“On the other side of the forest, an old farmhouse,” said the only woman of the group. She was in her early twenties, and pulled a wrap from her wavy blonde hair.
“Who’s that?” said the other two together, staring at Kora.
“Slow down,” pleaded Laskenay. “Menikas, you found the base?”
“About three miles from the woods. Northwest. There aren’t many men there, but they’re from the elite guard. I’m sure they are.”
Lanokas said, “They’re elites, trust me. Wilhem was right. This is big.”
“Who’s the newcomer?” asked the woman. Her large gray eyes bore into Kora. “And where’s Bennie?”
Laskenay said, “She’s moving Kora’s family to a safehouse: not alone, though, that’s against protocol. She’s with Kora’s friend Sedder. Kora plans to join our ranks, unless she changes her mind. I think Sedder may as well.”
The woman who had just walked in looked close to scoffing. She narrowed her eyes. “Why does her family need a safehouse?”
“That’s for Kora to say,” said Lanokas, and took the brunt of the woman’s glare.
“Who is she, how do we know she’s not a plant?”
Menikas’s voice crackled with impatience. “Zalski thinks we’re at the capital. If he wanted to plant a spy, he’d do it there. We’re not children, any of us. We don’t trust people without reason, Laskenay especially.”
The woman was not convinced. “Of course you defend Laskenay. She’ll give you the full explanation, you know she will. We all have the right to know what’s going on!”
“If you needed to know, you’d know,” Laskenay told her. The finality in her tone prevented a retort. “Kora, I should introduce you. This is Menikas,” Menikas shook her hand, his grasp firm, “Kansten,” the blonde-haired woman nodded coldly, “Neslan,” one of the other men, the only one with a beard (though it was not much) smiled, “and Ranler.” The last stranger smiled as well, but not as warmly. He and Neslan both looked about as old as Lanokas. Ranler had a shaved head, but Kora thought it suited him; it sharpened his features.
“Welcome,” said Neslan. Kora had never seen a person who looked so different when he smiled. His face looked thin, but filled out when his mouth stretched and his eyes shone. He had enough hair to make up for Ranler’s lack of it, voluminous and chocolate brown.
Menikas said, “Take a seat. We need to discuss this base.” The others gathered by the fire with decent speed, though nothing approaching military. Every eye was on their chief, who scrutinized Kora before he began despite his display of support for Laskenay and her judgment. Intimidating, Lanokas called him. Intimidating did not cover it.
“From what we saw, there are three guards present at a time, maybe four. The rest are away searching, especially at the start of the day. They switched out at ten and twelve, and have no idea that we know where they’re stationed. We can take their headquarters, no doubt of it. That should tell us what Zalski’s up to.”
“We’ll do it tomorrow,” said Lanokas. “Our group was seen. We have enough people to defend ourselves for the night, but beyond that….”
Neslan groaned. “We’ll have to leave Hogarane.”
“We’ll head to Yangerton,” said Laskenay. “Back to Yangerton. It’s as far as we can go on a day’s ride. We should leave in two groups; we won’t need everyone to attack the base. What do you think, Menikas?”
“Smaller groups, less attention, that’s what I think. I’ll go after the guards with Lanokas, Ranler, and Kansten.”
“We should take Kora,” said Lanokas. Laskenay agreed.
“She’ll be more of an asset than you think.”
Her crimson shell. Despite the fire three feet away, Kora found herself shivering. “You want me to take part in…?”
“Kansten can ride to Yangerton with my party,” said Laskenay. Kansten’s heart-shaped face turned red.
“You’re letting this, this stranger go to the base? Instead of me?”
“I am,” said Laskenay.
Menikas’s lips grew thin. “You realize how absurd this suggestion is?” said the chief.
“It must seem odd,” Laskenay conceded. “I have my reasons.”
