right now," said Maklavir evenly. "Whoever it is that may be behind us, we'll deal with them when we have to." He held up the cape, flipping it back and forth in the firelight. "Hmm. Hopefully this will hold until we can get to a proper town."

Joseph replaced his sword in its scabbard with a smile. "I hope so. Those clothes of yours were the laughing-stock of the whole forest today. You could hear the squirrels chortling for miles."

Maklavir gave him a sour look. "Say what you like, my good fellow, but clothes do indeed make the man." He looked askance at the cape in his hands. "Not that this will be making much for very long..."

Joseph got to his feet. "I'm going to look around a bit more. You two can turn in whenever you like." He moved silently off into the dark trees.

Maklavir carefully folded up his newly mended cape. "Well, I suppose we should get some sleep. Tomorrow promises to be a long day."

"Yes," said Jade, looking over her shoulder at the cart behind her, "it does." She grabbed a blanket, smoothing her hair back. "Good night, Maklavir."

The diplomat put the cloak into his saddlebag. "Good night, Jade."

It seemed as if Jade had just closed her eyes when she felt Maklavir's hand on her shoulder.

"Jade?"

She blinked her eyes open. It was still dark, and the stars were twinkling through the tree branches above. Giving a groan, she rolled over and flung aside her blanket.

"My turn all ready?"

Maklavir chuckled. "I can take the third watch, if you're too tired."

"No, no. I said I would." Jade reluctantly got to her feet, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. "What time is it?"

"About two or three hours before dawn. Everything's been quiet so far."

Jade sat down by the fire, yawning. "All right. I'll take it from here."

The diplomat stretched his arms wearily. "Sounds good. See you in the morning, Jade."

"Good night," she said. She stretched out her hands toward the fire, rubbing them together.

It was a long watch. The night stretched on, and Jade fought to stay awake as she listened to the sounds of Maklavir and Joseph sleeping nearby. Whenever the fire started to die she threw another branch or two on it to keep it going. It was lonely work. Jade began to long more and more for the dawn.

The forest was just starting to turn gray with the first light of morning when Jade heard a rustling noise from behind her. She turned quickly, only to realize that it was coming from the cart. A second later there was a soft curse.

Jade leapt to her feet and hurried over to the wagon.

Kendril was lying inside, the blanket still covering him. His eyes, however, were open.

Jade felt a sudden surge of relief. "Kendril?"

He looked over at her, then closed his eyes again. "Jade. Where are we?"

She reached down and put her hand lightly on his arm. "Still in the Howling Woods. How are you feeling?"

He opened his eyes again, turning his neck painfully to the side. "Like someone dropped a boulder on my ribcage, so I guess that means I still have feeling below my neck." He swallowed. "Last thing I remember was that bounty hunter standing over me. What happened?"

Jade glanced back at the fire. "A man came and rescued us. He's the one who treated your wound."

Kendril gave her a sharp look. "A man?"

"She means me." Joseph appeared suddenly by the wagon, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "Name's Joseph. I'd shake your hand, but I know you're a little indisposed at the moment."

The Ghostwalker laid his head back against the cart. "Kendril. Sounds like we owe you our thanks."

The scout waved his hand. "It was nothing."

"Joseph's a scout," said Jade eagerly. "He's going to guide us to the nearest town."

Kendril coughed, then gave a crooked smile. "Well, that's better than either Maklavir or I were doing. Where is that pompous buffoon, anyway?"

"He's here," said Jade. She glanced over his shoulder. "Still asleep."

"On the contrary," said a familiar voice from the other side of the fire. "I'm _trying_ to sleep." Maklavir rolled over, and pushed the blanket away.

"Here's some water," said Joseph, handing down a full skin. "We have more, if you need."

"Thanks. I think I can get it," said Kendril. He took the water skin with his right hand, pushing himself up slowly into a sitting position. He took a long drink from the skin, then put it down. "How long was I out?"

Jade thought for a second. "A day or so."

Kendril slowly nodded. "And the bounty hunter?"

Joseph smiled. "I put a knife through his arm. We haven't seen him since."

The Ghostwalker gave a satisfied grin. "I wish I could have seen that."

Maklavir staggered over next to them, stretching his back. "I must have spent half the night on a bloody rock." His face brightened when he saw Kendril. "Good to see you up and around, old chap. How's the side?"

Kendril slowly stretched his left side. He gave a surprised look. "Bad, but not as bad as I would have thought."

"I've been putting a healing salve on it. Glad to see it's working." Joseph moved back to the fire, and prodded the dying embers with a stick. "I'll get some water going for coffee. We can have a quick breakfast and then hit the road again."

Jade turned back to Kendril. "You're feeling better, than?"

The Ghostwalker took another drink of water. "Believe me, I've been a whole lot worse." He looked over at her. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "The bounty hunter didn't even lay a finger on me."

"Well," Maklavir said with a yawn, "in another couple days we should be out of this accursed forest. I for one can't wait to be back in civilization again." He turned back to the fire.

"I have your pistols." Jade reached into a nearby saddlebag and drew out the Ghostwalker's weapons. "They were pretty wet, but I think I dried them out well enough." She handed one of them over to the wounded man. "I sharpened the flints while I was on watch. Loaded them all, too."

Kendril weighed the weapon in his free hand, then shifted his gaze over to Jade. "Well, well. You've become quite the firearms expert, haven't you?"

She gave a shy smile. "They're all right, then?"

"Couldn't have done better myself." He put the pistol aside, and his voice softened. "Have you remembered anything else?"

Jade's face faltered for a moment. "No, not really. Just an odd bit of knowledge here and there."

Kendril frowned. "I'm sorry, Jade."

She tried to smile, even though she didn't feel it. "I'm sure it will come back, eventually. It's only a matter of time."

The Ghostwalker nodded silently.

"Well," Jade said, "I'll go help Joseph with breakfast. I'll bring you back something, if you're feeling hungry." She turned to go.

"Jade?"

She turned back around.

"You should have left me behind." His eyes were stern. "You could have been killed."

Jade looked at the Ghostwalker for a moment, feeling a sudden wellspring of emotion inside her.

