The Hag's Contract

Nineteen

Evann barely had time to raise his sword in defense. He parried Hawk’s savage blow; the force of it jarred him all the way to his shoulder. Evann countered.

Laughing in savage glee, Hawk smashed his blow aside and tried to ride him down.

Rolling, Evann barely managed to avoid being trampled. He came up on his knees, caught his balance, and dodged before Hawk could wheel and charge him again.

Things were not going well. Each of Evann’s men held off two or three fighters; Harrach parried four. Several men suddenly cried out in pain—but whether they were his or Hawk’s, Evann couldn’t say.

Still laughing, Hawk swung from the saddle and advanced on foot. “This is too easy,” he said. “You can do better, can’t you? I’m not even working up a sweat.”

Grim faced, Evann retreated before him. At least he had only one man to battle, he thought. If he could manage to disarm Hawk and force him to surrender—

Hawk rushed him suddenly. Parrying, feinting, parrying again, trying to keep that blur of steel from finding his body, Evann retreated before the savage onslaught. It couldn’t go on much longer, he knew. All he had to do was play for time and let Hawk exhaust himself. If only he could make it to the trees, he thought, he might stand a better chance there—

Suddenly he stumbled over something on the ground behind him. Arms windmilling, he fell backward, landing on his elbows. He’d fallen over Uwe’s body, he realized with dismay, though he couldn’t tell whether the lad still lived.

With a laugh, Hawk gripped his long sword in both hands, set his feet, and gave a huge powerful swing. The force of it knocked Evann’s sword flying. Evann searched frantically for Uwe’s weapon, but couldn’t find it anywhere.

Hawk stepped forward and placed the tip of his sword to Evann’s throat.

“Yield,” he said, serious at last. “No more of your men have to die here.”

“I yield,” Evann said softly.

“Hold, men!” Hawk shouted. “They yield!”

Gradually the sounds of combat ceased. Evann looked around and found only four of his men still standing. He swallowed. A pitiful end to their adventure, indeed, he thought.

Hawk stepped back and offered Evann his hand. Slowly, without accepting it, Evann climbed to his feet. His right arm felt numb from the blow that had knocked his sword away. A sick heaviness filled his chest and stomach.

“Lay down your swords,” he said to his men. He could barely speak. “We surrender.”

Lesser men might have wept. Evann forced himself stiffly upright. At least, as he’d once heard King Graben say, while you lived, you still had hope.

As he watched, first Lothar, then Harrach, then the others lowered their weapons. Hawk’s men moved forward, disarming everyone. Only Harrach had done real damage; two men lay dead at his feet.

And Uwe—Evann knelt to check on the boy. He was breathing, but unconscious from a blow to the head. Blood covered the right side of his face. He also had a deep cut on his right arm and another on his side, laying bare his ribs.

Evann looked up. “Is there a healer among your men?” he asked Hawk.

He’ll be sewn up at camp. If he lives that long.”

Evann swallowed. They’d been fools to believe they could sweep in here and kidnap Hawk. Bowspear had to be laughing at them now, calling them fools and toasting their deaths.

He glanced at the others. Reddman and Shurdan were on their feet again, nursing arm wounds. They wouldn’t be fighting again in a long time, he thought. They were down to four swordsmen. The odds did not look good.

“Line up.” Hawk commanded, returning to his horse and swinging up into the saddle. “It’s a long march back to camp, but we can make it by nightfall if you run.”

Evann slowly rose. “We’ll need a litter.”

Hawk motioned to two of his men, and they galloped to the small patch of trees. Evann watched them dismount, take hand axes from their saddlebags, and begin hacking down saplings.

Evann had become completely disoriented and had no idea where they were. A long rope tied his wrists to Hawk’s saddle, and he stumbled a bit as he allowed himself to be pulled along. He didn’t have the strength to struggle anymore—not that it would have done any good, guarded as he and his men were by so many of Hawk’s soldiers. They had been half marched and half dragged across the plain all the day. Now, in darkness, they had reached a new chain of mountains.

Rounding a low hill, they came upon a large camp of several dozen tents and a few long, low wooden buildings. Several huge bonfires burned, and tall torches had been stuck into the ground, providing light.

The tents formed a semicircle around the mouth of a cave. Hawk drew up there and dismounted.