“So tell us what they are!” Kansten cried. Against his better judgment, perhaps, Menikas defended Laskenay once more. Kansten said nothing else about the subject. In fact, she sat in silence while the others joked and ate of cornmeal and potatoes from the food stores. Kora kept just as quiet, as she had never felt so awkward in her life. She tried to forget what bonded these people and what awaited her the next morning; she listened to their chatter, glad of human company but longing for Sedder to get back. He and Bendelof returned after the meal.
“They’re safe,” Sedder told Kora, pulling off his wig. He and Bendelof (also wigless) took seats next to her and portions of cornmeal. Kansten, too hungry to put off lunch any longer, cooked a potato. When Menikas stared with exasperation at yet another stranger infiltrating his ranks, Laskenay pulled him away from the rest of the League. Sedder said, “Interesting fellow, isn’t he?”
“He’s in charge,” said Kora.
“He’s not a bad sort,” Bendelof assured them. “He’s just intense. Don’t know if he always was, but since I’ve known him he’s been that way.”
“He wants to know what’s going on,” said Kora. “Sedder, my Mom….”
“She sent her blessing: that the Giver shower you with everything you need. That you never forget a mother’s love, and take it in account in all you do.”
“That’s just as much a guilt trip as a blessing.”
“I told her you were joining the Crimson League,” he admitted. “She needed some explanation for why you aren’t with her. I couldn’t let her imagination run wild. She’d think you were dead.”
“And Zacry?”
“He swore not to do anything to worry her. He called you a twit and said to punch Zalski for him if you see him.”
Kora’s blood ran cold. “Like I’ll ever meet Zalski.”
Bendelof said, “Your family’s lovely, they really are. I’m glad I got to meet them. It’s good they know the Zaygros, isn’t it? They’ll feel less uncomfortable that way, tucked inside.”
Eventually, night fell outside the cave. The fire burnt to embers, but Neslan and Ranler still stacked eight or ten decent-sized stones in the entrance to block the glow. Laskenay placed candles in a circle around the red-hot ash. “It’s time for the induction,” she announced. She looked at Sedder. “Kora’s asked to join. We could use your aid as well, if you’re willing to give it. If not, we can part ways in the morning. I can’t let you leave before then.”
Kora braced herself for Sedder’s response, trying to convince herself she was not to blame for his decision, that his reasons to stay or leave were his own business. He left her no choice but to fail dismally when he replied, “If Kora’s in, so am I.”
“Stand in the circle, both of you.”
Kora and Sedder did as Laskenay instructed. Shadows flickered on the faces of those near the candles, wavering in the glow, making them seem almost like hallucinations. Kora tried not to look at them but at Laskenay, who stood apart, cloaked in semi-darkness. Her voice echoed in the stillness.
“Do you swear allegiance to the Crimson League?”
The inductees said, “I do.”
“Do you agree to follow orders given by its leaders?”
“I do.”
“To fight to restore the royal family?”
Kora had to wonder how distant a cousin of the dead king the League wanted to restore, but along with Sedder, she said, “I do.”
“To kill only to defend yourselves, a League member, or an innocent?”
“I do.”
“Do you swear to protect our locations, our identities, and our objectives with your lives?”
“I do.”
“Do you understand that with betrayal of the League, your life is forfeit?”
“I do.”
“Do you hold your word to be your honor?”
“I do.”
“Then step from the circle and join your brothers.”
Kora felt rooted in place by Kansten’s skeptical glare, by Menikas’s searching eyes. “They don’t look at Sedder that way,” she thought. “They don’t doubt him,” and stepped through a gap in the candle ring. Sedder followed. Laskenay shook their hands warmly, while the other Leaguesmen followed suit, even Kansten, who muttered, “It’s good to have some help.” Her words failed to mitigate the distinct impression that she wished Kora miles away.
* * *
The cave, it turned out, had more than just a second chamber off to the left. There were five in addition to the main one, each sloping down as the caverns progressed inward and underground. When time came to sleep the women went off to a chamber in the back, the men to one closer to the mouth. There were blankets to spare, even some extra pillows, so that Kora lay down just as comfortable as anyone else: meaning the uneven floor dug into her back, making her toss continually, like Kansten and Bendelof.
