Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

can’t even mount a proper night watch. I don’t think they know where the gold is, either.”
    “Maybe they’ve hidden it somewhere,” said Wilde.
    “I looked all over the fort,” said Jack, still looking at Hammer. “There’s no sign of the gold anywhere.”
    “Just four men,” said Hammer thoughtfully.
    “Two men, two women,” said Jack. “One of the women is a witch.”
    Wilde stirred uneasily. “A witch. I don’t like magic.”
    “Witches die just as easily as anyone else,” said Hammer. “Providing you haven’t lost your touch with a bow.”
    Wilde smiled lazily. He picked up his bow and strung it with a quick, practiced motion. He took an arrow from the quiver lying beside him and notched it to the string. He looked unhurriedly about him, his eyes searching the darkness beyond the firelight. And then he drew back the arrow, aimed, and let fly, all in a single fluid motion too fast for the eye to follow. A white owl fell out of the darkness and into the clearing, transfixed by Wilde’s arrow. It wriggled feebly on the clearing floor, blood staining its snowy breast. Jack darted over to kneel beside it. The bird’s struggles were already growing weaker. It looked reproachfully at Jack.
    “You shouldn’t have followed me, my friend,” said Jack quietly. “I’m mixing with bad company these days.”
    He took hold of the shaft just below the flight and snapped the arrow in two before pulling out the pieces as smoothly as he could. The owl hooted once softly and then was quiet. Fresh blood welled out from the ugly wound. Jack placed his left palm over the wound and closed his eyes. His mind went out to the Forest, and the trees gave him their strength. He took that strength, channeled it through him, and let it flow gently into the injured owl. The blood stopped flowing, and the wound knitted itself together and was gone. Jack opened his eyes and leaned back on his haunches. Magic took a lot out of him. The owl struggled back to its feet. It swayed unsteadily a moment, getting used to not dying after all, gave Jack a hard look, and then spread its wings and flew back into the familiar darkness of the Forest night.
    Jack sensed a movement behind him and spun around, knife in hand. Wilde hesitated, an arrow already in position for another shot at the owl.
    “Go on,” said Jack softly. “Give it a try. You might get lucky.”
    Wilde looked at him uncertainly. “You wouldn’t kill a man over a bloody owl.” “Wouldn’t I?”
    Wilde felt a sudden chill run through him. A man with a dagger was no match for an archer, let alone a master bowman, and yet … this was Scarecrow Jack, and the power of the trees was in him. Wilde felt a presence in the darkness around him, as though countless unseen eyes were watching—the eyes of the Forest… . The wind whispered in the branches of the trees around the clearing, and surely it was only his imagination that made it sound like voices.
    “That’s enough, both of you,” said Hammer. The moment was broken, and Wilde slowly relaxed. He put down his bow and slipped the arrow back into his quiver. Hammer looked at Jack, and the dagger disappeared into his sleeve. Hammer nodded slowly. “Get your things together. We’re going back to the fort.”
    “Now?” said Wilde. “In the middle of the night?”
    “What’s the matter?” said Jack. “Afraid of the dark?”
    Wilde shot him a venomous look. “I was thinking of the Rangers. They’ll be on the alert now, thanks to you.”
    “They won’t be expecting us to try again tonight,” said Hammer. “And we can’t afford to wait. If they’re following regulation procedure, reinforcements for the fort will be here in a couple of days, and that means a full company of guards. We’ve got to get into the fort, find and remove the gold, and leave the vicinity, all in twenty-four hours or less, or we might as well forget it. Jack, what’s the weather going to be like?”
    Jack scowled. “Pretty bad. There’s thunder on the way. I can feel it. And rain, lots of it. It’s going to be a bad storm, Hammer, and it’s going to break soon.”
    “That could work for us, as a distraction.” Hammer’s right hand rose absently to caress the long leather-wrapped sword hilt beside his head. Jack didn’t like to watch when Hammer did that. It looked almost like patting an animal. The longsword worried Jack. Even through the silver scabbard, he could feel an unending hum of raw power. The sword had