The Dreamtrails: The Obernewtyn Chronicles

by Isobelle Carmody

  At last we reached the steps leading to the basement cells. Kevrik descended and I followed, grimacing when the stone became slimy underfoot. But I was less concerned about my socks than the knowledge that there was only one way in and out of the cells; if an alarm was given now, we would be trapped. My blood churned with a mixture of nervousness and excitement that I welcomed, knowing it would sharpen my responses.

  Kevrik touched his finger to his lips as he reached the bottom of the steps, and I stopped and listened. I heard him greet the armsman guarding the cells and was relieved that there was only a single man. Kevrik offered his tale, but the armsman refused to remove his demon band.

  “Not with them freaks so close!” he expostulated. “Maybe this is just what they’ve been waiting for.”

  “Dinna be a fool,” Kevrik said jovially. But the guard insisted he would wait until Chieftain Vos himself came to give the order. There was a bit more arguing, followed by a great thump and silence.

  “Ella!” Kevrik hissed. I went down and saw a tall armsman crumpled on the ground at Kevrik’s feet.

  “He would nowt be reasonable, so I had to knock him on the head and take off his band,” Kevrik said, his accent thickened by agitation. “Can ye make it so that he won’t remember what happened when he wakes?”

  “I will have to wake him to coerce him, which will require physical contact.” I wrinkled my nose as I laid my hand on the armsman’s thick and none-too-clean forearm. I inserted a coercive probe into his sleeping mind and made him wake. When his eyes flew open, Kevrik started back with a gasp of alarm, but the guard only lay glassy-eyed and placid, his gaze fixed on the pitted rock wall of the basement passage as I had coerced him. I was able to make it stronger than the others because I was touching him. Finally, I restored his demon band. When I rose and stepped back behind Kevrik, the armsman yawned, rose to his feet with a guilty expression, and then walked away from us to the far end of the row of cells, rubbing his jaw absently.

  I turned my attention to the cell door, which was just as solid as the armsman had said. I did not bother trying to farseek Zarak or Khuria or the others, knowing that they all wore demon bands. I put my fingers on the lock, closed my eyes, and focused hard to transform mental energy into a physical force. I felt out the shapes inside the lock carefully, struggling to understand how they worked. It was more complex than I had expected, and Kevrik shifted impatiently beside me.

  “A person’s thoughts weigh nothing,” I gasped at him. “To move matter with your mind is the hardest thing. Opening this lock is like trying to move a wagon with a spoon.”

  At last, I heard the tumblers click and sagged back in relief, trembling with fatigue. I had closed my eyes for a moment, which was when Kevrik turned the lever and opened the door. Before I could stop him, he had stepped into the cell, and my heart sank as I heard a sickly thud.

  ZARAK STOOD OVER Kevrik’s unconscious form triumphantly, but when he looked up and saw me in the doorway, his face sagged in disbelief.

  “I am glad you took to heart farseeker rescue instructions to keep yourself ready to escape at any moment, no matter how hopeless the situation,” I told Zarak, trying for irony. “Unfortunately, poor Kevrik will have a terrible headache that he does not deserve.”

  “He is one of Vos’s armsmen,” Zarak protested.

  “He was,” I said, taking in Khuria, Noviny, and a pale but determined-looking Wenda sitting together in one corner. Darius was awake, too, but he lay with his head in Wenda’s lap. They all looked alert, though Khuria had a bloodied face.

  Zarak looked down at Kevrik in dismay. “I am sorry, Guildmistress.…”

  I shook my head impatiently. “Never mind that now. Take the others up the steps and make your way toward the back of the house and out the back door. The guards ought not to take any notice of you, because I have coerced near a dozen of them. But be ready to strike if anyone reacts, for it might be someone I did not meet coming in. You will have to do it physically, because they will be wearing demon bands, and we do not now have Kevrik to convince them to remove the bands. Take his dagger and his cloak. That ought to give anyone you encounter pause enough for you to deal with them. But make no noise, else we will have the whole house down on us. Once outside, go straight across to the trees and make your way to the barn. You will find our wagon this side of it, pushed under a tree. Lo and Zade are waiting behind the barn. Hitch them up to the carriage, get in, and wait for me.”

