Page 8 of Immortal Sentry

He awoke to birdsong and a bright sunny day. The nearest town smoldered, and Kerric spotted the distant mountains from his vantage point. Where was he? This view looked familiar, with its sweeping grandeur from a high place.

The ramparts, where he’d often kept watch. He sensed his men gathered around him and turned to look. Or tried to. Why couldn’t he turn his head?

He tried to call out, but his mouth wouldn’t move. What the hell? Panic gripped him. Kerric struggled. No! He had to get free!

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an image horrifying enough to chill his blood to ice. In a neat line along the ramparts sat marble gargoyles that hadn’t been there before. Many had wings folded onto their backs, each with a feature he recognized. Those downturned eyes were Georgi’s. That crooked finger belonged to Malcolm. Rolling his gaze downward, Kerric saw clawed feet where his boots should be.

His scream sounded only in his head.

Chapter Three

Kene returned three days later, grinning as she stepped into Eron’s room. “The horses fetched a good price, Edry, as did the goods.”

“What about the uniforms?”

“I’ve kept two for us, just in case.” Kene eyed him up and down. “You’ll have to grow into yours a bit, and I see Simona gave you a more presentable haircut. Now is the time to move on. We’re expected elsewhere.”

Eron followed Kene from the room and down the stairs. Simona met them at the door. “I packed you some vittles for the road.” Simona hadn’t smiled so broadly at anyone else, and she wore a much nicer frock than she had for the past few days. Perhaps she doted on Kene.

“How kind of you, madam.” Kene bussed Simona’s cheek while pressing coins into her hand, then turned to Eron. “Ready, boy?”

Eron nodded and followed Kene out to the street. Two nondescript roan mares waited, rather ordinary animals that wouldn’t draw much attention. He and Kene mounted and rode away.

“Simona is nice,” Eron said when the silence grew oppressive. Who was this woman who’d saved him? Had she really come to his aid to make up for a past failure? Or, as she’d told Simona, was she in need of an apprentice?

“That she is. Taking her from a brothel and buying her an inn ensures her loyalty whenever we might need to lie low for a time.”

A brothel? What was that? A place where they made broth? Eron decided not to ask. “Where are we going now?”

Kene gave a half smile. “You’ll see.”

The air grew colder as night fell, and they traveled to higher elevations. They slept under blankets and a pile of leaves. Kene nestled close to Eron for warmth.

The days since he’d left home caught up to Eron. Whoever his family had been, he was certain they were dead. Probably many more people he’d known as well. The realization terrified him. Anyone he’d cared about in the last ten seasons wouldn’t be coming. Friends, family. All gone. All behind him.

Kene had shown no sign of wanting to harm him yet, but that could change. What if Kene meant to hold him for ransom from those who’d kill him without remorse? In the darkness, with only a hooting owl and the moan of wind in the trees for accompaniment, Eron cried.

Kene wrapped her arm around him, pulling him close. “Shh, child. All will be well.”

Eron couldn’t help himself, giving in to the pressing weight of sorrow and uncertainly, and wailed his agony into the night.

Through it all, Kene held him, singing in a language Eron didn’t understand but recognized as a lullaby.

They rose before dawn the next morning, Kene making no mention of Eron’s tears. He washed his face, climbed aboard the mare, and life went on.

During their fourth day of travel, Kene handed Eron a woven sack when they dismounted for a rest. “Change.” Kene turned her back while digging into a sack of her own.

The clothes inside were far finer than Eron’s current attire. He turned after dressing, and his mouth dropped open. Kene looked every inch the noblewoman in a finely made dress, doeskin slippers peeking out from under the skirts.

She unplaited her braids, finger-combed her hair, then swept the waves into a mass at her nape, securing the strands with a jewel-covered clip.

Eron’s legs ached from all the riding, so much so that he struggled to get into the saddle.

Kene studied the sky, then helped Eron back onto his horse. “We’ll soon cross into Dillane. If we ride hard, we’ll be home by nightfall.”

Home? “You live in Dillane?”

“Aye.”

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