Chương 10: Chapter 11: Ambush

I don't think I've ever been so wary riding horseback as I am with our precious cargo. Precious to me, anyway. The harness we built for this specific occasion allows for it to take the brunt of the balancing work off me, and for the actual box not to be jostled even while trotting. Lennick will be happy to know how well it's worked once I get home and tell him. First things first, though. We've been riding for eight hours at this stage, and the sun is about to hit that too-hot intensity.

"We need somewhere to take shelter." Xan slows their horse to a trot, and I follow suit.

"Where?"

"I didn't say I had answers." Shading my eyes, I look around us. The way out of Mirrati is subtly different terrain-wise to what I'm used to traveling through. The roads are well-paved with gravel, tightly bound together in a way I've not seen in other provinces. Off in the distance, I notice more trees. They're a mixture of tropical trees and normal woods as far as I can discern from this far away. We're almost at Sorrishen's borders.

"We should make our way over there. Best spot for some shade, sleep through the afternoon, and get going once night falls." Xan nods, and we push our steeds back up to gear. I almost think Jax glances at me reproachfully.

"Almost there," I say, patting his neck. It takes another two hours for us to get there, and I'm dripping with sweat by the time we do. I've never thought the Nightshade garb was a good idea to wear in the heat of the day, so we usually change into brown leathers when traveling. We just didn't take the time this go-round. Leading the horses into the wood, I get an odd sense of déjà vu. The last time I camped out like this with Xan, Sevrin and Ellir tested us.

Not my favorite experience, and I'm sure it's made me more skeptical about bedding down in the wild, too. Pity, since it's fairly commonplace. We sit in silence, eating rations that aren't particularly tasty. Some dried pheasant jerky, and travel bread. It'll do. Rolling out my bedroll, I glare at it. I'd forgotten to repair it after the last time so there's a hole in it. Might need to talk to Sevrin about that considering it was only supposed to be a test. That hole looks mighty not-test-like.

Still, I prefer bedrolls to sleeping bags. They don't open at only one side and are easier to escape should you need to in the middle of your sleep. Xan secures our cargo beneath one of the large tropical trees, pushing it into the crevice under the main portion of the trunk, and surrounds it with our other packs.

"See you on the other side," they say, and I can tell how tired they must be as they close their eyes and are immediately asleep. It doesn't take me much longer. There's a different sort of hum underneath me this time. More in line with what I experienced in Mirrati: melancholy, dangerously addictive. This is a part of the world I could see myself living in. Sleep claims me and is filled with fevered dreams of trees and roots and plants coming alive all around me, battling for me, dancing with me.

Surreal and comforting, yet at the same time lending an ominous doom to the whole sensation. It tugs at me, pulling, reminding me of something I've forgotten. Warning me. In repetition of the last time we were away from home, I wake abruptly, roll fluidly out of my bedroll and into a crouch. Another test? It makes no sense, Aarron is fully aware of what we're trying to transport here. And that's when it hits me, even as the acid that drips into my bedroll wakes me up completely: this isn't a test.

This is nothing like that test. I scuttle back like a crab, pulling shadows around me, grateful I haven't yet changed out of my black leathers. Sleep flees from my mind as the sizzling of my bedroll continues. I glance over toward where Xan was sleeping and see the bedroll is empty. There's no boiling body or corpse evidence. I assume they're fine for now, and I focus from my hiding place to see three people drop down from the tree branches above us.

They appear confused at first, and I am too, until I see three more emerge from each of the three massive trees that surround our bedrolls, including the one that holds our cargo. If we don't live through this, that cargo's not getting anywhere anyway. There are twelve people all around us, so far. Twelve. Two of us. Not the best odds. Slinking back into one of the hedges, I glance around for the horses, which are nowhere to be seen. I hope that means they've hidden and not been taken down.

Jax has been trained to hide, and he's pretty good at it. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Clasping my dart tube in my hand, I assess the situation quickly. This large group of bandits? Perhaps? They are moving quietly, in an organized manner, splitting their forces. They obviously know there are two of us. It feels far too organized to be a simple bandit ambush. I don't, even for one moment, believe that these people got lucky enough to find us.

Not to mention the way they move. They've all been trained, though not quite as well as we have. These people are looking for us. Specifically, Xan and me. Does someone else want datura? Could the cargo be the reason? Maybe if I leave the poison dart in there and let it loose, the target I hit can cause a distraction for us to better assess where we stand. I finger my pipe, already knowing my decision. The line appears to me, almost in slow motion, like time has slowed down solely for me to take this shot.

I aim at one of Xan's stalkers and let the dart fly. It hits perfectly in the back of their neck. I pull back, allowing the soft leaves of the bush behind me to envelop me even as my target drops to the ground. He squeals in that hissing pain that having one's vocal cords melted will do to you. The thrashing is a perfect distraction and allows me to reload my dart pipe in peace.