"You didn't leave _me_ , Kendril," she whispered.

She turned back to the fire.

****

Chapter 17

The sun had hardly risen before the four travelers were once again on the road, heading east into the brooding forest. All through the morning the skies above were gray with the threat of rain. It finally came about an hour before noon in a slight but steady downfall.

At first Kendril had been reluctant to ride in the back of the wagon, determined to ride Simon instead. He had been all set to do so when Jade had pleaded with him not to, until he reluctantly returned to the back of the cart. Jade rode in the front once more, but decided to give Simon a break from pulling the wagon, and tied the spare horse on instead.

As usual Joseph continued to ride both ahead and behind them, scouting for any sign of trouble. He often disappeared for several minutes at a time, only to reappear and ride beside the wagon as if he had never left at all. Maklavir and Jade managed to strike up a lively conversation for most of the morning, but Kendril stayed mostly silent. Jade guessed that he was still in more pain than he was willing to admit.

They stopped around noon, once more in a campsite just off the main road that Joseph located. There was no time to start a fire, so they broke out what little food they had for lunch and ate it cold. The rain continued to fall, but the heavy stack of branches and leaves above their heads gave them some protection, although cold water occasionally dripped down onto the back of an exposed neck.

After lunch Joseph mounted his horse, and rode back down the road with the promise that he would be back in ten minutes. Maklavir promptly tipped his cap back over his eyes and found the driest piece of ground he could, stretching out with his hands folded behind his head.

Kendril walked a little way into the wood, pulling out one of the short swords that Maklavir had kindly returned to him. He tested it in his right hand, swinging it back and forth. Then, ever so carefully, he shifted the weapon to his left. He swept the sword out slowly, stifling a groan as pain shot up his side. Taking a breath, he started again, trying to swing it a little faster. His face grimaced from the effort.

"Trying to bust your stitches?"

The Ghostwalker turned his head to see Jade standing behind him. "I'm _trying_ to get my reflexes back."

The young woman found a stump and brushed some leaves off it, then sat down. "Your side will never heal if you don't let it, you know."

Kendril looked forward again and gave the sword another gentle swing. "It's feeling a lot better. Whatever Joseph put on it really seems to have helped."

Jade cupped her hands in front of her face. "You got shot in the side with a crossbow, Kendril. It's a miracle you're still alive."

He sheathed the blade and turned towards her. "If that bounty hunter shows up again, I have to be ready."

"We haven't seen hide nor hair of him or his men." Jade shuddered as a cold drop of water hit her hand. "I think they may have given up on us."

Kendril grunted. "They don't strike me as the kind of men to give up that easily."

"No," said Jade, "I guess not." She looked down at her hands for a moment. "Kendril?"

He drew the sword again and gave it a practice swipe. "Hmm?"

"Who's Celeste?"

The Ghostwalker froze in mid-swing. He snapped his head in Jade's direction.

Jade pressed her face into her hands, feeling her heart pound. "You called me that yesterday, when you were barely conscious. Who is she?"

Kendril looked away again, giving his sword another precise swing. "Nobody. Forget about it."

The rain increased in tempo, and the pattering of the drops on the branches overhead grew louder. Jade knew she should let the matter drop, but curiosity drove her one step further.

"Someone you know?"

Kendril paused for a moment, his back to her and his sword poised in his left hand. Then he took a step forward.

His blade whirled around in a dizzying circle, switching from his left hand to his right, then back to his left. A split second later it slashed through two low-hanging branches, one after the other. Both fell to the ground, completely severed from the tree.

Kendril took a step back, breathing heavily and biting his lip in pain. He re-sheathed the sword as quickly as he had drawn it.

Jade leapt to her feet in alarm and was about to say something when the Ghostwalker turned around. The expression on his face startled her into silence.

"Someone I _knew_ ," he said tersely. "A long time ago. Now let it drop." He brushed by her, heading back to the campsite.

Overhead, a cold breeze blew through the branches, sending a sudden hail of cold drops to the ground beneath.

"This weather is absolutely miserable." Maklavir gave his cape a shake from where he rode on Veritas. Water flew in all directions. "I wouldn't be surprised if I catch pneumonia."

"We can only hope, Maklavir." Kendril leaned his hooded head back against the wet wood of the wagon. "Any sign of Joseph?"

Jade pulled her hat down lower over her eyes. Rain spattered on the brim. "No," she said over her shoulder. "He's up ahead somewhere. It's getting hard to see."

The Ghostwalker glanced up at the sky above the road. "We should stop for the night soon. The sun's almost down."

"Absolutely miserable," Maklavir repeated. He sneezed. "Did you hear that? I'm coming down with something already."

Kendril gritted his teeth as he pulled himself up to where he could see over the front of the cart. "Be sure to keep us all posted on the latest developments," he said.

Maklavir sneezed again. "I can't believe how heartless you are. It will be no laughing matter if we all come down sick."

Kendril looked ahead into the gathering dusk. "How long has Joseph been gone?"

Jade glanced over at him in surprise. "I don't know. A while. Why?"

The cart splashed through a large puddle on the road. "He hasn't been away this long before." Kendril looked back down the road behind them.

"Perhaps he's found another campsite," suggested Maklavir. "Or—"

A sharp _twang_ filled the air, and an instant later an arrow thumped into the wooden seat right beside Jade.

Simon brayed loudly.

Kendril threw back his cloak and reached for his pistol.

Suddenly, as if appearing out of mid-air, several figures materialized from the surrounding woods. There were at least a half dozen of them, dressed in green and brown with dark handkerchiefs covering their faces and hoods over their heads. Each held a stout bow, aimed at the travelers before them.

Maklavir fumbled with his sword and shakily drew it from his sheath.

Kendril stood painfully in the back of the cart, his hand on the handle of his undrawn pistol.

One of the figures strode into the road in front of the cart, his bow aimed right at Jade. "I told you that trapper was lying. There _were_ more of them."

One of the other hooded men nodded, and motioned to one of the ambushers behind him.

A second later Joseph was pulled out of the bushes, then thrown down into the mud in front of the cart. His hands were tied behind his back, and his mouth was gagged.

