What failure was he talking about?
He gestured impatiently for her to go up. “I had no idea all those years ago that I’d be hindering myself. But after seeing her, it was for the best. I’d have killed you both long before fruition had it been otherwise.”
He was making no sense, but her curiosity was roused. Who had he seen? She knew how to get answers except the hungry darkness around him gave her the cold shivers. She didn’t want to get any closer. All she needed was a speck of courage, the courage to look into him the way she did with the captain. Chained as she was, the stairs demanded all her attention for the moment, and she let him talk.
“I’m certain your soldier will bring her right to me,” he continued. “And then…then I will be unstoppable. I will be free.”
Wasn’t he free already? Free to leave? She’d reached the top and turned to him, using curiosity to light a spark.
Sometimes courage only requires a quick step off the cliff, she told herself and moved before she could reconsider.
“Let them go,” she said in a pleading tone. She knew he wouldn’t listen but it was a good excuse to put her hand on his arm.
She braced herself for his mind, diving in deep and fast. As icy and shocking as falling into the river at Bear Clan, she felt tainted and queasy as she looked for any memory related to the failures he mentioned. Unlike Khoury or Archer, the sorcerer’s visions didn’t feel like dreams. They felt like the void she’d fought him in after the giant attack.
One other thing was very clear. The wrongness she’d always felt around him wasn’t a wound; it was a being. A dark entity had taken up residence and was growing inside the sorcerer. Not in his body but in his energy, in his soul. How had she not noticed it before?
Had it grown? He’d obviously done the ritual since she’d left or he would have no power at all. Why hadn’t it kept the creature in check?
He needs me, she thought. He chased me all the way to Iolair and even came to get me himself.
There was no denying that she had something the other sacrifices didn’t. How many seers had told her on this journey that she had power. She was magic. And only now she realized what a rare and precious gift it was.
Her magic had healed the sorcerer and had kept the creature at bay. Without her, the darkness grew in power, strengthening its hold over Sidonius. How much of what she sensed was the entity and how much was the man, she couldn’t be sure.
She scanned his memories and found the one she wanted. Sidonius had been very young, reckless, arrogant. He tried a spell against his teacher’s wishes. Urchek had forbidden it but then again Urchek hadn’t understood the pleasure of power. The Magus had tried a counterspell only to have the creature tear him apart and cast him into an otherworldly darkness. Then the dark entity had sliced a hole in Sidonius and crawled inside.
A sharp slap startled her back to reality, making her eyes water.
“Get out of my head!” Sidonius roared and then he struck her again, sending her tumbling backward into the cell. His eyes were wild.
“I see you’ve learned a new trick, but it won’t save you. Or the others.” She sensed, rather than saw, the dark shape closing over the sorcerer’s head like a cowl. It wanted her but bided its time. “You’re lucky I still need you alive.”
When he closed the door, she heard the lock click. His footsteps faded into the distance, and the familiar weighty silence descended. She crawled to the door and leaned her head against it as a tear rolled down her cheek in the dark. She was lonelier than she’d ever been. Gar was gone. The only sound was the beat of her heart. As she absently listened to its rhythm, she was reminded of Bradan’s hut that night, of Ealea’s drumming.
The kind gray-haired woman had been one of many souls lost in Cara’s selfish bid for freedom. More hot tears flowed, and Cara didn’t try to stop them. Her heart ached for company but her loneliness seemed an appropriate penance for risking so many. Despondent and weary, her mind followed the thumping of her heart, and she felt a familiar dizziness. Only half-aware of what she was doing, her mind reached out along unseen threads looking for a friend. She poured her yearning out into the void, but only emptiness returned.
Her isolation was complete, so she slept not knowing what else to do and dreamed of warm fur and black eyes.
HORSES AND WARRIORS clogged the stable yard though the crowd parted easily for the captain. Archer was heartened by the sight of so many familiar faces, as much a homecoming for him as returning to the Clan.
