Free VirtualWarrior by Ann Lawrence

of all
this.” He swept a hand out to her men. “How can Ralen help you?”
    “He has influence. I did not finish with your arm. Hold it
out, pilgrim.”
    “What of your own influence?” Lien did as she asked. She
wrapped his arm in fresh bandages and tied it snugly.
    “A woman has no influence in Tolemac and little in Selaw. I
had only the influence Tol allowed me. With his passing…”
    “You love him?” Lien felt it important to know if he was
lusting after a grieving widow, or a soon-to-be grieving widow.
    Whoa. Where had that thought come from?
    “I love him.” She said it with great heat, then turned and
watched her men. “He is like no other man I have ever met. He is my teacher,
and I his student. He taught me to understand my people, to listen to their
needs, and find a way to alleviate their suffering.”
    “I gather he’s older than you.” He watched emotions play
over her face.
    “He is my mentor. The father of my dear son. I will never
replace him. Never.”
    “Then we’d better get to him quickly.”
    A shadow dropped over her face. It took him a moment to
realize it was a net. Without thought, he reached out and scooped her up, net
and all. In two strides he was off the road. Trapped in the net, she screamed.
He hissed at her to be silent.
    Nets dropped all around them, engulfing the warriors,
tangling horses, smothering torches. Men garbed in rags dropped on the hapless
travelers, flailing clubs and shouting. Lien remained miraculously free.
    He glanced about at the writhing mass of nets and men to be
sure he was unobserved, then slipped into a gap in a tangle of tree roots. He
pushed deep into a cave of greenery. Ardra squirmed in his arms.
    “Ardra. Stop it.” She lay instantly still. He tried to find
the edges of the net and failed. He could feel the rapid panting of her breath
on his face. “I need your dagger to cut you free,” he whispered at her ear.
    She wriggled in his arms; then something poked him in the
stomach. He worked his fingers into the netting and pulled out her knife.
Carefully so as not to cut her, he sawed the strands of the net apart. It was
made of the vines that entangled the tree roots. They were tough but finally
parted, and he helped her struggle free of their grip. Then, to help conceal
her further, he pulled her hood up and over her hair.
    He held up a finger for her to be silent. “Keep your head
down. I’m going to see what I can do.”
    He crawled out of the roots. He couldn’t fight the men from
the trees, not with one tiny dagger. He duck-walked to the closest warrior and
cut him free. It was Ollach. With a finger to his lips, Lien pointed left, then
right to indicate the direction that each should take.
    All around Lien, men were shouting, horses thrashing, and
women screaming. He slid along the ground, cutting the mesh and freeing
warriors. Each man drew his sword and began to slash and cut at their ragged
enemies, who had only clubs for weapons. In moments, it was all over. The men
from the trees swarmed up the trunks and with shrieks and howls abandoned the
fight.
    Ardra’s men sheathed their swords, cut the remaining
prisoners free, then began to inspect the wounded.
    Lien crawled into Ardra’s shelter, offered her his hand, and
tugged her from her hiding place. She walked slowly around the camp, speaking
to each person and making use of her pouch of gray goo where needed. Lien
walked behind her and watched.
    The cook had a goose egg on his forehead. His fat face
gleamed with sweat, and he trembled. “Mistress, we must move on.” The man’s
eyes swept the lush canopy over their heads.
    “Aye, we will do so.” She patted his shoulder. “After Ollach
and his men bury the dead. Luckily, none of them are ours.”
    Lien took her arm and helped her up. She did not remove it
as they continued the inspection of her men. When they were ready to mount
their horses, he looped his fingers together and she placed her boot in his
palm, one hand on his