He kissed the top of her head. “Get dressed then, and I’ll show you the best pastry vendor in town.”
“Not in that thing,” she said, gesturing to the laced gown on the floor with a laugh. So Khoury wrapped her in the blanket and led her back to her original room where Nadja had left a practical gown and over tunic on her bed. Bradan and Archer were already gone. Since Archer favored the same vendors Khoury did, he anticipated meeting him over breakfast.
They squinted at the sharp morning sunshine as they wandered the market square. Khoury bought her sweet rolls and hot tea, keeping a sharp eye out for the others.
“Maybe they went to get Falin,” Cara suggested, sucking sticky sugar from her fingers.
The stables. He should have thought of that. He led her back up the northeast road toward the palace. The thoroughfare was bustling. About halfway there, he noticed Cara began to turn and look behind them every few steps.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I have a bad feeling.”
His hand went to his sword. “In what way?”
“I don’t know. It’s like Father is watching me.”
They were almost to the stables when Archer hailed them from the other side of the street. Khoury put his hand to Cara’s back and guided her through the crowd. But she stopped midway and whirled around, her body trembling with fear as she peered into the passing faces. He scanned the street himself, looking for the old man.
An alarm began to blare up the street and chaos broke out. Smoke, then flames, rose from the direction of the barn.
“Fire in the stables!” The cry spread quickly through the street. Guards ran to help amid more shouts.
“Fire,” Cara murmured, and he knew what she was thinking. She gave a sudden small cry and pressed her hands to her head.
“Cara!”
“Don’t you hear him?”
“Who?”
“Sidonius.”
“Where?” Khoury asked, turning in a circle. No one looked familiar.
“In my head. I hear him in my head. He’s here somewhere.”
A throng of people ran toward them buckets in hand and in the press of people, the captain lost her. By the time he saw the hooded figure walking up to Cara, she was too far away.
“Cara, behind you!” he called out, trying to negotiate the throng of people. Nearby, Bradan’s bulk also shoved through the crowd toward her, but not before a thick-knuckled hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around. The fear on her face tore at Khoury’s heart.
It was Sidonius, except he looked so young the captain barely recognized him. Khoury had no time to ponder the reason before the sorcerer’s lips moved and sand landed on Cara’s face. She swooned into her father’s arms.
Renewed urgency drove Khoury through the thick crowd, but even so he made little headway. Bradan was closer and closing in. With Cara once again in his possession, Sidonius surveyed his pursuit and motioned to someone Khoury couldn’t see.
Then Bradan broke free of the crowd near the wall of the far building and rushed to tackle the sorcerer. Sidonius dodged with surprising speed, leaving the chieftain clutching only voluminous robes. But the Northerner was large and strong. He pulled on the fabric with both hands, drawing the sorcerer close, trying to wrest Cara from him. Khoury couldn’t believe the sorcerer he’d first seen at the tollhouse had the strength to fend off the bear-like chieftain, but he moved as if a mere child clung to his robes.
Khoury scanned the crowd for Archer and found him on top of a nearby wagon. He thought he saw the Huntress’s golden hair in the crowd as well but couldn’t be sure. Archer drew his bow and Sidonius turned, using Cara as a shield. The Northerner was undeterred; his eyes never left the sorcerer. Focused on one thing only, he waited for the impossible shot.
Content that Archer was ready to kill, Khoury drew his swords. The crowd gave before his bared steel. He’d nearly broken through to where Bradan still wrestled with the sorcerer when three men accosted the chieftain. Dressed as citizens, they were unarmed. Two of them grabbed Bradan and hurled him into the crowd. The three then turned on Khoury, grabbing for his swords. Khoury was unwilling to kill any of Wallace’s people until he noticed their milky, sightless eyes. Another sorcery.
