The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist

judge the Dark Brothers’ march?’

      Garret said, ‘At their rear, a hundred yards; at the van, perhaps a quarter mile or less. Why?’

      Martin grinned, and Garret became discomforted by the mocking humor in his eyes. ‘Come, I think I know where we can have some fun.’

      Garret groaned softly, ‘Ah, Huntmaster, my skin gets a poxy feeling when you mention fun.’

      Martin struck the man a friendly blow to the chest with the back of his hand. ‘Come, stout fellow.’ The Huntmaster broke trail, with Garret behind. They loped along through the woods, easily avoiding obstacles that would have hindered less experienced woodsmen.

      They came to a break in the trail, and both men halted. Just down the trail, at the edge of their vision in the gloom of the forest, came a company of Tsurani trailbreakers. Martin and Garret faded into the trees, and the Huntmaster said, ‘The main column is close behind. When they reach the crossing where the Dark Brothers passed, they might chance to follow.’

      Garret shook his head. ‘Or they might not, so we will make certain they do.’ Taking a deep breath, he added, ‘Oh well,’ then made a short silent prayer to Kilian, the Singer of Green Silences, Goddess of Foresters, as they unshouldered their bows.

      Martin stepped out onto the trail and took aim, and Garret followed his example. The Tsurani trailbreakers came into view, cutting away the thick underbrush along the trail so the main body could more easily follow. Martin waited until the Tsurani were uncomfortably close, then he let fly, just as the first trailbreaker took notice of them. The first two men fell, and before they hit the ground, two more arrows were loosed. Martin and Garret pulled arrows from back quivers in fluid motions, set arrow to bowstring, and let fly with uncommon quickness and accuracy. It was not from any act of kindness Martin had selected Garret five years before. In the eye of the storm, he would stand calmly, do as ordered, and do it with skill.

      Ten stunned Tsurani fell before they could raise an alarm. Calmly Martin and Garret shouldered their bows and waited. Then along the trail appeared a veritable wall of colored armor. The Tsurani officers in the van stopped in shocked silence as they regarded the dead trailbreakers. Then they saw the two foresters standing quietly down the trail and shouted something. The entire front of the column sprang forward, weapons drawn.

      Martin leaped into the thicket on the north side of the trail, Garret a step behind. They dashed through the trees, the Tsurani in close pursuit.

      Martin’s voice filled the forest with a wild hunter’s call. Garret shouted as much from some nameless, crazy exhilaration as from fear. The noise behind was tremendous as a horde of Tsurani pursued them through the trees.

      Martin led them northward, paralleling the course taken by the Dark Brotherhood. After a time he stopped and between gasping breaths said, ‘Slowly, we don’t want to lose them.’

      Garret looked back and saw the Tsurani were out of sight. They leaned against a tree and waited. A moment later the first Tsurani came into view, hurrying along on a course that angled off to the northwest.

      With a disgusted look, Martin said, ‘We must have killed the only skilled trackers on their whole bloody world.’ He took his hunter’s horn from his belt and let forth with such a loud blast the Tsurani soldier froze, an expression of shock clearly evident on his face even from where Martin and Garret stood.

      The Tsurani looked around and caught sight of the two huntsmen. Martin waved for the man to follow, and he and Garret were off again. The Tsurani shouted for those behind and gave chase. For a quarter mile they led the Tsurani through the woods, then they angled westward. Garret shouted, between heaving breaths, ‘The Dark Brothers . . . they’ll know . . . we come.’

      Martin shouted back, ‘Unless they’ve . . . suddenly all . . . gone deaf.’ He managed a smile. ‘The Tsurani . . . hold a six-to-one . . . advantage. I . . . think it . . . only fair to let . . . the Brotherhood . . . have the . . . ambush.’

      Garret spared enough breath for a low groan and continued to follow his master’s lead. They crashed out of a thicket and Martin stopped, grabbing Garret by the tunic. He cocked his head and said, ‘They’re up ahead.’

      Garret said, ‘I don’t know . . . how you can hear a thing with . . . all that cursed racket behind.’ It sounded as if most of the Tsurani column had followed, though the forest amplified the noise and confused its source.

      Martin said, ‘Do you still wear that . . . ridiculous red undertunic?’

      ‘Yes, why?’

      ‘Tear off a strip.’ Garret pulled his knife without question and lifted up his green forester’s tunic. Underneath was a garish red cotton undertunic. He cut a long strip off the bottom, then hastily tucked the undertunic in. While Garret ordered himself, Martin tied the strip to an arrow. He looked back to where the Tsurani thrashed in the brush. ‘It must be those stubby legs. They may be able to run all day, but they can’t keep up in the woods.’ He handed the arrow to Garret. ‘See that large elm across that small clearing?’

      Garret nodded. ‘See the small birch behind, off to the left?’ Again Garret nodded. ‘Think you can hit it with that rag dragging at your arrow?’

      Garret grinned as he unslung his bow, notched the arrow, and let fly. The arrow sped true, striking the tree. Martin said, ‘When our bandy-legged friends get here, they’ll see that flicker of color over there and go charging across. Unless I’m sadly mistaken, the Brothers are about fifty feet the other side of your arrow.’ He pulled his horn as Garret shouldered his bow again. ‘Once more we’re off,’ he said, blowing a long, loud call.

      Like hornets the Tsurani descended, but Longbow and Garret were off to the southwest before the note from the hunter’s horn had died in the air. They dashed to be gone before the Tsurani caught sight of them, aborting the hoax. Suddenly they broke through a thicket and ran into a group of women and children milling about. One young woman of the Brotherhood was placing a bundle upon the ground. She stopped at the sight of the two men. Garret had to slide to a halt to keep from bowling her over.

      Her large brown eyes studied him for an instant as he stepped sideways to get around her. Without thinking, Garret said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ and raised his hand to his forelock. Then he was off after the Huntmaster as shouts of surprise and anger erupted behind them.

      Martin called a halt after they had covered another quarter mile and listened. To the northeast came the sounds of battle, shouts and screams, and the ring of weapons. Martin grinned. ‘They’ll both be busy for a while.’

      Garret sank wearily to the ground and said, ‘Next time send me to the castle, will you, Huntmaster?’

      Martin kneeled beside the tracker. ‘That should prevent the Tsurani from reaching Crydee until sundown or after. They won’t be able to mount an attack until tomorrow. Four hundred Dark Brothers are not something they can safely leave at their rear. We’ll rest a bit, then make for Crydee.’

      Garret leaned back against a tree. ‘Welcome news.’ He let out a long sigh of relief. ‘That was a close thing, Huntmaster.’

      Martin smiled enigmatically. ‘All life is a close thing, Garret.’

      Garret shook his head slowly. ‘Did you see that girl?’

      Martin nodded. ‘What of her?’

      Garret looked perplexed. ‘She was pretty . . . no, closer to being beautiful, in a strange sort of way, I mean. But she had long black hair, and her eyes were the color of otter’s fur. And she had a pouty mouth and pert look. Enough to warrant a second glance from most men. It’s not what I would have expected from the Brotherhood.’

      Martin nodded. ‘The moredhel are a pretty people, in truth, as are the elves. But remember, Garret,’ he said with a smile, ‘should you chance to find yourself exchanging pleasantries with a moredhel woman again, she’d as soon cut your heart out as kiss you.’

      They rested for a while as cries and shouts echoed from the northeast. Then slowly