Jade jumped off the wagon and ran over to him. She pulled off the gag, and the scout gave a gasp.

"I'm sorry..." he managed, trying to rise to his feet. "There were too many of them, I couldn't--"

"Shut up," snarled one of the men. He aimed his arrow straight at Jade's chest. "Get back."

In a flash the pistol was in Kendril's hand, pointed at the man's head. "Try it and you die."

The men around the cart tensed, their bows shifting toward the Ghostwalker.

"You're outnumbered. Put the gun away," said a calm voice. It was one of the hooded figures standing off to the side, a red handkerchief and green hood covering his face. His muffled voice sounded young.

Without taking his eyes off the man he was targeting, Kendril suddenly whipped a second pistol out from under his cloak, and aimed it at the man with the red handkerchief.

"I've been outnumbered before," the Ghostwalker growled.

For a suspenseful moment there was only the sound of the gently falling rain, skittering onto the leaves overhead.

Maklavir finally cleared his throat, then slowly put away his sword. "Yes, well, might I ask what your intentions are, gentlemen?"

The figure with the red handkerchief glanced over at the diplomat. "We mean to take any valuables you may have, and hold you for ransom. If you cooperate you will live." He gave Kendril a pointed look. "Or we could just kill all of you now."

"I see..." said Maklavir.

Joseph staggered to his feet with the help of Jade. "We have nothing you would want," he said to the robbers.

"Really?" said the man near Jade. He glanced down at her, and then over at Maklavir. "Perhaps the girl and that one over there have some wealthy friends?"

"Please," said Jade, turning to the bandit with the red handkerchief, "we're being chased by a bounty hunter. If he—"

"A bounty hunter?" said the bandit. "Well, well. Then you _are_ worth something." He looked up at Kendril. "Put down your guns and I promise you won't be harmed."

The Ghostwalker didn't move.

"Kendril," said Maklavir, slowly raising his hands, "don't be a fool. You'll get us all killed."

"Better than being held for ransom," Kendril said.

"Kendril, please..." said Jade, looking up at the young man in the cart. "It isn't worth it."

"It's money we want, not blood," said the man in the red handkerchief again. "None of you will be harmed as long as you don't resist. You have my word."

Kendril snorted. "The word of a highwayman? That's _very_ reassuring."

"If I had wanted to kill you," the robber continued, "I would have done it already. Now I'll tell you for the last time. _Put your guns down_."

For a tense moment Kendril didn't respond, his pistols still at the ready. He looked over at Jade, and caught the pleading look in her eyes. Then, with a look of disgust, he flipped back his pistols, and laid them on the seat in front of him. As he went to stand upright again he wobbled, reaching out for the side of the cart to steady himself.

Instantly two of the bandits leapt into the wagon behind him. They grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back.

Kendril gasped in pain.

"He's wounded," Jade said hurriedly. "Please, be careful."

The young bandit looked up at his men and nodded. "Tie their arms tightly," he said. "Urban, search their belongings. See what you can find."

The bandit who had been near Jade motioned to two of the others, and they moved in towards the wagon and the horses. Maklavir was unceremoniously pulled from his horse, and his arms were tied behind his back. The four travelers were lined up in front of the cart, standing miserably in the falling rain.

The second bandit removed the red handkerchief covering his face and lowered his hood as well. Long red hair came cascading down onto the thief's shoulders.

Jade gasped.

The bandit was a woman.

"Search them for weapons," she said. Her glance shifted over to Kendril. "Especially him."

Jade felt her arms grabbed, then bound behind her back. She looked over at the female bandit again, still stunned.

Urban came up, lowering his hood. "There's not a whole lot, Kara. Some of the weapons may be worth something, though—"

"What about ransom?" said Kara.

Urban reached over and grabbed Maklavir, pulling him forward. "He's dressed fancy. I'll bet he's worth something to someone."

Kara gave the diplomat's clothes a dubious glance. "I doubt it."

Maklavir bristled. "Now see here—"

She grabbed the end of his cape. "Look at this. It's been mended at least a half dozen times. Hardly the clothes of a nobleman."

"That is hardly fair," Maklavir blurted out. "You have no idea how difficult it is to keep a cape like that in good condition out here in this wilderness."

Kendril gave the diplomat a glare. " _Maklavir_ —"

Kara let the cape drop. "This one's no more than a common rogue."

"A _rogue_?!" Maklavir's face turned red. "I'll have you know, my good woman, that I happen to be an esteemed diplomat and barrister."

The woman turned back around. "Really?"

Maklavir missed Kendril's warning glance. "Really. Why, I am just recently of the service of King Luxium of Valmingaard, not to mention—"

"All right," Kara said with a nod. "You've sold me. You're coming with us."

Maklavir's face faltered. "I'm—I'm coming...excuse me?"

Kara walked over to Kendril, and looked the Ghostwalker in the eyes. "And what about you? Any rich friends, or should we just kill you now and leave your body to rot here in the forest?"

Kendril gave a mocking smile. "You're threatening to kill me now? And I thought you gave us your word of honor."

She smiled in return. "Yes, but what's the word of a highwayman worth, after all?" She looked him up and down from head to foot.

"He's a Ghostwalker from the look of him," growled Urban from behind her. "You won't get any money from him. Best to just kill him and leave him here."

"Well, well." Kara pulled out a long knife and stuck the edge of it under Kendril's chin. "A Ghostwalker. I've never met one before. Is it true that you've sold your soul to Regnuthu?"

He straightened as the sharp point pricked into his skin. "Sure. And I dance with demons in the moonlight, too."

Kara smiled, but said nothing. She re-sheathed her knife. She turned to Jade, examining her carefully. A moment later, the thief smiled.

"There may be some profit here after all," she said with an odd smile.

She turned to Urban, who was standing behind her.

"Blindfold them," she said, putting her knife away. "Take the animals and the cart as well."

"Even the Ghostwalker and the trapper there?" Urban shook his head. "We don't need them. Why not just—"

"Because I told you to, Urban," Kara said, turning away from the prisoners. "Now get those blindfolds ready, and let's get moving." She turned, missing the seditious glare that Urban threw her.