Khoury kicked out at the man on his left arm, freeing his sword. Using it to gut one of his attackers, the man fell to the ground without even a grunt of pain. He hamstrung the next one, who also didn’t cry out and continued to claw at him from the ground. Then Bradan rushed in, blood leaking from a bruised cheek and wrapped the last one in a chokehold. Angrier than Khoury had ever seen him, the shaman squeezed until the man’s tongue protruded with purple surrender.
Khoury turned his attention back to Sidonius.
“I’ve seen you before,” the sorcerer hissed at him. “At the Keep. You’re the troublemaker.” He snapped his fingers and a tailed whip made of flames appeared in his hand. He lashed Khoury, catching him off guard.
Fingers of heat slashed at Khoury’s face, just missing his eye. He cried out in surprise, hiding his face behind his arm as another blow fell, searing lines around his forearm.
“Sidonius!” The familiar voice reverberated off the stone buildings, echoing through the raucous crowd and, for a moment, silence reigned. Khoury looked up to find the Huntress, sword drawn, standing in the alley behind the sorcerer. But when Sidonius turned and she caught sight of him, hesitant dread filled her face.
Khoury heard the hopeful twang of Archer’s bow, but the arrow only grazed the side of the sorcerer’s head. Khoury charged.
Feeling the tide turning against him, the sorcerer hurried into the alley where the Huntress waited. With a few words and a wave of his arm, a wall of fire sprang up behind him, engulfing Khoury and those next to him in heat and flame. Screams rent the morning.
Pushing the pain aside, the captain steadied himself to press forward. Then, heavy hands on the back of his shirt yanked him from the inferno and tossed him into the nearest horse trough, dousing the flames and his hopes of getting Cara back.
FALIN HAD HOPED distracting the sorcerer would give Archer the shot he needed, but her plans evaporated when she saw the man’s face. She knew him although they’d never actually met. The rheumy gray eyes, the yellowed teeth, the hooked nose—his was the face of her nightmares. And for one stuttering breath, trapped by remembered fear, she could only stand and stare at him.
When she didn’t attack, the sorcerer hurried to the waiting horse and tossed the unconscious Cara across the saddlebow. But then he paused and turned to study her.
“Have we met?” he asked, his brows drawn close in puzzlement.
Falin ignored his words instead using the shouts from beyond the fire-wall to focus. She hooked a finger in her bolo.
He’s just a man, she reminded herself, as vulnerable as any other. And with a determined toss, she sent the bolo spinning at his head.
With a lazy flick of Sidonius’s hand, a tongue of fire appeared from his finger to cut the cord midair. The stones clattered harmlessly down the alley.
“I should know you,” he observed curiously. He stepped wide to observe her with lips pursed, as if he were considering a wild animal.
Irritated, she drew her blade and charged, but he sidestepped the attack with unnaturally smooth grace.
“You have a stout heart, but I smell your fear,” he said.
She swung again. And again he slid away.
“You should fear me,” he said.
But Falin wasn’t listening. Her only focus was her blade. She swung again, feinting this time and catching a piece of his robe on the redirect with a sharp tearing sound.
He pressed angry lips together. “Enough foolishness,” he snapped, sliding a black staff from beneath the saddle flap. He turned and pressed the cold obsidian tip to her chest before she could retreat.
The sun’s light paled as if behind the clouds. Ice crept across her chest and down her arms making her hand too weak to hold her sword. The blade
clanged to the cobbles. Then bit by bit her muscles clenched tight, trapping her where she stood.
“I will kill you,” she promised through stiffening jaws.
“Such rebellion.” He leaned closer, studying her with narrowed eyes. “Irritatingly so.”
His face relaxed suddenly, and she noted a smile of discovery. “You…” he said as if the world suddenly made sense. “ You were left behind.”
The words burrowed like worms into her mind, turning hidden things topside and loosing painful truths: Orphan. Outsider. Unwanted.
Then he uttered something in a guttural tongue that made her chest ache where the staff still pressed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted black veins running down her arms pulsing with icy pain.
Archer called from across the wall of flame, but she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think beyond the pain that swelled inside her.