  They all stayed where they were, gaping, and I felt like stamping my foot to wake them. At last Zarak went to help his father and then Noviny to their feet. I bit my lip, seeing how badly the old beastspeaker limped, knowing he had been tortured so Zarak could allow me more time to escape. But he gave me a crooked grin that told me his spirit was as strong as ever. Noviny had not been as badly hurt, but he looked years older as he bent to help Wenda with Darius. The gypsy showed no marks of violence, but his face was bloodless under his dark skin.

  “Can you manage?” I asked, knowing that if they could not, we were all doomed.

  “We must,” Noviny said, and Darius managed to nod. As they passed by me, I saw that the gypsy’s face shone with sweat, and his breath sawed harshly in and out. But there was nothing I could do for him.

  “What about you, Guildmistress?” Zarak asked.

  “I must wake Kevrik and relock the cell door so it seems you are still inside. Go and help the others. I don’t know how long the blocks on the armsmen will last. One of them was on a group mind.”

  Zarak looked alarmed, spun on his heel, and went. I dropped to my knees beside Kevrik’s limp form and laid a hand on his cheek. Unconscious, he looked younger. I reached a coercive probe into his mind to bring him to consciousness and then thought better of it.

  Several minutes later, I hurried past armsman after armsman, each of whom obligingly looked the other way. Kevrik had been right in saying there was much less movement during mealtimes, and in any case, most activity and attention in the homestead was focused toward the front of the building and the entrance to the property. I got outside without mishap and arrived at the wagon just as Zarak was helping Darius into it. I was about to summon the strength to unlock Zarak’s demon band when Gahltha farsent me urgently. I ran lightly along the back of the outbuildings and through the empty yard after a hasty scan to be sure there were no armsmen near. Gahltha was waiting at the side of the corral, and he gave a soft whinny of greeting before telling me that three funaga had ridden in while I was gone, leaving their mounts tied to the other side of the corral. The horses were demon banded, but he had learned that they had come from Malik’s camp.

  “I have told them who you are and what you want the horses here to do, and they are ready to help,” he said. “They have offered to throw their riders and trample them, if you wish it.” Gahltha’s eyes were fierce, as if the idea pleased him. I climbed into the corral and moved through the horses to the side closest to the homestead. I could easily reach the three tethered outside, and I undid the demon band of the first I reached, a big dappled-gray beast with intelligent eyes. Fortunately, none of the horse bands had locks, for Malik and his ilk only ever feared that beastspeakers would coerce the minds of their mounts. It never occurred to them that beastspeakers were not animal coercers and that horses might collude to attack of their own free will. Freed of the demon band, the gray horse greeted me as Innle and told me that his name was Dovyn. I asked him to explain to his comrades that I would not undo their bands because one missing could be an accident, but not three. Then I explained what I needed them to do when they returned to Malik’s camp.

  Gahltha was questioning Dovyn’s companions about the number of men and horses in the camp. I could not hear their answers because of their demon bands, so I left him to it and returned to the wagon in time to see three men wearing Malik’s colors striding across the yard. I prayed that Dovyn’s missing band would go unnoticed. The three riders mounted up and would have galloped away at once had Vos not come hu
rrying from the homestead to command them to stop. They obeyed, but none of the three dismounted. I was afraid that Vos might notice Dovyn’s bare neck, but the horse kept his head down so his mane fell forward. Vos began to speak, his voice querulous and indignant, as he bade the armsmen tell their chieftain that he was sorely needed. One of Malik’s men answered coldly that his chieftain had heard that message already. Malik’s answer was what they had come to deliver, namely that Chieftain Vos must concentrate his efforts on finding the Misfit his men had managed to lose.

  To my horror, Vos pointed frantically toward the barn and asked if they wanted to see the wagon where the Misfit had hidden. Fortunately, the barn door partly blocked the view of the wagon from the yard, and it was now dark, so no one noticed that there were horses tethered to it. Dovyn’s rider said his master had already seen it and that it was not a wagon he wanted but the missing woman. Then the three wheeled their horses and rode off. Vos stared after them for a scowling moment before storming back into the house.