The ground underneath me hums, like it agrees with what I've just done, agrees that these ambushers aren't playing and that they deserve to die. I'll shoot first and apologize later. That way Xan and I will live to tell the tale. I take down yet another with a dart, almost giving away my current hiding spot. This time the poison is swift and immediate, while my first target is still experiencing death throes and dutifully distracting his accomplices.

Xan makes quick work of a third, but it soon becomes obvious how woefully outnumbered we are. Their numbers are obscured by the ever-deepening shadows of late afternoon and I swear they keep multiplying. Physical combat has never been my strong suit. I work far better from the shadows—but in this case, I feel like my shortcomings might be the death of us. Our attackers are clad in mostly black—or perhaps dark grey—leathers. Upon closer inspection, some are even in dark brown.

They're far better at subterfuge than the bandits I'd originally attributed them to be. Who sent these people? I carefully reload my darts, working my way around through the underbrush, willing the leaves to remain silent and the ground to cushion my footsteps. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think it complied. Another body falls to the ground as Xan disables them. But there are still at least eight people there. Skulking like they mean it.

Another dart takes my third down, but now they're onto the trajectory and my hiding place has become unsafe. I'm an assassin for a reason. To kill from the shadows. To take revenge when I find the people who ordered the death of my parents in the burning of my childhood home. Confrontational combat has never been my aim. Xan is close to me now. I can sense them, and we inch in back-to-back, covering each other, and focus on our own semi-circle of engagement. If the bandits were using darts, we'd be dead by now.

But for the life of me, I can't figure out why the group of them isn't rushing the two of us. It makes no sense. They obviously have the upper hand in a sheer numbers game. They move in, and there's more than eight left now, perhaps ten, if what I can make out in the shadows is accurate. I push back the fear that threatens to rise up. It's not going to help and I don't have time to deal with it right now. In the bottle, away from my mind. Just let me concentrate on what's in front of me. And then I notice the bows.

A few of them, maybe even several, have bows and nocked arrows, all aimed directly at us. No. Correct that. Directly at Xan. What the ever-living… There's no way the arrows are going to miss us, miss Xan, even if I manage to push them out of the way. Some part of them, of us, is going to get nicked. And I know without a shadow of doubt that those arrows are tipped with poisons. It's what I would do. It'll kill us both if one of us goes down; there'll be no chance. Even if this feels like a firing squad.

My heart speeds up, trying to calculate a way to get us both out of this.

"You shouldn't have interfered in the Sect's business." The masks hide the leer of the speaker but not their tone of triumph.

"Your scrying interference will be rectified." The earth around me rumbles again, the feeling of skittering at the edge of an abyss pulls at my consciousness. Tree whispers invade my mind, showing me images that I recall from our trip to Mirrati. Suddenly, I have all the knowledge I need. A single moment of clarity shows me just what the earth around me has been telling me all along. The things I've never seen, the things I've taken for granted. I close my eyes and let it all in. All the voices, all the feelings.

Every tree, every plant, every shrub, every root, even every blade of grass that I can reach. Down through to the soil below them. A scream rips from my throat as all the pain I've felt since the day my parents were turned to ash emerges. All the bewilderment and frustration I had to endure while raising myself. The overwhelming annoyance at being restricted this whole time, even if I did the restricting all by myself. My head pounds and my eyes don't see, despite the fact that they're so wide open it hurts.

Hot liquid runs down my cheeks but I don't know if it's tears, blood, or a mixture of both. My throat feels raw, even after the scream stops. I can't help but expel the energy, the air I'm pulling from all around me. The ground shakes again, the trees rustle, straining against the magnitude of my wish. The world comes alive inside me, all around us. Earth rises up, grabbing our attackers by their arms, legs; by their bows. Roots can be gentle, but they can also be sharp.

Their ends pierce through flesh, breaking bones as they wind around these Sect members. The crunching sounds of bone shattering resounds in the clearing, drowning out the squelch of destroyed flesh. Earth and roots drag our attackers back down into the ground with them. Back into the ground in a sarcophagus of soil, twining around them, imprisoning them. Some of the screams of pain end abruptly, necks broken. Other cries of terror are muffled by the earthen coffin.

My eyes are clear enough now to witness the scene in front of me. To see them all dragged beneath the earth, the odd limb, the odd arrow, the odd bow still peering out at us. A foot juts out next a tree trunk off to the left, still twitching in death throes. My stomach wrenches at the stench of the freshly turned earth littered with flesh and blood soaking it. I gasp, my chest burning, tears streaming, and air a limited commodity.

I blink back to focus, the last of my energy leaving me, and fall to my knees, drained.