Panting, bone weary, Evann sank to the ground. Around him, his men did the same. He felt sick and dizzy. His arms ached. Cuts and bruises covered his knees and legs, mementos from all the times he’d fallen and been dragged.

Hawk had shown no compassion or mercy. He had called only two short breaks, and neither Evann nor his men had been given any water. Perhaps Uwe had been the lucky one, he thought, despairing.

Hawk swung down from his saddle and handed the reins to one of his men. The others began leading the horses off toward one of the long, low buildings … probably stables, Evann thought.

Hawk didn’t seem to think the prisoners were very dangerous anymore. Exhausted, with their hands tied, sprawled on the cold, hard ground, Evann knew they wouldn’t be a match for anyone.

Hawk grinned cruelly as he gazed down at Evann. “Not so full of spirit now, are you?”

Evann closed his eyes and winced. He wished he’d fought to the death.

Laughing, Hawk stepped to the mouth of the cave. A faint sickly green glow seeped from somewhere deep within.

“My lady!” Hawk called, stepping into the cave.

“We met with success!”

“You have them, pretty-pretty?” asked a high warbling voice like fingernails on slate. Evann shuddered at the sound.

“Yes, my lady!” Hawk vanished from sight. Evann thought he heard sounds of kissing from within.

An instant later Hawk returned, a broad grin on his face. Taking Evann’s rope, Hawk jerked him to his feet.

“Your prisoners,” he called into the cave, “are waiting, my lady!”

Evann saw movement in the shadows. Slowly a creature—a hideous old woman from the waist up, a mass of huge serpents from the waist down—glided forward slowly and into the torch-light.

Evann felt his heart seize up. He wanted to go screaming into the night. He wanted to run and never look back. How could they have hoped to succeed against this thing?

“Magic!” the Hag hissed, drawing to a stop before them. She reached out and ripped the protective talisman from Evann’s cloak, then went down the row of prisoners, doing the same to each of Evann’s men. She threw each of Candabraxis’s little protective charms to the ground, spitting on them and letting her serpentine abdomen writhe upon them, grinding them into the earth.

“What do you have to say?” she demanded of Evann when she finished. “You invaded my lands. You brought foul magics before me. Why should I not kill you? It would be a simple thing, my pretty-pretty one.”

Evann shuddered and averted his gaze. “We mean you no harm,” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking in fear.

Hawk said, “They claimed to be searching for me. They want me to return with them and end some battle in Grabentod.”

“Fools …” the Hag said.

“What do you want me to do with them?” Hawk asked. “Shall I string them up, so you can watch their bodies twisting in the wind?”

She cackled. “Such pretty-pretties they would be! No, no, sweet boy, I will attend to them myself, one by one, boiling them to make powerful potions.” She produced an inhumanly shrill laugh.

Evann felt a chill run down his back. It was a fate he wouldn’t have wished on even Parniel Bowspear.

“As you will, Mistress,” Hawk said with a grin.

Still cackling, the Hag undulated toward her cave and vanished from sight.

Hawk turned to go, but Evann leapt forward to block his way. They wouldn’t have much time before the Hag called them. There had to be some way Evann could save his men.

Then he saw the talismans lying on the ground where the Hag had thrown them. They seemed a little muddy, but unhurt. If they were still potent—

“Hawk,” he said, “I know now where your loyalties lie. The Hag is a powerful mistress. But I beg you, at least have mercy on the boy. He’s done you no harm.”

“Eh?” Hawk turned to look at Uwe. He frowned a little, as if remembering his own youth.

Evann pressed his point. “The Hag would never miss such a little one. I can make it worth your while to save him.”

“How?”

“I’ll pay you—you’re a soldier. You know the value of gold.”

“You have gold?” Hawk asked. He looked Evann over slowly. “Where? My men didn’t find any when they searched you.”

“It’s hidden,” he said. “It’s inside my amulet— yes, there on the ground.” He nodded toward the spot where the talismans lay.

Hawk bent and picked one off the ground. A subtle change swept over his face as he held it in his hands, turning it over and over. His expression lost some of its sharpness, and the ruthless, fanatical gleam in his eye seemed to fade.

Or had Evann imagined it? He hesitated, unsure. What if Hawk had another charm? Would two double their power? He had to try it.

He licked his lips. “I don’t think it’s that one,” he said quickly. “The one lying next to it… yes, there.”

Hawk picked up a second talisman. As he held them both in his hands, he turned to Evann, and it seemed to Evann that a strangely confused look crossed his face.

