Garret’s head began to jerk, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets. His teeth snapped together, and the tendons in his neck strained under his skin. Artemis realized that he was seizing, swallowed her panic and tried to stop.
But the process could not be halted. She tried to hold him steady, imagining that she was giving him more than the modifications that would alter his chemistry and his very nature. She gave herself, as well—all the vitality she had to spare, all the will and determination to survive.
Still it wasn’t enough. She let all the barriers fall and stepped inside him, carrying her love into the very center of his mind...the love that had become as real to her as the old dreams of Freeblood independence.
Gradually he began to respond. The tremors subsided, and the rigidity left his muscles. When she was certain she had finished her work, she closed off her emotions again and healed the wound, waiting for his body to accept what he had become.
Or for it to give up.
Sounds and smells passed in and out of her awareness. Lassitude crept over her, a weakness she had felt before and knew only too well.
Had the work of conversion, the first she had attempted in her two centuries as an Opir, been more than she could safely manage? Would she now require more blood before she could fight?
She snapped back to full consciousness when Garret made a sound deep in his throat and opened his eyes. He stared straight ahead.
“Artemis?” he murmured.
She shifted to sit in front of him, and he reached for her blindly.
“I can’t see you,” he said.
The small amount of blood she had taken from him seemed to curdle in her stomach. “It will pass,” she said.
He felt for her face. “The light,” he said. “It’s too—”
The tent flap opened, and a tall Opiri walked in. He was bristling with rage; his eyes were black with it, and his large teeth were on prominent display.
There was no question in Artemis’s mind that this Freeblood was one of the rebels who had asserted dominance in the camp. He reeked of the confidence that set the strongest Freebloods apart from others, and his emotions and his arrogant thoughts were all of power.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing in my territory?”
Artemis rose to stand between him and Garret. “My name is Nemesis,” she said, “and I have come to join the Opiri who are going up to the castle. You are one of them, are you not?”
“I’ve never seen you before,” the Freeblood said, taking an aggressive step farther into the tent. “How do you know about us?”
“The whole camp knows,” she said. “I have a need to see the Master, if he is here.”
“Why?”
“I have reason to hate him, just as you do.”
“We want only to find out what has become of him,” the Freeblood said, suddenly cautious.
“That would also serve my purpose,” she said. “What are you called?”
“I am Brutus,” he said, “and we do not trust strangers.” His nostrils flared. “Who else is with you?”
“Only my vassal,” she said.
“Vassals are forbidden here!” Brutus snapped. “How did you get into the camp with one?”
“Perhaps I am clever enough to be of use to you.”
“Where is your pack?”
“I have no need of other Opiri to protect me.”
He laughed scornfully. “Why do you think we will permit you to join us?” he asked.
“I will fight for the privilege.”
Brutus tried to step around her. “Let me see this vassal of yours.”
Garret rose up behind her, though she knew he wasn’t ready. His emotions were chaotic, and she felt without looking at him that he still couldn’t see.
“A new convert!” Brutus said with a sneer. “Still mostly human. Did you make him in this camp?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I am prepared to defend him and earn a place in your ranks. Will challenging you be sufficient?”
“You would challenge me?”
“Do you lack the authority to give me a place in your delegation when I defeat you?”
“My reputation is well known. If you truly seek death, I will give it to you.”
“Then I offer challenge, to take place within this tent. You and I, alone.”
“Without witnesses? What game is this?”
“Would you risk a formal challenge in full view of the camp, when you do not yet have complete control of this place?” She arched a brow. “If you are afraid to fight without witnesses, you can always summon your vassals. Oh, but they are forbidden, are they not?”
“I have already proven myself,” Brutus snarled. “I accept your challenge. And when you are dead, I will kill the vassal. Slowly.”
Brutus attacked without warning, throwing himself at Artemis with his mouth stretched wide to clamp down on her throat. She was lighter and faster than he was; she slipped sideways, and he barely caught his balance before he crashed into the tent wall.
Still, he was fast enough, and his reach was far longer than hers. If it hadn’t been for Garret, she might have failed before she began.
But she was all that stood between him and Brutus’s frenzy. That fact alone seemed to replenish her energy, feeding her body and pumping new life into her muscles. She feinted, drawing Brutus away from Garret, and danced across the tent with a derisive laugh. Brutus swatted at her, fingers curled, but she evaded him again and darted under his guard to strike at his privates.
She had hoped to enrage him into clumsiness, but she had miscalculated. She was too close to him, and he swooped down, seizing her neck between his long-fingered hands. She bit hard on his wrist, to no effect. His face descended toward her throat.
Garret slammed into him from behind, forcing him to release his hold. Artemis dropped to her knees and fell back, catching herself on her hands.