“There’s Archer-boy,” Roger Ellis hooted, cuffing Archer on the side of the head and swinging him into a headlock. Archer dropped his pack and swept the other mercenary’s feet, dumping him on his backside.
“Save it for the battle, boys,” Vi said, skirting the horseplay with exasperation. She signaled to two squires who brought the four horses from Rebeka’s cohorts, already tacked up. “All’s ready here, Captain. Was the armor what you needed?”
“Indeed,” Khoury said, nodding at Falin who was swinging a leg over her gelding.
Vi turned to see her handiwork and Ellis did the same. She nodded with a satisfied smile. “Looks good.”
“I’ll say,” Ellis added with an appreciative whistle.
“Stow it,” Khoury reprimanded. “She’s a warrior, like Vi.” Then he turned on his heel and weaved through the crowd to the wagons that occupied the center of the yard.
“Testy,” Ellis grumbled.
Archer opened his mouth to apologize for the captain’s behavior but Falin’s words came back to him. And instead he said, “That’s the Huntress who’s working this job with us. Show some respect.”
“The captain took on a Huntress?” Vi asked in confusion.
Ellis said, “she doesn’t really look like one.”
Archer glanced at Falin again. Though the brigantine was a perfect fit, between the blonde hair and the armor, Ellis was right—she didn’t look the part anymore. She looked, in her own words, motherless.
What had they done to her? he thought sourly. Taking reins of his horse from the squire, Archer followed the captain.
Khoury climbed on the back of a wagon and surveyed the corps. Twenty Elite Guardsmen, forty regulars, and twenty-two mercenaries gathered in the yard. Extra mounts, a catapult, and two small ballistae waited near the road leading back to the square. When the captain lifted his hands for quiet, the mercenaries cheered instead.
“Where ya been, Captain?” someone shouted from the throng.
“I had a bit of an adventure in the North,” he answered to which the men responded with lewd conjecture.
Archer studied Khoury’s good-natured façade, searching for the cracks. Cara’s capture had hit him hard, and though Archer was eager to tackle the sorcerer, he wondered if the captain’s cunning would suffer from the loss.
Khoury shook his head at the men with a forced smile. “Not that kind unfortunately,” he called back. The men finally quieted.
“Many of you know me,” the captain said, “and most, if not all, know of me. A borderless man, I hold no allegiances except by my own choice and those, subject to change for enough gold.” Laughter swept the crowd even as Khoury’s mouth twisted with disgust at his own words.
“But today, we are not here for any one lord’s cause. No, this is far beyond that. Our very way of life is threatened—by one very powerful man. More than twenty years ago, the Far Isles Academy tried one of their own for dark magic, magic that even they considered immoral. They tried this Magus and found him guilty. And then Sidonius of the Far Isles, convicted criminal, was exiled. He came here.” An angry murmur hummed through the crowd.
“For twenty years, he has lurked in the cold emptiness of the tundra. Twenty years, he has nursed his hate. His web of spies reaches from the Northlands to Iolair and beyond, and he has gathered magic so formidable, the Baron’s Islander will not join us.
“I won’t lie to you,” the captain continued. “I’ve never met a more dangerous foe. Many will die. Mayb
e all. Even now, he gathers power from the deaths of innocents, slaughtering us like cattle for his pleasure. He steals the will of good men, making them do his bidding without question.
“I’ve seen these broken men. They are puppets, and I pity their fate. We cannot save them, but we can stop this Islander. I’m no crusader. You all know I’m not a saint. But some evils cannot be tolerated.”
The crowd rumbled in agreement.
“Will you ride with me and finish what the Academy could not? We must put down this rogue, this abomination of avarice and power before he becomes unstoppable. Are you with me?” the captain shouted, lifting his sword above his head and a roar went up from the men. Bridles jingled as horses pranced nervously.
“Onward to the North!” Khoury cried. He jumped down from the wagon and swung up on his horse. Men mounted up, and the sounds of armor and hooves filled the yard.
