The Wildcat of Braeton Page 2

  “How do you know?” Azrahil asked.

  “You remember those horse thieves a few years back?”

  Azrahil nodded in remembrance.

  “Once we got our horses back, Hamíd and the blacksmith put a small mark on all of the left hind shoes.”

  Azrahil bent to study the track. Inside the print of the horseshoe there was a small circle with a slash through it.

  “You’re sure it’s Narak?” Azrahil asked.

  “As far as I know only seven horses were fitted with marked shoes, and they’re all accounted for except Narak,” Emeth replied.

  “So you will be able to track them anywhere?” a soldier asked.

  “Mostly, but we’d better hurry. Khalid is taking them toward Argus. That marked shoe will be useless in sand.”

  “How far ahead are they?” Azrahil asked.

  Emeth studied the prints again. “Half a day.”

  The troop stopped a few minutes more to water the horses and then Emeth led them on, leaning over the neck of his horse to keep an eye on the trail left by Khalid.

  The night was well advanced when they halted and made camp.

  “How’s your head?” Azrahil asked Emeth as he rubbed at the bandage.

  “Horrible,” Emeth admitted. “Whatever Nicar drugged me with wore off hours ago.”

  Azrahil handed him a small bottle. “Here. Nicar gave this to me. A few sips should help.”

  Emeth drank and the throbbing in his head began to recede.

  “Get some rest. We’re not stopping tomorrow,” Azrahil said.

  “How did I know you were going to say that?” Emeth muttered, wrapping himself in his cloak.

  Dawn broke a few hours later, and the camp stirred into motion. Emeth cast about for the trail. Once he found it, the troop mounted and followed. Hours passed as Emeth followed the tracks. The troop made good time, and he reckoned they were only a few hours behind Khalid.

  The ground began to change, becoming sandy and dry as it began to rise into dunes. Emeth snorted in disgust. He had lost the trail among the shifting hills. Dismounting again, he searched along the edge of the grasslands and into the desert without luck. He pushed up the bandage around his head irritably. A thought struck him. He searched left and right as he walked back along the tracks. Azrahil watched curiously but knew better than to say anything. Emeth gave a yell of triumph: tracks split off heading south.

  “You sure they went that way?” a soldier asked.

  “Yes. Look, three different prints lead off to the south, and one of them is marked. Two more lead into the desert. Those two are leaving a decoy trail which almost worked,” Emeth admitted. “I’m willing to bet they’ll meet back up along this trail.”

  He proved right, and they were again following the tracks of five horses. By nightfall, Emeth called a halt.

  “Sir, I can’t keep going,” he told Azrahil. “If it were a full moon we could go on, but it’s on the wane and I might miss something. Torches would just alert them to our presence.”

  Azrahil reluctantly agreed, and the troop made camp once more. At dawn, they continued again. Midmorning, Emeth signaled for a halt. He dismounted and continued up the trail for a half mile until he saw a small copse of trees surrounding a pond of water. He crouched and made his way closer until he heard the soft murmur of men talking and the movements of horses. Keeping flat, he wormed forward until he saw the shapes of the men. Two were Argusians; the others Calorins.

  “Are you sure they followed the false trail?” one asked.

  “Yes, my lord. I’ve seen no sign of anyone following us,” a soldier replied.

  “You’d better be right, Rafiq!” the first man sneered.

  “My lord Khalid, where shall we go from here?” one of the Argusians asked.

  Emeth did not wait to hear the reply. He worked his way backward quietly until he was out of sight and then ran back to the waiting patrol. Azrahil divided the troop in half. They would ride out in a wide arc and close around the enemy.

  “How do we know they’re still there?” a soldier asked.

  “I’ll go in first and give the signal,” Emeth said and Azrahil nodded approvingly.

  “How will you do that?” the soldier asked.

  Emeth swung into the saddle. “I’m going to get my horse back. You coming?”

  The troop broke into smiles and chuckles.

  “All right, let’s move out,” Azrahil commanded.

  Khalid and his men looked startled as Emeth walked through the trees. Drawing their swords, they leapt to their feet.

