Page 23 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Close to the border,” Archer replied. “Penn and Valerian were headed there to search for Niall.”

“Wonderful, the chickens are flocking together again,” Griselda grumbled. “Just tell Val to keep an eye out and …” she trailed off with a curse.

Archer and Silas had previously communicated with Penn and Valerian through an enchanted book. One person would write in their copy, and the message would appear in the other copy. It used fewer materials than a messenger spell and didn’t require a mage to recast the spell every time. Unfortunately, the book had burned in the palace fire. Until Valerian sent a magical message of his own, Archer had no easy way to contact their search party.

“Do you think Varro would attend the meeting himself?” Archer asked Darian.

The sergeant hesitated. “I’m not sure. If he escaped on the ship, it would make more sense to meet them somewhere along the coast. Sparrow Hill isn’t far—only half-a-day’s ride—but it isn’t the closest option. This also isn’t his handwriting, and I’ve never seen Varro use magical messages.”

“What about Niall?” Archer asked.

“Oh right, I forgot that little shit was a mage,” Gris said, rubbing her nose. “Not a very strong one, since he didn’t make much of an impression.”

“He doesn’t have to be strong to be a problem.” Archer tapped the letter, lips pressed in a grim line. If Penn and Valerian were still in Sparrow Hill when the traitors arrived, they would be outnumbered. Especially if Niall and Varro were working together again.

They could send a search party in that direction to try to intercept the traitors, but Archer wanted more information first. He carefully tucked the letter into one of the desk drawers, out of sight. They cleaned up the blood from the scuffle and Griselda took her place by the door again. Once the tableau was reset, they called the next soldier in and began the whole process again.

Chapter Eleven

Niall’s coughing, sniffling, and sneezing provided a constant backdrop for Penn’s drive. It served Niall right for insisting that they drive in the rain, but Penn wished the bastard would at least turn his head to the side or cough into his elbow instead of spraying spittle everywhere.

“Perhaps you should ride in the carriage?” Penn suggested. There was room now that they’d sold and traded most of Niall’s stolen goods, at a tenth of the price they were worth—according to him. In the mountain towns, only the lofty lords and ladies cared about such ‘treasures.’ A gold necklace couldn’t feed a family or plow the field, so it wasn’t worth the expense. The amount they’d received was enough to fund a hundred journeys, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Niall’s greed. He was used to a lavish lifestyle at the palace, holding a position of power and reverence. Penn hoped a rough voyage on the road eventually broke him.

“And allow you to”—cough, cough—“drive us straight into the waiting arms of a constable? Absolutely not.”

“What constable?” Penn asked, gesturing to the open fields around them. “This is all farmlands. There’s not another town for miles.”

“The answer is no,” Niall snarled, then sneezed, ruining any attempt at intimidation. “If you continue insisting, I will—” His threat devolved into coughing, wet and harsh enough to sound like he was dying.

There’s a thought. Maybe he’ll keel over from a simple cold. Penn daydreamed for a moment, imagining Niall’s face shifting from red to purple to blue as he choked on his own air and poor choices.

Unfortunately, the man eventually caught his breath and the coughing subsided. “Why aren’t you sick?” he demanded, rubbing his nose with his sleeve, leaving a long streak of snot behind.

Children have better manners than him. “I’m a seasoned traveler,” Penn replied.

Niall narrowed his eyes. “Is that all? Or do you perhaps have a witch watching from the shadows?”

Penn arched an eyebrow even as his heart pounded as he thought again of Adelaide ignoring his directive not to follow them. She couldn’t defeat Alistair in a direct battle. That didn’t mean she would allow him to roam free. “Do you think she caused the rain and then snuck into the inn to feed me a cold remedy?”

“Yes! That exactly!” Niall declared. He reached forward and snatched the reins from Penn’s hands. The horses turned in the direction he pulled, toward the muddy ditch.

“Watch it!” Penn shoved Niall’s shoulder and grabbed the reins, straightening the carriage. As soon as he did, he thought: why did I do that? It would have been better if we crashed. That would have bought him some time, and Niall would only have himself to blame.

Niall’s eyes bulged in his head. “How dare you?” He shoved Penn back with both hands, putting all his strength behind it.

Penn instinctively gripped the reins then had a better idea. He let go and braced himself as he tumbled right out of the driver’s seat. His shoulder slammed into the road, and he exhaled sharply. The carriage trundled on for a moment until Niall regained control of the horses and slowed it to a stop.

Closing his eyes, Penn sprawled on the ground, pretending a greater injury. His whole arm throbbed but he’d protected his head and didn’t get the wind knocked out of him. He heard Niall cursing as the mage jumped down from the driver’s seat and approached Penn cautiously. “Get up.”

Penn ignored him, breathing shallowly.

Niall prodded him with the toe of his shoe.

Penn could have grabbed his ankle and yanked him down to the ground next to him. Taken the opportunity to injure the already sick man, perhaps even kill him. It would eliminate one threat but could hurt Penn’s plans in the long run.

He had other ideas for this opportunity.

Niall reared his foot back to kick him. The carriage door opened before the blow landed.