Princeps’ Fury

Kestus didn’t bother trying to hide his smile. “He thinks you’re a bloody idiot. So do I.”

“What?” Tonnar protested. “Because I want to tumble a girl or two?”

“Because you want to take advantage of people who are desperate and dying,” Kestus said. “And because you haven’t thought things through. People are starving. Disease is rampant. And soldiers get paid. How many legionares do you think have been murdered in their sleep for the clothes on their back, the coins in their purse? How many do you think have fallen sick and died, just like all those holders? And in case it slipped your notice, Tonnar, all those outlaws would have every reason to kill you. You’d probably be too busy trying to stay alive to spend any time humiliating women.”

Tonnar scowled.

“Look,” Kestus said. “Julius got us all the way through Kalare’s rebellion in one piece. None of our company died. And out here, we’re out of the worst of it. It might not pay as well, or have the… opportunities, as the patrols nearer the Waste. But we aren’t dying of plague or getting our throats cut while we sleep, either.”

Tonnar sneered. “You’re just afraid to take chances.”

“Yep,” Kestus agreed. “So’s Julius. Which is why we’re all in one piece.” So far.

The loudmouth shook his head and turned to glare at Ivarus. “You touch me again, and I’m going to gut you like a fish.”

“Good,” Ivarus said. “Once we hide the body, Kestus and I can switch out our mounts with yours and pick up the pace.” The hooded man glanced up at Kestus. “How much longer until we get back to camp?”

“Couple of hours,” Kestus replied laconically. He gave Tonnar a very direct glance. “Give or take.”

Tonnar muttered something under his breath and subsided. The rest of the trip passed in blessed, professional silence.

Kestus liked the new man.

As twilight settled over the land, they rode into the glade that Julius had chosen as their camp. It was a good site. A steep hillside had provided them a place to earthcraft something that almost resembled shelter from the weather. A small stream trickled nearby, and the horses whickered, their steps quickening as they recognized the place where they would receive some grain and rest.

But just before he rode out of the shelter of the belt of heavy evergreens that surrounded the glade, Kestus stopped his horse.

Something was wrong.

His heartbeat sped up a little, as a tension with no obvious explanation seized him. He remained still for a moment, trying to trace the source of his unease.

“Bloody crows,” sighed Tonnar. “What is it now-”

“Quiet,” Ivarus whispered, his voice tense.

Kestus glanced back at the wiry little man. Ivarus was on edge as well.

The camp was completely silent and still.

The company of rangers patrolling this area of what had once been the lands of the High Lord Kalarus Brencis numbered a dozen strong, but three-and four-man patrols moved in and out of the camp on a regular basis. It was not inconceivable that all but a pair of the rangers were out on their rounds. It was not unthinkable that whoever was minding the camp might have gone on a quick local sweep, hoping to turn up some game.

But it didn’t seem very likely.

Ivarus brought his horse up beside Kestus’s, and murmured, “The fire’s out.”

And that pinpointed it. In an active camp, a fire was kept alight almost as a matter of course. It was too much of a headache to let it go out and continually rebuild it. Even if the fire had burned down to hot coals and ashes, there would still be the scent of woodsmoke. But Kestus couldn’t smell the camp’s fire.

The wind shifted slightly, and Kestus’s horse tensed and quivered with sudden apprehension, its wide nostrils flaring. Something moved, perhaps thirty yards away. Kestus remained still, fully aware that any motion would draw attention toward him. Footsteps sounded, crunching on fallen autumn leaves.

Julius appeared. The grizzled ranger wore his usual forest leathers, all deep browns, greys, and greens. He stopped at the fire pit, staring down at it and otherwise not moving. His mouth hung slightly open. He looked pale and weary, and his eyes were dull and flat.

He just stood there.

Julius never did that. There was always work to be done, and he detested wasted time. If nothing else, the man would spend any idle time he had fletching more arrows for the company.

Kestus traded a glance with Ivarus. Though the younger man did not know Julius the way Kestus did, Ivarus’s expression said that he had reached the same conclusion Kestus had as to the proper course of action-a cautious, silent withdrawal.

“Well, there’s old Julius,” Tonnar muttered. “Happy now?” He growled, kicking his heels into his horse’s flanks and nudging the beast into motion. “Can’t believe he let the fire die. Now we’ll have to rebuild it before we can eat.”

“No, fool!” hissed Kestus.

Tonnar looked back over his shoulder at them with an exasperated expression. “I’m hungry,” he said plaintively. “Come on.”