“After twenty years,” he said, eyeing her like a found trinket, “the puzzle is finally solved. There were two.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but none of it mattered right now. She had to find a way to break free. As she braced herself against whatever magic he had wrought, the pain ran like rope along her limbs, tying her in knots. And when he ordered her to follow in the way a man might call a dog, her limbs jumped to obey.
Shocked, she locked her joints even tighter, resisting the movement.
He frowned. “I said, come.” He focused his eyes on the staff and the pressure along her limbs increased.
But she remained where she stood with only the sweat on her face to show for the effort. By sheer force of will alone she managed to say, “No.”
Though only a tiny rebellion, it angered him and bright spots of red appeared on his cheeks.
She considered afterward that her rebellion might cost her, but he hadn’t been able to leave with Cara yet. The captain and Archer were certainly on their way and any time she could give them was worth it.
“You will obey me, Daughter.” He grabbed her arm and pulled.
Daughter? She bristled at that, her anger feeding her strength. But between his hand on her arm and the magic pulling at her like puppet strings, she gave ground inch by inch. The more she fought, the more her limbs screamed in agony.
When she thought she could bear it no longer, a tall man in brown robes stepped untouched through the fiery wall.
“Magus,” he hailed. “What trouble is this?” His pleasant voice held a subtle tone of warning.
“Go away,” Sidonius barked with impatience. But when he turned to look at the stranger, he froze with a curious look.
“Sidon?” The stranger’s voice became hushed and far less formal.
“Therus.” Incredulity softened his features for only a moment before he straightened to a haughty stance. “So you finally found the courage to come inland, did you?”
The brown-robed sorcerer’s face paled and hardened as Sidonius harrumphed with disdain.
“It took you long enough. Now, stand back. I’ll be leaving once I’ve collected what’s mine.” Sidonius turned back to Falin.
“Release the girls.” This time, the voice was strident with authority.
Eyes blazing, Sidonius’s turned all his attention to the newcomer. “You think you can stop me? Of all people, you should know better.”
The brown sorcerer squared his shoulders. “This city is under my protection,” he said and traced a pattern in the air. Small trails of light lingered behind like colored smoke. Then, with a flick of his wrist, a heavy gust of air pushed her away from Sidonius and his staff.
When the contact broke, the pain vanished. She crumpled to the ground, dizzy with the sudden release. Her stomach heaved.
“Do not cross me, Xantherus!” Sidonius shouted. The tip of his raised staff glowed blue. “Though I loved you once, you will regret it.”
It was then that Archer, sword drawn and draped in a wet blanket, jumped through the wall of flame. Seeing the two sorcerers in a standoff, he slid to a halt.
“Get the girl,” the brown-robed man said, gesturing to Falin though his eyes never left Sidonius.
Archer sidled to Falin. “You okay?” he whispered.
She nodded weakly as he helped her to her feet.
Then, the man in brown began chanting a lilting kind of tune. A breeze stirred in the alley. Sidonius muttered his own spell and blue flames sprang from his staff. Xantherus mimed a punch and another stronger wall of air flew up the alley. It shoved Sidonius back several feet and snuffed out his staff just as a soaked and sooty Khoury burst into the alley. His shirt was charred and his skin splotched with angry red.
Sidonius retreated to his horse and climbed up behind Cara’s limp body. He spared a glance at Falin. “I’ll be back for you.”
He directed the horse up the alley a dozen feet or so and turned its nose to the wall. Tracing a fiery symbol that lingered like sparks, he cast a handful of stones to the ground. Upon striking the cobbles, they erupted into green flames. Clouds of noxious black smoke stung their eyes and set them all coughing. Falin heard a grinding, the clop of hooves, and then silence.
When she finally could see through the tears, the smoke and flames were gone and Sidonius with them. Archer and Khoury raced to the other end of the alley, swords drawn, but the sorcerer had disappeared.
“No!” Khoury roared with frustration, turning in a circle. “No!”