With a snort he turned to the other men. "You heard her. Get those blindfolds on."

One by one, black hoods were thrown over the prisoners' heads, and their world became dark.

For what seemed like hours Jade was pushed, prodded, and steered into blind nothingness, her feet tripping and stumbling over hidden roots and branches. Around her she could hear the gentle falling of rain, and the constant singing of birds above, but other than that she was completely turned around. Occasionally she heard the low murmur of voices in front and behind her, but she could never quite make out what they were saying. She tried to ignore the sharp sting of fear in her heart, but her mind reeled at the sudden turn of events.

Try as she might, she couldn't see any way out of this one.

Just as Jade thought she could go no further, she was pulled to a sudden stop. For a second she stood, her breath loud inside the darkness of the hood. The next instant the hood was torn from off her head, and she could finally see again.

It was night. Even still, a nearby fire nearly blinded her at first, and she had to blink several times to adjust her vision. She was standing in a large clearing somewhere in the forest, with the star-filled sky clearly visible above. A long wooden table stood by the fire, and several bandits were seated around it on makeshift benches, eating and drinking. As Jade pivoted her head, she saw that several huts bordered the clearing. One larger building to the east looked like a stable of some sort. Some dogs were tied up to a large tree in the middle of the clearing. They barked and yipped excitedly, straining at their leashes. Several armed men were walking in and out of the huts, with several wandering chickens scurrying to get out of their way.

Jade turned her attention back to the table in front of her. Maklavir stood alongside her, looking around as well. To his immediate right were Kendril and Joseph.

"Are you all right, Jade?" Maklavir whispered.

She nodded, her arms still tied behind her back. "Yes. What's going on?"

"I don't know. Perhaps—"

"Quiet," came Kara's stern voice. She moved around to the other side of the table.

Another thief came up to the table, taking off his gloves and slapping them down onto the wood. His hair and beard were the same fiery red as Kara's, and his clothes were the simple brown and green tunic and cloak that all the other bandits wore. He gave all four prisoners a sly look.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said with a dark smile. "You must be hungry. Henrigan, get them something to eat."

One of the nearby bandits reached over to the fire, and began to rip off some of the roasted meat that hung over the flames.

Jade saw Kara lean over, and whisper something into the red-haired man's ear. He gave Jade a thoughtful look for a moment, then nodded towards Kara. The female thief rose silently, and disappeared in the direction of one of the huts.

"What do you want from us?" Kendril's voice was unusually quiet. "You already have all our possessions."

The red-haired man smiled. He grabbed a roll and bit into it himself. "I'm afraid that is not sufficient. You will all be required to inform your next of kin, or any friends you may have, of your predicament. When they have paid the proper amount you will be released." He motioned to a nearby bandit, who brought several pieces of parchment, along with a feather quill in a pot of ink. "We only have one pen, I'm afraid, but you can take turns."

Jade gave him a quizzical look. "I'm sorry? Take turns--?"

"Writing your ransom notes," the man replied. He pointed with his roll to the parchments. "If you need more ink, just let us know. In the meantime, please enjoy your meal."

Maklavir gave Jade a quick glance. "I see. I'm afraid there might be a problem with that, Mr.--?"

The bandit swallowed his bite. "Torin. And what would that be?"

The diplomat glanced over at one of the nearby bandits. "I'm afraid my companion has no memory of who she is, or where she comes from. I am not sure to whom we would write."

Torin's eyes flashed dangerously, though the smile remained on his face. "Yes, so I've heard. Fortunately, I think I might have a very simple solution for that."

Maklavir straightened. "What do you mean?"

"He means _me_."

A sudden voice came from their right, causing all four of the captives to turn their heads.

A man stepped into the firelight, taking a bite out of an apple in his hand.

Jade felt her insides freeze.

It was Montrose.

****

Chapter 18

"I don't trust him."

Torin glanced over at Kara, scratching his chin. "I don't trust him either, little sister. He's a bounty hunter, after all. But he's paying good money for the girl, and that's what counts."

Kara turned her eyes back to the table behind them. Montrose sat by the fire, carefully counting out pieces of gold. She turned back to Torin, keeping her voice low.

"Has he said why he wants her?"

"No. And frankly, I don't want to know. As long as his gold is good I don't care."

Kara looked down at the ground for a moment. "Are you sure this is wise?"

Torin put his hand on her shoulder. "You worry too much, Kara. Once the bounty hunter takes the girl then she's no longer our problem."

"There," came Montrose's voice from behind them. "One hundred fifty gold coins. You can count them, if you like." He slid a small purse of coins towards them.

Torin stepped forward, picked up the bag and weighed it in his hand.

"I will." He glanced up at the bounty hunter. "Why do you want her so badly, anyway?"

"That's my business, not yours." Montrose got up from the chair and moved around the table. Uther followed behind him, with a nervous glance at Torin and Kara. Further back by the fire Calham was sitting with a tankard of ale in one hand and a chunk of roasted meat in the other.

Montrose stopped in front of the line of prisoners. He smiled at Kendril.

"Looks like I've finally won, Ghostwalker." He leaned in, and the smile vanished from his face. "Too bad my crossbow bolt didn't kill you back at the bridge."

Kendril returned the man's gaze. "With your aim? Doubtful."

Without warning Montrose slammed his elbow into the Ghostwalker's left side. Kendril fell to his knees, gasping from the pain.

Jade took a half step forward.

Montrose turned in her direction. "You've eluded me long enough," he said in a low voice. He stopped in front of her, his one eye coldly appraising the beautiful young woman before him. "But I always get my prey."

Kendril was still on the ground, coughing.

Joseph glanced down at him, but with his arms still tied there was nothing he could do.

Montrose turned to his men. "Uther, Calham, let's go. We've got a schedule to keep."

Kara sat down at the table. Her eyes flitted doubtfully back and forth between Jade and Montrose.

"Leaving so soon?" said Torin casually.

Montrose grabbed his hat off the table. "Business calls."

The bandit chief nodded, and opened his mouth to speak.