  Afraid that he might be headed for the cells to interrogate the others about me, I called Zarak. He came to the open canvas, and I reached through and laid a hand on the demon-band lock. Gritting my teeth, I focused my mind, but the band’s taint was so strong that it would not let me concentrate energy into force. Frightened that the empty cell would be discovered even before they had escaped, I reached deep down into myself where my black killing power lay coiled in the depths. The last time I had awakened it, I had nearly lost control, but this time I drew on it without waking it. I heard the lock in the demon band click.

  My mind felt numb from contact with the taint, and my head spun from the effort of opening a second lock so soon after the first, but I was elated to discover that it was possible to harness that black and terrifying power within my mind without being overmastered by it.

  Zarak wrenched the band off his neck with a look of profound revulsion, and seeing that he meant to hurl it from the wagon, I bade him keep it. Wenda came forward expectantly, lifting her hair from her throat.

  I shook my head regretfully. “I have no more strength now. I am sorry,” I croaked. Swiftly, I wove a coercive net to take in the fatigue clouding my brain, and farsought Zarak. “I am going to create a diversion to draw Vos’s household to the back of the homestead so you can escape. Get Darius as comfortable as you can, because Lo and Zade will gallop as soon as they are out of sight of the homestead.”

  “But where will we gan?” Zarak responded. “Th’ main road is barricaded, an’ there will be armsmen all over th’ roads lookin’ fer you.”

  “Most of them have been sent to Noviny’s property or to the barricade. And you will not be going that way.”

  “The coast road is barricaded as well.…”

  “You will not be going that way either.” I sent him the mental picture I had given Lo, when we had let her out of the corral, of a track leading off the main road just before it forked. Kevrik had suggested it.

  “The abandoned cloister?” Zarak sent in disbelief. “But there is only one road in an’ out.”

  “The armsmen will be looking for Misfit fugitives who want to escape Saithwold. They are not going to look in an empty cloister on a dead-end road,” I sent with a tartness that made the young farseeker wince. “If you encounter anyone on your way there, Lo or Zade must beastspeak their horses to throw them. You won’t be able to do it because of the demon bands. Bind them and take them with you. Put them in one of the old cloister cells. Ask the horses to follow you.”

  “What about you?” Zarak asked.

  “I have other matters to attend to,” I said in stern guildmistress tones to discourage him from asking any more questions. Then I bade him and the others farewell and leapt down from the wagon.

  I made my way back along the tree line until I had reached the same place where I had hidden earlier, opposite the rear door. Forming a coercive probe, I sought the minds of the five armsmen I had left unbanded. To my delight, four of them were together playing cards in a room near the end of the homestead. Their minds told me that they were on duty, guarding Vos’s armory. I smiled.

  A moment later, one of the men leapt up crying out that he smelled smoke. The others “smelled” smoke, too, and one managed to “see” flames without any coercion at all. To my surprise, instead of trying to rescue the weapons in the armory, the four men fled down the hall and outside, bellowing in terror. Puzzled, I dipped into one of their minds again to find that piled in one corner were eight small wooden kegs filled with a black powder, which the armsmen believed would explode and destroy the house.

  It seemed highly unlikely, but in moments there was a wild clangor of bells, and people began spilling out of the building from all directions, giving credence to the armsmen’s belief that the whole house was in danger of being destroyed. I waited until they had all run down toward the rear of the homestead and then farsent Lo and Zarak. I found one of the men without bands and made him “see” a host of armed strangers creeping through the woods toward the back of the house, and a senior armsman ordered the others to investigate while he tried to find out where the fire was. He ran back into the homestead, and I knew I did not have much time.

  I farsought Zarak again and was delighted to find that the wagon had already left the cobbled yard and was swiftly nearing the entrance to the property. By my reckoning, it was not more than half an hour to the road leading to the cloister, and with luck, they might make it all the way there without being seen.

