Chapter Forty-Five

Barath waited for Tarn a handful of paces west of the reinforced drop grill. The soldiers posted to the gate eyed him suspiciously; their unease heightened when Tarn arrived and began a whispered conversation with the black wolf—a wolf that nodded and barked what seemed to be intelligible responses. Tarn ignored the darting looks and suspicious glances. They might even consider him a sorcerer conversing with his familiar. He grinned briefly. The loud ringing of iron-shod hooves, striking the flagstone courtyard, alerted him to the escort's presence, long before their mounts came alongside. The horses snorted fearfully and pranced skittishly at Barath's wolfish scent and figure.

"Open the gate!" Sir Tarl instructed while Tarn inspected the assembled escort.

Aliesha wore her sword, but in addition, a longbow, and a quiver holding arrows that were more than four feet long were slung over and across her back. The other members of the escort wore an assortment of light chain mail, gauntlets, and grieves that rustled as they rode, and one foolish soldier adorned his bridal with bright silver conches to attract the eye, no doubt considered brave upon the field of battle where the enemy would be drawn. Besides Aliesha and Sir Tarl, only one other person was equipped with a bow and arrows.

At the end of his examination of the saddles and bridles, Tarn frowned heavily, not trying to hide his displeasure, and issued a command to a particular soldier, "Warrior. Thy steel clinks and clanks so a blind man might slay ye. Find a way to silence it, or leave it behind."

Unsure how to respond, the soldier turned to Sir Tarl for confirmation.

"Tarn leads this group. Follow his orders as if they were my own," he clarified, nodding at Tarn to continue.

"The pair of ye. Those helmets reflect the moonlight. Cover them, or throw them aside." To everyone else, he commanded, "Check thy equipment for noise and steel that reflects light. If it cannot be silenced, cover it, or cast it down. We do not charge boldly into battle, but seek stealthy reconnoitre."

While each soldier complied, Tarn turned to Aliesha, commenting, "I could hear ye approaching from a league away. Be there a way to silence the clatter of the horses' hooves?"

"Enshroud each hoof with a leather bootie. They will muffle much of the sound, but render swift travel risky."

"Make it so."

Aliesha surprised him by producing a set of leather stockings from her saddlebag. Sir Tarl ordered a soldier to retrieve additional leather booties from the quartermaster as Aliesha swung down to equip her mount. When she tapped one of the horse's legs, it raised its hoof until she tapped it again. In no time at all she remounted. It was a few minutes until the soldier returned, and the rest of the horses were similarly outfitted. After a final check, the small group moved through the gate; the chinking din of metal and the striking of muted hooves were still audible, but only at a short distance.

Barath took the lead with Tarn following closely behind. Free of his backpack's extra weight, he ran easily through the night. The partial moon and bright stars cast periodic light, intermittently cloaked by rolling cloud racks that draped the land in dappled coal-black darkness. When the party moved from cleared land to forest the horses grew skittish, and sidestepped without warning, fearful of shadows. Tarn and Barath slowed their pace to accommodate the slower horses. Aliesha's steed alone braved the forest without obvious nervousness. Unlike the other riders, she employed only her knees to guide her mount around obstacles.

Tarn and Barath waited at the edge of the forest for the escort to catch up. Aliesha exited the dark woods first, speaking soothingly to her stallion, and patting it fondly on its neck. Despite its training—sessions that included Aliesha riding it with a blanket covering its eyes—the stallion's powerful neck muscles rippled and twitched nervously.

Tarn turned to Aliesha, and spoke in a low voice, "How far are we from Barath's hold?"

"No more than half a league. It rests in a small valley over that rise," she answered, pointing ahead.

Sir Tarl exited the tree line and heard Tarn ask, "Be there a place between us and the temple to shelter the horses from sight?"

"Aye," Sir Tarl replied, reining his steed sharply when it shied from a sharp snapping sound. One of the other horses exiting the darkness had stepped on a stick. "Beyond the crest rests a copse of birch less than six furlongs from our destination."

"Then let us travel in silence."

Barath and Tarn loped up the gradual incline. At the crest of the gradual knoll, he sighted the dark silhouettes of two buildings. Not far ahead grew a stand of windbreak-planted trees. Barath's ancestral home lay no more than 250 paces south of the small wood. Unlike Lord Landrew's fortress, buildings were unwisely erected immediately outside the walls. Just inside the fortification, the tower of Mahnaz stood near the north corner of the compound.

Sir Tarl ordered a soldier to remain behind with the horses, ready at a moment's notice to depart. Their party loped in the direction of the hold, keeping the exterior buildings between them to cover their approach. Barath stopped at the rear of the first structure, a barn, and growled softly, listening to canine paws prowling past the corner of the outer wall. They froze. Kalen's sword whispered free. Barath ceased growling when the soft footfall of padded paws moved beyond his hearing range. Whatever had triggered Barath's warning, neither detected them by sight or sound nor crossed their scent-trail. The longer they remained, the greater the risk of detection. With this in mind, Tarn signalled the party to remain put, sheathed his sword, and melded seamlessly into the night, shadowed by Barath.