The Silver Pear (The Dark Forest Book 2)

by Michelle Diener

  He looked across at Travis’s sleep-slack face and fought the urge to kill him.

  The sight of Rane, hanging from chains in Eric’s macabre workshop just this morning, was seared into his memory. No matter that he and Kayla had managed to free Rane, had done battle with Eric before the magic gem had landed Soren in this place. He could still hear the cry of pain as Eric had sliced into Rane’s back with magic.

  He battled for control. Lack of it was what had gotten him into trouble to begin with. And he knew, deep down, he was the cause of most of Rane’s pain, not Travis.

  He was the one who’d been so bent on revenge he’d gotten careless and been captured. He’d given Jasper something to hold over Rane’s head.

  Quietly, Soren slipped the stick, which could light a fire even from the wettest wood, and the moonstone that turned the person who closed their fist around it invisible, into his pocket.

  Their small size and lack of distinction were the only reasons he could think they hadn’t been taken by William of Nesta. That they’d allowed Travis to keep the bag at all was amazing, but then, unlike Jasper’s men, it appeared William of Nesta’s guards were not thieves.

  He considered for a moment leaving the bag near Travis’s feet, letting him know he’d been through it, but in the end, to keep the peace in the cell for a little longer, he slipped it back where he’d found it and started back to his side of the cell.

  The sound of light footsteps on the stairs outside froze him where he stood. He kept to the shadows but moved closer to the barred door.

  The handle of the outside door turned, and swung open.

  A little tingle went down his spine.

  He’d heard the guards lock it when they left. Being a prisoner for weeks had made him aware of things like that, but no key had been turned in this lock. It had opened without one.

  A slim figure stepped into the room, and the door was closed again, as quietly as possible.

  The cell was quiet, but the deep breathing of sleeping men was clear, and whoever was sneaking in came closer to the bars to look.

  That’s right. Just a little closer.

  A slender hand, illuminated by the filter of moonlight, grasped a bar, and then the other came up next to it to do the same.

  A face appeared between the hands to look into the cell, and for a moment, Soren was welded to the ground in shock.

  A woman.

  Then he forced himself to move.

  He pounced. Slamming himself up against the bars, he snaked an arm beneath her buttocks and lifted her from the ground, bring his other arm up along her back and splaying his hand across the base of her neck.

  Wide, green eyes looked into his, mouth opened to scream, and yet, no sound emerged.

  The moonlight played across blonde hair turned silver by the dim glow.

  “Got you,” he murmured.

  She shifted, trying to break free without making a sound, and he moved, accommodating her, so the bars didn’t dig so hard into her shoulders.

  Her gaze jerked to his, surprise and interest flickering across her face.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “Soren De’Villier. Who are you?”

  She hesitated, her gaze moving over his shoulder to the sleeping men, and then back. “Mirabelle of Halakan.”

  “And what are you doing in this dungeon?” If she’d been one of William’s men, or a sorcerer, he’d have understood, but her presence seemed inexplicable.

  “I wanted to find out how you got here.”

  There was more to it than that. Soren realized she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought, and there was a tight look on her face as she took in the dungeon. An anger, although at whom or what, he couldn’t guess.

  Then she went stiff, tilting her head to the side, listening, and after a moment, Soren heard it, too. The shout of men, and the rumble of chains.

  “What is—?”

  She put a finger against his lips. “Shh. I don’t know.”

  He felt the intimate touch like a stroke on his groin, and shaken by his reaction, desperate for a little space, he set her down.

  He’d meant to threaten her. Force her to help them. But once he had her in his arms, he’d been distracted by the feel of her, all warm, and sweet-scented, and curvaceous.

  Even with some distance between them, he was so focused on her, he didn’t realize Garth was standing beside him until he felt the brush of the big man’s shoulder against his own.

  Their visitor started at the sight of the big woodcutter, suddenly looming out of the darkness.

  “I know what it is,” Garth said, his voice pitched almost too low to hear. “That’s William of Nesta, coming back with his sorcerer.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHAT AN IDIOT SHE WAS.

  She’d thought William would at least try to reason with her a little more. But the guards hadn’t been posted outside her house to wait for her to come out. They’d been there to keep her in, so she wouldn’t discover his treachery.

  If she hadn’t come tonight, if the light hadn’t flickered over Halakan and deposited a new intruder, she’d have been sitting at home, unaware, as another sorcerer invaded her territory.

  “I’ll have to get you out right now.” She’d had a plan to leave them, and come openly tomorrow to speak to William and secure their release if they were innocent, but that plan would no longer work. As William had broken trust with her, was bringing an enemy into Halakan, there was no alternative. They were finished with each other.

  Something he would regret.

  She would make certain of it.

  Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face, because the man who had grabbed her, and then treated her so gently, Soren De’Villier, narrowed his eyes.

  “Tell me quickly, please, how did you all end up here in Halakan?”

  The men who had been sleeping had all come awake, pulling themselves to their feet, and there were more than she’d suspected, all in various states of dishevelment.

  She could read curiosity, suspicion and hostility in their faces.