The sudden blaring of several trumpets, their harsh cries rebounding across the meadow, drowned his voice out.

Startled, Torin went for his sword.

The bandit next to him lurched abruptly back, a crossbow bolt protruding from his chest.

Another bolt slammed into the table next to Torin, sending chips of wood flying.

Montrose spun, his mace already in his hand.

The trumpets were deafening, filling the night air with sudden panic and alarm.

The camp was being attacked.

Torin pulled out his sword and shouted commands at the nearest bandits, who were standing nearby with looks of complete terror on their faces.

Kara drew her sword as well, and looked over to her brother.

Montrose grabbed Jade by the arm and yanked her forward.

Uther fumbled with his crossbow as Calham ran over to them, his hand already on his weapon. He got two feet before a crossbow bolt hit him in the neck.

Joseph and Maklavir dove to the ground beside Kendril, their hands still tied behind them.

All around was chaos. Crossbow bolts flew through the air as thick as darting bees. Several bandits were already lying dead or wounded on the ground.

Across the clearing a band of riders wearing white tunics broke from the tree line and urged their horses across the grassy meadow at full gallop.

Torin turned to yell an order, but was just in time to see another band of riders coming from the other direction, accompanied by the flash and roar of several pistols being fired in the night air.

Uther tried desperately to load his crossbow. "What's going on?" he shouted.

Montrose snarled, pulling Jade roughly to her feet. "We've been set up!" A crossbow bolt flitted past his right shoulder, barely missing him.

Jade cringed before him, too frightened to move.

"If I can't have you," the bounty hunter spat, "then no one will." He shoved Jade down to the ground, then lifted the heavy mace in his hand.

Kendril dashed forward and slammed into him.

The two tumbled to the ground. Montrose's mace flew out of his hand and landed in the grass nearby.

"Regnuthu take you!" the bounty hunter shouted in a hoarse voice. He stumbled to his feet, then lurched for his fallen weapon.

Kendril staggered to his feet. His face was white and strained. He backed back against one of the tables, reaching with his tied hands behind him.

Jade got to her feet. "Kendril!"

Uther aimed his crossbow at one of the approaching riders and fired off the bolt. "Boss!" he called over his shoulder. "We've got to go!"

Montrose wasn't listening. He charged at Kendril, his face twisted with rage.

Joseph got to his knees. He swayed as he tried to keep his balance. "Kendril!" he warned.

The Ghostwalker spun to one side.

Montrose's mace came down hard on the table, bashing the wooden planks into splintered pieces. Shattered pieces of crockery and food went flying.

Kendril rolled in the grass, somehow ending up on his knees. He gasped in pain, his face clenched and covered with sweat.

Montrose whirled, lifting the mace again.

" _Boss_!" Uther called again. He struggled to reload his crossbow as shout and screams sounded all around them.

"Time to die, Ghostwalker," Montrose spat.

Kendril climbed to his feet, his arms still tied behind his back. He shrugged. "I'm waiting."

"No!" Jade leapt forward, her hands bound behind her back as well.

Montrose turned with a snarl and lashed out his free hand in a balled fist.

The blow hit Jade across her face. She collapsed unconscious to the ground.

Montrose turned back to Kendril with a smile. "Your turn."

Kendril took a step back and wiggled his body. The ropes fell off his arms onto the grass. He brought a knife out in front of him.

Montrose glanced at the shattered table behind him, then back at the grease-covered knife in Kendril's hand. With a roar he leapt forward.

Kendril came at the bounty hunter and swiped with the steak knife.

The mace lashed down, missing Kendril's head. Montrose twisted, then drew his weapon back for another strike.

Kendril swung his makeshift weapon at Montrose's arm. It slashed through the bounty hunter's sleeve, making a shallow gash along his forearm.

"Kendril!" Joseph shouted. His eyes were fastened on a fallen sword just a few yards away. "A sword! To your right!"

Kendril backed up, his teeth clenched against the agonizing pain in his side. He glanced over at the weapon and shook his head. "Too long," he called back.

Joseph blinked. "What?"

"His _vow_ ," Maklavir groaned.

Jade groaned from where she lay on the ground, her head rolling slightly.

Montrose launched forward and hammered down with the mace in his hand.

With a twirl of his black cloak Kendril ducked under the blow, rolling across the grass. As he tumbled past the off-balance bounty hunter he rammed the knife into Montrose's leg.

Montrose screamed and reached for the handle of the knife that was sticking out of his thigh.

Kendril leapt to his feet, then spun around and brought his booted foot down had on Montrose's back.

With a grunt the bounty hunter crashed face-first onto the ground.

Kendril pressed a hand to his wounded side, his teeth gritted in pain from the over-exertion. He tripped back a step, dizzy and off-balance.

Jade raised her head, her eyes blinking in confusion. She got to her knees and wiped the mud from her eyes.

Montrose climbed to his feet, limping heavily. The knife was still in his leg.

Kendril tried to move forward, but fell to his knees instead. The pain was evident on his face.

Montrose stepped forwards and grabbed Jade by her long hair. He pulled her head back, and lifted his mace high. "You can watch her die," he growled at Kendril.

The Ghostwalker moved forward, but half-collapsed to the ground.

Montrose smiled and started to swing his weapon down.

The next instant, a pistol bullet blew his head into nothingness.

Jade flinched back, the right side of her face splattered with the bounty hunter's blood. When she raised her head, she saw a band of men on horseback racing towards them. The white tunics they wore gleamed in the starlight, giving the riders an ethereal look.

Uther dropped his crossbow and turned to run, but a pistol shot punched him in the back and knocked him forward into the table.

"Jade!" Maklavir cried, rising to his feet. "Now's our chance!"

She started to turn, but something prevented her from running. The white tunics triggered something in her memory. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the pounding hoof beats of the approaching riders.

Kendril staggered up beside Jade just as the horsemen galloped up from the opposite direction.

The rider in the lead held a smoking pistol, which he quickly shoved into a saddle holster. He pulled out another. "Get away from her!" he ordered, pointing the gun at Kendril.

