DISCLAIMER: "Abhorsen", all names, places, and all related indicia are the sole property of Garth Nix, who'se work rocks my fluffy brown socks.
Chapter two
Night vision goggles. Zippo Lighter. 9 mm silenced Beretta. Compass. 7.62mm AK 47. Maglite Torch. With all that gone, Law would travel lighter. That was the bright side. The assassin only had a set of 6 throwing knives and that blunt arse sword for Law, and he only had his clothes, his bayonet, a garrote and a little flick knife in addition to that. He had given the others his equipment, assuming they'd make better use of it than him. He was meant to be home by now. He didn't know the terrain, but he was the nation's expert in winter combat techniques, so he'd be able to tag a rabbit or two with the throwing knives, and with all this snow around, he wouldn't die of thirst.
He soon found that he wouldn't have time to die of starvation; the group had left all the useless gear close to where they had split up. No food though. From there, they had set a very slow, non military pace to the nearest village. He caught up within a day, and observed them. They were in their army khakis now, but carried swords and shields instead of guns and grenades. They all wore assorted armour, which explained their sour attitudes to him. They had to carry all that crap, and an AK, and several magazines. An AK wasn't that heavy though, and they could have carried empty magazines or something. That also didn't excuse their attitudes, it's not like he knew. Armed as they were, Law thought he could rush in there and take five or six before they even knew he was there, and two or three more before they could do anything about it. Leaving up to five for later. He would have done it, if they weren't in direct line of sight to a village or something; only nine... cottages... Apart from the lack of modern weaponry, they looked like deserters. Law figured out this next part of the plan; they were going to pretend to be deserters (which they really were), but blood all over their clothes would make their reasons for deserting seem kind of weak. Not to mention that being stabbed in the back with a blunt-as-hell sword would be a general lack of fun. He'd have to continue watching. They entered the village, and Law went around it; they didn't emerge, he'd have to camp here for the night.
They finally left three days later, but moved with the same non-military pace. They were here to spread a story, before doing whatever it was they needed to do. Law decided to go into the town and find out exactly what that story was. He pulled off his balaclava, revealing his face. He had jet black hair, and hadn't shaved for days. He drew his bayonet to shave off his stubble. He had skin a few shades darker than olive, and having just taken off a balaclava he'd been wearing on and off for five days or so, he had balaclava hair. Not the right impression. In this snowy hell hole, he doubted that there was anyone else as dark as him, so he'd have to stick to their story of desertion. He ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it as best he could, and went around the village again. He'd come in from the Ancelstierre side.
"Excuse me ma'am," A tall, dark and handsome Ancelsterrian Tamith had been watching for a minute or so approached her, " I'm looking for some friends of mine, they said they'd be coming through this way. Have you seen them?"
"I don't know. Why don't you describe them?" she knew he'd be feeling pretty dimwitted at the moment.
"There were a dozen or so of them, Ancelsterrian clothes, and... uh...local weapons." the stranger replied, he didn't seem fazed.
"They're deserters, are you?" That reply seemed to get past his guard.
"Yes. I am." He replied after a moment. Tamith had promised them not to help anyone trying to bring them home; they had some pretty solid reasons for deserting, and this fellow started alarm bells ringing with his manner.
"Well, I wonder why that is..." She continued, she couldn't be sure about this man, but she decided to give him a chance.
"I have my reasons; I don't like to talk about it." In her opinion, that was the wrong answer, but that was exactly what one of the soldiers said.
"What were their names?" She finally asked.
Lawrence had picked twelve random famous people from Ancelstierre as their names. She had said "No they weren't", to which he'd replied 'They might have lied to you; knowing them could put you in danger, I suggest you forget this entire conversation.' Then she had told him everything they had told her. They had been looking for jobs, and she had suggested joining the guard at Roble's town. They were hiring pretty easily, there was some trouble in the North, and anyone with some experience in the armed forces would be recruited in a heartbeat. He thanked her and moved on. The way he figured, they would practice their act at every major and minor settlement between here and Roble's town. He could move ahead, she had told him the way. If he was lucky, he would arrive days, possibly even a week or two ahead of them.
Law sighted them the next day; they were setting an extremely slow pace, but were alert. No opportunity to eliminate any of them presented itself that day, so he passed them. It took him six days to get to Roble's town at his pace, at least twice as fast as the others. There were two small towns and a village that was even smaller than the first one on the way. He ended up reaching Roble's town over two and a half weeks ahead of the others. Like the young woman had said, they had accepted him readily, and put him in the infantry under his new name Tony; his hand to hand combat skills were better than anything they had ever seen, he was told. With his equipment and skills however, they could only assume he was a deserter. He made no friends among his new colleagues, he seemed beneath their contempt, and he really couldn't blame them could he? His plan was to stay out of their sight and kill the other Ancelsterrians as they slept. Then he could slip out and go home; no one need know that he had foiled an assassination plot. Unfortunately, the recruiting centre in Roble's town was flooded with people wanting to do their part for their country, and he was transported to Qyrre. From there, he would be taken to Sindle via boat and horses.
Qyrre was next to the Ratterlin; the main river in the 'Old Kingdom'. He had never liked fishing back home, but Law decided that with no one to speak to, maybe it wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't caught anything all morning, and was preparing to leave the riverbank. Sword practice was in an hour, and he was only lying to himself when he said fishing wasn't so bad; it was only good with some mates, and he was bored out of his mind anyway. He turned and found eleven of the others lined up behind him.
"Lawrence," one said, "Or is it Tony now?"
They were carrying the equipment he had been issued, but he was wearing his Ancelsterrian weapons. They threw his stuff on the grass in front of him.
"Put it all on." the one he figured was the leader said.
He put on all his armour and buckled on his sword.
"Before I die," He said, "Do you mind telling me your names?"
"It's over Lawrence." one said. Then he blacked out as someone clubbed him over the head.
Law was absolutely freezing when he regained consciousness. He was tied up and lying on a gravely riverbank, on the other side of the river, judging by the flow of water. His hands were tied behind his back, and his feet were tied together, it was a miracle that he hadn't drowned. He wriggled out of the water as best he could; his feet were going numb. The ropes weren't tied that well; he struggled against them until his wrists were bleeding. They were tied well enough. Next he looked around for a sharp rock or something; all his weapons were out of reach. He found a long cigar shaped rock, with a rough edge, like an old nail file. He used it to sandpaper at the ropes while looking around for something that he could use to escape faster. He finally spotted a rock that was partly buried; it had a long, sharp looking ridge running along the top. He managed to cut through his bonds in four minutes or so while sitting on it, and he made short work of the ropes around his legs with his flick knife once his hands were free. He then washed his wrists, but had nothing to bandage them with. He had no idea where he was, he assumed he was downstream, but in this hole of a country, it was possible that he was actually upstream. He decided to play it safe and go upstream.
Four hours later, he still hadn't sighted Qyrre, but he recognized the road on the other side of the river. He'd be there soon, and he judged, by the speed of the water around this section of the river that he probably hadn't been in the water for much longer than half an hour. Possibly less. He didn't doubt that his ferry to Sindle had already left, he was due to leave today, and had spent a good hour looking for a rock. The others must have taken the same ferry, and he was no longer ahead of them. His advantage had been lost; but they still thought he was dead.
Split here
Sorry bout the wrong rating folks, If i can change it, i will. Hope you all like chapter 2.
Thanks to all my reviewers, please, continue reviewing. Also: did i screw up my chapter names? I know there were a few cock ups in there, like a lack of numbers or something to separate the text from the... um... whatever you call this bit (it should be split here this time). I put it in, my computer just hates me.