When she was on her feet again, Garret and Brutus were grappling like bears, the Opir snapping at Garret’s neck. But Garret was holding his own, and it was clear that he was able to see well enough to focus on his opponent. His aura rose up in a halo around his head, scarlet tinged with purple, brighter than it had ever been.
Artemis didn’t wait to find out how long his energy would last. She hurled herself on Brutus, grabbed a handful of his loose hair and bit his shoulder. With a howl more of outrage than pain, he reached back with one hand to dislodge her.
Moving with astonishing speed, Garret knocked Brutus’s other arm aside and slammed his elbow into the Freeblood’s gut. Artemis slid off Brutus’s back, and Garret delivered a kick that caught the Opir in the middle of his chest and sent him flying across the tent. Brutus fell onto his back and lay there, stunned, like a turtle turned upside down.
Artemis and Garret reached the would-be Bloodlord at almost the same moment, Garret pinning him down with both hands while Artemis hovered over him, one efficient motion away from ripping into his throat.
“You’re done,” Garret said. His voice rasped and his arms trembled as he pushed down on Brutus’s wrists, but Artemis knew he had passed the crisis.
In fact, he had done more than merely begin to change. His increase in speed and strength were only one sign, for when she met his gaze she saw that his green irises were ringed with vivid magenta, and his red hair was streaked with white. He smiled, and though there was no change in his teeth, she guessed it would not be long before they, too, revealed what he was becoming.
Brutus struggled to rise, heaving against Garret’s weight. Garret hit him across the face with a clenched fist. Brutus subsided, blood trickling from his mouth.
“You...broke the laws of challenge,” he croaked. “Your vassal...”
“Shall we tell the others that you
were defeated by a small female Opir and a new-made vassal, or will you let us accompany you to the castle?” Artemis asked.
Such was Brutus’s pride that the threat worked. He agreed to allow Artemis to accompany him to a meeting with the other “emissaries,” which was to take place in one of the large tents in two hours.
Once he had left the tent, Artemis had to do something she very much wished she could avoid. “You’ll have to stay in the tent until I return,” she said to Garret.
He met her gaze, the magenta circles around his irises expanding and contracting erratically. “Is this your first order to your vassal?” he asked.
“Do you think I would ever use that against you?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not you.” He ran his hand through his hair, plucking a white strand and examining it with interest. His aura was quiet now, his emotions calm and dangerous. Artemis had no doubt that he would become such a formidable Opir that he could challenge any Bloodlord and win.
“Is your vassal permitted to touch you?” he asked with a wry smile. Without waiting for her answer, he pulled her close and kissed her. It lasted only a few seconds, but when it was over she felt stronger than at any time since she’d taken his blood on the hill just outside the camp.
The last time she would ever do so. Their relationship would never be the same again. And she had no real idea what it would become.
The sound of a commotion outside shattered her reverie. Garret knelt by the tent flap and looked outside.
“Soldiers,” he said. “Some are in daycoats, but there are half-bloods with them, all dressed in fatigues.”
“The Master’s loyal disciples?” Artemis asked, joining him.
“They’re dragging the Opiri out of the big tents.” His jaw set. “It looks as if the Master, wherever he may be at this moment, has learned about the little rebellion in his camp.”
Artemis clenched her fists. “I do not think we can escape unnoticed.”
“They may not check this tent at all,” he said. “But there are too many to fight.” Unexpectedly, he smiled, and Artemis didn’t think it was her imagination that his incisors were just a little more pointed. “If they do take us, maybe we can convince them to escort us to where we want to go.”
Artemis was considering the possibilities when she recognized one of the invaders: Pericles, dressed in a daycoat and standing apart from the soldiers. She gasped, and Garret gripped her arm to keep her from running outside.
“He’s with the Master’s forces,” Garret said. “Why?”
Before she could answer, one of the soldiers dragged Brutus over to Pericles, who asked the rebel a brief question. Brutus pointed at the tent.
“Get ready,” Garret said, pulling Artemis to her feet. “If Pericles is a traitor to Kronos, we may have no choice but to fight.”
Chapter 22
The soldiers came right at the tent, weapons raised. Garret and Artemis stepped back to give themselves room. He clasped her hand briefly.
“Before you do anything rash,” she said, “let me try to talk to Pericles.”
Two soldiers lifted the tent flap but didn’t attempt to enter. Pericles came in, and Artemis cautiously tried to read his emotions. They were as close to blank as she had ever found in any human or Opir.
“Artemis,” he said, pulling back his hood. “I’m glad I found you.”
“What are you doing here?” Garret asked, stepping in front of Artemis.
Pericles blinked. “I work for the Master,” he said.
He didn’t sound like himself, Artemis thought. “What of Kronos?” she asked. “How long have you been a traitor?”
As if he were wandering through a dream, Pericles didn’t seem to hear her. “The Master wishes to speak to you,” he said.