  “We will deal with anyone we meet,” Zarak sent determinedly.

  I withdrew from him only to find that the search for the fire and intruders was beginning to flag. Doubts were flowering, and any minute it would dawn on someone that they had been tricked. I reached into the minds of the unbanded men and managed three more sightings of people creeping about the house, prolonging the search for another half hour. Then someone discovered that one of the armsmen guarding the armory had no demon band. In a short time, all five unbanded armsmen were found and brought before their chieftain.

  “The Misfit is here and trying to release her companions,” Vos screamed at his men. “Find her!”

  I ran back through the trees to the barn and across the cobbled yard toward the corral. I heard a shout and ran faster, but my wet socks slipped on the damp cobbles, and I went down hard. I was surrounded in seconds, and it was all I could manage, as I lay there, winded and dazed, to command Gahltha to do nothing, for I knew he could see me from the corral. If he tried anything, he would be killed. All the armsmen glaring down at me held knives or bows with arrows already nocked. I lay very still.

  “Get up,” snarled a senior armsman as he arrived with a lantern and took in the scene before him.

  “I’m not sure I can. I think I have sprained my leg,” I gasped.

  Another armsman reached down, obviously intent on dragging me to my feet, but the senior armsman told him sharply not to be a fool. Was I not the Misfit witch who had forced their comrades into removing their demon bands and serving me? Who knew what I would do to someone who touched me?

  The armsman snatched his hand back and gave me a look of frightened loathing.

  “I will need a … stick if you want me to stand,” I said, levering myself awkwardly into a sitting position as more armsmen emerged from the house.

  Before any of them could decide whether there would be any risk in giving me a stick, Vos came hurrying along the side of the homestead with more of his men. I noticed Kevrik among them, a purple swelling over the eye where Zarak had struck him. But from the smug triumph on Vos’s face, he had no idea yet that his prisoners were gone. I tried to reach Kevrik’s mind, but the demon band he now wore made it impossible. He looked down at me coldly.

  “So,” Vos sneered, his eyes glittering with triumph in the lantern light. “You thought you could use your filthy powers to rescue your friends, but see how you have failed. Here is the man you used to help you trick others into removing their bands.” He was poi
nting to Kevrik.

  “Let me kill th’ witchling who made me betray ye, Chieftain,” he begged hoarsely.

  Vos laughed. “You shall have her, but first, Chieftain Malik will wish to question her.”

  “Then let us ride now and take her to him!” Kevrik snarled.

  A look composed equally of arrogance and unease crossed the chieftain’s narrow features. “It is dark now, and Chieftain Malik commanded that none should come to his camp without first sending a message.”

  “Sirrah, surely that could not mean you?” Kevrik demanded. “Are ye not the equal of Chieftain Malik, since ye are both chieftains, an’ ye are within yer own region? Let us take the freak to him, for will he nowt be eager to ken that she is taken prisoner? Let Chieftain Malik witness how yer men captured the Misfit when his own armsmen failed.”

  “You speak well, Kevrik,” Vos approved, his cheeks flushed. He turned to the other armsmen. “I have decided that we will ride immediately to the camp of Chieftain Malik and deliver this creature to him.”

  Several of the other armsmen, one of them the highlander whose voice I recognized from the wagon, sought to dissuade Vos, but the more they talked of Malik’s commands, the more stubborn Vos became.

  “Am I Malik’s armsman to be commanded hither or thither? Besides, I wish to see Malik, and since he cannot be bothered to come here, then I will go to him, and in triumph, bringing him what he most desires.”

  Still some of his captains argued until Vos flew into a rage and ordered them to make ready to ride.

  Malik was the same solidly muscled, gray-eyed, gray-haired man he had been the last time I saw him, but he wore his arrogance with a vicious new edge that must have been honed by the secret bargain he had made with the Herders. He listened impassively to Vos’s description of my capture—by his telling, a brilliant coup in which Vos himself was a central figure. Without the congratulations and accolades from Malik that Vos clearly expected, the story at last foundered to an uncertain end.