Falin and Bradan pressed their mounts close to Archer as the throng took on a life of its own and followed Khoury down the road. They cantered out of Iolair, heading east.
The company traveled for two days, east along the dwindling mountain range. They skirted the open plains of Tarantis. The mountains gradually turned into rolling hills, which in turn led to sparsely forested countryside. Then they turned north at a well-marked crossroads. In all that time, there was no sign of resistance or magic. And Archer was pleased to see their numbers swell to almost two hundred warriors as word of Khoury’s quest spread.
With so many Swords, tempers frequently ran hot and Archer knew only too well how easily sparked Falin could be. He worried the men would vex her to the point of murder but something had changed in her. It might have been Vi’s influence for the two women had become fast friends. But he sensed a brooding. Maybe she felt shame that Cara was taken on her watch or fatigue now that her dreams were troubled by the Black Keep and its master. Regardless, she kept her temper and her counsel to herself. There were a few scuffles but she held her own and claimed respect like any greenie. She pulled her weight and asked no quarter. Eventually even the old-timers grudgingly accepted her.
Archer noticed that Khoury watched her, too. The captain had commented the other night that he planned to assign her to the rearguard with Ellis. But Archer knew the Huntress would want no part of that. Either way, he suspected she was becoming as much a distraction as Cara had been.
As darkness closed in, they came to an old tollhouse that Archer recognized. A chill brushed his shoulders. Here they had been handed over to Sidonius. A crude barrier had been erected across the road but otherwise it looked exactly the same. Khoury called a halt and dismounted. Archer swung a leg over and followed the captain, drawing his sword as he went.
FALIN WATCHED CAREFULLY as Khoury and Archer approached the deserted building with weapons drawn. She scanned the deepening gloom, not liking the feel of the place. No light in the window. No horses in the paddock. No smoke from the chimney. Pulling her sword, she laid it across the pommel. Even her normally placid gelding fidgeted.
The moment Khoury knocked on the door, the ambush was sprung. The door flew open and a man stepped out, spearing Khoury in the side. Archer chopped at the man, nearly severing his arm with the great two-handed sword. Chaos broke over the corps as men jumped out at them from all sides, yelling wildly. The horses reared, prancing in surprise.
Struggling to keep her gelding from bolting, Falin realized she’d be better off fighting on foot. She swung her leg over its and slid to the ground, running for the tollhouse where Khoury and Archer had disappeared. Above the clank of steel upon steel, Falin heard a fluttering noise. Looking up she saw a flock of pigeons.
“Birds!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Khoury!” She jammed her sword point into the damp earth and unslung her bow. The captain burst out of the door just as she loosed her arrow.
Looking up at the fluttering wings, he yelled, “Archer, I need you!” He turned to the others. “Shoot them. If one gets away….”
She was reaching for her second arrow when Archer emerged. He sheathed his sword, drew his bow and felled two with one shot. The alarm passed down the line of warriors. Men with bows pulled toward the center of the company and began firing into the flock of birds. The other warriors closed ranks and continued to skirmish with their attackers on foot.
‘I’m going to find out where they’re coming from,” Khoury said, racing back into the building.
Falin kept firing arrows at the disappearing shapes in the dying light. The birds seemed to keep coming and all of them were headed north. By now, she was sure one of them had already escaped their range and was on its way.
“It’s no use,” she said as she shot another and Archer felled two more.
Archer stared at her for a heartbeat, his brow furrowed. “Don’t think,” he said. “Just shoot.”
Chastised, anger welled up inside her. She yanked another arrow from her quiver, set it, pulled, and released. She killed without thought or reason, one after another after another. She barely noticed when Bradan rode up to guard them as they concentrated on clearing the skies.
Khoury emerged from the tollhouse, his face grim. “There were six cages inside. They’re all empty now.” He peered into the gathering gloom. A few dark specks were fading out of range and she heard him curse.
