“Get the message satchel, boys.”
Sarge and Thursgad hurried to obey their captain’s command, but The Horse wouldn’t let them near. He kicked Thursgad’s steed squarely in the chest. The unfortunate horse grunted and shied away. The Horse backed from Sarge as if to flee, then swerved around and lunged at him in a rear.
“Damn the beast!” Sarge pulled away unsuccessfully as the hooves of The Horse collided with the shoulder of his bay, leaving behind shiny streaks of blood.
“Hamstring him, or cut his throat,” the captain said. “I don’t care. Just get that message satchel.”
“I’ll help ya, Sarge.” Thursgad kicked his horse, but it would only step backward. Sarge’s horse now shied from The Horse who, with teeth bared, snorted aggressively.
“Proud cut, I’ll warrant,” Sarge grumbled.
Karigan shook her head to clear her thoughts—not an easy task with hooves flying just inches from her. The hilt of her sword was lodged beneath her hip. She wasn’t disarmed yet. The Horse would occupy Sarge and Thursgad, but she would have to deal with Immerez and the Shadow Man by herself. The Horse lunged at Sarge again, and she was showered by clods of dirt and pebbles.
The Shadow Man made a sweeping gesture with his hand. It was a white hand, perfectly proportioned, not the skeletal hand she had somehow imagined. Someone living and breathing was concealed beneath that hood.
Immerez nodded in response to the gesture, and clucked his horse backward. Karigan grit her teeth as the whip tightened around her, strangled her, cut into her flesh. He dragged her several yards across rocks and tall grasses away from sharp horse hooves. He dismounted, and keeping the whip taut, stood above her. The sun glared behind him, and Karigan had to squint to see him.
“I don’t know what kind of training you give your Greenie horses, but my men will have him down shortly. No doubt about it.” His green eye flicked over at the action, then planted on Karigan again. “What do you know about a spy in House Mirwell?”
Karigan struggled to sit up, but he drove his boot heel into her shoulder and slammed her back into the ground. Her shoulder flashed with pain.
“Mirwellians,” she gasped. “Nothing but cutthroats.”
There was no reply for a moment. “I asked you a question.”
Karigan craned her neck upward. “I don’t even know what the message is about. I don’t know anything about anything. You understand?” She was surprised by her own vehemence. Her voice did not sound high-pitched and frightened.
Immerez squatted down out of the glare, which shifted the shadows on his face. Sweat gleamed on his bald head. “I don’t know how it is F’ryan Coblebay passed his mission to you, but he did. You do know the information.”
“I do not.”
Immerez peered over his shoulder, and to the Shadow Man he said, “I don’t wish to play this game anymore.” There was no response. Only Sarge’s curses could be heard down the track. When Immerez gazed back at Karigan, his features were tight. “You could tell me about the spy now and spare yourself some trouble.”
“Does your statue friend make you do all his work?”
Immerez grinned humorlessly. “He is no friend of mine.”
“Then why? What’s so important?” Karigan wriggled her hand pinned beneath her body, reaching for the hilt of her sword. No one was here to help her. No eagle, no Abram, no Berry sisters, no Eletian, no ghost. Curious that F’ryan Coblebay wasn’t here to help, or at least to communicate. Perhaps his time walking the earth had expired.
Immerez seemed perplexed by Karigan’s questions. “What do you mean why? I’ll wager you’re trying to throw us off the track.”
Sand and grit abraded Karigan’s hand as she burrowed it beneath her body. She fixed her gaze on Immerez, so not to give away her intent. “I’m not really a Green Rider. I don’t care what’s important to you, or what’s important to King Zachary. I found the messenger dead and took his horse. I’m just trying to get home, nothing more. You can have the message if you want.”
Immerez laughed and slapped his thigh. He looked over his shoulder at the Shadow Man. “Did you hear that? She says we can have the message if we want!” The laughter stopped cold and he gazed down at her. “If that is so, call off the horse.”
Karigan shrugged as best she could in the confines of the whip. Her fingertips touched cold metal—the pommel! “He doesn’t listen to me.”
“I thought so. If you’re no Green Rider, you certainly look like one.”
Karigan had slipped on the green trousers that morning. “The clothes . . . they were in the messenger’s pack.” Her fingers worked down the hilt, slowly tugging the sword from the sheath. A drop of sweat glided down to the tip of her nose and hung there.
Immerez seized her by the jaw, and lifted her from the ground to look her in the eye. “No more lies,” he hissed. “Admit that you know of the Mirwellian involvement. Tell us about the spy.”
He released her jaw, and she fell to the ground with a solid thud, her grip on the saber lost. “I know nothing about F’ryan Coblebay or what he did. I’m not a Green Rider. Mirwell is a province of idiots anyway!” It sounded childish, and as the fury grew on Immerez’s face, she was sure he would kill her.
“I don’t care how young you look, Greenie,” he said calmly. There was no explosion, but somehow this was worse. “You shall be bound to a tree and my whip will extract the information from you.”