Free Oathblood by Mercedes Lackey Page A

needn’t take a turn at all.”
    Kethry did not need further urging, but wrapped herself up in her cloak and a blanket, pillowed her head on her arm, and fell asleep with the suddenness of a tired puppy. The illusions she’d woven would remain intact even while she slept. Only three things could cause them to fail. They’d break if she broke them herself, if the pressure of spells from a greater sorcerer than she were brought to bear on them, or if she died. Her training had been arduous and quite thorough; as complete in its way as Tarma’s sword training had been.
    Seeing her shiver in her sleep, Tarma built up the fire with a bit more dried dung (the leavings of previous caravans were all the fuel to be found out here) and covered her with the rest of the spare blankets. The illusions were draining energy from Kethry; Tarma knew she’d be quite comfortable with one blanket and her cloak, and if that didn’t suffice, Warrl made an excellent “bedwarmer.” The night passed uneventfully.
    Morning saw them riding deeper into the stony hills that ringed the desert basin they’d spent the day before passing through. The road was considerably less dusty now, but the air held more of a chill. Both Tarma and Kethry tried to keep an eye on their suspect guard, and shortly before noon their vigilance was rewarded. Both of them saw him flashing the sunlight off his armband in what could only be a deliberate series of signals.
    â€œFrom ambush, bandits screaming
Charge the packtrain and its prize,
And all but four within the train
Are taken by surprise,
And all but four are cut down
Like a woodsman fells a log,
The guardsman, and the lady,
And the maiden, and the dog.
Three things know a secret —
First; the lady in a dream;
The dog that barks no warning
And the maid that does not scream.”
    Even with advance warning, they hadn’t much time to ready themselves.
    Bandits charged the packtrain from both sides of the road, screaming at the tops of their lungs. The guards were taken completely by surprise. The three apprentice traders accompanying the train flung themselves down on their faces as their master Grumio had ordered them to do in hopes that they’d be overlooked. To the bandit-master at the rear of the train, it seemed that once again all had gone completely according to plan.
    Until Kethry broke her illusions.
    â€œThen off the lady pulls her cloak—
In armor she is clad,
Her sword is out and ready
And her eyes are fierce and glad.
The maiden gestures briefly,
And the dog’s a cur no more.
A wolf, sword-maid, and sorceress
Now face the bandit corps!
Three things never anger,
Or you will not live for long—
A wolf with cubs, a man with power,
And a woman’s sense of wrong.”
    The brigands at the forefront of the pack found themselves facing something they hadn’t remotely expected. Gone were the helpless, frightened women on high-bred steeds too fearful to run. In their place sat a pair of well-armed, grim-faced mercenaries on schooled warbeasts. With them was an oversized and very hungry-looking wolf.
    The pack of bandits milled, brought to a halt by this unexpected development.
    Finally one of the bigger ones growled a challenge at Tarma, who only grinned evilly at him. Kethry saluted them mockingly—and the pair moved into action explosively.
    They split up and charged the marauders, giving them no time to adjust to the altered situation. The bandits had hardly expected the fight to be carried to them, and reacted too late to stop them. Their momentum carried them through the pack and up onto the hillsides on either side of the road. Now they had the high ground.
    Kethry had drawn Need, whose magic was enabling her to keep herself intact long enough to find a massive boulder to put her back against. The long odds were actually favoring the two of them for the moment, since the bandits were mostly succeeding only in