The combat had broken down into a chaotic melee as the Elite Guardsmen dismounted and attacked on foot. Khoury’s small army easily outnumbered Sidonius’s lackeys. Soon, all of the attackers were dead and over forty birds littered the road. Falin dropped her weary arm, discouraged and gulping for breath. Archer’s face was grim, and Khoury looked into the northern sky one last time and sighed. “So much for surprise,” he muttered.
“Probably wouldn’t have been much of an advantage,” Archer said.
“Still it would have been nice.”
KHOURY TOURED THE camp as the last light of day faded. They’d lost two Swords in the ambush; eight had been wounded including Khoury, though none seriously. A search of the dilapidated roadhouse had found no more surprises, but Khoury marched the contingent farther east into the woods to camp on a protected hillock. The tents were erected within half an hour. Falin and two other scouts came back with deer and Bradan had ordered all of the pigeons collected, cleaned and cooked as well.
Now mercenaries and Guardsmen drank, ate, and gambled together amicably. Khoury was pleased with how the baron’s men and his own Swords were meshing into a single fighting unit. Extra guards had been set around the camp, and Khoury felt fairly certain that they were safe, at least for the night. He was bone tired and ready to sleep.
He wasn’t as upset about the birds as the others thought. He realized they probably wouldn’t have had the advantage of surprise anyway. His straightforward attack would have been easy to predict. But time was not on his side. He had no idea when Sidonius planned to kill Cara.
Perhaps he already has.
Khoury pushed that thought from his mind as he finished his last turn about the camp. Archer was gambling away money he’d won betting on Falin’s sparring matches. Vi was out-drinking some of Wallace’s regulars. All was well.
He headed to his tent, hungry, tired and with an ache in his side. He passed Bradan’s tent where other injured men were being tended but it was crowded and Khoury didn’t feel like talking. He moved his left arm in a circle, testing it and decided he could clean the wound himself. It hurt but didn’t feel that serious.
He sat down outside his tent where a small fire blazed within a circle of stones. He should have been pleased with their victory, however incomplete, but instead he felt empty. Even now, doing something he knew was right for the first time in years, discontent followed on the heels of success like a faithful hound. He was weary of fighting.
That thought brought an image of tangled white hair on linen and ice-blue eyes in the morning light. He’d never say it aloud, but he missed her. Pull of magical blood or not, she had worked her way into his life. Sadness seeped into the silence of
his solitary camp.
A soft footfall alerted him just before Falin appeared from the dark. She’d already changed from the cuirass to her Huntress leathers and must have been tending the horses. Stray wisps of hay stuck to her clothes and hair. In her hands were two shanks of roasted meat, and she sat down, uninvited, and offered him one. His stomach rumbled.
“Thanks,” he said.
She only nodded and ate in silence. The Huntress’s quiet presence kept the sadness at bay for which he was grateful though he wondered what had prompted her to seek him out. He had just finished eating when she spoke.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Xantherus,” she said, measuring her words. “I can’t help but feel he’s—”
“The enemy?” Khoury supplied, sensing a kinship of suspicion.
“Well, not to be wholly trusted,” she corrected.
It was splitting hairs but Khoury understood her point. “I think you’re right,” he said.
Falin remained silent for a long moment, searching for the right words. “When I was younger, Sorchia gave me a rule for fighting magic. I thought it strange at the time, but it might be important.”
“And the rule is?” Khoury prompted.
“Simple really: Still the hands, silence the tongue.”
Khoury considered those six words carefully as Falin continued.
“You’re right that a knife to the heart will kill him. But Sorchia said the real trick was getting past the magic. She said most spells have two components, movement and sound.”
“Instead of going straight for the heart,” the captain murmured, “we’d be wiser to…”
“…stop the spell first, yes.”
“I’ve seen him use flame without speaking.”
Falin’s mouth twisted with frustration. “His skill is unprecedented, but…I just thought it might be good to keep in mind. Tomorrow.” She shrugged, but he could see her mind still hard at work.
Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1) Page 34