It took Kora hours to fall asleep. When she finally dozed off she dreamed she sat in a dungeon, her wrists shackled to the wall. The lieutenant who had whipped Sedder that morning walked up to her, his lips curled.
“Are you ready to speak?”
Kora’s voice was only a gargle, so she resorted to shaking her head as definitively as she could.
“I thought you might need some persuasion,” said the lieutenant. He looked over his shoulder and signaled someone to come forward. A masked stranger, also in uniform, stepped from the shadows, dragging Zacry with him, his sword against the boy’s throat. The lieutenant spoke triumphantly. “How’s this for incentive?”
Kora pulled against her shackles. Zacry’s terror-stricken eyes bore into his sister’s.
“Tell what you know about the Crimson League or he dies. You have to the count of three.”
“I’ll talk!” she screamed. “I’ll talk.”
The lieutenant nodded grimly. “Kill him anyway,” he directed.
Kora woke in a cold sweat as Zacry’s blood pooled at her feet. The ground was so hard, she thought for a moment she actually was in a dungeon. Then her panic subsided, her memory came back to her, and she knew she would sleep no more that night. She crept from the chamber and toward the front of the cave. Right away she saw a beam of moonlight, a single thin beam, and knew that someone had removed the top stones that blocked the entrance.
That someone was Lanokas, sitting near the ash pile. He stared into the night, or early morning now, a blanket wrapped about him to fend off autumn’s chill. A few feet away stood the pitcher he had gone to fill from the nearest well after dinner. He waved his hand at it with two swift, steady motions. It rose into the air and flew toward him.
“You’re telekinetic,” Kora whispered.
Lanokas jumped, glancing over his shoulder. He nearly spilled the water. “You’re awake,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I just…. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You had a long day.” Lanokas motioned for her to take a seat beside him, near the remnants of the fire. Kora settled herself to the ground while he waved two glasses over from the wall and filled one for her. He offered the blanket as well, but Kora felt feverish, her heart racing as though she had run the distance between the cave and home. Home…. She mustn’t think of that. She used her bandana to wipe her moist forehead.
“Are you a sorcerer?” she asked.
“Not even close. A true sorcerer, who can use incantations…. They’re rare these days. Magic degraded through the centuries.”
“I’d heard that before,” said Kora. “But I’ve never met anyone with powers, powers of any kind.”
“I’m telekinetic, nothing more. It takes just as much energy for me to move something by magic as by hand. I couldn’t send a four hundred pound boulder hurtling through the air, for instance, like Zalski could do with a chant, but arrows, spears, rocks…. It’s been useful, my ability. Saved my life on multiple occasions.”
Kora latched on the topic of magic with gusto, to distract herself. “How could Zalski move something that large? Don’t incantations take energy?”
“Energy of a kind. A sorcerer is a sorcerer because he has a separate energy source, called Lin. If you’re not born with Lin you’ll never have it, and if you are it’s weak, at least at first. It builds through use, almost like you develop stamina when you run habitually. Stamina’s the best analogy I can think of. Lin isn’t physical like blood or muscle, you see. It’s more a condition of the body. The stronger your Lin, the more powerful a spell’s effect will be. You could say a sorcerer’s magic, theoretically, knows no limit, since from what we’ve found there’s nothing to drain or block the use of Lin.”
“You’ve done your research.”
“Neslan’s done his research, actually. He thought it wise.”
“How does Lin grow, then? By using it? Stretching it, in a way? People stretch their muscles when they run.”
“We’re not sure. When magic was used openly it seemed like the fastest growth came in sleep, the next sleep after casting, but it’s not something anyone could prove. You can bet Zalski’s using magic whenever he can, though, which means that each day, his power grows.”
“What about my case?” asked Kora. “I never did magic before today, and I know I’m not a sorceress. I don’t have the mark. Where did that, that shell-thing come from?”
“You’re a bit of a mystery,” Lanokas admitted. “I don’t know where your power lies, maybe with that ruby.”