  No one answered her.

  “I want to release you, but I need to understand first, because my duty is to the people of this area.”

  “In case you let us out and we turn out to be dangerous and harm them, like?” The youngest of the eleven asked, and she gave a nod.

  He sidled past the others. “Sam’s the name. T’were a sorcerer’s gem sent us here. If you touch it, or get caught standing nearby when it’s touched and the flash gets you—poof—you arrive in a little courtyard inside this stronghold.”

  Soren looked at him in disgust, and Sam looked back and gave a cheeky shrug. The massive bear of a man who’d woken second shoved him, but not as hard as he could have, and Sam grinned as he rubbed his shoulder.

  “Just obliging a pretty lady.”

  Miri snorted. “You can’t even see me in this light.”

  “I think what he means is any lady is pretty when you’ve been stuck in a dungeon for long enough,” Soren said.

  She didn’t know if he meant it as an insult, but she was too impatient to care. And too sick at heart. She knew that gem. These men were all innocent victims of her own father’s paranoia.

  She lifted her hand to the silver pear and fed a little magic to the lock of their cell door. It swung open on a creak.

  All except Soren stared at her in shock.

  “Hurry, I would prefer to be gone before they raise the portcullis.”

  There were questions aplenty on their faces, but they surged forward, and Miri opened the door to the outside.

  The men pushed and shoved their way through, and Miri saw the big man give a dark look to one of the others as they shouldered past.

  “Wait for me. There’s a special way out,” Miri whispered, and then, when everyone was out of the cell, turned back to it.

  She was angry, and that was never a good state to cast a spell in, but she needed to do this, no matter
how agitated she was. The sorcerer William had brought back was breaking every rule. She had received no word from him of his visit and he was negotiating with her liege lord without her knowledge. Which meant he also intended to kill her, or break her, and take her territory for his own.

  He and William would both be in for a shock when they stepped into this room.

  She stayed in the doorway, her hand on the silver pear, and lifted her other hand up.

  The light that flared was sky blue, and over in an instant, and she carefully stepped back and closed the door behind her, used a little of the excess power she’d just transferred into the silver pear to lock it again.

  The men were staring at her from various steps above her, and she realized a hint of the blue light would have leaked out into the stairwell behind her.

  She ran up past them and they pressed themselves against the wall to avoid her brushing them, as if she were a dangerous beast.

  Only Soren stood his ground. He was right at the top, and he made room for her, his shoulder touching hers.

  The guard who’d been hovering outside the entrance to the little courtyard was walking toward the gate to help raise the portcullis, his back already to them, and Miri ran across the cobbles, hoping the noise William was making at his front gate would cover the sound of everyone’s footsteps.

  The men were wary about following her into the enclosed garden and she realized it would be because this was where they’d appeared in the first place.

  How like her father, to make this the destination. It showed how off he was with his perceptions, always a little bit skewed. Never quite getting it right, no matter what his intentions.

  She said nothing, simply ran to the far side of the courtyard, and with no alternative, they were forced to follow her in.

  At least they were silent.

  She found the secret door and opened it. “There’s a nail at the far end, just feel for it midway between the floor and the ceiling on the left side, and pull it toward you. The other door will open. Run for the trees.”

  Sam eeled past her first, and then the others, until they were all jammed into the low, narrow space except her and Soren. Some had whispered a thank you as they slipped past her, but not all.

  At last Sam found the nail and they were gone, and Miri stepped into the now clear passage, and grabbed the door, waiting for Soren to follow her in so she could close it.

  He was staring at the dark opening of the tunnel with a look in his eye of such terror, Miri looked behind her, expecting danger.

  There was nothing.

  Beyond their little courtyard, the portcullis had been raised and she could hear the ringing of horses hooves against the stone cobbles, the calls of the men, more clearly.

  “What is it?” She took a step toward him and he flinched, his eyes never leaving the entrance to the tunnel.

  “I’m sorry.” He shuddered and ran a hand down his face. “It’s the dark. I can’t . . . ”

  She felt a rising sense of panic. A horse passed the courtyard entrance, and then another. Any moment, the pitchfork-wielding guard would take up his post again.

  But she couldn’t leave him.

  Her hand rose up to clutch the silver pear, but magic had to be her last resort, especially with another sorcerer only yards away.

  Soren was half bent over himself now, and she grabbed hold of his shirt and hauled, but he pulled away from her, his arms coming up to shield himself, as if she was going to strike him.

  He made an inarticulate sound at the back of his throat, and it sent a chill slithering down her spine.

  Someone had done something very bad to this man. And it involved darkness.

  She reached out to him again, unsure what to do, and faced the notion that she might have to bespell him.

  He backed further away from the tunnel, breathing in short, gasping pants.

  “Oy!”

  The shout came from the entrance to the courtyard, and she took a step back, deeper into the shadows. The guard had returned to his post, and he held his pitchfork up, and then called behind him for help.

  Miri hoped he’d only seen Soren. She glanced to the side, hoping the door to the tunnel was deep enough in the shadows it would be hard to make out.

