Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1)

by Stacy Bennett

“He doesn’t need any.”

  “What about once we’re outside? Any guard buildings? Towns?”

  “From the parapet, there’s nothing for miles.”

  “The parapet?”

  Without breaking stride, she shot him a look of cool disdain. “I’ve never left these walls.” He kept his disbelief to himself as she continued, “The Black Mountains east and north are impassable. South and west is tundra as far as you can see.”

  Damn, he thought. We’re going to be easy to spot.

  “You said something about sledges,” Archer said.

  “We have two.” Her tone warmed for the Northerner, her lips curving slightly up. “Three bears apiece. I readied them both.”

  “Could be risky,” Khoury said to Archer over her head.

  “I can handle them, Captain,” Archer replied. “We’ll lead one if need be. They’ll certainly be faster than walking.”

  “I can drive, too,” Cara murmured.

  Khoury ignored her. “All right, Archer. I leave it to you.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  They passed a wall of windows opening onto what might once have been a manicured inner courtyard. Now desiccated and abandoned, skeletal hedge bushes poked up from the cracked dusty ground like the contracted claws of a dying thing. The black stones of a fountain lay in tumbled disarray along uneven flagstones. No hint of green graced the dead yard. The entire stronghold was a tomb.

  “How many guards in the bailey?” Khoury asked.

  “None.”

  Impossible, the captain thought. The Keep had been deserted the night they arrived, but he’d assumed it was because of the storm. How could Sidonius maintain control with no guards and so many prisoners?

  “Not a single guard?” His disbelief drew a frown from her thin lips.

  “He doesn’t like people much,” she replied.

  “So it would appear.” To maintain a stronghold this size without any guard was an impressive feat. He’d be glad to see the last of this strange Keep and its formidable master.

  The girl sped up, forestalling any further conversation until they arrived at a set of sturdy double doors. “Through here is the hall you ate in,” she said, “but there’s no food left.”

  Khoury watched her listen at the doors, then push one open and peek into the room. Apparently satisfied, she entered, waving them in behind. Khoury recognized the hall, but unlike the day they arrived, the hearths were cold and the room dimly lit. Dust had already gathered on the empty tables.

  “You don’t use this room?” Archer asked.

  “It’s only for guests.”

  “Guests?” Khoury said, “That’s one way to put it.”

  She frowned again but didn’t reply as she headed up three low steps to the front doors.

  “They’re probably locked,” Khoury pointed out as he surveyed the empty hall.

  “Worth checking,” the girl muttered. She put pale hands against one of the heavy doors and leaned into it. Grunting with effort, she eventually pushed it open. A predawn glow, cold air, and a few tiny flakes of snow scurried in.

  Khoury wanted a plan before the men scattered outside. He sternly called them to gather around one of the tables with a forced whisper, and then to the girl he said, “Cara, come draw me a map.”

  As she turned and let the door shut behind her, he thought he saw a blue light on her face, but by the time she joined the circle of men at the long, polished table, it had disappeared. Khoury fired off a stream of questions about the walls, gate mechanisms, barns, and roads.

  The girl sighed with irritation as she traced lines on the gray, dusty surface. “I don’t know anything about how the main gate works. Here is the outer wall, and this area, the outer courtyard, wraps around toward the mountains and the barn is here. I should get the bears by myself. They can be—”

  Khoury didn’t hear the rest as his attention was drawn to the handful of men who were heading toward the doors, talking in excited tones. “Wait!” he called after them as loudly as he dared. The lead man waved him off and went to push open the door.

  The explosion shook the Keep to its foundations. A flash of fire burst inward, blowing the men nearest the door clean off their feet and throwing Khoury and Archer against the table. Cara was knocked to her knees.

  The captain straightened, muscles taut and ears ringing. Anger roared through his head, bringing the room into sharp focus. His nose itched with the sharp tang of soot and spark. Ghostly curls of black smoke rolled languidly upward in the dim torchlight. The doors were intact though scorch marks darkened the wood and radiated out like a charred flower on the floor. The men who had tried to open it were scattered in bloody pieces across the hall.