Kora looked at him. Lanokas stared back expectantly, waiting for her to speak. She asked the question before she could stop herself, because the greater part of her balked at the idea of voicing it.
“Do you think I’m the Marked One?”
“I’ve no clue if you are or not,” he said. “What I know is you’re capable of great good. You’ve given Laskenay hope—she hadn’t smiled in weeks before she met you—and her good spirits will trickle down to the rest of us. Maybe that alone makes you the Marked One, Kora. Maybe that’s the extent of what it means.”
Kora took a sip of water, then stared at her glass. “This time yesterday I was sleeping. In my bed. No one wanted to kill me, or depended on me to fulfill some ancient legend, and an absurd one at that. Lanokas, I have no idea what’s happened to me.”
“And you’re coping. Whatever lies ahead, you’re prepared. Listen, when that arrow was flying, you knew precisely what to do.”
“I threw up my arms to block it. It was a stupid move. It shouldn’t have blocked anything.”
“You knew precisely what to do,” Lanokas repeated, “to protect not only yourself, but Sedder with you. Who knows what other powers you have hidden?”
“I don’t want powers. I want the life I had yesterday! As awful as it was, it was better than this.”
“It’s always a trial to learn you can do magic. Our world’s hostile to those with powers, quite unjustly, and you don’t need me to tell you how little Zalski’s done to improve the situation. I discovered my power at age three. It didn’t shock my parents, as Menikas had shown the same ability years before, but they were quick to act, quick to teach me not only to control it, but to stifle it. I always wondered how many people were hiding magic just like mine. What if we were all the same, concealing who we truly were for no reason at all?
“Like it or not, your power’s a part of you now. I don’t imagine it’ll dissipate, and the fact is, you won’t protect yourself as you need to—you won’t find peace, even when safe—until you’re able to accept your talent.”
“Why are you awake?” she asked.
“Can I ask you a question first?” said Lanokas. “A personal one? When you spoke about your family I noticed you mentioned no father.”
“He died,” said Kora. “Six months ago. He was a carpenter. He took some pieces to the market one day and left there late, and was robbed on his wa
y back home, killed by some band of thugs who must have lost everything when Zalski came to power. That road, the stretch right outside the wood, it was always safe before.”
Lanokas let out a dull whistle. “That’s one effect of Zalski’s rule you don’t usually think about. Unless,” he qualified himself, “unless you’re living it.”
“I don’t know who killed him, but it was clear why they did it from the first, and I blamed Zalski. I blamed him just as much as the men who stabbed my father. Maybe more. I mean, it’s hard to loathe someone without a name or a face.” She paused. “Your turn to answer.”
“About what I’m doing up? I couldn’t sleep either, so I thought I’d take guard duty from Neslan and stare outside. Pointless really, it’s too dark to see much of anything, but I tend to spend guard duty thinking. I don’t need a view for that.”
“Thinking?” said Kora. “What about?” Lanokas launched into a feeble protest. She insisted, “I was honest with you.”
“And open.” Lanokas sighed. “What do I think about, is that the question?” Kora said it was. “Generally, it’s the fiancée I deserted when this hell broke out. I had to. I’d proposed a week before, and she’d accepted but hadn’t told anyone. Neither had I. We had our reasons, and you’ll have to excuse my going into them.”
“Of course. I’m not meaning to pry.”
“I never thought you were. So, where was I?” He paused for a second. “The engagement, right. Brianna. I hail from Podrar, so when Zalski stole the throne, I was one of those who tried to stop him right away. Obviously, that didn’t end so well. I avoided capture, but I knew he’d have men looking for me, so the capital wasn’t safe. A legal marriage was impossible. I was able to send a letter to Brianna, one letter, by way of Neslan after the coup. We grew up together, he and I.”
Lanokas pulled a rolled-up stretch of parchment from his pocket. “Brianna sent this back with him. She said she’d wait what she had to wait. That’s all I’ve heard of her for two years. I don’t have time to think of her by day.”
“So you do it at night.”
The Crimson League (The Herezoth Trilogy) Page 5
