Heart of Tunise by Faw Susan

Author:Faw, Susan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Susan Faw
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter eighteen

Tesha's Revenge

Tesha crept through the woods, followed by twenty children of varying ages. Over their nose and lips they had tied scraps of cloth, to disguise the lower portion of their faces, and above they had coated with a dark mud. With their dark hoods pulled up over their heads, they blended into the shadows of the brambles. Tesha had to really stare at where they stood, in order to pick them out. She held up her arm, motioning them to hold still.

The clop of horse’s hooves and the soft jangle of bridles blended into the creaking of wagon wheels. The caravan that approached was smaller than their usual target, but rich for all of that. Ten wagons moved slowly along the road, guarded by eight Citadel guards. One rider led the group, and one brought up the rear, with two guards per side patrolling the length of the caravan, watching for bandits just like them.

The citadel guards never ever saw them, however. The Nobbles had quickly learned that adults looked only for other adults and any place that was too small to hide an adult, their eyes would pass right over.

Mostly, they hid in plain site. If the guards had eyes to see, they should have been able to pick them out, but they rarely did. With a quick slash of her hand, she sent her team into their prearranged hiding spots. Silently, they disappeared into the brush, settling into a depression in the land, or the crook of a tree trunk, or even flat on the ground within knife throwing distance. A handful climbed into the trees far above the road.

The caravan progressed close enough to be able to pick out the words of the lead wagon driver. He was a heavy-set man with a double chin, and long, unkempt hair. He wore a sweat stained Citadel guard uniform that appeared to not have seen a laundress in weeks, if ever. Tesha hated him on sight. She knew this man. He had been responsible for her brother’s death a few weeks ago. They had attacked this same caravan with only ten Nobbles in their pack. It had been a mistake. They had only counted four guards, but what they hadn’t known was that the one covered wagon had actually carried sleeping Capital guards, who were being transported from the Citadel to Londonderry to reinforce the guards stationed there.

They had been quickly overwhelmed when the hidden guards had awoken and joined the fight. Deshi had been shot in the back with an arrow as he fled the scene of their ambush. The fat man had laughed. “Look, I shot me some vermin!” he had yelled at her, as she raced away from the attack gone wrong. It had been her fault, all her fault. She’d not scouted the caravan well enough, and it had cost Deshi his life. The pain of his loss was still raw; the hurt deep and festering. Her hatred of the Citadel guards was all consuming.

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