Guarded by Kim Fielding Read Free Book Online

crossing the square. He could not see their faces from above, and they all wore dark cloaks with hoods. As far as he could tell, they were not in uniform, but they all moved with the confident grace of seasoned soldiers, stepping almost in unison. They carried large baskets filled with what appeared to be vegetables and meats.
    Pulling on his cloak as he went, Volos hurried down the stairs. He didn’t have time to strap on his sword, but then perhaps this was not yet the time for an open display of weapons. He rushed out the door and into the square, where the three men were nowhere to be seen. But he knew what direction they’d been going, and he thought they couldn’t be far ahead.
    He almost lost them at one of the few cross streets, but Chorna was a quiet town, and their loud voices echoed against the buildings. Following their sound, Volos turned to the right and spied them far ahead where the village petered out into countryside. He trailed them, pressing up near the houses and hoping they didn’t bother to look behind themselves. But when he ran out of houses and all that remained were sodden fields beside the road, he had to stop. He’d be far too obvious following them outside the village.
    The remainder of the day crept by. Volos made an effort to be cordial to Mato, but didn’t succeed very well. “I’m sorry,” he said when Mato frowned at him worriedly. “I’m not feeling well today. The rain.”
    Mato nodded. “I can make you some tea, if you like. It soothes my mother when her bones ache. My mother’s not quite a witch, but she’s good with herbs.”
    “Thank you.”
    The tea tasted like honey and sunshine— and exactly like the brew his father gave him when he was a child and had bruised himself roughhousing with his friends. Volos managed to smile his gratitude to Mato before returning to his room and waiting for nightfall.
    The rain stopped completely by the time it was fully dark. Volos strapped his knife under his shirt and his sword around his hips. He tightened his boots. If he’d been the sort to pray, he would have, but he’d forsaken the gods long ago as he cowered in a cupboard. He tied his cloak and stepped down the stairs and into the night.
    He’d gone this way during his earlier explorations, so he knew there were few houses beyond the edge of the village. The first one he came to was quite close, and light spilled out from between the cracks in the shutters. Somewhere behind the low building, chickens clucked sleepily. Feeling like a thief, Volos crept into the front yard. He was thankful that the mud muted his footsteps. He peeked inside and saw a family sitting around a large table. A young woman sang a tune that sounded familiar, while an old man knitted and an old woman sat and smiled. Two young children ran around, half-dressed and laughing, while their father chased them in circles and pretended to be a bear.
    With a pang in his heart, Volos moved on.
    The next house was dark and quiet, and in the one after that, two old women rocked by candlelight, chatting too quietly for him to hear. The house after that was nearly the last one before the forest began. It was two stories tall and might once have been a fairly grand place, although it looked decrepit even in the dark. Several half-tumbled outbuildings were arrayed at the back. When Volos had passed this way the previous day, he’d thought the farm abandoned. There were several such places surrounding Chorna. Now, though, faint light shone from some of the windows and he heard voices. And laughter— loud, mocking crows that made the hair on his neck stand up.
    With his boots squelching in the mud and his heart hammering in his chest, Volos moved closer to the house.
    If the Juganin were staying here, it was quite possible they’d posted guards. If so, they would raise the alarm and he would be unable to kill them all singlehandedly. But his situation was never going to get better than it was now, and their patience at