Deniably Dead (Arucadi Series Book 4)

by E. Rose Sabin

  She and Camsen carried their precious burden well away from the fire, and only when they stopped and laid Kyla down on the grass did Renni look behind her and see Ril rolling on the ground, his hands beating at his trousers while Thornbridge hurried to him to yank his smoldering shoes off his feet.

  “Jeppy, get out here and help us!” Thornbridge’s shout brought Jeppy out of the wagon to peer fearfully around its side. “I’m doing much better, but I’m still not strong enough to lift anything,” Thornbridge stated. “I need Jeppy to carry Ril to the wagon.”

  “Aw, I can walk,” the boy said, trying to rise.

  But Renni saw the scorched skin on his legs and noted the wince of pain when Thornbridge pushed him back down and examined his feet.

  Jeppy came around the side of the wagon, peering cautiously as he ventured out into the open to join them. His eyes widened as he saw the blazing fire that now raged around the pedestal and reached toward the statue on it.

  With a suddenness that startled Renni, Iston jerked as though being freed from bonds and leaped toward them, face red with rage. She realized then that Thornbridge must have used his power to render both Iston and Vic immobile while she and Camsen rescued Kyla. She positioned herself protectively in front of Kyla, and Camsen did the same.

  I’ll take care of this, Camsen sent. He pointed upward, over the statue, where the rising smoke took the form of a black dog, the image of the dog depicted by the statue. “Look,” he said, putting out his other hand to stop Iston’s charge. “Look at your god.”

  Iston’s gaze followed Camsen’s pointing figure. He gasped to see the dog of smoke. Renni was no less surprised than Iston when a voice boomed from the smoky form. “I desire no sacrifice,” the voice said. “You do not honor me in this way.”

  Iston fainted.

  Camsen turned to Thornbridge, who still knelt at his son’s side. “I wasn’t sure you could or would throw your voice like that.”

  Thornbridge nodded. “I wasn’t sure either. But when I saw how brave Ril was, I had to try. I don’t have all my power back, but at least I have some of it.” He looked down at Ril. “Son, you did a very foolish and a very brave thing. I’m proud of you.”

  “You never called me ‘son’ before. And you threw your voice into the smoke dog Master Wellner made? You’re awesome! I’m glad you’re my dad.”

  “So am I,” Thornbridge said. “Now lie still. We’ll get you to the wagon, and then I’ll see what we can do about those burns. I know how they must hurt.”

  Seeing how Ril glowed at Thornbridge’s praise and his tender words, Renni doubted that the boy even felt the pain right now. She had wondered how the “dog” had spoken. She knew Camsen had the power to form the dog from smoke, but she didn’t think he had the ability to give it voice. The dog shape was fading as the smoke dissipated. The fires were dying, the dry wood that fed them having been quickly consumed.

  “Jeppy, come here and lift Ril, and carry him to the wagon,” Thornbridge instructed. “I’ll follow you. When you get him inside, come back and help Camsen carry the woman to her coffin.”

  I can do that, Vic sent. To make up for setting the fire.

  To satisfy her curiosity, Renni sent back, afraid not to use mindspeech, as Iston was beginning to wake, You used power to light the fire, didn’t you? I didn’t see you use a match.

  Power? I never thought of it that way, Vic answered, scratching his head. It’s just a weird thing I do. I’ve always been able to do it, but I never let anybody know except Iston. He never acted like it was anything special.

  It is, though, Renni sent back. It’s special enough to be able to mindsend, but the ability to create fire is not a common gift. Not many can do that. Camsen can, and I know of only one other. As she mindspoke, Renni smoothed Kyla’s dress and hair.

  Is she alive or dead? Vic sent, gazing curiously at Kyla.

  “We believe she’s alive,” Renni responded aloud, hoping she was right.

