They pushed their way through the latest patch. The endless rhododendron finally thinned out. Old woods stretched before them, the massive oaks and hemlocks rising like the thick columns of some ancient temple, cushioned in greenery.
A shadow flittered between the trees, trailing a smear of foul magic. An undead.
The day was looking up. Hugh grinned and pulled his sword out.
The undead dashed right and stopped.
Another smear appeared on the left. Two. If it was Nez’s standard rapid reconnaissance party, there would be a third, each piloted by a separate navigator.
Karen waited next to him, her anticipation almost a physical thing hovering in front of her.
“Happy hunting,” Hugh said.
She unbuckled her belt with the knife sheath on it, unzipped her boots, and gave a sharp tug to her shirt. It came open. She dropped it on the forest floor. Her pants followed. A brief flash of a nude human, then her body tore. New bones sprang up out of flesh, muscle spiraled up them, sheathing the new skeleton, skin clothed it, and dense gray fur burst from the new hair follicles. The female werewolf opened her monstrous jaws, her face neither wolf nor human, swiped her knife from her clothes, and sprinted into the woods to the left.
Hugh went in the opposite direction, toward the foul magic staining the leaves. The smear hovered still for a moment, then moved north. Run, run, little vampire.
Another vampire to the far right, closing in fast. The undead moved in silence. They didn’t breathe, they didn’t make any of the normal noises a living creature made, but they couldn’t hide their magic. The foul patina of undeath stood out against the living wood like a dark blotch.
The front bloodsucker played bait, while the one on the right would close in from the flank and try to jump him. They didn’t realize he could feel them. This wasn’t the Golden Legion. The Masters of the Dead would’ve just met him two on one. These were likely journeymen, piloting younger vampires. The undead were damn expensive, and the older they were, the higher the price tag ran.
Didn’t want to risk the budget, cheapskate? It will cost you.
Hugh ran through the forest as fast as the terrain would let him, jumping over the fallen branches. Let’s play.
The ground evened out. Hugh sped up.
The bloodsucker in front of him darted in and out of the brush, flirting.
Hugh dashed forward, pretending not to feel the undead gaining from the right.
Trees flew past. The flanking vamp was almost on him.
The first bloodsucker jumped over the trunk of a fallen tree. Hugh tossed his sword into his left hand, planted his right on the rough bark, and vaulted over it.
The undead from the right leapt at him before he landed, as he knew it would. The vamp came flying out of the bushes. Hugh braced and rammed the reinforced gauntlet on his right hand into the bloodsucker’s mouth, taking the full weight of the vamp. The fangs sank into leather and met the core of hard steel. The bloodsucker hung still for a precious half-second as the surprised navigator processed the aborted leap. A half-second was just long enough. Hugh sank his sword between the undead’s ribs, slicing through the gristle and muscle to the heart. The oversized sack of muscle met the razor-sharp point of the blade and burst, as only undead hearts did, spilling blood inside the undead’s body cavity. Hugh jerked the sword free, shook the vamp off his hand like it was a feral cat, and swung. The blade cut in a broad powerful stroke. The undead’s head rolled into the bushes. The whole thing took less than a couple of breaths.
Fun.
With any luck, the journeyman piloting the vamp didn’t break connection. When a vampire died under a navigator’s control, the pilot’s brain insisted that it was the navigator himself who had died. Most became human vegetables. A few lucky ones survived but they were never the same.
Behind him, the undead magic swelled.
Hugh spun, ready to meet the attack.
The vamp charged, red eyes blazing.
A white blur cut between him and the undead and turned into Elara, her hand locked on the bloodsucker’s throat.
What the hell was this?
The undead shuddered in her grip. It should’ve torn her in two by now.
Elara looked into its eyes and opened her mouth. “Let go.”
The vamp’s eyes flared with ruby light as the navigator bailed. Elara squeezed. He felt the faint flicker of power, a silvery veil snapping to the vamp’s hide from her fingers. Old magic licked Hugh’s senses, awakening some long-forgotten instinct buried under layers of civilization. The hair on the back of his neck rose.
The bloodsucker went limp. She released it, and it crumpled to the ground. She picked up the skirt of her green dress and stepped over it.
Exactly the same as the first time with the tikbalang. His pulse sped up. He had no idea how she did it, and he had to find out before she did it to him.
Elara tilted her head. She’d braided her hair and wrapped it into a complicated knot on the back of her head. Stray wisps escaped here and there, shining when they caught a ray of sun falling through the leaves.
Hugh straightened, resting the blade of his sword on his shoulder. “Wife.”
“Husband.”
It had been a week since their last fight. She’d been conveniently busy. Hugh had a feeling she was avoiding him. The fun question was, did she do it because she didn’t want to fight or did she do it because she looked at him a half a second too long when he stood near naked in front of her that time in the bedroom?
“You came to help me. How charming,” Hugh drawled.
“That’s me. Delightfully charming.”
A distant howl echoed through the forest. Karen had caught her prey.
“Is there something you needed?” he asked.
“We got a call from Aberdine.”
Magic was a funny thing. Sometimes it killed the phone lines, other times they worked. It mattered who made the call.