The Ghostwalker glared up at the mounted man. He took a slow but deliberate step back, his hand still plastered against his side.

The lead rider turned to the horseman next to him. "Round up the survivors," he ordered. "Don't let any escape."

"Yes, sir," replied the man. He turned his horse around and galloped off.

The leader of the horsemen got down off his horse, his pistol still pointed at Kendril.

As Jade watched him, she realized that the white tunics were white uniforms. On them was the emblazoned symbol of a peacock, its feathers shining with brilliant colors.

These men were soldiers, and the man in front of her was their commander.

The rider gave Kendril a suspicious look, keeping the pistol trained on him. He looked over at Jade, who was staring at him in astonishment.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?" he said.

Jade waited dumbly for a moment, until she realized that the man was talking to her.

And then, in a blinding flash, it all came back to her.

Kendril started to say something to her, but Jade couldn't hear what it was. She opened her mouth to speak, but the roaring in her ears drowned out her voice.

The next moment, everything went black.

Torin turned desperately as another of his men crumpled under a crossbow shot.

One of the riders leveled a pistol at the bandit leader's head. "Surrender or die!" the man shouted.

Other riders thundered through the camp, their blades flashing down in deadly arcs on the fleeing bandits.

Torin swallowed, his sword starting to shake in his hands. His camp was destroyed. Most of his men were dead already, or fleeing for the woods. More men in white tunics were exploding from the woods.

Biting his tongue until he tasted blood, Torin threw his sword down on the ground and raised his hands.

Kara glanced over at him fiercely, her sword held defiantly in her hand.

He shook his head. "It's over Kara."

Slowly, and with a pained look on her face, Kara tossed her sword down in the dirt.

"For the last time," Kendril said in a tired voice, "we're not bandits. Think about it. Why would our hands be tied if we were?" He glanced down at his freed arms. "Well, they _were_ tied."

The soldier standing over them tensed his hands on the crossbow he was holding. "That's for Lord Bathsby to decide. Meanwhile I'm under orders to guard you."

Kendril let his head drop back and closed his eyes. "This is pointless."

Joseph gave a nearby rock a small nudge with his boot. His arms were still bound. He glanced over at where Kendril was sitting.

"Jade will get this straightened out, Kendril."

"Not if she's still unconscious," the Ghostwalker grumbled.

The scout wiggled around, stretching his legs on the grass. "It's been quite a while since they took Maklavir away. Hopefully that's a good sign."

Kendril glanced up. "Speak of the devil..."

Maklavir came running down towards them, waving his hand.

"These two men are not bandits!" he shouted. "They are friends of the princess."

The guards gave him uncertain looks, their hands still on their weapons.

"What's going on, Maklavir? Where's Jade?" said Kendril. He glanced over cautiously at the crossbowmen behind him.

"Who is Jade?" came a new voice from behind Maklavir.

A man strode up, dressed in the same white uniform as the other soldiers. A neatly trimmed reddish-brown beard covered his face, and his eyes were coldly blue. His clothes were impeccable and expensive, and even his uniform shown with a brilliant whiteness that spoke of excellent care. The symbol of the peacock on the front had been decorated with several sparkling jewels, causing the tunic to sparkle and dance in the starlight. Over his head he wore a blue hat, with one of the brims folded up and a yellow feather bobbing from the top.

Maklavir turned, gesturing to Kendril and Joseph. "These are the men I told you about, your lordship."

The man gave Kendril and then Joseph a keen glance. "Then you both have my gratitude." He turned to the sergeant. "Release them at once." He turned back to Kendril and Joseph and gave a short bow. "I am Lord Bathsby. I understand that both of you have protected Her Highness from harm over the last few days. The people of Llewyllan owe you a great debt."

Kendril gave Maklavir a quick look. "'Her Highness'?"

The diplomat took a step forward. "Um, yes, Kendril." He glanced over at Lord Bathsby. "These men are the Royal Guard of Llewyllan. Lord Bathsby is their commander." He paused for a moment. "Kendril, Jade's real name is Serentha. She's the daughter of King Nathan of Llewyllan."

Joseph's mouth fell open. "A princess?"

Lord Bathsby cocked his head curiously. "You didn't know?"

"No," said Kendril quietly. "We didn't. Where is she?"

"My men have her in their care. I'm sure that she will want to see you when she has properly revived. In the meantime I hope that you will all consider yourselves our honored guests." He cast his blue eyes upon Kendril, looking the young man carefully up and down. "You're a Ghostwalker?"

He nodded. "I'm Kendril. This is Joseph." He nodded over at Maklavir. "I assume you've already met Maklavir."

"Yes. I apologize for the way you have been treated. Until Her Highness had regained her senses we had no way of knowing who you were."

"Our supplies," said Joseph to Bathsby, "they were stolen by the bandits yesterday."

"Oh, don't worry about that. All your weapons and goods will be returned to you as soon as we find them." Bathsby took off his hat, and scratched the side of his head. "This is all most remarkable. You have been calling Princess Serentha 'Jade' this whole time?"

Kendril put one hand on his left side, pressing his wound gently. "She was wearing a green dress when I met her," he said simply. "I had to call her something."

Bathsby gave a short nod. "Ah, I see. Yes, the princess has always been fond of the color green, especially the hue of jade." He put his hat back on.

Kendril lowered his hood, his face pale in the darkness. "So how exactly did you find us?"

"Oh, we had been tracking you for some time," said Bathsby. "We were scouring these blasted woods for the kidnappers. I had thought we lost them for good until we got word about what happened at the Outpost." He shook his head in wonder. "I saw what was left of the inn there. I'm truly impressed you all managed to get out alive."

"Well," said Maklavir with a stifled yawn. "I for one am exhausted, and am going to grab what little sleep I can for the remainder of the night."

"I think that would be a good idea for all of you. The last few days must certainly have been harrowing ones." Bathsby motioned one of his soldiers over. "I'll have my men get you blankets and anything else you require." He gave the three men a salute. "Once again, gentlemen, you have my gratitude. If there is anything either I or any of my men can do for you, do not hesitate to ask." The nobleman turned and issued some quiet orders to the soldier he had summoned.