  “You said no one followed us!” Khalid snarled.

  “Sorry to prove you wrong, mate, but the false trail didn’t work,” Emeth said.

  “What do you want?” Khalid asked.

  Emeth smiled disarmingly. “I just want my horse back.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Khalid said. “Are you alone?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Kill him.”

  Emeth put his fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Azrahil and his men stepped from the trees, encircling the enemy. In a panic, two of Khalid’s men charged in an attempt to break free. They were cut down instantly.

  “Throw down your weapons unless you want to join your comrades,” Azrahil ordered.

  “Don’t,” Khalid told his men. “He’ll kill you as soon as you’re unarmed.”

  Azrahil sighed. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have wasted my breath. Lord Rishdah wants you alive, Khalid.” He signaled his men forward.

  Weapons were taken from Khalid and his men. They were bound and forced to mount their horses.

  “Excellent job, Emeth,” Azrahil commended him.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Let’s go home.”

  “Three words I’ve been longing to hear for months, sir,” Emeth said with a smile.

  * * *

  With Khalid’s army routed and its leader captured, Lord Rishdah ordered his forces home. Emeth’s spirits rose as he beheld the familiar walls and turrets of the castle. Lord Rishdah and Ismail rode ahead to greet their waiting families. No man begrudged their eagerness. Every soldier in the army awaited the dismissal order so they might return to their own homes.

  The four Phoenix Guards rode through the gates behind Lord Rishdah. Friends and soldiers left behind called out greetings. Grooms came forward to take their horses. Emeth unbuckled his saddlebags and took them to the barracks.

  As was his custom, Lord Rishdah dismissed his guards, allowing them two days of rest after returning from a campaign. Emeth would spend it as he usually did: sleeping.

  Bathed and dressed in clean clothes, he first went and visited Castimir’s grave as he always did after returning home.

  “I survived another, mate,” he said softly. “Last one for a while, I hope. We take Khalid to the Sultaan in a few days, and I leave for home.”

  Emeth sighed. Castimir might have been Lord Rishdah’s son, but he had been friends with the younger guards, especially Corin. Castimir had always been curious about the North and was continuously pressing Emeth and Corin with questions. Corin had always been reluctant to talk about Aredor for he feared he would never return there.

  If things had worked out differently, Corin would be standing beside him, Emeth thought. Of course if things were different, Castimir might be alive too; the thought came with a familiar pang of sadness.

  Do not mourn for me. My time had come, Castimir had told Corin in a dream. It did not make it easier for Emeth or Corin. They had both been with him in the ambush when he died and they both still felt like they had failed him and Lord Rishdah.

  “I thought I might find you here.” Ismail’s wife Nadirah came up behind Emeth.

  “Yes, m’lady. Just paying my respects,” Emeth said.

  Nadirah smiled. “Once Ismail has rested, we will come here with the boys. He wants to give them a memory of an uncle they will never know.”

  Emeth glanced at the gravestone. A bundle of wild
flowers lay in front of it. “It must be comforting to know that you’re remembered after you’re gone.”

  “I don’t know if Castimir would appreciate the flowers, but it helps his mother,” Nadirah said.

  Emeth smiled. “Believe me, every warrior hopes to lie in a grave marked and decorated.”

  “Does it make the thought of dying easier?” Nadirah asked curiously.

  “Honestly it’s more a matter of pride. We leave the world with a monument to our names.” Emeth chuckled.

  Nadirah laughed with him. They turned and left the quiet graveyard together.

  “I heard Lord Rishdah say that you are leaving in a few days,” Nadirah said.

  “Yes, ma’am, my term of service is up. I’m going home, for a while at least.”

  “Do you have much family there, Emeth?”

  “My parents and three brothers, and I might even have some nieces and nephews by now.”

  “Any girl waiting for you?” Nadirah teased.

  Emeth laughed. “No, ma’am, I never really paid much attention to girls before I left.”

  “What will you do once you get home?”

  “I don’t know. It might prove to be too quiet, and I’ll wander off again. Maybe travel to different parts of the world.”

