Page 69 of Sword of Rage
Gelik thumped the guy on his shoulder, then swung back onto the driver’s bench. He gave the command, and the horses took off.
Harley remained four feet to Ackley’s right, not moving.
“That won’t be necessary,” the man said, eyeing the dagger hidden in Ackley’s palm. “You can put your weapon away.”
“Forgive me for being prudent,” Ackley said. “It’s not often I’m dropped off in the middle of nowhere.”
“You’re not in the middle of nowhere. Kerdan is close by. We couldn’t risk bringing the cart any closer to the manor.”
Because Kerdan was in exile. Ackley put his dagger away and reached for Harley’s hand. She took it, holding on tightly.
The man neared.
“You’re also one of Kerdan’s men,” Harley said, her voice soft in the quiet night.
“I am. And you saved his life.” He lowered his head. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll come with me.” He turned and headed off the dirt road and into the cover of the trees.
They followed him, trying to stay close since it was so dark out. They traveled in silence for about a mile. Standing at the tree line, a large manor stood in an open field before them.
“Kerdan is staying there. You will meet with him tomorrow.”
Harley moaned. “Please tell me we’re not sleeping out here tonight because if we are, I won’t have any fingers come morning.”
“Of course you’re not staying outside. Who do you think we are? Barbarians? Wild wolves?” He shook his head. “Follow me.” He led them over to a large rock. Kneeling on the ground, he removed a square wooden door. “Climb in.”
Ackley went first. He climbed down the ladder to a tunnel about seven feet tall by four feet wide. Harley joined him a moment later.
“Take the tunnel to the other side. Knock twice, then once, then five times. Tell them Gelik sent you.” He closed the door, plunging them into darkness.
Harley clutched onto him. “I can’t see.”
“Shocking.”
She smacked him.
“Just hang on. I’ll lead the way.”
“Excellent. That way if you fall into a crevice, I won’t.”
“Not if I drag you down with me.” He started walking, his right arm out in front of him, feeling the way. Plodding through the tunnel, he contemplated this new side of Harley. She was funny and clever. He sort of enjoyed being around her. Which was dangerous—especially considering one of the plans he was leaning toward in regards to her.
When he came to a dead end, he felt around until he found a ladder. He climbed it. At the top, he knocked as he’d been instructed. When the door opened, a large Russek greeted him. Ackley quickly introduced Harley and himself, telling the man Gelik had sent them and they were there for a meeting with Kerdan.
The man nodded once, then waved them up. Ackley climbed out of the tunnel, finding himself in a square room lined with weapons. It appeared to be some sort of indoor training facility. Once Harley joined him, the man led them from the room and into the main portion of the manor. He took them up a flight of stairs to the second floor.
Halfway down the hallway, the Russek stopped. “You can stay in here.” He opened one of the doors. “There will be a guard posted out here all night. If you need anything, let him know. Do not leave this room. Food will be brought to you. Once it’s time for your meeting, I’ll come and get you.”
Ackley and Harley stepped into the room. The door shut, the lock sliding into place.
“This is a beautiful house,” Harley said. “I wonder who lives here.”
Ackley had been contemplating the same thing. “I’m just glad we have a roof over our heads and we’re not in that cart any longer.” He surveyed the room. One bed, two armoires, and a wash table. No settee, which meant he’d be sleeping on the floor. Again.
Harley removed her bag. “I’m going to change into something more comfortable.”
He continued examining the room, searching for a hidden door, weapons, anything of importance. The room appeared to be a regular guest suite. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took off his boots. When he glanced up, he saw Harley had her back to him as she removed her tunic, revealing her bare back.
Ackley froze. She was changing…in front of him.
