The Assassin King

14

The cohort of the Second Mountain Guard of Sorbold came to a halt at the place where the road leading north into the province of Canderre crossed with the forested trader’s route heading east from the wooded lands of Navarne to the capital city of Bethany. The wind was cold, but the sky clear; darkness and the absence of travelers in winter had covered their journey from their southern homeland with but minimal exception. Each stray merchant or farmer had been easily dispensed with, with no major outcry or notice in the sparsely settled area, just as they had planned.

Now, as they approached the keep and the surrounding walled village mat was Haguefort, the commander gave quiet orders to more surreptitiously travel the forest road, to cling to the fringe of the woods for cover, in single and dual file, to keep from attracting notice of any of the patrols that were most likely stationed throughout the area, guarding the home of Gwydion of Manosse, the Lord Cymrian. And his family. The commander silently signaled to the troops, and they followed him quietly into the woods, their surefooted mounts all but silent along the forest trail. They had gone the better part of a league when the sound of horse approaching could be heard in the woods to the north. Quickly, the commander signaled to two of the scouts and dismounted. They followed him, sliding down from the saddle silently while the rest of the cohort quietly came to a stop deeper into the fringe. The commander and the scouts crossed the forest road and crept through the underbrush, dry and dead from the snow that still gripped this part of the continent, so different from their homeland of dry and arid mountains. They passed through the forest easily, having been trained to do so at great expense, and stopped within a thick copse of evergreens to wait. Beyond the stand of trees at the edge of their sight was a forest path, a meager route where farmers traveled to avoid the main road and to harvest the fruits of the forest, wood for hearths, berries and wild herbs, and game. The sound of a small number of horses at full canter could be heard in the west; the three soldiers sank lower to the ground, waiting. After a few moments the horses and riders came into sight. There were four beasts, two light riding horses and two heavy draft, with what appeared to be two riders atop one each of the light and heavy, the others carrying supplies. The man atop the heavy horse was enormously tall and broad; the beast was breathing noisily as it ran. The travelers did not tarry; they traversed the forest path, gaining speed as the woods grew thinner, and disappeared into the distance. The commander rose quickly. Take the third wave, and follow them,” he said to the first scout. “It may be nothing, but my instinct says they should not be allowed to slip past. Bring back their horses if you can; they will aid in the journey back.” The scout nodded, and all three men made their way quickly back to the main forest road. The cohort divided itself up quickly and quietly, the third wave taking to the north in pursuit of the riders, the second doubling back southwest to serve as a far flank, the remainder heading quietly west. To Haguefort.