  Iston had recovered from his faint and was sitting up, looking stunned. “She must be.” Oblivious to the mental conversation, Iston probably thought she’d spoken to him. In an awed voice, he said, “And now I have proof that Vito is, also.” He rose to his feet and wandered close to the dying fires. Staring at the statue, he said, “Thank you, Vito, for stopping me from committing a terrible wrong!”

  Vic came to Renni’s side, bent, and easily lifted Kyla. Holding her in his arms, he carried her to the wagon. Iston, still staring at the statue, took no notice.

  Leaving him to his reverie, Renni rose, dusted off her clothes, and followed Vic. They’d found Kyla; now they needed to search for Lore.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  POWER

  Lore awoke sputtering and coughing from a dream of drowning in an icy lake. But was it a dream? He shivered violently as a wave of cold water splashed over him. He tried to get his eyes open, but his eyelids refused to cooperate. He moved his arms, lifting them to try to stay afloat. Water dripped down them, but wet as he was, he soon realized he was not in a lake. He lay on a hard floor. He was not drowning; someone had just been pouring water over him.

  Now someone thrust a towel into his hands. “Well, finally you’re awake. Dry off.” The order came from someone close by. A woman, he thought.

  He took the towel and dried his face and head so he could open his eyes without getting water in them. He continued to rub the towel over his body for the several seconds it took for his blurry vision to clear. When they did succeed in focusing, his gaze settled on a young woman in a faded gingham dress who stood with arms akimbo looking down at him with a cross expression. The empty bucket on the floor beside her must have held the water with which she’d drenched him.

  He returned the scowl. “What were you trying to do, drown me?”

  “I been trying to wake you,” she said. “Besides, you needed a good shower.”

  “What do you mean? I took a good bath last night.”

  “No you didn’t. You was right here last night. After you fell off your horse, the men that tried to get the horse was so mad it got away, they beat on you some more and drug you through the dirt where they tied you to a tree and left you, saying they didn’t care if you lived or died. Some of ’em went lookin’ for the horse, set on butchering it, and the rest went with Abner to find out if it was true that a horse-drawn wagon was headin’ into town.”

  Horse-drawn wagon! That might mean Camsen had reached Pescatil. He tried to sit up and discovered first that he ached everywhere and had bruises all over his body and then that he was completely naked.

  Hurriedly positioning the towel to conceal as much as he could of his lower body, he said, “Where are my clothes?”

  “Took ’em off you to wash ’em. They’re in bad shape, but I didn’t have no others to put on you. I doubt they’re all the way dry, but I’ll get ’em if you want.”

  “I do. But who are you and how did I get here? Wherever here might be.”

  She grinned. “Name’s Maya. This here’s my house. I got you untied from that tree and drug you all the way here. Couldn’t carry you and wasn’t about to ask for help from one of those goons what tied you up an’ left you.”

  She had a nice smile, he decided. A sprinkling of freckles adorned her otherwise plain face and the unusually pale blue of her eyes gave them a somewhat glassy look. “I’ll get your clothes now.” With that announcement, she picked up the empty bucket and carried it as she left the room.

  He tried again to sit up, hoping he had no broken bones. Despite the bruising everywhere, nothing felt broken. He’d feared broken ribs. His probing fingers found sore spots but detected no jagged edges, and though everything hurt, nothing grated or appeared not to function as he achieved a sitting position and looked around the room for something he could hang on to as he tried to stand.

  The room was devoid of any furnishings. It boasted a single window, the glass dirty and cracked. The place had a look of long abandonment. Maya’s claim that it was her h
ome told him she must be one of those returned from the dead. He shuddered, not comprehending how and why this mysterious resurrection could have occurred, not even willing to believe it had, despite the evidence he’d seen and heard.

  The windowsill alone offered something to grasp as he attempted to stand, and it was a few feet away. He’d have to drag himself to it across a floor of rough wood and through puddles left from all the water she’d dumped on him. He decided just to wait for Maya’s return, dress as best he could, and ask her to help him to his feet. He hated being so helpless. He longed for revenge on the men who had beaten him so unmercifully. When his power came back, he’d find them and make them pay for what they’d done.

