by Ford, Shae
“It was what you said about Hessa,” Nadine whispered, her eyes distant. “I did not want to do it — and for my betrayal, I know that I no longer deserve to live among the mots. But I could not leave her in the hands of that woman. Now Hessa will never be without a mother,” Nadine added with a smile. “No matter where I go, I will carry her in my heart.”
By the time they returned to the bell chamber, Hessa was waiting for them. She held hands with Silas — who looked rather frightened about it. His fingers stuck out straight and his arm was twisted away from her, as if he expected her to spring up and try to bite him at any moment.
Kyleigh laughed at the sight.
“Is it finished?” Hessa said, her eyes flicking worriedly over the soldiers.
“It happened just as you said it would,” one of the mots called. “Blood spilt upon the ground will rise into a red sun, and its light will chase away our shadows.”
The others murmured in agreement, and Kyleigh realized those must’ve been the words that Hessa had cried out in the speaking circle — the ones that had made the Grandmot so furious.
Hessa nodded. Then worry creased her face again. “Who …?”
The mots parted. Every last one of them turned to look at Nadine.
With a gasp, Hessa ran to her. They were quiet as they held each other, no tears fell between them. Then, just before they parted, Hessa whispered something to Nadine. She nodded.
“The outlanders must leave us, now.”
Kyleigh felt it in her toes when Hessa met her eyes. She forced herself to nod. “Yes, I’m afraid we’ve got urgent business in the northern desert.”
“Then you will not be going alone,” Nadine said. She smiled as she leaned on her spear. “I will go with you.”
The mots began to whisper. A few of them glared and tried to put themselves in Nadine’s path. Hessa raised her hands to silence them. “Nadine is pardoned,” Hessa said quietly. “She has played her part in Fate’s plan, as we all must. Fate alone knows the ending to our story … we can do nothing more than choose which path we will take to meet it. So what will you choose, mots?”
They looked bewildered. A woman near the front of the line spoke up: “We will do whatever you ask of us, Dawn Hessa.”
She shook her head, smiling — and quite suddenly, she didn’t look like a child anymore, but a woman prepared to lead. “There is much to be done. Our dead must be buried, our home must be rebuilt. But those are tasks for other talents. For you, my warriors, I have a different request. Two paths stretch before you: one sits in quiet, and the other in blood. Travel to the seas and trade for what we need to survive, or follow the outlanders on their journey — and you will find a wellspring to feed us all of our days.”
The mots tittered for a moment, speaking over and around one another in the singsong tongue. All at once, they quieted. One mot finally stepped forward, and he spoke for them all:
“Then our path is chosen for us. We will travel with the outlanders.”
As the soldiers readied themselves for the journey, Hessa bid them all farewell — standing on her tiptoes to hug each of them around the neck. When it was Kyleigh’s turn, she held her a little longer.
“On the day you came to us,” Hessa whispered, “I told the Grandmot that I had a vision of one more deserving who would come to take Nadine’s place. And since you are so fond of trouble, I will tell you a secret: I lied.” She pulled away, and a mischievous smile parted her lips. “That was not a vision at all … but only a hope.”
Kyleigh was surprised. And it was only after Hessa had gone to hug Silas that she realized she was grinning. As they left the motlands, she felt a peace inside her heart.
Hessa’s people would be in good hands.
Chapter 35
If
By nightfall, all of Kael’s momentary peace had vanished, replaced by a feeling that he was much more accustomed to: worry.
There was a chance that they might succeed. When he closed his eyes tightly, he could almost see it. If they were able to kill the kitchen witch, if he got the mages out of the way, if the giants went along with his plan, if the pirates ran like Death himself was snapping at their heels — there was a chance that they might all make it out of the plains alive.
He could almost see it, shining like hearth light through the crack in a doorway. And if they timed everything perfectly, they might just be able to slip through it.
If.
