David Weber - [Hrandani 01] - Oath Of Swords by Weber David

Author:Weber, David [Weber, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-eight

White flakes curtsied before Bahzell's nose, then shot upward as a fist of wind snatched them away and plucked at his snow-clotted hood. He and Brandark had followed their targets into the fringes of the Darkwater Marshes, the vast stretch of hilly swamps stretching east from the river of the same name to the River of the Spear. The winter cold had hardened the ground and made their journey easier, for which he was grateful, but the clouds had thickened steadily through the three days since his . . . interview with Tomânak , and now the iron-gray sky pressed down upon him like a bowl. It was only early afternoon, but the light was dim, and despite the occasional, moaning gusts, the air held a strange, furry stillness a northern hradani knew too well. The heavens were about to deluge them with snow, and he felt the relentless pressure of time, like a dire cat's hot, damp breath on his neck.

But the tracks of Zarantha's captors were clear enough for now—not that it was much comfort—and his breath steamed in a quiet, fervent curse as he knelt to examine the ground once more. Their enemies had snaked along ridge lines and hilltops through the swamp in a twisting, snakelike progress that slowed their pace still further, and the hradani had made up even more distance on them. But a second trail merged with the one they'd followed for so long, and the riders they were tracking had halted and dismounted here for some time before the newcomers joined them. The frozen surface soil had been kicked up in icy, snow-dusted clots, and Bahzell rose and shook his head as Brandark drew rein beside him.

"Well?"

"I'm thinking they've some way of sending word ahead of them after all," Bahzell growled. "It's clear enough they drew up here to wait on someone, and whoever it was never found them without knowing just where to be doing it."

"How many, do you think?" Brandark asked, and Bahzell shook his head.

"I couldn't be saying, not for certain, but it's surprised I'll be if they haven't doubled their strength."

"Phrobus!" Brandark swore, and Bahzell nodded, then scratched his chin.

"Still and all, Brandark, it might be worse." His friend looked at him incredulously, and he shrugged.

"There may be more of them, my lad, but they waited here long enough for us to be making up time.

We're no more than an hour—two at the outside—behind now."

"Wonderful. When we catch them, you can take the twenty on the right while I take the twenty on the

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left . . . and hope those poxy wizards don't turn us into cucumbers for our pains!"

"As to that, I'm thinking we'd best take whatever chance we get and hope," Bahzell returned with a wave at the lazily spiraling flakes. "If we don't hit them soon, we'll have snow enough to hide an army's tracks. They're easy enough to follow now, but if snow once hides the trail and they're after changing direction, we'll be needing hours to find 'em again—if we ever do.

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