Page 88 of Sword of Rage
“We need to get out of here,” he mumbled.
“If we back up, they’ll suspect we know,” she mumbled.
“They might not have seen us yet.” He took his horse, leading it from the road. Still not seeing any movement, he urged Gytha to do the same.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We have to figure out who’s there.” Because it wasn’t Russek.
“So it’s not enough to merely escape death,” Gytha said sarcastically.
“You not up to the challenge?”
“For once I’d like something to go according to plan.”
“No such thing.” They backed up a tad more, trying to melt into the trees. Since they couldn’t ride their horses here amongst the vegetation, they had two options. One, tie the horses up and hope no one stole them. Two, keep the horses with them. The problem was that the horses were loud and noisy. However, they would serve as nice shields should someone try shooting at them.
“Let’s leave the horses here,” he said. “Then scale a tree and see if we can spot anything of concern.” While he didn’t know for sure someone was out there, he felt it in his bones. If he had to guess, he’d say about a dozen soldiers. He didn’t think they were Owen’s men, and he knew they weren’t Russek’s. If they were Melenia soldiers, well, that was something he didn’t want to consider at the moment.
“Is it really necessary to identify them?” Gytha asked while tying her horse to a tree.
“Yes.” If they were from Melenia, it changed everything.
After securing his horse, Ackley felt for his weapons, ensuring they were there. One was missing—the short sword he’d given to Harley.
“These trees are too flimsy,” Gytha whispered. “If I climb one, the limbs will shake the leaves.”
Plan B then. He tilted his head to the right. Gytha gave him a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his heart and prepared to hunt. His feet became lighter, his movements fluid as he made his way through the forest. The rise remained to his right. Most of the trees were only eight feet tall with long branches, half the leaves on the ground.
Gytha swung out wide, about thirty feet away. She had a sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. Ackley had a short sword and a knife. Moving between the trees, he became one with his surroundings. Crows cawed, then took flight straight ahead, about forty feet away. That had to be where the soldiers were hiding. Not bothering to see if Gytha followed, he slunk between the trees, heading to the area in question, all the while keeping his ears open to the sounds around him. The last thing he needed was to be taken by surprise by a man he didn’t see lying in wait.
If these men were Melenia soldiers, that meant someone had sent them to kill Ackley and Gytha. The most logical person was the false king. What scared Ackley about that was twofold. First, it meant the false king knew Gytha and Ackley were traveling south. If he knew that, then he probably knew Harley was meeting up with Owen and they were going to hide in Kreng. Second, it meant someone was feeding the false king accurate information. After dealing with this ambush, Ackley needed to make sure Idina, Harley, and Owen were safe. Then, he needed to find and kill the informant.
Nearing the spot in question, he scanned the rise to his right, not seeing anyone. However, thick leaves, which could easily conceal people, covered the ground. Crouching low, he slid from trunk to trunk, constantly scanning the ground. Thankfully, the trees weren’t sturdy here, so he didn’t have to worry about someone hiding in them and attacking from above.
Ackley needed to leave one man alive so he could interrogate him; the rest he would dispose of. Since he didn’t know how many there were, he couldn’t waste his weapons.
Then he heard it—the silence that in a forest means only one thing: an intruder. Or, in this case, an unknown number of intruders. Ackley froze, taking it all in and feeling his surroundings. The enemy was close by. A calmness settled over him. He breathed in and out.
“Where’d they go?” someone whispered, fifteen feet to the left.
“I can’t see them,” another said, five feet dead ahead.
Ackley would have to take out the man in front of him first. Then the man to his left. As soon as he struck, Gytha would step in and help, but he couldn’t rely on her. Palming his knife, he prepared to make the first kill. He lifted his arm, about to throw, when three men stood fifteen feet in front of Ackley, their backs to him. Each man had a bow in hand with full quivers strapped over their shoulders. Change of plan—he’d have to kill them first.
He reached down and withdrew two additional daggers. Taking a step closer to the man lying on the ground, he kept his eyes on the archers. Each archer’s focus remained on the road not far below.
As he always did, he chose where to strike each man to ensure a swift death. He threw his first dagger, then the second, and then his knife. All three archers went down. Jumping forward, he slammed his right foot against the head of the man on the ground. Withdrawing his knife from the archer closest to him, he slashed the guy to his left, killing him.
Chaos ensued.
Men shouted all around him—he quickly counted five. Since he’d taken out five men, he assumed this was a unit of ten. Crouching low, he stole one of the archer’s bows. He grabbed two arrows and shot them simultaneously, killing two soldiers with bows slung over their backs running toward him. He needed to keep moving.
Seven down, three to go. He was vaguely aware of Gytha a little farther down the hill fighting with two men. Knowing she could handle herself, Ackley turned to face the last man. With his short sword in hand, he twisted, allowing him to come in closer. He sliced the man across his abdomen while continuing to turn. Then Ackley kicked him, knocking him to the ground. He repositioned his weapon, slamming it straight down into the man’s chest, killing him. Not wanting to waste time, Ackley withdrew his weapon, wiping the blood off on the man’s shirt.
The only one still alive was the one he’d knocked unconscious. Turning, he looked for Gytha. The two men she’d fought were lying on the ground. He approached her. “Dead?” he whispered in case they had another unit of men coming to attack them.
She nodded. Blood coated her hands, and she had a nasty bruise already forming on her right cheek.
