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“These are from the shore. I picked what I thought might work in a sling. Do you know how to use a sling?”
He almost chuckled but a twinge with the sharpness of a portcullis spike in his ribs changed his mind. “Since I was about four years old. My father taught me. When I was thirteen, I took down a charging boar with one shot landed between its eyes.”
Her eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. Even if he couldn't read her eyes in the way he could read a fellow human's, Serovek was sure by her expression she wasn't disbelieving of his boast, only impressed. Trust. She was learning to trust him.
“So not just adept at seducing women, riding horses and swinging a sword then.” She tapped the basket. “I'm adequate with a sling, though I've never killed a boar with one. I prefer throwing spikes.” She gestured to the knife he set aside. “When you're done with your spear, I'll take the blade and whittle a few spikes to carry with me. We can use the shirt and rope to make a sling.”
He hefted the rope. There wasn't much of it, certainly nothing to use for climbing or netting something, but there was plenty to make a sling once he unraveled some of the fibers. “Besides the rocks, where did you find the rest of these?”
“Different spots on the island. Either we aren't the first unfortunates to be marooned here for Chamtivos's pleasure hunts or this island is visited by others who leave things behind when they return to the mainland.” She reached for one of the two completed spears, inspecting it with a careful eye, testing its weight and balance in her hand. “You made this just with the eating knife?” At his nod, she smiled a wide, toothy smile guaranteed to turn most humans pale with fright. Serovek only wondered how he might kiss her senseless without having his tongue shredded to ribbons. “I can run back to the lake with one of these and try to spear something for dinner, but we'll have to make it a fast one. We can't stay in this spot much longer.” Her gaze swept over him. “I can carry you again if needed.”
His stomach recoiled at the idea. The water alone sat uneasy in his belly as it was. “I'm not hungry, and I can walk.” He sounded more abrupt than he intended, but Serovek would crawl up the remainder of the slope on his knees before he put that burden on Anhuset a second time. “What else did you discover during your foray?”
Her grin fell away. “There's only this side of the island with a shore fit to land a boat. The other side is a sheer drop to the water. The best place to be is at the island's summit, but the slope is steeper the higher you climb, a lot of it muddy and hard going. If we had more time, drier ground, and a gentler ascent...”
“And me not injured.”
She waved away that obstacle with an airy hand as if it meant nothing. “We'll just strategize around it.”
Serovek admired her ferocity, her pragmatism, her indomitable will. She didn't give up or back down. Her sheer grit saved her from what, in any other woman, would be deluded optimism. Anhuset didn't need rescuing. She just needed help—someone to open the armory so she could choose the weapons that would allow her to resolve the problem. “The summit is out, but I'm guessing you found an alternative.”
She nodded. “I found a spot under a shallow rock overhang closer to the windward side and not much farther up than where we are now. A hike but not a climb. From below, you can't see the overhang and the niche it creates until you're on top of it, but if you're in that spot, you can clearly see whatever's coming up the slope, even with so many trees in the way.”
“It'll be hard covering our tracks, especially if they bring in a tracker.”
She flashed him another toothy smile. “And why I made sure to lay down enough false trails that it looks like the island's been invaded by herds of cattle. Those arse-wipes will have a difficult time telling the real trail from the false ones, even with a good tracker in the party.”
“Well done,” he said softly. Once more a faint blush painted her cheekbones.
Anhuset cleared her throat, the yellow of her eyes flaring bright in the shadows. “We should leave now if you don't want to hike in the dark.” She gathered her foraged items together and plucked the empty gourd from his hand. “Depending on how many participate in the hunt, they'll come in one or two boats. Someone will be left behind on the beach to guard them.”
He took the hand she offered and levered himself upright to stand beside her. “Whatever we plan, it will require diversion, ambush, and speed. Unlike me, you can move quickly. You'll have to be the hunter yourself in this game.”
“And you the bait.”
Even in the woodland gloom, her hair shone silvery-white, a beacon she'd have to hide before Chamtivos arrived. Serovek reached out to lift one of her locks and cradle it in his palm. Anhuset stilled but didn't pull away. His blood heated at the notion she might welcome his touch. “We work well together. But you leave me and see to your own skin should things turn against us. You must get Megiddo away from Chamtivos. Even if the monks pay the ransom he's demanding, he won't honor the exchange. They'll figure out a way to break Brishen's enchantment and butcher Megiddo's body for sport.”
Her eyes brightened to the palest yellow. “We fought well together when we rescued thehercegesfrom his captors. We'll do the same to save ourselves and Megiddo now.”
Her resolve strengthened his, and they packed their small trove of found treasures in the tattered shirt. Serovek used one of the spears as a walking stick while Anhuset carried the other two. Their trek to the rock ledge and overhang was slow going as they laid down more false trails. Near twilight, they reached the spot she'd chosen. Serovek noted how the topography did as she described, fooling the eye for anyone climbing the slope and offering a good view for whoever occupied it. “You're a woman of many talents, Anhuset,” he said as he pressed a hand to his side. A fire burned within his ribcage, and every bruised, abused muscle screeched a protest at his lack of mercy in traipsing across uneven landscape instead of resting in a soft bed to heal.
“Are you having trouble breathing?” Anhuset appeared in front of him, her gaze trained on his face, one hand covering his where it rested against his ribs. There was no misinterpreting or mistaking the concern in her voice. “Sit before you fall.” She pointed to a flat section of rock half covered by leaves.
“I'm fine, Anhuset. Just sore and wishing for a glass of Dragon Fire, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed.”And you to share all three with me. He didn't argue with her, though the aches and pains in body didn't lessen; they simply switched places.
They settled into the scant fastness, preparing for both an uncomfortable, cold night and the ordeal to come. Serovek prayed some of the hunters would take the bait he offered and head this way when they arrived. Anhuset, as superior a fighter as she was, would have a hard time of it trying to outmaneuver and kill a dozen or more hunters by herself.
While she built up a makeshift wall of brambles to slow down any charge up the slope and hide Serovek behind its screen, he split and unraveled the bit of rope, turning some of the fibers and a patch of the tattered shirt into a sling. The rocks Anhuset had gathered by the lake served as perfect projectiles. Bigger than a chicken egg but smaller than a fist, they were the right size for maximizing speed and accuracy without sacrificing impact. She'd admitted to not being as good with a sling, but the woman knew how to pick a good sling stone.
While Anhuset gathered brambles for her wall and kindling for their fire, Serovek carved throwing spikes for her. Once they'd prepared as best they could, she surveyed their handiwork with a dour expression. “I could construct two foot spike traps in the bramble to keep Chamtivos's men from getting to you without risking themselves, but you'd have as much of a chance at stepping on one as they would if you end up fighting hand-to-hand. And if I were them, I'd just use an archer to pick you off from a distance.”
“How glad I am you'll be on my side in this hunt,” he said without any sarcasm.
She snorted and left her inspection of the bramble wall for an even closer inspection of him. In the darkness, her features were merely hints of angles and curves layered in shadow, with her yellow eyes like twin suns flaring and darkening with her emotions. “Can you stand long enough for me to check your injuries?”
Her question made him even more determined not to be an invalid. He stood on more stable footing now, no longer dizzy or half blind. The sizzling pain under his ribs remained, but he'd grown used to the discomfort. “I'm just bruised and feeling my age.”
“Let me see anyway. For my peace of mind.” Her fingers were already tugging his blood-stained shirt up for a view of his torso.