Kael ate little at dinner. The giants were livelier than they’d been in weeks, and they filled the whole barn with happy chatter. Though they were clearly thrilled to have Brend back among them, they did their best to hide it.
When they’d emerged from the stall that morning, Declan announced very loudly that Brend had recovered from his fever — and passed such a glare about the room that the giants had immediately gone along with it. None of them seemed eager to tell the truth, anyways.
And with Declan scowling at them, no one dared to ask how it’d been done.
Brend was enjoying the attention. Someone asked him to tell another story of Scalybones, and he happily obliged. Kael slipped into stall while the others were occupied, hoping to catch a few moments alone to steady his nerves. But it wasn’t long before familiar, quick-strided footsteps came through the door.
“Is there something wrong, Kael?”
He’d had every intention of keeping his head low, but the sound of his name surprised him. He looked up instinctively — and Declan’s eyes caught his face.
Blast it.
“I’m just tired,” he grumbled, quickly burying his head once again.
A long, weighty pause hung between them, and Kael knew he was about to be interrogated. He’d begun gathering up his excuses when Declan surprised him for a second time.
“I’m not a man who says what he feels, and I’d never be grateful for my own life … but I’m grateful for Brend’s.”
Kael’s head rose ever so slightly. “Wait a moment — are you … thanking me?” When Declan didn’t respond, he couldn’t help himself: he had to look.
Declan stood on the other side of the room, arms hanging loosely at his sides. He stared pointedly out of the hole in the roof, as if he meant to avoid having to come out and say it.
“Because if you are, I wouldn’t consider it a debt —”
“Good, because it isn’t a debt. It’s just something that needed to be said.” Declan’s eyes snapped away from the roof and back onto Kael’s — trapping him. “Now that I’ve told you something, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
Kael realized that he’d been tricked again. He shook his head firmly, and Declan’s gaze narrowed, crushing his lie before it even had a chance to escape.
But Kael didn’t care. He rolled onto his side and was prepared to heartily ignore Declan when he questioned him. The questions never came, however. And it wasn’t long before he fell into a fitful sleep. He tossed and turned through the better half of the night, until Eveningwing finally woke him.
The rough end of the rope brushed his shoulder, and he climbed it without thinking. It wasn’t until he was already out on the roof that he thought to be surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow,” he whispered to Eveningwing, who crouched next to the hole. “Were you able to reach the pirates?”
He lowered his head, and the crop of his hair shadowed his eyes. “Yes. The winds were fair today — they shortened my journey.”
Kael shook his head in amazement, thinking how marvelous it must be to travel at the speed of a hawk. He saw Eveningwing about to pull the rope up and stopped him. “Let’s leave it where it is. The giants sleep pretty heavily — I doubt anybody will notice it. And once we take care of Finks, we may not have time to get it set again. I’d rather not have to jump down and risk breaking an ankle.”
Eveningwing’s head jerked down in a nod. Then he took to the skies, and Kael followed in his shadow.
The braziers along the road glowed brightly. He set a swift pac
e for them, watching as the light danced along with the breaths of the wind. He was still several yards away when Eveningwing let out a soft cry.
Kael dropped to his belly immediately.
It took him a moment to see what the hawk had seen: a dark rider crossed between the braziers, his horse tread as silently as any cat. His armor was so blackened that not even the light could illuminate it. A red scarf was wrapped about his head, holding a black, slit mask over his jaw. His dark eyes seemed to reflect the lapping tongues of flame about him.
A noise on the other side of the road caught his attention, and he turned suddenly. There was a massive sword strapped across his back.
Behind the dark rider came a covered wagon, its canvas stamped with the great twisting oak of the Grandforest. A second rider passed it at a trot. This rider was much more slender than the first, and a tress of shining, golden brown hair trailed out from under the hood of her cloak.
Kael realized, with a worry that made his tongue stick to the back of his throat, that this must be Countess D’Mere — arriving late, just as Brend said she would.