  The guard jogged toward Soren, and panicked, Miri leaned hard on the door. It swung shut with a creak, and she could only be grateful for the guard’s shouts then, because they covered the noise it made.

  The guard’s cry had been taken up beyond the courtyard and she moved away, keeping close to the wall, and deep in the shadows, putting some distance between herself and the secret passage.

  “Who are you?” The guard had grabbed hold of Soren, but he stood, unresisting, his eyes closed, his breathing a little more calm, a little deeper.

  He was coming back to himself, gaining control.

  She saw the moment when he conquered the panic, lifting his head with a snap toward the door.

  Then he turned his head unerringly in her direction.

  “What is it?” A man ran up to the guard, and Miri recognized William’s man of affairs, Henry. She pressed back against the wall and held her breath, her mind racing.

  “I don’t know. Just found ’im here. He looks a bit like the one we rounded up earlier, but that one’s locked in the dungeon. This must be another one.”

  Bespelling would be the only quiet way out. The only practical solution, but she had never done it before. Had never wanted to.

  It felt wrong.

  She didn’t mind the guard and Henry so much, as they were in William’s camp, and had aligned against her, but Soren would need to be bespelled to get in the tunnel, and she chafed at the thought of doing it.

  As Henry grabbed Soren’s other arm, she realized she had no choice.

  She gripped the silver pear and raised her hand, and just as she threw the spell, William and his new sorcerer stepped into the courtyard.

  She wanted to howl with dismay.

  Her spell hit Henry and the guard, and they released their grip on Soren and turned away, walking toward William.

  Soren stood absolutely still for a moment, and she wondered if she’d overreached and hadn’t managed to bespell three at once, but then he started walking toward the hidden door.

  Miri ground her teeth. It would have been perfect if William wasn’t right there, watching him. She closed her eyes, and threw a second spell at Soren, bringing him back to himself.

  He stumbled, as if the spell had suspended him a little above the ground, and her ripping it away had dropped him back down.

  He ended up on one knee, and again, looked over at her. His face was tight and hard. Angry.

  She didn’t have time to worry about it.

  The cowled sorcerer with William was looking straight at her, too, even though he surely couldn’t see her in the shadows, and she readied herself as he lifted his staff.

  She met the blue flare of his magic with a smooth protective shield, getting a taste for what he could do—the flavor of it.

  It was furry and damp, like wet dog, with a powerful under-layer of muscle and sinew.

  William’s attention had been on Soren, but at the flare of sky magic, he spun in her direction.

  Miri stepped into the moonlight. “Perhaps you could help me, William? There seems to be a knife in my back.”

  It was something her father might have said, never her. She’d always been deferential, respectful, when she’d spoken to William in the past. That had been her mistake.

  William jerked at her words, and took a step back. She wondered how much was because of her tone, and how much because she was dressed in men’s clothing. “Miri? I thought . . .”

  “You thought I was still under the noses of your guards at my house. While you broke every contract between us, and brought in someone so lacking in honor he would agree to it.”

  The sorcerer said nothing, still anonymous beneath the deep hood of his cloak, but she noticed his hand shook a little. Pu
t quite a bit of effort into that attack, she thought. More than he wanted William, or her, to know.

  William was looking between them, struggling to keep an impassive face at the fact that his new weapon had already tried to take her down, and had failed.

  “As it happens, the light flared again over Halakan tonight, and I decided to get to the bottom of it my way.”

  William looked at Soren again, and then for Henry, but Miri hadn’t lifted the bespelling on him, and he was gone.

  “Imagine my surprise when I discovered you weren’t here, but off buying a new torturer. It was most upsetting.” She kept her voice even.

  “I need to know how they’re getting in.” There was defiance in William’s voice.

  “I can tell you.”

  “How? How are you even inside my stronghold?”

  “I have my ways.” It was perhaps best not to mention she’d been in the dungeon, although they’d find out soon enough. “There is a wild magic item, a gem, which sends everyone who touches it to this courtyard. I can only assume the wild magic that created it is linked to a spell my father performed here at Halakan.”

  She didn’t look in Soren’s direction, but she could sense his surprise. She hoped he wasn’t angry enough with her for bespelling him that he would contradict her. Sam had told him the gem was not wild magic at all, but sorcerer-made, and while she knew that was true, William didn’t need to.

  “The men said something like that when I questioned them—”

  “Beat them, you mean?” She let her words drip disdain. “What are you so paranoid about, William? They were telling the truth, and they didn’t know any more. You must have seen they were woodcutters. Plain folk.”

  “Not the last lot.”

  “No. Those were men who work for Jasper of Harness, over Therston way. His guards. Found the gem on some poor woodcutter and took it from him.” She shrugged, and watched as William thought that through, and hunched his shoulders.

  “So you broke with me for no good reason, William. And you will regret it.” She meant to keep her emotions under control, but her voice shook a little with her last sentence.

  There was movement behind William, and she saw more of his men were standing there. A number of them looked away from her, and she wondered how many were happy with William’s recent decisions.