“I’m aflutter with anticipation. What did the phone call say?”
“There are sheriffs riding here from the county. I told you this would happen, and it did.”
For a second, Hugh saw red, then he wrenched himself under control with an effort of will. “What did you do?”
“I did nothing,” Elara said, her voice bitter. “Now we look guilty. They will expect us to greet them together. Try to keep up.”
She blurred and vanished. He whirled and saw her, a pale silhouette fifty yards away. A voice floated through the woods and whispered in his ear, cold and mocking. “Too slow, Preceptor.”
He sheathed his sword and took off after her. She was lying through her teeth. When he caught up to her, he would strangle her with his bare hands.
Elara waited at the edge of the forest. He should’ve been out of there by now. To the north, against the backdrop of the tall hill and the severe lines of the castle, the Waterson, Garcia, and Lincoln families were picking pears from the orchard. The pears made good wine and the way the birds had been going at them, they had to be at the peak of ripeness. A few more days and they’d get pear mush instead of fruit.
“If I chop off your head, will it grow back?”
Elara spun around and almost ran into Hugh. He loomed over her, his eyes dark, his face cold. A man that large shouldn’t have moved that quietly.
“I don’t know,” she said, keeping her voice iced over. “We could do an experiment. You try chopping off my head and I’ll try to chop off yours. We’ll see who’s left standing.”
A spark flashed in the depths of his blue irises. “Tempting.”
“Isn’t it? You just have to tell me which head you want chopped off, the top one or the one you usually think with.”
“Take your pick.”
Elara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe later. We’re being watched.”
He glanced at the two girls waving at them from the orchard. Elara waved back.
“Is that supposed to stop me?”
She hated that she had to loo
k up to meet his gaze. “You would kill me in front of the children?”
“In a minute.”
“But you healed the dog.”
“How do you know?”
“I know everything.”
“You saw Sharif running out of the woods.”
Hugh leaned toward her half an inch. Elara fought the urge to step back. The man could project menace like a raging bull.
She forced herself to stand still and glare back at him. “The point is, a man who would save a dog wouldn’t usually do something to scar small children.”
“A completely arbitrary connection.”
“Saving a dog implies a certain set of ethics.”
“I don’t care about the children.”
Elara shrugged. “In that case, we should get on with killing each other or start walking back. The sheriffs will be here soon.”
For a moment Hugh appeared to waver, then he indicated the path to the castle with an elegant sweep of his hand. She strode down the path and he walked next to her.
The girls at the orchard waved again.
“Wave back, Preceptor. Your arm won’t break.”
Hugh spun toward the orchard with a big friendly smile on his face and blew the girls a kiss. They dissolved into giggles and ran away. He turned to her and she almost shivered at his expression.
“We had an agreement. You broke it.”
The man homed in on crucial details like a shark sensing blood in the water. “I didn’t speak to the authorities. I didn’t order anyone to inform the county. You’ve made it perfectly clear that we are wearing the same straitjacket.”
“It got out, because you wanted it to get out.”
Elara sighed. “What did you want me to do? Muzzle everyone around us?”
“I expected you to stay true to the spirit of our agreement. I know you didn’t.”
“Let’s review. I came to you, because I wanted to go to the authorities. You demanded that I didn’t. I told you it was stupid. I told you things always got out. You dug your heels in.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Wait.” She held up her hand. “Let me check if I care.”
Hugh glared at her.
“No,” she said. “Apparently, I don’t. It’s good that we got that straightened out.”
She strode up the path, climbing the hill toward the castle. He had no trouble keeping up.
“By the way, Vanessa left.” She couldn’t keep a hint of sadness out of her voice. “She packed her bags and took off last night.”
“And this makes you sad why?”
“She was one of mine.”
“I suppose you’re blaming me for it?”
“No. Her decisions are her own.”
An Iron Dog emerged from the trees, on a roan horse, a cowboy hat on her head. Irina, Elara recognized. One of Felix’s scouts. That meant the sheriffs weren’t far behind. Here comes the county.
“Take my arm,” Hugh said.
“Ugh.” She rested her hand on his forearm and slowed. They strolled toward the gates.
“Why did you heal the dog?”
“Because he did his job. Loyalty must be rewarded.” There was a touch of an edge to Hugh’s voice. “And there are practical considerations.”
“Such as?”
“The other dog died in the forest. This dog didn’t turn back. He chased the wolf down alone, tried to kill it, and did a decent enough job fighting. We’ll need to breed him. He’ll make good war dogs.”
“War dogs? To fight people?”
“And undead.”
Yes, but it wasn’t about the war puppies. It was about loyalty. She knew the story as well as everyone else: Hugh d’Ambray had served as Roland’s warlord; then they had a falling out, Roland exiled Hugh and now his pet necromancer hunted the Iron Dogs. And that’s all anyone knew. Despite everything she tried, the details of what exactly happened and why eluded her.
The way he said loyalty signaled there had to be a lot more to the whole mess. Whatever had happened between them left deep scars. She’d have to work that sore spot. If she could dig deep enough, she would figure out what made him tick. Know thy enemy. That’s the ticket.