The three companions were left alone for a second, the stars twinkling brightly above their heads. For a long moment none of them spoke.

"Do me a favor," said Kendril at last. "If I ever pick up a lost girl in the woods again, shoot me."

###

About the Author:

Ben Cassidy lives in Vancouver, WA, with his wife and three children. He pursued graduate studies in history for several years until he decided that reading six scholarly books a week was not challenging enough for him, and so switched to being a stay-at-home dad. He has been writing since he was in third grade, though now he is able to bribe other people to do the illustrating for him. He has the uncanny habit of writing of himself in the third person, and is disturbed by how easily his whole life can be summed up in four sentences. Or even five.

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A Note from the Author

I need your help.

When you publish independently, you have to do everything yourself. I'm not just writing and dreaming up plotlines and characters. I'm editing, formatting, and marketing my books as well. All that takes time, and most of it I'm not very good at.

There is no marketing campaign behind me. No major publishing house. No motivated literary agent watching my back. It's just me. And in this e-book age, a successful writer needs positive word-of-mouth to succeed.

If you liked what you just read, if you want to see more of the characters and the worlds I am creating, then take five minutes to help me out. Publish a review of my work online. You'd be amazed how important reviews are, and how few readers do it. Click on my facebook link (above) and like my page. Sign up for my update email list, ChroniclesofZanthora@yahoo.com. I promise I will only send emails to you when I'm coming out with a new piece of fiction.

And above all, tell a friend that you liked my work. Blog, twitter, tweet, facebook, or telegraph other people about me.

And thank you for reading what I have written. If even for a moment you found yourself standing under the twin moons of a distant world, or smelled the stench of gunpowder and crisp tang of blood, then I consider my work well done.

### An Excerpt from Book Two of

### The Chronicles of Zanthora:

### Throne of Llewyllan

"I should have seen it coming," said Maklavir. He wrapped his hands around a pewter mug as he sat on one of the wooden benches by the bandit's table.

"How could you have?" asked Joseph as he poured himself a cup of coffee. The first streaks of dawn were in the sky, and the forest was alive with the sounds of birds greeting the morning.

Maklavir looked down into his coffee. "Serentha." He shook his head. "I knew she looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen her before. There were always little clues, of course, but I never managed to put them together."

Joseph stood, the cup of coffee in one hand. His rapier hung once more at his side, returned to him by the soldiers of the Royal Guard.

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Maklavir. None of us had a clue who she was."

"But I had seen her before," Maklavir continued. "Years ago. I went to Llewyllan on a diplomatic mission. One of my first, actually. I remember young princess Serentha. She couldn't have been more than eleven or twelve then." He took a sip of coffee. "I should have known."

Joseph sat down in the grass by the fire, and set the coffee down beside him.

Around them the white tents of the Royal Guard dotted the clearing, and sentries patrolled the perimeter of the meadow. Further away was the larger tent that Lord Bathsby had told them that Serentha was recovering in. Neither Joseph nor Maklavir had been allowed to see her yet.

The scout reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small book. He flipped it open, and started to read.

Maklavir raised his eyebrows as he saw the cover. "A religious man, eh?"

Joseph looked up in surprise at the question. "I suppose so, yes. You?"

The diplomat chuckled. "Oh, not exactly. I try to keep my options open."

The scout looked down at the book. "You don't believe in Eru the One?"

Maklavir shrugged. "I don't _disbelieve_ in Him." He smiled. "So you read the Scriptures every morning?"

Joseph scratched his beard. "Every morning I can." He held out the book to Maklavir. "You're welcome to it, if you'd like."

The diplomat took another sip of his coffee. "Maybe sometime." His eyes rotated upwards. "Kendril?"

The Ghostwalker sauntered into their midst, his black cloak wrapped around him against the morning chill. He sat down heavily on one of the benches by the table, his face a mixture of frustration and disgust.

"They're all dead."

Joseph pocketed the book. "Who's dead?"

Kendril leaned forward and looked at the fire. "The bounty hunter and his men."

Maklavir wrinkled his nose. "I can't say it's any great loss."

"I had a few questions for them," Kendril said darkly. He bent his arm back with a grimace, and stretched his injured side.

Joseph gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look. "Questions about what?"

Kendril turned his head towards the scout, his hands still folded in front of him. "About who hired them, and why."

"What exactly are you suggesting?" asked Maklavir. "Some kind of conspiracy?" He chuckled. "That's a little far-fetched, don't you think?"

"Is it?" Kendril stopped for a moment as two soldiers walked by. He waited until after they had passed, then lowered his voice. "Haven't either of you wondered who hired the bounty hunters? Or who attacked Jade's escort in the first place?"

Joseph raised his head. "Her escort was attacked?"

Kendril nodded. "Bathsby told me. Jade was coming back from a trip to Merewith. Her convoy was ambushed at the corner of the woods."

Joseph took another drink of his coffee, his brow furrowed in thought. "You think the attackers knew she was coming?"

The Ghostwalker shrugged. "It makes sense. I think Bathsby suspects something as well, but he's keeping his mouth shut."

Maklavir sat back, waving his hands in front of him. "Hold on just one moment here. What you are suggesting, Kendril, is utterly fantastic. We have no evidence for it whatsoever. It's all just speculation."

"Last night, right before he was shot, that bounty hunter said he had been set up." Kendril looked over at both of them. "Set up by whom?"

"One of his men?" Maklavir suggested.

Kendril shook his head. "He didn't say _sold out_ , he said set up. There must have been someone else involved, and it may very well be someone close to Jade."

"Sounds bad," said Joseph quietly. "We should keep our eyes and ears open, I think."

"And trust no one," added Kendril.

"Somehow," said Maklavir dryly, "I doubt that will be much of a problem for you, Kendril."

The Ghostwalker was about to respond when a shadow fell onto the ground. The three of them looked up to see a soldier standing above them.

"Her Highness will see you now," he said simply.