  Three dead. So, the tally begins. How many will return to their homes?

  Realizing it had been magic, anger blossomed into rage. The same righteous fury that had sent him plunging recklessly into Ranceforth’s army. The door wasn’t locked; it had been warded.

  He scanned the room for the bent old man but saw only prisoners. Prisoners and the girl on the ground rocking back and forth, moaning in denial. How had the men triggered it when the girl hadn’t? Was there a secret only she knew?

  He grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet. “What did you do?” His voice came out a roar, driven by the coiled fury within his chest.

  Her face had a green tinge and her lip trembled as she shook her head. “N-nothing.”

  Her denial sounded muffled to his blasted ears. “Tell me how you opened it.” He grabbed her other arm and gave her a shake.

  Her arms were fragile in his iron grip, and he pictured snapping her like a twig. With a growl, he thrust her away. Guilt soured in his mouth as he watched her back away in fear, tripping over a disembodied arm. She fell to her knees again, retching as crimson gore darkened her gray skirt.

  He paced in agitation, trying to find the calm within his anger. It was then he heard a sound like a muted drum. He turned to the white-haired woman. “That noise.”

  Cara’s eyes wandered sideways as she listened. When she heard it, her eyes locked with his as she jumped to her feet. “The alarm!”

  Khoury’s hands fisted as he struggled to keep control. “What have you done?” His voice low and dangerous.

  Archer quickly stepped between them. “So much for stealth,” he said in a cool voice, his steady eyes watching the captain. Could his lieutenant read the battle rage that screamed in Khoury’s head?

  “He knows,” Cara wailed, clutching at Archer’s arm in panic. “He knows. Please, get out. Now!”

  Her fear infected the other men, and the hair on the captain’s neck stood up. They were trapped: The sorcerer behind them, the magic doors ahead.

  “The doors are warded,” he reminded her in a tight voice.

  “No.” She turned from them and stumbled frantically up the steps. “No, they were fine a moment ago. We have to get out.” He followed her staggering path to the door. Her whole body shook as she lifted a hand to the blackened door. The nearest group of men backed away, frightened and uncertain.

  “What are you doing?” Khoury was torn between stopping her and getting a safe distance from the door. When she glanced over her shoulder, the sorrow in her eyes was a bottomless pool that held him frozen where he stood. She leaned into the door but before her weight hit it, he snagged her hands and held her back. Her skin was cold, and a sharp sensation shot through his arms to his still-ringing head, bringing with it an ancient memory so vivid he thought he’d stepped back in time. He remembered flames in the thatch; smoke in his eyes and nose. His brother’s blackened eye and battered cheek accused Khoury even as his last words were meant to save him: Run, brother, he’d said.

  Khoury snatched his hands back as if burned, shaking his head to clear the troubling scene from his mind. The taste of old sorrow tamed his anger. And in that moment, Cara threw her weight against the charred wood. Instinctively he covered his face with his arms, not that it would have saved him. But n
o blast came. She stepped halfway through the open door.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaky.

  Khoury was just as confused. Something wasn’t right. Then he noticed it.

  “It’s safe, Captain?” Archer asked. The men gathered close around them.

  Khoury pointed to the glow of the blue stone at her throat. “No. She’s protected.”

  “Protected?” Archer asked.

  The men murmured angrily, and Khoury could sense their rising panic.

  The girl looked down, but the thick chain was so short she couldn’t see the stone.

  “It’s glowing,” Archer said.

  She stared at him in shock. “Glowing? Then, it is my fault.” Her features crumpled as she backed into the room, letting the door shut with a heavy thud. “I…I killed those men.” She sank to her knees and stared at her soot-smudged hands.

  Now that his rage had left, Khoury felt her remorse in the pit of his stomach. He pitied her. She was little more than a child, as much a victim as the men. But they were out of time. The drums’ continued beat sent a frisson of tension up his back. He knelt down by her, hoping his anger hadn’t ruined their chances. “Cara,” his voice was urgent, “you can still save them.”