  If his power came back. According to Maya, he’d been injured yesterday and spent most of that day and part of this one unconscious. His head ached, his stomach was empty, and he’d lost his horse. And Maya had still not returned with his clothes. What was keeping her? Where had she had to go to get them?

  For that matter, where had she gotten all the water she’d showered him with? She had to have refilled the bucket more than once, judging by how thoroughly wet he’d been and how damp the floor around him still was. The towel he’d wrapped around himself was wet with the water it had absorbed as he’d dried off. He’d awakened shivering, and although that had passed, he still felt uncomfortably cold.

  Though he felt the absence of his power, could he possibly mindsend? He tried sending a mental call to Camsen, thinking that if the horse and wagon Maya had mentioned had been their wagon, Camsen couldn’t be far away. Not only did he receive no answer but the dullness in his mind told him that the call had gone nowhere. No doubt he could not receive, either. Both Camsen and Renni, maybe Zauna as well, must have tried to contact him, but he’d heard nothing.

  If Maya didn’t return soon, he’d have to bump himself over to the window, grab hold of the sill, and try to pull himself to his feet. And if he managed that feat, then what? The only door in this room was the door through which Maya had departed, and when she’d opened it he’d caught a glimpse into another room. It hadn’t led outside. And if he found his way out of the house, where would he go? He didn’t think he could manage to walk all the way back to Mistress Carran’s house. And if he did, would she still take him in, with her husband back?

  All these thoughts pummeled his mind with as much force as the blows of the townsmen had pounded on his body. A shroud of despair settled over him. He wished for death.

  §

  As much as Zauna had enjoyed her first day on the river, on the second day, restless and impatient to arrive, she tried unsuccessfully throughout the day to establish mental contact with Camsen, with Renni, and with Lore. Her mindspeech skill was not yet great enough, she concluded, to overcome the hurdle of sending such a considerable distance while traveling by water. She thought about using her crystal ball, but she had packed it so well for the journey that she could not bring herself to go through the effort of unpacking everything and then repacking when she finished using it. They would spend one more night on the river but were scheduled to arrive in Highport in midmorning.

  In Highport she would have to find transportation to Pescatil. That could prove difficult, as Pescatil had no train service, so she would have to find someone traveling in that direction via horse and wagon. Eager though she was to rejoin her companions, she was not looking forward to that portion of her journey. It even occurred to her that in Highport she’d be as close to Hillcross, their final destination, as they were in Pescatil, and it might be wiser to meet there. There was no rail line from Highport to Hillcross, either, but there were, she’d learned, regular stagecoach runs between those towns, while no type of public transportation linked Highport to Pescatil.

  If she could reestablish mindspeech with her companions on reaching Highport, she would suggest that course. If they agreed, she could take a room in a boarding house in Highport and ply her trade of fortune teller to pay her way until her companions departed for Hillcross, at which time she would book passage on the stagecoach.

  That course of action depended on her companions finding Kyla. If they had not, they’d have no more reason to head on to Hillcross, nor would she. So she resolved that her first duty on reaching Highport would be to find a quiet spot where she could concentrate on mindspeaking to Camsen or to Renni. Renni, she thought, might be the easier to reach. She wouldn’t attempt to reach Lore except as last resort, since she had no way of knowing whether he’d been found or even if he had survived his fall from his horse.

  §

  Vic helped Camsen settle Kyla into her coffin after Camsen did his best to smooth out the torn lining and spread out what padding remained beneath it. Who is she? Vic sent.

  It’s a long story, Vic, he sent back. She’s someone very dear to us.

