Page 110 of Keeper of the Word
Bernwald coughed. “You are too young to be filled with so much vengeance.”
“Not vengeance, justice.”
A weak smile skipped across the old man’s face. “Like your father in so many ways.”
Tolvar averted his eyes from Bernwald’s wound. “I hear you. I am sorry. Seems I am e’er the pupil seeking forgiveness.”
With effort, Bernwald lifted an arm to Tolvar’s shoulder. “You place too much of the world upon your shoulders. But glad I am that you found me so I can go to the stars with comfort.”
“You’re not yet going to the stars. I shall return you to camp.”
Bernwald shook his head; his eyes closed. “Nay, m’lord. I’ve waited here for a day. I cannot hold any longer. But you need to leave this place and warn the sovereign.”
“What have you learned?”
“Greenwood’s man mentioned they were to rendezvous with Anscom and another party in the north. Then they plan to march on Asalle.”
“Asalle?”
“One from the south, one from the east. They spoke of a third army who is to join forces with them, but I know not who.”
So that is where Anscom’s army was marching.
“But, from the east, that means that Greenwood would have to cut into Grenden and take his army through there.” Thoughts raced through his mind. “And for what purpose?”
Bernwald’s answer was a fit of coughs, blood spurting from his mouth.
“Hear me. There is more. There is also a traitor in the sovereign’s midst.”
A watchdog turning on his master.
Stars.
“Do you know who?”
Bernwald opened his mouth to speak as an arrow sunk into his chest. A gasp caught in his throat, and the man stilled.
Tolvar whirled. More arrows shot out from the shadows. He sprinted to the shield of the trees on the opposite side. Darting. Zigzagging. An arrow struck the ground inches from his foot. Tolvar dove behind a large trunk.
Pppuh.Another arrow struck the tree. Tolvar crouched as arrow after arrow found its mark in the tree or in the ground inches from where he took cover.
“Come out and fight!” Tolvar yelled.
The arrows ceased fire. The air was still. Not even a breeze.
He strained his ears, collecting himself and calculating how many archers must be hidden.
Little by little, he leaned to the side to take a glance.
The whiz of arrows resumed. Tolvar scanned the cover of treesbehind him. A giant evergreen stood ten paces away. With a sharp inhale, Tolvar brought his sword to his chest before darting to the evergreen. An arrow grazed his thigh. He tripped but stayed silent. If they could not discern that they’d hit him, he would not let it be known. Behind the evergreen, Tolvar inspected the wound. A gash, but not threatening.
Breathe,he thought.Listen.
Thethwapof arrows burying themselves in the tree was like a battering of hail.
Tolvar dared another glimpse and was nearly the target of the next arrow.
He would need to retreat all the way to the east end of the forest, hope to find a place to hide, and then backtrack under the cover of darkness. Thoughts and strategies and the words of Bernwald pounded his mind.