  CARA HEARD THEM talking, but the words were lost beneath the thudding of her heart and the beat of Father’s alarms. Her belly churned painfully. She wanted to disappear or to wake from this nightmare. Or better to fall into a deep insensate sleep and never waken. Anything to erase that horrible moment of flash and gore.

  “Cara!” The captain’s sharp bark cut through her fogged senses. A shock of fear shivered through her at his tone. When she looked up, his cobalt eyes were almost kind, kneeling in the blood and soot as if, a moment ago, it hadn’t been … someone.

  Her mind staggered drunkenly. “What?”

  “You can save these men,” he said.

  Save them?

  No. Not this snowflake. She couldn’t save anyone.

  Then she noticed the fearful faces all around her, waiting and watching. And her heart quailed.

  Archer crouched next to her. “Just hold the door open,” he said, “and maybe we can walk past.”

  She couldn’t decipher the look he shared with the captain. Nor did she want to. She couldn’t think about the door or the men she had meant to save. Her mind was full of the scent of charred meat, the sight of a bloody arm torn from its owner, the crimson-splotched lump of flesh visible near the captain’s right knee.

  Such violence.

  Death was something she thought she knew, but all she’d ever seen was dust and silence, not this slick carnage. Her stomach roiled again, and she tasted hot bile.

  “Cara, talk to me.” The heavy comfort of Archer’s hand warmed her shoulder.

  “What if you’re wrong?” Her words were smoky whispers.

  “We’re not wrong,” the captain said, exuding a strangely alluring confidence.

  “I’d bet my life on it.” Archer smiled easily as he pulled her to standing.

  How could he say such a thing after what just happened? She grabbed his arm in desperation.

  “No! No, you can’t.” But, what was their alternative?

  “Come on,” the captain said. His hand was on her elbow, gentle this time, drawing her back to the door. “You open it, and I’ll go through.”

  As if it were that simple.

  “Captain—”

  Khoury silenced Archer with a raised hand.

  The burnt odor reminded her of Father and set her legs trembling again. Closing her eyes, she did as he asked and put her hands against the cool oak. She pushed against its solid weight though she feared shock had stolen what meager strength she had. But the door inched open as the men waited, their impatience lapping at the borders of her mind. She stopped when the opening was wide enough to allow the captain to slip past her without touching it or her.

  She was surprised by the pity on his face as he stepped past her out into the cool dawn. And nothing happened. The breath she didn’t know she’d been holding escaped with a soft whoosh.

  “Bring them through, Archer,” the captain called over her head. Then, as if she didn’t exist, he turned on his heel and headed for the gate.

  Archer organized their exit. One by one, the disheveled, dirty men slipped past her, their steps lighter with newfound hope. Archer was the last man out and once beyond the doors, he held out a hand for her. “Come with us.”

  She’d never gone into the yard through this door. It looked strange as she stood at the top of the stairs, an unfamiliar landscape stretching before her and directly ahead was the door she could never pass through.

  She hesitated. Archer waited, his hand poised in the cold air between them as if her Father wasn’t coming. As if they had time to dawdle. Without thinking, she put her small hand in his and let him lead her down the steps.

  “Now for your bears,” he said as they crossed the empty bailey. The morning frost crunched lightly beneath her slippers. “Where are they kept?”

  “They may not like strangers,” she said, suddenly eager for the warmth of the barn and her friends. “You go help at the gate while I get them.”

  “You don’t need help?” He seemed surprised.

  She laughed at his strangeness. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Now go.” She hurried toward the barn. What did he think she was? A child? Of course she could handle the bears. She pulled morsels of food from her pockets as she went, ducking between the fence rails of the paddock that originally had been built for horses. As she entered the humble peace of the barn, the scent of hay and fur calmed her frayed nerves.