  “Well, don’t forget us, and come back to visit,” Nadirah said. “And if you see him, give greetings for us.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I will.” He knew of whom she spoke. Corin had touched almost everyone’s life in Calorin.

  Emeth returned to the barracks, tumbled into his bed, and slept until supper. After the meal, he played the customary game of cards with Nicar and Azrahil, Ahmed having gone to visit his family. Ahmed had lived on Lord Rishdah’s lands all his life. His father tended to the lord’s horse herds. Rishdah had offered Ahmed a place in the army when he was younger. After seeing him fight, Lord Rishdah made Ahmed part of the Guard.

  Nicar had joined the Guard only a few years before Ahmed. No one seemed to know where he came from. But the small hole in his earlobe convinced Emeth and Ahmed that he had either been a pirate, or part of the roaming bandit tribes. Azrahil had always been with Lord Rishdah. He had been made Captain of the Guard after a battle had killed two of the Phoenix Guard years before.

  As they played, they talked about anything but Emeth’s departure. He made no effort to bring it up. It would be hard on all of them. Sometimes he thought it wasn’t fair that he knew so much about them and hadn’t ever shared much about himself. They knew his real name, Aiden, and where he was from, but he had never wanted to tell them anything else. Corin had been the same. He had gone by Hamíd during his time in Calorin,, and it wasn’t until they received the news that the Calorins had invaded Aredor that Emeth had learned he was actually a prince.

  Nicar won as he usually did which drew colorful oaths from his companions. Azrahil threw down his cards in disgust as Nicar calmly gathered together his winnings. Emeth tossed his cards down. He had stopped trying to catch Nicar cheating a long time ago. Corin had beaten Nicar once, but they had both cheated so badly it could hardly be called a fair game. Emeth turned in again shortly after the game ended.

  * * *

  The morning they were to leave to take Khalid to the Sultaan, Emeth packed his bags with slow reluctance. He said farewell to Ismail and Nadirah as well as the few other friends he had. Lastly, he paused again at Castimir’s grave. Giving a salute, he joined Lord Rishdah and his Guard. Mounting Narak, Emeth fell into formation as the soldiers took their places around Khalid who was bound and mounted on a horse.

  Lord Rishdah signaled and they rode forward. Emeth passed under the gates for the last time as a Phoenix Guard and the company turned north toward Qusay, the city of the Sultaan.

  Chapter 3

  This is strange, Emeth thought as he packed his saddlebags. The day had come for his journey home. He had laid aside his uniform but out of habit had pulled on the coat of chain mail. A plain leather tunic replaced the embossed one of the Guard.

  Emeth went down to the stables and began tacking up Narak. As he finished, the doors opened and Lord Rishdah entered.

  “I meet with the Sultaan in a few minutes, but I wanted to say good-bye,” Lord Rishdah said.

  Emeth came out of the stall. “And I wanted to thank you, my lord, for helping me out of that mess when we first met, and for giving me a place.”

  “I think I made a good decision that day. You have given me seven long years of service. Thank you,” Lord Rishdah said. “But before you go, there is something else I wish to speak to you about.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Lord Rishdah glanced up and down the stable corridor. “I know you are returning to the North, so I will send a warning with you. The Sultaan is again preparing for war. I do not know when or how, but it will come.”

  Emeth frowned in worried confusion. “Why are you telling me this, sir?”

  “Because I think it is foolish. He did not learn from the first failure. You Northmen are a stubborn lot, and I do not think you will look kindly on a second attempt.”

  Emeth had to smile. Lord Rishdah was right about that.

  “There are rumors that we negotiate with Durna. And it is also said that not all is right in Braeton. Be careful where you go, Emeth. You may think me a traitor to my people, but I will not send you blindly into danger. The Sultaan will no doubt tell me more but that is all I will say. Prepare yourselves.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Best of luck to you, lad.” Lord Rishdah extended a hand. Emeth clasped it firmly. After Lord Rishdah left, Emeth met the other Guards in the courtyard.