The leafy heads of several small trees stuck out of the back of the wagon. They whispered dryly over the bumps in the road, bouncing under the weight of the fruit on their branches. Two boys walked behind the wagon, identical down to their strides. One watched the left side of the road; the other watched the right. Their hands never once left their swords.
That was the end of D’Mere’s procession. No army followed at her back. Kael thought it strange that she would travel the wilderness at night, with so few men to protect her. They must’ve been far more skilled than he realized — D’Mere obviously wasn’t worried about the lions, in any case.
Kael waited for Eveningwing’s signal before he dared to cross the road. After a considerable amount of thought, he’d decided that it would be best to try to go after Finks that night. Hob would certainly have to be taken care of, but Finks was crafty. And Kael was afraid that if he gave the mage anymore time to protect himself, he might just slither away. And that could ruin everything.
No, he wasn’t going to take any chances. Finks had to go first.
They arrived at the Pens without incident. Thick clouds had gathered over the moon, and there wasn’t a guard in sight. But it only took Kael a moment to spot a new problem: the lanterns outside of every cottage were lit. He’d been right about Finks, then. The mage was already getting crafty.
With every lantern burning, Kael had no idea which cottage Finks might be hiding in. At least with a large part of its front missing, he could see clearly into Gaff’s. But he sent Eveningwing to check the others.
The hawk circled the courtyard once, twice, tilting his wings and peering into every window. For a moment, Kael was afraid that he might be just as lost. But then Eveningwing settled firmly over Stodder’s doorway, and Kael left at a trot.
He crept up the stairs, the curved knife gripped firmly in his hand. He would not have as much trouble with Finks as he’d had with the others: there was no doubting how wicked he was. Kael would sleep better every night hence, knowing that Finks would never harm another soul again.
His shadow crossed the porch, and perhaps it was because he was focused on moving quietly that he didn’t notice anything peculiar straight away. The outline of Kael’s head rippled over the wood, as if it crossed a puddle of water.
It looked odd. And his mind was still trying to grasp at why it looked so odd when he took his next step. His foot came down, and he felt the familiar, slimy back of a spell on his toes.
By then, it was too late.
A cloud of purple smoke burst in his face, blinding him. Then the whole porch shuddered and suddenly flipped up, launching him into the air. He landed hard on his back. All the wind left his lungs. He knew he was lucky to be alive — lucky that things hadn’t gone any worse.
No sooner did he think this than a horrible, steady shriek cut through the air.
It sounded like a woman who’d just stepped on a mouse — a screaming alarm that he knew could be heard the whole way to the castle. With a desperate heave, Kael managed to pull himself from the ground.
The cottage door slammed open, but he didn’t wait around for Finks. He didn’t even wait for Eveningwing: he tore straight for the chicken coup.
The coup sat by itself in the darkness, out of the reach of the cottage lanterns. Kael leapt over the fence and ducked behind one of the little houses, watching Finks’s shadowy form as he raced down the stairs. He went off in the direction of the Fields, and Kael breathed a sigh of relief.
For several long moments, things were quiet. He watched the skies, waiting for Eveningwing’s signal — but the hawk never appeared. Minutes passed, and Kael began to get worried. What if Eveningwing had been captured? Had Finks’s spell knocked him out of the sky? Was he hurt?
Kael realized he could hide no longer. He had to find Eveningwing.
He was just about to move when a pair of voices drifted in from the courtyard:
“It’s about time you showed up!” Finks hissed. “I’ve got the murderer cornered —”
“How can you be so sure it’s him?”
Kael grimaced when he heard Dred’s voice reply, and cold sweat began to bead up on the back of his neck.
Finks made a frustrated sound. His steps grew louder as he stomped forward. “See those marks on the ground? Please tell me you see them. I know you giants are stupid, but surely you aren’t blind.”
“Watch your tongue, spellmonger,” Dred growled back. There was a creak of armor as he bent to inspect the marks. “Yeh, I see them. They’re little footprints.”
