Shard reached the trees. The merchant had told him the Long Laird would pay at least six hundred in gold for his wife and daughter. A hundred would secretly be paid to Phaeton for his part. That amount was now halved, less fifty for the merchant. Half again would be split among his men. That left one hundred and twenty-five. Half of that was promised to Jarik. Shard continued his calculations. He would still be fifty short of his second ship. He toyed with the idea of holding back the payment to the merchant, but dismissed it. The man was too valuable, and perhaps his next information would recover the lost profit. That left Jarik. If he could persuade him to relinquish his share . . .
No. Jarik would demand joint ownership of the ship, and that Shard would not agree to.
He glanced back. The settlement was burning ever more brightly as the wind whipped the flames towards the north.
Then he entered the darkness of the woods.
Three quarters of a mile ahead Jarik finally threw the struggling Tae to the ground. As she tried to rise he slapped her face, a hard stinging blow that swept her from her feet. ‘Behave yourself, Rigante bitch,’ he told her, ‘and no harm will befall you. You are being held for ransom. Not for sport.’
The girl said nothing. Jarik crouched beside her, looking into her eyes. He saw no fear there, only hate and anger. He grinned at her. ‘But you make one stupid move and I will use you for sport. You understand that?’ She nodded. Hauling her to her feet Jarik and his three men moved on towards the shoreline. The girl seemed to stumble. Jarik reached out to support her. Suddenly she swung, head-butted him in the face, and ran into the woods. Jarik swore and raced after her, his men following.
She was fast, but Jarik was faster and stronger. She leapt a fallen tree and cut to the right. Jarik was closing now, only a few feet behind. She swerved again just as he was about to grab her. Now, although she did not realize it, she was running straight for the beached ship. A screen of bushes lay ahead, and then a moonlit clearing. The girl hurdled the bushes. Jarik, close behind, threw himself forward. She almost got away from him, but his hand closed on her ankle, and she hit the ground heavily.
‘Remember what I told you, bitch?’ snarled Jarik. She came up fast as he grabbed her from behind. Her elbow lashed back towards his face, catching his ear. Anger roared through him. Spinning her, he punched her full in the face. The girl, half stunned, fell to her knees. Jarik’s three men came running into the clearing. Jarik began untying the rope belt of his trews.
‘Not to touch her,’ said the first. ‘Those are the orders.’
‘You are a fine one to talk about orders, Kidrik. The orders were to take both women alive. Anyway, this bitch needs to know discipline,’ said Jarik.
‘And you need to know death,’ came a voice.
Jarik stepped back and spun. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a lone Rigante warrior, a gleaming sword in one hand, a knife in the other. It made no sense for him to be here. They were in shouting distance of the ship, and not far behind fifty warriors were making their way to this spot. Jarik hurriedly tied his belt, then glanced towards his men. ‘What are you standing there for? Kill the bastard.’
The three men drew their swords and charged. The Rigante leapt to meet them. His blades glittered like silver in the moonlight. One man went down, then a second. The third fell back, his throat open, blood bubbling over his chainmail shirt.
Jarik drew his own sword and ran in, aiming a two-handed sweep at the Rigante’s head. At the last moment the Rigante ducked down below the blade. Off balance, Jarik stumbled. A searing, terrible heat swept up through his chest. He glanced down to see the hilt of a knife jutting from his ribs. It was a beautiful hilt.