“I thought he had disappeared.”
“He has returned.”
“You told him we were here?”
“Of course,” Pericles said tonelessly. “He sent me to find you.”
“But why would he want to see me?” she asked.
“He knows of your connection to Kronos and wishes to learn more of his philosophy. They want many of the same things.”
“I never heard that Kronos wanted war,” Garret said.
Pericles ignored him and continued to speak to Artemis. “The Master would prefer that you come willingly.”
She glanced at Garret. He nodded slightly. This was their way into the castle, a more direct path than they could have taken with the rebels.
But if the Master knew about Kronos and had learned where to find his disciple, he might very well know why Artemis and Garret were here in his camp.
“We’ll go with you,” Artemis said.
“Good.” Pericles ducked his head outside the tent and spoke to the soldiers. “We will leave right away.”
The entire camp was nearly silent as the Master’s soldiers escorted Artemis and Garret out through the gate. There were no more fleeing or fighting Opiri, though there were a few bodies scattered nearby, looking bleached in the morning sunlight. Other Opiri were dragging them out of the way as the soldiers strode past.
It was obvious that any open rebellion had been put down by the soldiers who now stood guard at the wall.
Once they had cleared the gate, the soldiers started up the narrow path that was the only direct approach to the castle on the cliff above, climbing a steep hill through the trees and then over bare scree where any attempt at attack could be easily prevented by a relative handful of defenders.
The path wound behind the castle and became a kind of narrow causeway, purposely designed so that only a few men or Opiri could approach at one time. The castle gate was high, wide and imposing, reinforced with massive sheets and hinges of steel that must have been salvaged from the remains of an old human town, dragged over some great distance along the river.
The castle itself was built, like the stockade far below, of heavy timber, but far more carefully worked and constructed. There were no windows except at the very tops of the four towers, and they were insignificant. But the painted wooden and metal embellishments and decorations above the gate and on the towers echoed designs from another time and place. A human time, long before the Awakening.
Unlike human-built fortresses, however, this structure was entirely protected from the open sky. The parapet walks were covered by heavy awnings, the rest by sloped roofs made to resist the snow.
As Artemis opened her mouth to speak to Garret, the gates swung open and a dozen of the Master’s soldiers, dressed in fatigues and bearing rifles, walked onto the causeway, headed for the path below.
“More rebels to suppress?” Garret asked Pericles.
“There is much to be done,” the young Freeblood answered cryptically.
Garret gripped Artemis’s elbow, steadying her. The gates stood open, and their escort chivvied them into an empty, canopied bailey and forward toward the castle door.
The interior of the castle was as plain as the outside was imposing. The great “hall” of the keep was not the traditional large single room but a series of smaller interconnected chambers leading off into narrow corridors. Walls and doors lacked all decoration, and as Artemis and Garret moved deeper into the structure, it became more and more apparent that the castle had been built primarily to impress those outside it.
“Can you feel Timon?” Garret asked, his lips brushing her ear.
“No,” she said. “And my sense of the others is dulled, as well. It almost seems as if something—or someone—is interfering with my ability.”
Before they could discuss it further, they were ushered into one of the many small chambers, furnished with a recently upholstered couch and chair.
“You will wait here until the Master is ready to speak with you,” Pericles s
aid. “Do you require blood?”
Artemis met Garret’s gaze. Considering the energy he had expended so soon after his conversion, he would need his first blood sooner than he might have otherwise.
But she was fairly certain their only option here would be to accept the blood of captive humans, and she knew that Garret would never consent.
“We need nothing,” she said.
With a slight frown, Pericles studied her face a moment longer and then left the room.
“They didn’t tie us up,” Garret said, his gaze sweeping the room. “There’s something strange going on here.”
“Yes,” she said. She reached for his hand, and he cradled it between his, his still-changing body almost feverish. “I wish I could see what it is. We may not have much time to find the children.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I’m not sure. But perhaps...” She concentrated on Garret, and he started, his eyes widening.
“I heard that,” he said. “I...understood you.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “We had a blood-bond before, along with an empathic connection. Now the bond is based upon something even more powerful.”
“And you want me to help you with your empathy? By focusing on my emotions again?”
“I used that technique to block out the feelings of the Freebloods and humans in the camp,” she said. “This time I need to draw on your mind to enhance my own ability.”
“I don’t understand how my mind can help you.”
“You have great inner strength,” she said. “Like the...the roots of a very ancient tree, sheltering the weak and drawing life from the earth. I can anchor myself to those roots and reach out in a way I could not risk otherwise.”
“If I have that kind of strength,” he said, “I came by it the hard way.” He hesitated. “What do you want me to do?”
“Artemis!”
She and Garret looked up as Kronos entered the room, his bearing and his mind filled with concern and relief. “I am very sorry to see you here,” he said.
Night Quest Page 23