Kael nearly swore aloud. In all of the chaos, he’d forgotten about the purple smoke. Now when he glanced down, he saw that it covered him from head to toe — and marked where he’d been with something like ink spots. He could see very clearly where he’d vaulted over the fence: an imprint of his palms stained the rails.
“Perfect,” Finks said, with deliberate slowness. “Now, why don’t you send your men in there after it?”
“All right. Follow those prints, blisters — and don’t let the monster get away.”
Kael heard the heavy, rattling steps headed in his direction, and he knew his time had run out. His only option now would be to try to outrun the guards. If he could make it to the pond, he might be able to wash off —
“We’ve got him! We’ve found the murderer!”
This voice belonged to Hob. He shouted from the other side of the courtyard, and the guards took off after him. “We’d better gut it quick. Don’t let it get free!” Dred bellowed as he lumbered away.
Kael’s breath caught in his throat. They must’ve captured Eveningwing.
He sprang back over the fence and went after the guards at an all-out sprint. If he acted quickly, he might be able to cause a distraction. He might be able to get the guards to chase after him, instead. And if he was captured, so be it. But they weren’t going to gut Eveningwing. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Kael turned around the next barn and found the guards crowded around Hob — who had his boot planted on the back of the man at his feet. One of the guards raised his pike above the man’s head, and Kael cried out.
The giants leapt back for a second, clearly startled, and Kael tried to shove in between them. Someone grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and threw him to the ground; a monstrous boot heel ground into his back.
“You!” Finks spat. His lips pursed around the word, making his long teeth look like fangs. When his shock wore off, he blinked. “No, it can’t be him —”
“Of course it’s him!” Dred said incredulously, jabbing a finger at Kael. “Look at him — he’s got that purple mess all over him.”
“I can see that, you imbecile! But what I can’t see is how one mountain rat managed to sneak through the wards of seven mages. You think that scrawny little thing has been killing us off? Been killing off your guards? I didn’t think so,” Finks said smugly, as his questions d
oused Dred’s face in confusion. He turned back to the man at Hob’s feet. “And this isn’t any better,” he added, with a sharp kick.
The man grunted in pain and began to squirm. The chains of Hob’s spell tightened around his body, glowing red. The hiss of searing flesh filled the air for a moment, and then the man lay still.
Kael fought against the boot in his back, dragging himself forward, trying to reach him. When he saw that the man was too big to be Eveningwing, he was slightly relieved. But then his eyes wandered up, past the bonds around the man’s mouth, over his hooked nose and into the deep cleft of his brow — and he found himself staring into the dazed eyes of Declan.
“They must’ve been trying to escape,” Finks said, his gaze flicking between Declan and Kael. “They were always plotting, always scheming … so this is what you were up to, eh? You thought because the guards weren’t out that you’d have a clear path, did you?”
“If they were planning to escape, then why was the rat sneaking around your cottage?” Dred cut in. He jabbed Declan’s limp body with the butt of his pike. “And this one might not look like much, but he’s a killer.” Dred jabbed him again. “Yeh, and killing’s all he’s ever been good for.”
Kael felt his neck pop as Fink’s boot pressed against his cheek. “What were you doing outside my cottage, rat? You’d do well to tell the truth,” he added, unfurling his whip.
Kael couldn’t tell the truth — the truth would get them both killed on the spot. So he thought quickly. “You’re right. We were trying to escape,” he muttered, after a moment of frantic thought. “I only went to the cottage because I thought it was empty. I was looking for supplies.”
“I knew it!” Finks said triumphantly. He kicked a clod of dirt into Kael’s face before he spun away.
“We ought to take them to His Lordship,” Hob said, eyeing the castle. “Finks, you stay here —”
“Oh no, you don’t,” Finks said vehemently. “I caught the little beasts — and I’m not going to stand by while you take all the credit!”
