Forest Kingdom Trilogy 3 - Down Among the Dead Men

had seen better days but left her sinewy arms bare. Her cotton blouse and leggings were old but well maintained. Her face was open and cheerful, even in the heat of battle, of which she’d seen more than her fair share. She was one of the few survivors of those who’d fought in the last great battle of the Demon War, outside the Forest Castle itself. She still bore some of the scars, and there were only three fingers on her left hand. She carried her sword in a long, curved scabbard covered with delicate silver scrollwork. The scabbard was worth more than her sword and her horse put together, and Flint was very proud of it.
    Giles Dancer rode at her side, as he always did. He wore quiet, nondescript clothes and no armor. He was just a little shorter than average and slight of build, and his flat, bland face showed little trace of personality. Put him in a crowd and you’d never notice him, until it was too late. The Dancer was a Bladesmaster, a man trained to such a peak of perfection that he was almost literally unbeatable with a sword in his hand. Bladesmasters had been rare even before the Demon War; now there were said to be only two left alive in all the Forest Kingdom, and the Dancer was one of them. He was always quiet and polite, and his eyes had a vague, fey, and faraway look. No one knew exactly how many men he’d killed in his time; rumor had it even he was no longer sure. He and Flint had been partners from well before they joined MacNeil’s team, and they had a reputation for getting the job done, no matter what the cost. They weren’t always popular, but they were always respected. They’d been with MacNeil almost seven years, at least partly because he was the only one able to keep them under control. They respected MacNeil. Mostly.
    The Dancer looked absently at Flint as they rode forward to join the others. “We’re almost there now, aren’t we, Jessica?”
    “Almost,” said Flint patiently. “I don’t know why you’re so eager to get there. So far everyone else who’s approached this fort has disappeared off the face of the earth.”
    “They were amateurs,” said the Dancer. “We’re professionals.”
    “You’re getting complacent,” said Flint. “One of these days you’re going to run into someone who’s as good with a sword as you think you are, and I won’t be there to back-stab him for you.”
    “Never happen,” said the Dancer.
    Flint snorted loudly.
    “I’m quite looking forward to poking around inside the fort,” said the Dancer. “Investigating a baffling mystery will make a pleasant change from chasing footpads through the Forest. A deserted fort, alone and abandoned to the elements … doesn’t it just make your flesh creep?”
    “You’ve been listening to those damned minstrels again,” said Flint disgustedly.
    “Can I help it if I’m a romantic at heart?”
    “You’re morbid, that’s what you are. Don’t blame me if you get nightmares. You know those Gothic tales upset you.”
    The Dancer ignored her. Flint looked at Constance, waiting patiently beside MacNeil at the end of the trail.
    “Giles,” she said thoughtfully, “what do you make of our new witch?”
    “She seems competent enough.”
    “Green, though. Never been on a real mission before. Never been tested under pressure.”
    “She’ll settle in. Give her time.”
    “She’s certainly no replacement for Salamander; she knew her job.”
    The Dancer looked at Flint affectionately. “You couldn’t stand Salamander and you know it.”
    “I didn’t like her much, but she always pulled her weight. A vital mission like this is no way to break in a new witch. If she fouls up, we could all end up dead.”
    “If there’s a storm tonight we could get hit by lightning,” said the Dancer. “But there’s no point in worrying about it, is there? You worry too much, Jessica.”
    “And you don’t worry enough.”
    “Then you can worry for me.”
    “I do,” said Flint. “I do.”
    They fell silent as they drew up their horses beside MacNeil’s. He nodded to them briefly. “Anything to report?”
    “Nothing so far,” said Flint. “We backtracked a way, just in case we were being followed, but we didn’t see anyone. In fact, we haven’t seen anyone for days. This part of the Forest is practically deserted. I haven’t seen a village or a hamlet or a farm in almost a week.”
    “Hardly surprising, with the Darkwood boundary so close,” said MacNeil.
    “The Darkwood’s quiet