  She greeted the bears one by one: Little Tem, Hahn who was cranky, the meek twins Lorae and Dorcha, bossy Shona, and her favorite, steadfast Gar. Even in her hurry, she counted on their good graces and that meant abiding by their rituals. When each head had been patted and each black tongue had a turn licking a morsel from her small hands, she walked up to Gar and laid a hand on his broad head.

  “Come.” She led him toward the sledges, her gaze lingering on his tattered left ear. As a child, she had stolen to the barn to see the new creatures her Father had brought home. They had been wild then and young, and she was just a tidbit. She never knew why Gar decided to save her instead of eat her that day, but he did. His ear had been torn beyond repair during the fight that followed.

  The large bear lumbered to his place and waited patiently as she attached the traces to his harness. “Stay,” she said, though the word was more a request than a command. The bears knew what the sledges meant, and they were eager for the work. She arranged the six bears in two groups of three, Gar leading one sledge and Shona the other. In minutes, they were ready to go.

  “Stay,” she repeated the request to Gar and Shona again, and then walked outside.

  In the distance, the men hovered by the door, and she picked out Archer standing beneath the window of the gate’s squat tower. The lock mechanisms were housed up there. Three shadows were visible through that window and even at this distance she knew one was the captain. Such an impulsive and angry man, a sharp contrast to her father’s banked temper.

  She dragged the corral gate open and then opened both barn doors. Stepping up onto the runners of Shona’s sledge, she checked that Gar’s lead was secured and whistled gently. The sledge jerked as the bears threw themselves against the traces and out they went, through the barn door, across the corral and into the yard. She crooned to the bears in a low voice to slow their pace as the men darted fearfully out of their path. She halted the bears just in front of the still-closed wall gate. Archer approached looking pleasantly surprised as she handed him the reins.

  “That was fast,” he said, then turned to the crowd. “All right, everyone on.”

  She hadn’t put the cages on. Father would have had to help her with that. So the sledges were little more than planks the men could straddle. The score of men arranged themselves evenly between the two sledges as Cara
took the driver’s stand of the second one and waited nervously on the runners. Soon all the men were seated except the ones in the gate room.

  “Khoury, let’s go!” Archer yelled as loudly as he dared. The captain waved down through the window as gears groaned and the gate began to open.

  Archer stepped up on the rails of his sledge. Shona’s nose was pointed at the gate and Cara’s sledge was angled behind. The doors were almost opened enough to escape when a ball of fire flew past and burst apart on the wall.

  “Daughter!” Sidonius’s roar sounded as if he were standing right behind her. Her head whipped around in time to see another flaming sphere race past. This one exploded on the half-open doors sending rock debris and flaming splinters flying. The men in the tower raced down the stairs as a third ball of fire flew into the window of the gatehouse. Shona roared in fear, her panic echoing through her sledge-mates. Archer could do nothing but grab the uprights as his team darted through the barely open door, careening dangerously out onto the snowy tundra. Cara grabbed her own reins as Gar started forward.

  “No, Gar!” she shouted, her control on the large beast tenuous but intact.

  “Foolish girl. You think to leave?” Cara turned to see Sidonius walking down the steps, another ball of fire growing in his raised hand. Khoury and the two others raced to her sledge and hopped on.

  Go!” Khoury shouted just as the fireball hit the ground next to her, showering them with hot dirt and rocking the sledge dangerously onto one rail. She braced herself and whistled for the bears to go. Her mouth so dry it was barely more than a wheeze. But even steadfast Gar was frightened and with a roar he jerked hard against the harness.

  “You will never escape me!” Sidonius called after her as they raced through the gate.

  The bears tore over the snowy ground, running flat out. And she let them. Fear tingled up her back, but she didn’t dare look back. She kept to the vague path that was the southbound road expecting to see the other sledge, but there was only tundra and the snow that had begun to fall.

  They made good speed for a quarter of an hour with no sign of the other sledge. But it began snowing harder with each passing minute. Suddenly, a wailing howl erupted from Gar, echoed a second later by the other two bears. Her worry turned to panic as the animals slowed to a stop, pawing at their harnesses. Their usual calming aura now full of nagging fear.