Smoke from the numerous campfires dotting the clearing drifted lazily through the early morning air. Kendril glanced around him as the three of them trudged through the dew-covered grass towards the main tent where Serentha was staying. Groups of soldiers were gathered about the fires, in fours and fives, while mounted men patrolled the edges of the meadow. Beyond that, Kendril was sure, there were even more scouts. There had to be close to a hundred men or so in the clearing. It was quite a sizeable force.

The main tent stood on the highest point in the clearing, with soldiers standing guard all around. The royal banners of Llewyllan were planted in the ground to each side of the entryway, flapping and fluttering in the chilly morning breeze. Each was emblazoned with the symbol of a peacock. A small table had been set up nearby, and Kendril noticed Lord Bathsby seated at it with two of his captains, looking over a map.

"Good morning, gentlemen,"said Bathsby as soon as he caught sight of them. "I trust you slept all—" He stopped, staring at Kendril in amazement. "Tuldor's beard, man! Are you quite all right?"

Kendril glanced down. His pants and shirt were covered with dried blood. He smiled. "I'm fine. Just an old wound from one of our run-ins with the bounty hunter and his men. I haven't had a chance to clean my clothes yet."

Bathsby shook his head incredulously. "I'm amazed you're still alive. You must have a remarkable constitution, my friend."

The Ghostwalker tilted his head towards Joseph. "I have him to thank for that. Joseph here is quite talented at treating wounds."

"I see." Bathsby turned his head, squinting in the morning sun. "Well, I can certainly get you a change of clothes before you see Her Highness. It's the least I can do to thank you for all that you have done."

Before Kendril could object, Bathsby had called an orderly over. After a few barked commands, the man rushed off again, returning a few minutes later with a new shirt and trousers. Kendril reluctantly changed, but still kept his black hooded cloak on, bloodstains and all. When Maklavir started to say something about it the Ghostwalker gave the diplomat such a glare that he quickly stopped himself. After Kendril had finished changing, the three men entered the tent.

What they saw made all of them stop in their tracks.

Serentha wore an elegant blue dress, sparkling with pearls at the edges. Her hair, no longer matted and mud-stained, was tied back into a ponytail held in place by a sapphire clasp. On her head was a simple circlet of gold with a single diamond set in the center. She was sitting in a cushioned traveling chair towards the back of the tent. Her face lit up as she saw the men enter, and she rose to her feet. Two maids who had been assisting her bowed their heads low and retreated a step.

For a moment no one spoke.

Finally Maklavir stepped forward, whipping off his hat and bowing low. "Are you well, Your Highness?"

Her face seemed to fall just slightly. "Yes, I am," she said, her eyes drifting over towards Joseph, and then to Kendril. "Thanks to all of you," she added, her face steadying again. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am for what all of you have done. You each risked your lives for me." She clasped her hands in front of her, as if unsure what to do with them. "I've remembered...well, everything. It's all come back to me in a rush." She unclasped her hands nervously. "I hope you will all accompany back to Balneth. I know it is a few days journey from here, but I wish to properly reward you for your courage and kindness."

"Of course," said Maklavir, keeping the hat in his hand. "I would be most honored, Your Highness."

Joseph nodded as well, fidgeting a little as if feeling slightly ill at ease. "Thank you."

Kendril said nothing, staring at Serentha coolly.

The princess glanced down at the ground. "Wonderful." She looked up again, her eyes falling on Kendril. "Thank you again," she said. "For everything."

Maklavir smiled. "We would do it all over again, Your Highness," he said.

Serentha smiled as well, and for a moment some of the sadness seemed to lift from her eyes. "I know you would, Maklavir." She looked at all of them. "If there's anything you need, please ask Lord Bathsby."

Maklavir nodded, and bowed again. Joseph dipped his head as well, rubbing his sweaty hands on the legs of his trousers. Maklavir rose, and then exited through the flap of the tent. Joseph followed after him.

With a quick glance at the princess, Kendril turned to go.

"Kendril," Serentha said quickly, "could I speak with you a minute?"

The Ghostwalker hesitated at the edge of the tent, but said nothing. He turned back around, lowering his hood.

Serentha glanced at both of her maids. "Leave me for a moment."

They bowed, and then exited the tent.

Kendril and Serentha were left alone, standing awkwardly apart from each other. The sides of the tent rolled softly in the morning breeze, the sun shining through the fabric.

The princess motioned towards a pitcher on a small table. "Would you like something to drink?"

"No," he said.

She looked away for a moment. "How is your wound?"

"Better," said Kendril.

Serentha looked at the Ghostwalker, her eyes filled with a quiet plea. "I didn't know about any of this, Kendril—"

"Yes," the young man said with an edge to his voice, "you couldn't remember." He looked her up and down, a vague look of distaste on his face. "You seem to be remembering things just fine now."

Serentha's face flushed. "I never meant to deceive you, Kendril. You have to know that."

The Ghostwalker's eyes grew dark. "The result is the same though, isn't it?"

Hurt showed in the beautiful young woman's eyes. "I'm still the same person you know, Kendril. I'm still _me_."

"Really?" said Kendril, his voice filled with venom. "And who exactly would that be? Jade or Serentha?"

"Enough," she said. "I'm _Jade_ , Kendril."

"And I should call you that, I suppose? Lord Bathsby out there might have a problem with that. And most of your kingdom, too, I'd wager." The Ghostwalker swore softly, looking away. "Things have changed, _Your Highness_. Let's not pretend otherwise."

There was silence between them for a moment. The only sound was that of the wind outside the tent, and the flapping of the flags just outside the entrance.

Kendril looked down at the ground by one of the tent sides. He took a deep breath.

"I should go," he said. "I need to track Simon down. That dumb mule is long overdue for a carrot."

Serentha sank into the chair, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes on the ground in front of her. She nodded, but said nothing.

Kendril hesitated for a moment, then raised his hood and turned towards the flap.

"Kendril?" Serentha said quietly. "Will...you come back with me to Balneth?"

The Ghostwalker stopped, one hand on the opening. He looked down at the ground, but made no reply.

Serentha looked up, her voice suddenly hard. "I see. Be sure to see Bathsby before you go, then. He'll pay you for your services."

Kendril glared back at her for a moment, then exited the tent.

