Free Journey Of Thieves (Book 5) by C.Greenwood

accusations are growing tiresome. I cannot make you believe that I had no hand in Brig’s death, but I advise you to reconsider the trustworthiness of your source. Ask yourself what motive the one who hired you might have for lying about my past and seeking my destruction. What is he afraid of, that he is so eager to ensure I never return to Ellesus?”
    “Ridiculous,” he sneered. “A respected member of the Praetor’s council has nothing to fear from the likes of you.”
    “Praetor’s council, you say?” I mentally shuffled through my limited knowledge of the Praetor’s advisers. My only glimpse of these exalted people had been on the occasion where I had made my ill-conceived attempt at assassinating their ruler. I had failed miserably and, in the end, had been forced to join the very man I had hoped to kill. There had been councilmen present for that, but none of them stood out in my memory. None had cause to act against me now.
    My enemy looked annoyed at his slip. “Kill me if you want, but I’ll tell you no more than that. I’ll never disclose the name of the one who hired me.”
    “Then maybe you’ll give you own?” His bravery reminding me of Brig, I softened slightly. Maybe he had more than appearance in common with his father.
    He scowled, and I thought he would refuse me this piece of information too, if only to be obstinate.
    But it seemed he had used up his store of defiance. “Martyn. I am Martyn.”
    “All right, Martyn. I have only one question more for you. How did you come to possess my bow?”
    “Everyone knows of the famous bow belonging to Ilan of Dimmingwood,” he said. “Your precious forest outlaws fished it out of a stream and were saving it in your memory. When I went sniffing around the outlaw band, looking for answers about my father’s fate, I soon learned of the bow. People say it’s the only weapon that can defeat you. So I took it, thinking it would be a fine irony to destroy you with your own bow.”
    “And so you nearly did.” Privately, I was amused by the nonsensical idea that I was some unnatural being who could only be killed by a magical weapon. But I sobered, remembering this young man might be ignorant but he was still an enemy it would be unwise to turn my back on.
    “For your father’s sake, I am leaving you alive. That is more than I’ve ever done before with someone bent on killing me. I won’t ask why you are suddenly so concerned with Brig’s fate, when none of his kin seemed interested in him while he lived.”
    He tried to protest, but I cut him off. “You should tear off a bit of your cloak and wrap that wound tight before you lose any more blood. Then take yourself back home, wherever that may be. You have no honest quarrel with me, and I want none with you. But make no mistake. The next time I lay eyes on you, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”
    I glanced at the sky where the sun was dipping behind a ridge. “And now I have a long way to go and not many hours left until dark. Good-bye, Martyn, son of Brig. I hope we do not meet again.”
    I left him there, sitting on the blood-spattered sand and looking after me in confusion. I offered up a silent apology to Brig and tried not to wonder what would become of his son.
    * * *
    Following Calder’s map, it took me two more days of travel to reach the mountains. I never saw any sign of Martyn following me and wondered with a pang of guilt whether he had successfully retraced his steps to the river or if he was dead by now.
    It was a rough climb up the mountainside. The air here was as dry as that of the desert I had left behind, but temperatures dropped the higher I went. I saw snow on the slopes above and hoped I would not have to go that far. I wasn’t equipped for cold or for scaling steep peaks. Luckily, my map showed the Drejians’ fortress at a lower level.
    I had only been climbing for a day when I found myself on a craggy bluff overlooking a familiar prospect. It was exactly as the map