“What—” he whispered.

“Yes,” Evann breathed. The amulets were working. Together, two of them had begun to protect Hawk from the Hag’s charm.

“Get a third one!” he said.

Hawk slowly turned toward the cave. “Mistress…” he whispered.

“She’s nothing to you,” Evann said in a low voice. “You don’t need her. She’s bewitched you. What you need are more of the amulets. There’s gold hidden in all of them. Pick them up, Hawk. Pick them all up.”

Numbly, like a mindless puppet, Hawk obeyed. Evann watched as he gathered up one, then another, then another. When he held the last of them, he froze, staring at Evann and the others as if aware of them for the first time.

“You—” he said, confused. “I think—we—”

“Quickly!” Evann said. “Pin the amulets onto your cloak. They’ll protect you.”

Hawk obeyed, fingers fumbling.

“We must escape before the Hag returns,” Evann went on softly. “Give me your knife. I’ll cut my men free. Then we’ll all escape together.”

“Escape.” Hawk glanced sidelong at the Hag’s cave for a moment, then drew his knife and stepped forward. In one quick movement he severed the ropes around Evann’s wrists.

Fingers half numb from cold and loss of circulation from the ropes, Evann massaged his wrists for a second. Then, gently, he pried the blade from Hawk’s grasp.

Harrach had seen what was happening and crawled closer, arms outstretched. Evann slit his ropes, too, then passed him the knife.

“Cut everyone else free,” he said.

“Aye, sir.” Harrach rubbed the feeling back into his hands. “Do we run?”

Evann hesitated. “No. Stay here, in line, on the ground, like there’s nothing wrong. We don’t want to arouse suspicion yet.”

“Aye, sir,” Harrach said. He turned and started sawing at Lothar’s bonds.

Standing, Evann grabbed Hawk by the elbow and propelled him toward the stables. He felt a sudden rush of energy now that he had a plan. They’d need mounts next.

“When we get inside, order ten horses saddled,” he told Hawk.

“Horses …” Hawk mumbled.

He seemed dazed, hardly able to think. It had to be the result of the Hag’s magic wearing off after years of being enslaved to her.

“Snap to, soldier! You have your orders!”

“Yes, sir!” Hawk straightened and seemed to draw on inner reserves of strength.

Evann held his breath. He’d given Hawk strong orders hoping his training and instincts would take over—but would it work?

Side by side, they ducked through a low doorway into the stables. Evann surveyed the long rows of stalls, each one occupied. The air inside smelled thick from horses, hay, and manure.

One of Hawk’s men had been rubbing down a gray mare. Hawk strode up to him without hesitation. “Saddle ten horses,” he said to the soldier on duty. “Have them waiting for me in twenty minutes.”

“Sir?” The soldier looked from Hawk to Evann and back again. He was one of the men who’d helped Hawk capture them, Evann thought. If he suspected something …

Hawk snapped, “You heard me, Hrell. Ten horses. I have a mission tonight.”

“Yes, sir!” The man hurried to obey.

Evann whispered, “Our swords next.”

Turning, Hawk strode out into the camp again. Without hesitation, he headed for one of the smaller tents.

Evann trailed him. It was working, he thought, scarcely able to believe his fortune. His hands were trembling. They were going to make it. If only the Hag stayed in her cave until they could get away….

Hawk swept back the tent flap. Inside stood racks of swords, several pikes, crossbows, and other weapons. Clearly they’d found the camp’s armory. All their weapons had been piled just inside. Evann pulled his sword from the heap and belted it on, then retrieved his two knives. Meanwhile Hawk gathered up the other weapons taken from Evann’s men.

As he worked, Evann studied Hawk. The man seemed strangely withdrawn.

“I loved her,” Hawk said slowly. “Do you know that, Evann? I loved her.”

Evann didn’t know what to say. “You’ll be home ,” he promised. “Your family loves you, too.”

They ducked out of the tent. Evann looked over the camp briefly. His own men still sat or sprawled or lay before the Hag’s cave as if prisoners. All of Hawk’s men had gone into the larger tents. The horses, he assumed, would be waiting for them in the stables. Everything seemed to be going right for once.

“Get your men ready,” Hawk said to him. “I’ll bring the horses.”

“You’re sure …?” Evann said softly.

Hawk gave a nod. “Yes. Now hurry, before the Hag returns.”