Deathless (Editing)

Chapter 28: Swordplay

We rose bright and early the next day. Someone from the inn must have collected our horses from the base of the hill because, the moment we stepped outside, we were greeted by Tolly's brown palfry and the black-as-pitch warhorse. Both nickered at the sight of us, and, for a moment, I wondered if it was a happy sort of sound or a cry for help.

After we left the city, Tolly and I slowly navigated the lowlands of the rolling hills. I could tell that Tolly did not prefer riding through the hills, likely because there was no cover. We were wide open out there. Not that I minded.

When we reached the forests, the tension from Tolly's face and back melted, and he slowed his horse's gait to match mine. "You look tired," he said, eyes traveling over my face.

"Good afternoon to you, too." I hadn't realized it, but Tolly was right. I was feeling particularly sluggish.

"Let's take a break," he said, taking a surprisingly caring tact.

Reluctantly, I nodded, wondering if he too was nursing the ill effects of too much wine and too little sleep.

We ground tied our horses, and, following Tolly deep into the brush, we found a small stream of clear, running water. He caught some of the fresh water in his waterskin, and he handed it to me to drink. I drained the skin to the last drop, not realizing how thirsty I had been.

Tolly filled the waterskin and drank until it was empty. We were just about to return to our horses when we were stopped by three men garbed in the Imperial silks. They were all young, with pink cheeks, and sandy blond hair. They were strangers to this land.

"Who are you?" the tallest of the bunch asked, eyes locked on Tolly's sword.

"No one," came Tolly's pat response, but, as he tried to pass the three men, the same man blocked his way.

"Civilians are not allowed to carry swords around these parts," the boy said, bumping Tolly's shoulder with his chest.

Tolly held his ground. "You assume too much, kid."

"What does that mean? Are you claiming to be an Imperial Officer?" The boy raised his brows at this.

The mistake on the nameless guard's part was understandable. Tolly was not wearing his lieutenant's raiment. The only sign of the Empire on Tolly was the sword he wore on his hip. It was the standard-issue Imperial steel.

"I'm claiming nothing. I'm telling you to move."

"Who is the girl?" another of the men asked, taking a small half-step my direction.

Instinctively, I shied away, attention fixed to Tolly.

Tolly's gaze cut over to me. "The girl is no one."

"Then give me her name," the tallest boy commanded.

Tolly's face went blank. No half-grin. No cutting glint in his eyes. Just stone-cold steel, like what I imagined a blade must look like before it tears you in half. Wordless, Tolly reached over to me, pulled me close, and we began toward our horses.

We did not make it far before the smallest, youngest-looking of the three unsheathed his sword. At the metallic hiss of steel skating out of a leather scabbard, I braced for the sensation of a knife to my throat, squeezing my eyes closed. I was not disappointed.

All the men had drawn by the time I cleared my eyes.

"Imperial steel," the tall one observed, his eyes narrowed upon seeing the design of Tolly's sword, as if he wasn't quite sure if what he was seeing was true. Maybe he was reconsidering his rash decision to challenge Tolly.