By The Light Of The Moon

Chapter 40

The creaking of a wagon stopped outside, and the silent watchdog returned.

"The wagon is beside the tent flap," he said, speaking for the first time. "Got things arranged so that if I hold the tent flap, none will see you get in. The two up front are for show. They've been silenced with silver."

The man backed up, holding the flap open and allowing us to see the opening in the back of the covered wagon. This was our chance. If nothing else, we'd be out of the war camp, and our chances of escape – or Shane fighting his way free – would be much higher.

"Go on," I softly told Shane.

He took a deep breath and quickly darted past the man, jumping into the wagon in a smooth bound. Inside the empty wagon, he turned around and watched the silent watchdog close the wagon flap, tucking the bottoms inside so he didn't have to lock them.

Milly was tied to the wagon and whickered a greeting at me. The primary watchdog brought his horse over, nodding at the saddle. Making a face, I climbed into the saddle and arranged the manacles so the cuffs and chain were easily visible.

He swung up behind me, quietly saying, "I'll stay on this side of the wagon, wolf. The nails securing the chains on this side are loose, so if you push hard against the wall, they will come out."

A huff came from inside. The other watchdog mounted his horse and nodded at the two soldiers on the wagon's driver seat. Their expressions remained studiously blank as the driver flicked the reins.

The horses moved through the camp at a fast walk. Many soldiers glanced at us as we went by but continued about their business. We passed row after row of tents without issue.

"Halt," a familiar voice called.

The warrior from before had terrible timing.

The horses and wagon stopped, although the watchdogs only looked faintly annoyed.

"Where are you taking the woman?"

"If ye'd been in yer tent organizing the marching plans like ye were supposed to be, ye'd have been one of the first to know the werewolf escaped," the man behind me replied in his fake accent, more than a hint of irritation in his tone.

"What's the plan?" the warrior asked, all business now.

"Soldiers here are playing quiet so he doesn' know we're onto 'im and his soldier disguise. Already sent two groups up the north road to wait in ambush. We're running her over the bridge, hoping to lure 'im into the pitfall traps. Since yer here, ye can round up another group in case we need help. We're goin' to fake wheel trouble past the bridge and stop there. Sentries will blow a return call in quarter a candlemark. If he doesn't ambush us goin', he'll try before we return t' the camp."

"You should take more soldiers."

"That's what we said. But Warlord wants to lure 'im in before 'e has time to think. Not make 'im count crossbows. If ye want to argue with 'im, we'll wait here."

The warrior scowled at him. "I'll have knights ready the moment you blow the alert." With that, the warrior stalked off.

As the wagon and horse continued moving, I murmured, "That Bredarian accent was terrible. Your Varlancian one is much better."

There was silence for a moment before he quietly replied, "Perhaps, but he's overconfident enough that he doesn't notice."

"Plains of the Shandara?"

"You've been places."

"A few. I have a knack for accents."

"So I see."

Once we passed the sentries, who didn't question us, we sped up. Trees passed by as the horses trotted down the road, giving me plenty of time to subtly draw my wrists into my sleeves and pick the locks with the hairpins purposefully hidden there.

"Stop," the man behind me quietly called out, and the wagon and horses came to a halt.

"I assume this is where we part ways?" I asked as he dismounted.

"Yes," he replied as the other watchdog opened the wagon flap so the werewolf inside could easily jump out.

I held my hands in front of me and gave my wrists a hard shake, letting the manacles clatter down in a similar fashion to the previous ones. Shane and both watchdogs blinked in surprise. With the cuffs and chains removed in a showy fashion, I slid out of the saddle. If they had any plans on double-crossing us, I hoped the display would reaffirm their sorceress theory and make them unwilling to take that risk.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the two gold coins I'd stashed there during our ride. Holding one up between two fingers, I made a flourish with my hand that brought the second one into sight. It was completely sleight of hand, but this particular party trick came from near the southern desert and wasn't one I'd seen elsewhere.

I tossed a coin to each of the men. "Thank you."

Both of them bowed their heads low.

"We'll keep going and trigger the pitfall, telling them the werewolf spooked the horses, and you took off to the east on the mule. You won't have much of a head start, but there's no patrols or sentries on the slopes right now, and they'll be looking the wrong way first. Once they realize the Warlord has vanished, the hunt should break off."

"Safe travels to you."

The man made a gesture over his heart. "You as well."

I made a mental note of the hand sign as I swung into Milly's saddle. It wasn't one I'd seen before, and I had a feeling I'd have to be very careful when trying to locate its origin and meaning.

Tapping my heels into Milly's sides, she began trotting into the trees. Shane loped ahead as the wagon and horses continued along the road, disappearing from sight.

As soon as we found a deer trail, I sent Milly into a canter. We wouldn't have long until the men triggered the pitfall, and I wanted to get as far away as possible.

It was strange traveling during the day. I was finally able to see the frequent flashes of brown as Shane checked on me. Milly trotted without complaint since she could see the path instead of peering through the shadows.

Urgent horn calls broke the silence, answered by two others nearby and several more from the direction of the camp. True to their word, they'd given us a head start. From the location of the calls, they really had sent two groups out, but it only made sense if they wanted their cover story to remain unquestioned.

Shane paused nearby and met my gaze. I nodded, even though I wasn't entirely sure if I was acknowledging that the men had planned our escape well or that we really didn't want to meet them again.

The gold coin I paid them had hopefully addressed both aspects. Paying them for their efforts, ensuring there were no outstanding debts or favors owed, and a silent request for them to turn that creepy corpse into a torch.

If one of them decided to keep the necklaces instead of burying them, that was their choice, and I wished them luck dealing with any lingering effects of the curse.