  Camsen knew that wasn’t an adequate response, but he wasn’t sure how much information he should share with Vic or with Ril, who had climbed into the wagon and was watching intently as they replaced Kyla in the coffin. Ril, of course, had not received Vic’s sending, but the boy had to be bursting with questions. Camsen could answer Vic with mindspeech, but he preferred not to unless it was necessary. Since Vic had normal hearing, it wasn’t necessary unless the conversation needed to be kept private.

  He busied himself first helping Renni into the wagon, then helping Thornbridge climb in. Thornbridge seemed relieved to sit beside Ril and rest. Despite considerable improvement, he had still not fully recovered from his injuries. He’d been exhausted after having provided invaluable assistance with the illusion that had dispelled the sculptor’s rage. Despite that assistance, Camsen wasn’t sure how far to trust the erstwhile bandit leader, especially knowing Thornbridge’s power had come back. Not only casting his voice to come from the illusion but also holding Iston and Vic motionless to allow the others to rescue Kyla revealed that Thornbridge was multi-talented. He might have other as yet unrevealed talents.

  “Vic, thank you for your help. Don’t you want to go back to Iston now?” he asked the mute.

  Vic shook his head. I don’t like working for him. He treats me like a slave. He thinks I’m stupid because I can’t talk. But no one else will hire me. Could I come with you?

  Knowing Renni and Thornbridge would have heard Vic’s request, since the man did not know how to focus a sending, Camsen said, “It isn’t up to me, Vic. I have three companions. Besides Renni, here, we have another woman and a young man. The woman is on her way now to Highpoint and will rejoin us when she can. We need to find the young man, who may have reached here and, from what some of the people were saying, may have been attacked and badly injured. They told of a young man who rode into town on horseback and was attacked when men tried to take his horse and butcher it for the meat. We think it may have been our companion, who’d become separated from us. Do you know anything about that incident and what happened to the young man?”

  Vic shook his head. I was gathering boards and branches for the fire Iston planned. I worked where no one could see me. All the dead people coming back to life scared me. I didn’t want to be around them. I don’t know anything about a man on a horse.

  Camsen had decided against asking Iston if he knew anything about Lore because he was afraid of doing anything to reawaken the sculptor’s rage. Maybe he should have, but more likely it would be better to try to find the people who’d spoken about it and question them in more detail. Accordingly, he instructed Jeppy to turn the wagon around and drive them back to where they’d left the Carrans and Thornbridge’s aunt and uncle. Thornbridge had expressed the desire to stay with his aunt and uncle and do what he could to help them, so leaving him in their care would solve the problem of what to do with him.

  The horse Renni had ridden to the park had been grazing throughout their confrontation with Iston, and could again be hitched to the wagon. Camsen hoped Thornbridge would lend his power to help defend the horses and keep them safe from the hungry returnees. Vic could possibly help too, with
his gift of fire starting, but being completely untrained, how much help would he be?

  “You can stay with us for right now, Vic,” Camsen said. “But the townspeople took all our supplies. We have nothing to offer you. We have no food and only a little water left.”

  I can help find food. I know how to hunt and fish. I know where food plants are growing in abandoned fields. Only—now those fields won’t be abandoned. Their owners are back. He shook his head. There’s plenty of crops gone wild. Nobody needed to steal your supplies. They just need to get out into the fields and hunt for their food.

  “We’ll try to persuade them to do that, but I doubt we’ll get our supplies back. I’d guess most of it’s been parceled out and taken home,” Camsen said. “If we can find our friend, we won’t stay here. Our destination is Hillcross, but we’ll need to go somewhere where we can get fresh supplies.”

  “We’ve come this far,” Renni put in. “We can’t go back to Marquez. If we can get word to Zauna, we can head for Highport, meet her there, and buy supplies there.”

  “If our money holds out,” Camsen added doubtfully. “It’s getting low.”

  Why are you going to Hillcross? Vic asked. Isn’t it just a small village?

  “That’s where the Power-Giver is sending us,” Camsen said, knowing that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Vic, who wouldn’t even know about the Power-Giver.