Archon by Lana Krumwiede

worse. This wasn’t something a person could do continually. He’d need to be smart about conserving his energy. This psionic navigation took a particular kind of mental discipline, but he was certain that with practice, he could improve.
    The path became narrower and narrower until it disappeared altogether. The incline was getting steeper, and the trees were becoming denser. He was nearing the foot of the mountain. He’d skip breakfast, go a little farther, and stop later for some lunch. He tried to relax and settle into a steady rhythm.
    By ten thirty, Taemon could no longer ignore his rumbling stomach. Besides that, he was exhausted. He wasn’t used to this much exertion — and he
was
still recovering from an injury.
    He sat under a shady tree and slipped his knapsack off. Even though he was used to the powerless zippers and their little pull tabs, the fingers on his left hand did not seem to want to grip. He tried with his good hand, but even that was difficult. He stopped and tried to calm himself. He could do this. He just needed to relax.
    He tried again with his right hand and made only a little progress. But he made enough space to stick his whole hand through it and force the zipper open with the pressure from his arm.
    He managed to grab his water bottle but had trouble opening the cap. Skies, he was so clumsy! His entire left arm was numb and nearly useless, and his right arm was tingly and sluggish. He needed at least one good arm if he was going to make it across the mountain! Later, he’d have to climb rocks, grab the rope, and who knew what else.
    Had using psi made his nerve damage worse? Was that how psi wounds worked? He wished he’d asked Challis more about that. If using psi made him weaker, what chance did he have of making it across this mountain on his own? Maybe he should turn back. Maybe Hannova and Drigg and all the others were right about the dangers of this trip.
    A noise. A rustling noise. Footsteps, maybe. Was it an animal or a person? It was too far away to tell.
    Who would be out here in the woods? Only one answer came to him: Free Will’s band. He remembered Hannova saying that they made a habit of accosting travelers. He’d assumed she’d meant travelers on the road. But what if he’d been wrong?
    Skies, if they found him like this, barely able to work a zipper, he would stand no chance of getting away. He had almost no psi to draw on right now, having wasted all his energy testing the reaches of his awareness.
    Taemon crawled behind the tree and into the brush. He grabbed a stick with his right hand and used it to scatter leaves over the marks in the dirt that his movement had created. He willed himself to relax, to slow his breathing, to be still.
    He heard it again. Definitely footsteps. Definitely human. And
running
now. Someone was following him. Several someones. In just a few seconds, they would come around the bend in the path into his line of sight. He crouched as low as he could, till he could just see over the brush.
    Five. There were five. Two he recognized from the encounter a couple of days earlier. They were Free Will’s men, no doubt about it. They stopped several yards before they reached the place where Taemon was hiding. Had they heard something? Did they know where he was?
    They started talking, too quietly for him to hear them. But they weren’t looking his way. One of the men pointed into the forest across from where Taemon hid. Another got out a wire and strung it low across the forest floor, using trees as anchors. It was nearly invisible. Whatever — or whoever — they were tracking was going to trip over that wire. It was an ambush.
    Free Will’s men disappeared into the trees, probably to flush out their prey and drive it toward the wire. Were they setting up the trap for
him
? Had they spotted him earlier? Or were they after anyone they could find in the woods?
    More rustling noises came from the trees. More of Free Will’s men, or their intended