Witch Bane Read Free Page B

The whip of griffin wings floated to her ears as the Red
Guard carrier continued on, its darkened wake trailing directly
over the clearing they had just abandoned. The men atop were little
more than black shapes against the bright sky. A moment later, they
were hidden once more by the trees.
    Emerald loosed the breath she hadn’t
realized she’d been holding and peeled her hands from the pommel.
Her fingers gave way with a pained twang. Had they stayed where
they were just a moment before, she had no doubt they would have
been spotted.
    “ That was close,” Fulrik groaned as he
sheathed his blade, nudging his horse forward so he could peer
through the open canopy. Emerald dabbed at her nose, glad to
breathe clear air once again. “They almost had us.”
    “ I don’t think so,” Donlen answered
with a shake of his head, the gray tail of his hair dancing
serpent-like at his back.
    Both Emerald and Fulrik met his eyes as he
turned his horse to face them.
    “ There wasn’t but four or five men on
that tub, all clustered thick at the rear for some reason. There
wasn’t no one at the reins, neither. Near as I can tell, they were
all looking behind for something, not below at the woods.” He
glanced to Fulrik, his eyes narrowing. “If I was a betting man, I’d
wager the Lord’s money they were doing their best to be far away
from something that spooked them.”
    Fulrik laughed. “The Red Guard running?
There’s nothing but sand and peasants the way they came. What would
they be fleeing from?”
    Donlen shrugged. “Don’t know, but
I do know fear when I see it.
They were in too close and short too many men for everything to be
all right. When I was Red Guard, you stayed in your place on the
transports, the weight needing to be distributed properly for the
beasts to keep it in the air without tipping. While I couldn’t see
their faces against the sun’s light, those men looked worried about
something. I didn’t see no captain with them, either.”
    The mercenaries’ gazes met and Fulrik’s
laugh rumbled quiet in his chest. “You’re serious?”
    Donlen gave him a curt nod and waved off any
further questions. “Don’t matter none, I guess.” He looked to
Emerald. “It’s probably just Bourne and her resistance folks
causing trouble for the Council lackeys.”
    “ Bold if it is,” Fulrik
muttered.
    Donlen grunted his agreement. “We best get
moving, my lady. It seems our destination may well be closer than
we have been led to believe.”
    Emerald saw the lie etched across his face
as plain as if he had spoken it, and knew his explanation to be
unlikely. While Elizabeth Bourne had been known to target the
assets of the High Council in an effort to harry them, she had
never sought open confrontation, to Emerald’s knowledge. After the
witch’s flight from Corilea, to the outlying lands that would
eventually fall under the whole of the Realm of Mynistiria,
Elizabeth had remained hidden, drawing little attention to herself
by using cat’s paws to carry out her whims.
    If it had been Elizabeth who had assaulted
the Red Guard squadron, she risked bringing the whole of the High
Council down upon her, something she’d spent nearly twenty years
trying to avoid. It made no sense, for Emerald could see no way for
Elizabeth to triumph against the might of the witches in direct
confrontation.
    She could feel the uncertainty of her escort
at the brewing conflict, their fear an almost palpable heat. Each
unconsciously fondled the pommels of their swords while their gazes
lingered beyond as though they might divine what had terrified the
Red Guard squadron. Fulrik appeared to accept Donlen’s word, at
last, perhaps not able to reason a better answer to the question.
She knew they all contemplated some variant of the same thought: If
Bourne had grown so brave and reckless as to challenge the Council
directly, what would she do with Emerald should she learn the truth
of who she was? And here they were, seeking Bourne