  “Are you fully equipped?” Azrahil asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Emeth hid a smile. “I’ll take the north road to the coast and pick up a ship to Gelion. I have a friend there who can get me passage to the North.”

  Azrahil nodded approvingly. “You did learn something after all.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll miss you too.”

  Azrahil gave one of his rare smiles and shook Emeth’s hand. “Good luck, lad.”

  “Try not to get into too much trouble, Emeth,” Nicar said.

  “You know me, Nicar. Trouble seems to find me anyway. But I’ll try and be careful.” Emeth grinned.

  “Well, that’s reassuring. Greet an old friend for me?” Nicar asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Emeth shook Nicar’s hand.

  “Take care of yourself, Emeth,” Ahmed said as they embraced.

  “I will. And I’ll come back and visit when I can,” he promised. “I’ll pass on greetings for you too.”

  “Thanks.” Ahmed managed a smile.

  They clasped hands, and Emeth reached out to the newest member of the Guard.

  “Good luck, Fakhir. Don’t let Nicar cheat you out of too much money.”

  Fakhir laughed. “Good luck, Emeth.”

  Emeth mounted Narak and with a last wave of farewell he rode from Qusay.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Drilon Port in Gelion echoed with activity as cargo was shuffled among merchant ships. Voices cried out in the languages of every country surrounding the Masian Sea. Sailors and dock workers dodged each other with skill as they attended to business. But the cacophony was lost on Emeth as he confronted the thief in front of him.

  “You said five silver pieces when I boarded and five more when we arrived. Not ten more!” Emeth’s hand itched to draw a knife.

  “Yes, but I must repair the damage caused on the voyage. By you, I might add!” the Calorin merchant said. “Be grateful I am not charging you more!”

  “Grateful!” Emeth spluttered. “You should be grateful I stopped those pirates from looting and destroying your ship!”

  “You smashed two barrels of my cargo!” the merchant persisted.

  “Right! Because I’m sure the pirates would have let you keep all your precious merchandise and your life just because you would ask them to please leave! You’re lucky I’m letting you live!”

 
; “Seven silver pieces.” The merchant backed down slightly.

  “I’ll only pay you what we agreed on, which was five.”

  “I can have you arrested!” the Calorin threatened.

  “I’d like to see you or any of these fat, overdressed guards try!”

  “Habib! You know very well you’re being unreasonable! It sounds as if you are in this man’s debt.”

  Emeth’s gaze slid past the Calorin to the familiar, and impressively built, man in a red merchant’s robe who had decided to join them.

  “You know nothing of this matter, Mustafa!” Habib said angrily.

  “I heard enough,” Mustafa said. “This man owes you nothing, or I’ll make sure you never trade again.”

  Habib backed down at this statement and walked away, muttering angrily.

  “You’re welcome, Aiden,” the merchant said in Rhyddan.

  Aiden smiled to finally hear his name again. “I had it handled, Mustafa.”

  “I could tell.” Mustafa’s smile flashed white against his dark skin. “But enough of this! What are you doing here?”

  “Going home. I’m trying to find a ship going to Aredor.”

  “Well, you’re in luck. I leave tomorrow for the North. I can give you passage,” Mustafa said. “For free.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” Aiden smiled. Mustafa had been the one he’d trust to get him there. “Thanks.”

  “Stay with me tonight. I even have a place for your horse. You can tell me what you’ve been up to for the last few years.” Mustafa clapped his shoulder.

  “Again, thank you,” Aiden said.

  Aiden untethered Narak and Mustafa led the way from the docks. They wound up the streets until they came to Mustafa’s villa. Aiden quartered Narak in the roomy stables and followed the merchant inside. A servant led Aiden across the tiled entryway to a small chamber.

  “There’s hot water and towels through there, sir.” The servant pointed to an adjacent door. “Supper will be in an hour.”

  “Thanks.” Aiden threw his bags on the bed.

  The room was richly decorated giving evidence of Mustafa’s success. The merchant was Argusian by birth but had run away to sea at a young age. He had settled in Gelion and married the daughter of a merchant. Having a good mind for trade, he had worked his way up the ranks of his father-in-law’s business.