Free The Gate of Bones by Emily Drake Page B

he said flatly.
    â€œWe all did,” Rich told him.
    â€œNo,” Jason put in. “That’s stupid, Stefan . . . did your football team ever go to a game without some scouting first? Think about it.”
    Stefan made a face, then dropped into sullen silence.
    â€œNothing yet. At least we know where they are, and that they’re confident about being able to hold it. That will make a big difference on how we approach things.” Gavan twitched, his feelings transmitted almost instantly down the reins to his horse, and his mount sidestepped quickly with a nervous snort.
    â€œThen what are we going to do?” Rich, his face paler than ever, even under the Haven sun, stared at the headmaster.
    Trent jabbed a thumb down toward the valley. “Figure out how to get a lot closer without getting tangled in that web.” He stretched in his stirrups, surveying the dark weaving, an intense look on his face as if memorizing it. “I think it can be done,” he finally finished.
    â€œGood lad.” Gavan swung his horse about to face Renart and Mantor. “Eleanora and FireAnn are down there.” He stared gloomily into the encampment. “You understand, Chieftain Mantor, that they hold hostages of ours.”
    â€œAs I am certain you understand that their raids threaten the lives of many people.”
    â€œWinters have never been easy to survive.”
    Mantor’s horse stomped a hoof as if reflecting his rider’s mood. The chieftain looked from Gavan to Renart who stayed remarkably silent now, though his fine brown eyebrows seemed knotted in protest. “All of you—” and Mantor gestured across the band of them and down across the valley fortress. “Are interlopers here, bringing much with you that is new, strange . . . and evil. We sift for the good, as we sift through our grain, sorting the wheat from the chaff. Many have voiced that all of you are alike, but I say . . .” And Mantor paused a moment. He cleared his throat. “I say that you are no different from any men, that you must be judged one at a time.” His six-fingered hand flexed on the reins, and his horse tossed his head. “Renart and I agree in this. It has led to Renart losing his license, and the respect of many. All of you know better than we do, what needs to be faced down there, and what the cost of that will be.” Mantor leveled his gaze at Gavan. “Are you telling me that you will not help us?”
    â€œNo.” Gavan shook his head emphatically. “I’m saying, right now, they have a knife to our throat.” He smiled, grimly. “We have to figure out how to blunt the blade before it cuts. But, there is no denying, we intend to fight what we’re responsible for, and now we know where they are . . . and what we’re facing. Magickers, mark this valley. We’ll be back.” He swung up then, and with a sharp kick, sent his mount back down the crag the way they had come, in a rattle of loose pebbles and stones.
    Mantor let out a primal sound, but whether of agreement or disgust, no one could be sure. He wheeled his horse about to plunge after Gavan. With a sigh, Renart kicked his horse into a trot. Bailey’s horse turned to follow without the slightest tug on the reins from her to signal it, and the boys’ mounts did the same. Halfway down the crag, her horse veered off the trail and picked its way to the left, down what she could only describe as a goat’s trail. She tugged on the reins, but it swung its head back determinedly, and she finally let it go. At the hill’s bottom, though, she could not spot the others, only a faint dust cloud from their passing.
    â€œUh-oh,” said Bailey quietly. She pulled on the reins and kicked her horse in the flanks, putting it into a trot in what she could only hope was the right direction. A rustling came from the brush behind her, and she turned in the saddle, expecting to see Stefan or