Anguish was etched in the set of his shoulders and the angry quivering of his hands. He hurled curses like she’d never heard, railing at life, luck, and all the powers that be. Then, with a steadying breath he composed himself and returned to them ensconced in a stony calm.
Bradan joined them when the brown-robed man choked out the remaining flames with a wave of his hand. The chieftain was holding a bloody cloth to his temple. He gave the unfamiliar sorcerer a wide berth and a wary nod.
He came over to Falin. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said, already weary of their concern. “I’m fine.”
Bradan turned his attention to the ground where Sidonius had tossed the stones, poking a curious toe at what debris remained.
“Bah! You’re damn lucky is what you are,” the wind wizard groused, pointing a crooked finger at her. “Lucky I showed up.”
“And just who might you be?” Khoury asked.
Falin felt his anger, reined in just below the surface.
The old man regarded the captain through squinted eyes. “Not sure it’s any of your business,” he griped. Falin could hear the captain’s teeth grinding.
Bradan’s inspection had led him to the wall where he crouched down near the sooty outline of a circle that hadn’t been there before. Falin noticed him tuck something in his shirt as he stood.
“We need a plan, Captain,” Archer said softly.
“Before any of you fools utters another word,” the wind wizard said, “know that your enemy has many ears. The street is not safe. Follow me.” He turned on his heel and set off for the castle at a long-legged pace.
Khoury wiped off his sword and sheathed it with a graceful sweep before following the old man. Falin joined Archer and Bradan as they fell in step behind. The fire in the stables was nearly out, though smoke still puffed from a charred portion of roof. The sorcerer led them past the front palace stairs through a postern gate in the gardens where the air, already warmed by morning sun reflecting off the stone, was thick with the sweet aroma of flowers. Tucked behind a vine-covered trellis was a door set into the side of the castle proper.
As the others slipped through into the darkness beyond, Falin hesitated. The scent of stone chilled her blood. Just as she had gathered enough courage to enter, Bradan’s head popped back out.
“Coming?”
“Yes.” But her momentum was broken. She stared at the darkened doorway.
The chieftain stepped out into the sunshine next to her. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t like castles.” She schooled her face into an unreadable ma
sk.
“Really?” He seemed surprised by her trepidation.
She eyed the fortress like an enemy. “What did you expect? I’ve spent my life in the forest.” It was a lie but believable enough. In truth, Sidonius’s face had brought her nighttime terrors back to life and inside a castle was the last place she wanted to be.
Bradan crossed his arms with a mixture of impatience and skepticism. “You’ll want to hear what this sorcerer has to say,” he said.
He was right, of course. There would be no escaping to the stables this time. She needed to know what was going on, and it seemed the wind wizard had something to tell them. Pushing her weakness aside, she lifted her chin and strode past Bradan through the squat doorway with far more courage than she felt.
The interior was dark, as she’d expected, but really no darker than the forest at night. Even so, the weight of stone around her made her stomach quiver and her palms sweat. Then the pinched passage opened into a larger hallway with lanterns to light the space. There were paintings and tapestries on the walls, carpets on the floor. She laughed at her own foolishness. This place bore no resemblance to the empty gray hallways of her dreams.
That place wasn’t real, she chided herself. The arching beams and stone table existed only in her imagination.
Then how had I recognized Sidonius?
She had no answer.
She and Braden caught up with the rest of the company as they followed the wind wizard to a stairway leading up into the rear tower. He stopped at an ironbound wooden door, uttered something incomprehensible, and drew a symbol on the wood with his finger. A slight breeze wafted across the cramped landing. The door opened. The sorcerer entered first and then beckoned them to join him.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” he said.
Falin let the others go first, then followed them in. The door closed behind of its own accord. To call the room cluttered was an understatement. It was a small room to begin with. A bunk was set against one wall and four small windows opposite it let in the morning light. Papers, bottles, boxes, and trinkets covered the shelves and tables that filled most of the room.
The wizard crossed the bare stone floor to a desk covered with scrolls and tomes as well as a flask and three cups.
Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1) Page 30
