Free The Last Bastion by Nathan Hawke Page B

after it?’
    ‘Yes.’
    The woman looked at him askance. Behind her the rest of the Vathen were getting ready to leave. ‘I’ve stood at the top of that cliff, forkbeard, so I’m quite sure I don’t believe you. But suppose for a moment that I did: how are you still alive?’
    Gallow wasn’t sure he had much of an answer to that. When he didn’t speak, the Vathan woman laughed and her eyes called him a liar. She turned away and vaulted onto her horse. She didn’t free his wrists so he could walk more easilybut as the Vathen rode off, she circled back to take the reins of his horse and led him to the front where everyone could see and had him trot along behind her. She didn’t once look back at him.
    The Vathen rode at a hard pace for walking. Gallow didn’t see what happened to the Marroc at the back of the ride, but when they stopped again in the evening on a ridge looking down over a steep valley, most were still there. No one came to untie him so Gallow sat down and stretched his legs while the Vathen set out their camp and lit their fires. He looked down at the valley. He knew this place. At the bottom was the road that ran from Hrodicslet and round the hills to Fedderhun. On its way it passed Middislet only a few miles from Nadric’s forge. From home and from Arda . As he gazed he walked deep among those memories, so deep he didn’t notice the Vathan woman until she squatted beside him, drinking water from a deerskin bottle. ‘I imagine you could keep up that pace for days.’ She drank deeply.
    ‘I imagine I could.’ Gallow closed his eyes. The sun was setting and the air would get cold quickly even this far from the mountains.
    ‘Yes. A forkbeard like you should manage well enough. I’m guessing three more days to Fedderhun and then we’ll pick the pace up. Another five or six to Andhun.’
    ‘I’d like some water, please. Walking makes me thirsty.’
    ‘Polite too?’ She laughed. ‘But where’s your beard, forkbeard? I feel stupid calling you that when you haven’t got one.’
    ‘I cut it off.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Talking makes me thirsty too.’
    ‘Sit up then.’ When Gallow managed to get himself sitting, the woman moved closer and tipped the bottle against his mouth. She was careful and he managed to drink more than she spilled.
    ‘This is your ride. The others answer to you. You’re the bashar here?’
    ‘So I am. Where’s the sword, forkbeard?’
    ‘I left it behind.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘A place I passed through.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because it’s cursed.’
    She snorted. ‘I hear the Marroc say so. I thought you forkbeards knew better.’
    Gallow turned and smiled at her, though there was no friendliness there. ‘I carried the red sword for long enough to know that the Marroc are right. If I had it, I’d give it to you.’
    She laughed. ‘I doubt that very much, forkbeard.’
    ‘That doesn’t make it any less true.’
    ‘You’re not going to tell me where it is. But you know. I can see that. That or it’s all been lies right from the start and you just found the scabbard empty washed up on the shore somewhere. I think if I try to beat it out of you, I might kill you before you talk, and the ardshan would have my hide for that. So you can keep your secrets, forkbeard. I’ll take you to Andhun and the ardshan can try. I’ll be curious to see if it can be done.’
    ‘It’s a long way to Andhun, Vathan. A lot could happen.’
    ‘It could.’ She stood up and took the bottle away. ‘Hungry yet?’
    ‘I’ll live.’
    ‘I bet.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ve killed forkbeards. Two. Three years ago in Andhun. I hated your people once but not so much now. Don’t think for a moment that’ll help you if I have to hunt you down. I’m the bashar of this ride, as you say. Challenge me and I’ll open your throat and damn whatever it is you might know.’ She turned and started off, then stopped and looked back. ‘One thing puzzles me, forkbeard.What were you doing in that Marroc