The sheriffs emerged, a small party of four people and a pack horse. The first two riders carried rifles and bows. The third had a staff strapped to his horse. Another sheriff’s deputy brought up the rear.
“Three deputies and a forensic mage,” Hugh assessed. “Happy now?”
“I didn’t invite them here. But they’re here now. They’re the law.”
“They are the law back home. Here, we are the law.”
“Is that so?”
“Sheriffs, state troopers, and cops are for normal people. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.”
He threw that ‘normal’ in there casually, but Elara knew Hugh was watching for her reaction, looking for a soft spot in her armor. He wouldn’t find one.
“Nobody wants you to be the law, Hugh. Least of all me.”
“You went behind my back, wife.”
“That’s the second time you used the ‘w’ word in the space of an hour without us being in public. You’re past your quota, Preceptor.”
“I’ll remember this. Your tab is getting longer and longer. The next time you need something from me, I’ll remind you.”
“Be still my heart.”
“I wish. Ready?”
She plastered a welcoming smile on her face. “No time like the present.”
“Happy couple in three... two...” Hugh grinned and waved at the party. She waved too, fighting the feeling of sudden dread climbing up her spine.
One look at Deputy Armstrong and it was clear he was some sort of law enforcement, Elara reflected. He was in his thirties, short, but stocky and hard, with short blond hair, a clean-shaven square jaw, and sharp eyes. He held himself in a relaxed way that was almost casual, but she had no doubt that if a threat appeared, he would act fast and probably without thinking.
The other deputy, about fifteen years older, gray haired and white, was beginning to get thick around her middle, but had the same kind of look to her: calm but alert. The forensic mage, a black man in his mid-twenties, looked slightly bored. Veterans. The only outlier in the group was the third deputy sheriff, a man who was barely twenty and clearly out of his depth.
And Hugh worked them like they were butter.
“No, we haven’t heard from them,” he said, his face suitably concerned. “I wasn’t even aware there was a settlement that way, but I’m new to the area. Honey?”
“Sometimes people come to the woods to get away from the world,” Elara said. “You said it was a small settlement?”
“That’s what the trader said,” Deputy Armstrong confirmed. “He didn’t go in, but he could see some houses from the road. The gates stood wide open.”
She turned to Hugh, concern on her face. “Couldn’t be dire wolves. There would be bodies.”
Hugh grimaced. “I don’t like it. Those aren’t your usual woods. There is strong magic there.”
So he’d noticed. She wasn’t sure why that surprised her. Someone with the kind of power he had would sense the arcane air within the forest.
“I tell you what, Deputy,” Hugh said. “Let me reinforce you. I don’t like you riding all the way there by yourself.”
Armstrong thought about it for a whole three seconds. “If you’re offering, I won’t turn it down.”
Nicely done. “I’ll come as well,” Elara said. “We have experienced healers and a couple of good seers. If we find survivors, we can administer first aid.”
Hugh gave her a look so besotted, she almost pinched herself. “Excellent. Give us fifteen minutes, Deputy. We pack light.”
“So you’re newlyweds?” Dillard, the female deputy, asked.
“Yes.” Elara nodded.
They’d been riding for two hours now. The Old Market wasn’t far, but the terrain slowed horses to a walk. Hugh and Armstrong had pulled ahead a
few yards and were talking about something. She strained to listen, but only caught random words. Something about the advantages of ballistae. Deputy Chambers, the youngest of the four, was following them and hanging on every word. Behind them twenty Iron Dogs and eight of her people rode in a column, two abreast. Sam, in his new Iron Dog uniform, rode directly behind her. He trailed Hugh like a lost puppy who finally found someone to love and she had no doubt everything he said would be related to her husband word for word.
“That’s a good man you have there.”
Elara almost choked on her own breath. “Yes, he is. A good man.”
“He looks at you like you walk on air.” Deputy Dillard smiled. “Sometimes you get lucky, and it lasts past the first year.”
“Are you married?”
“I’m on my second one. My first husband died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He was a good man. My second husband is a good man too. But he doesn’t look at me like that.”
Hugh shifted in his saddle. Bucky turned and pranced over to her. Hugh turned him again, matching her horse’s stride. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“I missed you,” he said.
Quick, say something sweet back... “I missed you too.”
“Maybe I could steal you away from Deputy Dillard for a bit?”
“Oh, go on, you two lovebirds.” Deputy Dillard waved at them.
Elara nudged Raksha, and the dark bay mare stepped out of the column and pulled ahead with an easy elegance only Arabian horses possessed. Bucky stomped the ground next to her, clearly trying to look impressive.
Hugh reached over and held out his hand. The entire column was behind them, watching. She gritted her teeth and put her hand into his.
“Oh look, my skin isn’t smoking,” Hugh murmured.
“You’re overdoing it with the PDAs.”
“We’re newlyweds. If I threw you over my shoulder and dragged you into the woods, that would be overdoing it.”
The image flashed before her. “Try it. They won’t even find your bones.”
“Oh, darling, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding my bone.”
Iron and Magic Page 13
