Page 94 of Seducing the Sorcerer
“Anyone else here?” Fenn asked him. “Nod if there is.”
Morgrim shook his head. No.
Fenn’s legs felt as if they might give up on him there and then. But what if Jasper was faking surrender? What if the man under Squab was only stunned?
And Squab? Oh Gods, but what would they do if the fall had killed it? Nobody knew they were here but the enemy.
Fenn hauled Jasper up by the shoulder, dragged him to the nearest pine tree, pulled the lad’s arms either side of the trunk and tied his wrists behind him. A rough job but secure. Fenn ought to shoot the boy, but his whole being shrank from the idea. Instead, he circled Squab, casting about for loose weapons amongst the carpet of russet pine needles. He found none, but Squab blinked at him in a surprised way and twitched its ears, and at least it wasn’t dead. The man underneath it still hadn’t moved. Didn’t look as if he’d be getting up soon. Good enough for now.
Fenn ran to Morgrim, pulled the gag from his mouth.
“Fenn.” It came out as a croak.
Fenn wanted to embrace him, to hide his face in Morgrim’s tangled hair and never let him go. Fenn’s hands were shaking, clumsy with urgency and nerves. Morgrim had indicated that they were alone, but nonetheless Fenn felt that at any moment enemy soldiers could come crashing through the trees. Or that the man under the horse could recover and start shooting.
Fenn took the knife from Aramella’s belt, started to saw through the ropes that bound Morgrim’s hands. Morgrim kept trying to sit up, hampering Fenn’s efforts.
“Lie still,” Fenn ordered. “You sure there’s no one else here?”
“I’m sure.” Morgrim’s voice was a husky whisper. “They’re coming. Later.”
“They get a message out? Do you know? Anyone else know about you?”
“No. They were working alone. Meeting here.”
Fenn cut the final strand of rope at Morgrim’s wrists. Morgrim moved his arms, hissed with pain. Fenn moved to Morgrim’s feet and started sawing at the rope there, but Morgrim moved his feet away. He was trying to sit up.
“Lie still,” Fenn said.
Morgrim ignored him. “Fenn, the horse?”
“Don’t know. Ain’t dead.”
“Give me that knife. See to Squab.” His tone was all business.
Fenn passed the knife, stood up. Jasper still sat hunched under the stunted pine that Fenn had tied him to, unmoving, head bowed. Under another tree a battered leather knapsack lay in the curve of an exposed root, and next to that, a leather flask. Fenn tossed the flask to land near Morgrim. If he’d been gagged this whole time he must be parched.
As Fenn turned to the horse, it flailed its legs and heaved itself up. Fenn ran to it, put a steadying hand on its neck. It shook itself like a horse that’s had a satisfying roll, and took a few steps away from the soldier who lay on his stomach in the dust. He was clearly dead because nobody can remain alive with their neck at that angle. He had black hair, tousled as if in sleep. His face was half visible: stubble, dark eyelashes, eye still reflecting the light, mouth open as if in surprise.
Fenn’s stomach heaved. He looked away and the nausea passed. A weak sense of relief coursed through his veins. Because he didn’t have to point a gun at the man and pull the trigger.
Oh Gods.
Like he ought to do with Jasper.
Like he ought to do now.
Because it wasn’t going to get any easier and he couldn’t leave Jasper here for the enemy. Because Jasper would tell them that Morgrim the sorcerer was powerless as a baby.
Fenn felt for the gun at his hip. It wasn’t there and he went cold all over. Ah, but he’d dropped it. Just before tackling Jasper. And then somehow failed to notice it when he’d scanned the ground earlier. The inside of his head felt fractured, as if he wasn’t seeing properly. He took a deep breath, spotted the gun half hidden under a small thornbush, and picked it up. It was still cocked. It was only luck it hadn’t gone off and shot Morgrim when Fenn had dropped it.
Fenn closed his eyes. He was botching this whole thing. Should have shot Jasper when he’d had the chance. Jasper had been standing still, his back a broad target. Lad wouldn’t have known. Now Fenn had to kill him in cold blood. A nasty sensation was slithering up his legs, up his back, into his arms, as if his very bones had turned to hexed river water.
Oh Gods. Mustn’t think. Mustn’t pause.
He opened his eyes, looked at Jasper.
Jasper lifted his head as if he’d felt Fenn’s gaze upon him, saw the gun and flinched. Jasper opened his mouth as if to plead, then shut it and closed his eyes tight. He looked like a child, hiding from monsters in the dark.
