Page 33 of The Taking of House Westwood

Taidon nodded, his gaze firing with lust.

Valery had been impressed with his Lieutenant’s ability to drive the men onward. He’d never seen a strike group move across open country as swiftly as theirs had. They had paid for it of course; the men were uniformly exhausted. However, a short rest and the lifeblood of the last two of Laird’s captured patrolmen revitalized them enough such that Valery had confidence the mission could be completed successfully after all.

Now the idea of getting his hands on that unfortunate girl lashed to the gibbet added a new urgency to him; a fresh drive to complete the mission, and return to their home. While being in the lands of the humans both irritated and exhilarated him (so many targets, so much sustenance), he had an abiding need to return, to lay down with Rayja, and try once more to ignore the deepening — feelings — he seemed to have developed for her. Perhaps the distraction of the lush buttocks of a new whipping girl would divert his mind from the disturbing path his thoughts had taken with his body servant.

Corporal Endek appeared out of the shadows. Deep hollows shone under his eyes, his expression drawn. Regardless, he straightened his shoulders and stood at attention.

Valery looked the man up and down. “Corporal? Report.”

Endek nodded. “A single rider approaches from the south, Marshal. Riding hard.”

Valery looked back over at the courtyard. Two soldiers were helping the nude captive walk away, her arms supported across their shoulders. The cruel Lady was nowhere to be seen.

“Is the rider military or noble?”

“Neither sir, as far as we can tell. Possibly commoner. He should be here any moment.”

Valery turned to Taidon. “Well?”

Taidon turned away from the corporal, his voice soft. “Could be nothing, Sir. Should we proceed?”

“I don’t like this, Lieutenant. He could be a scout.”

Taidon shook his head slowly. “No humans know we’re here, Sir — at least none that remain alive. Most of our own kind don’t even know we’re here either.”

Valery turned his back on the corporal. “That’s all, Endek.”

The man hesitated. “Sir?”

Valery turned. “Corporal, what is it?”

“There is something else. There are two wagons, perhaps two hour’s travel behind the lone rider.”

Valery’s brow furrowed. “So?”

“They’re dressed in black robes, Sir.”

“Mendicants. Perfect,” Taidon said, clapping the corporal on a shoulder. “Well done.”

“Lieutenant?” Endek looked as confused as he was tired.

Valery nodded. “That’ll be all, Endek. Join the others, and tell them to pull back. We await developments.”

The corporal inclined his head, turning to leave.

“And Endek,” Valery said, his arms clasped behind his back. “You stayed too long under humbrae. It’s drained you. Don’t get sloppy. We need every man tonight.”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.” Endek stepped away, disappearing into the blackness.

Taidon stood close to the Marshal. “Do you think we should?”

Valery glanced back at the now empty yard, the guards’ attention sharp once more.

“I don’t think we have a choice, Lieutenant. We wait for the mendicants’ arrival.”

The sound of a galloping horse grew loud, and both of them turned to watch the rider pull his horse up just outside the portcullis. The lone man handed a sheaf of paper to one of the guards. A few words were spoken, but quickly the rider was admitted with a curt nod from one of the armed men. The horse and rider disappeared within the manor.

Chapter Twelve

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