At long, long last, the poison and black magic faded within his blood, eaten away by his power, and her heart began to beat strong and steady in her chest. He watched her, barely daring to breathe as he stared down at his little duchess, blood of his blood. Her color began to return, and he could now hear her breathe. She slept against his form, still not moving much but resting in his arms. He sighed, gave a low moan of gratitude and leaned his large, dark head against hers, closing his blue eyes.
He slept.
By the time he woke, Keturah was sitting up in his lap and shaking him, occasionally patting his cheek, then shaking him again. The room was still warm with the fire, more logs having been added. Jacob was asleep in Alvaro’s chair—which was large enough to serve as a full bed for the child. Keturah sat in front of where the monster slouched before the fire. Her color had returned, and her blue-green eyes were dark and lucid once more, focusing on him.
He looked to her hand and saw that there were scars on her palm and racing up her forearm, following the veins under the skin where the poison had burned the veins all the way through her flesh. If it bothered her, she said nothing of it, and the wounds were completely healed until they faded into the curve of her jaw bone and cheeks. Her hair had not changed, either. White-silver hair framed her face, and around it, her rich, black hair floated down her back and shoulders.
“Ke…turah…” he whispered hoarsely, watching her and smiling faintly with his monstrous maw.
She just watched him, unsmiling. “Where is Alvaro?” she demanded severely. “He is not here and has not returned. Where is he?”
“How…how long has it been since I fell asleep?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I only just woke up.” She turned her head and called to the boy. “Jacob!” The tiny creature stirred slowly. “Jacob! Wake up, boy!”
“Mother…?” he murmured sleepily.
She watched him quietly stir and asked, “How long as the sorcerer been asleep?”
Jacob sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Um…I dunno…since last night…” Keturah looked to the sky, finding the sun beginning to set beneath the horizon.
Almost a day. She looked back to the sorcerer once more. “And how long has he been gone?”
He groaned and rubbed his face, sighing heavily, feeling sick. “Two days before…so…about three days now…”
Keturah swore, standing up, but Jacob pushed himself out of his chair and ran to her, hugging her legs fiercely. She looked down at him and smiled softly, rubbing his back and smoothing down his hair sweetly, but her eyes were hard and focused when she looked back to the sky. “I must go find him,” said she and knelt down, prying Jacob off of her. She kissed his brow and said, “I know you are frightened, my love,” in a low, sweet tone, “but Alvaro needs my help. I will return again, and we will finally be safe from all harm. Will you be brave for me?”
Jacob looked up at her with tears. “I don’t want you to go, mother,” he whined and tried to hug her, to bury his face against her, but Keturah held him back until the boy started sobbing and crying. He had been through quite an ordeal, but Keturah could not let her friend die. “Beast,” she said, looking to me, “are you of any help?”
He showed his teeth at her in something of a grimacing smile. “Not much. I can guard the boy, but I will be useless for a while.”
She merely gave a single nod, standing and ignoring Jacob when he clung to her legs. “He went after Alexzander, didn’t he?” The Beast nodded, and she swore again before prying Jacob off of her and handing him to the dark one. Jacob started screaming, trying to get away, but the Beast held him close while she knelt down and kissed his brow. “I love you,” she whispered and then stood and left the room.
Keturah returned to her bedroom, barking orders at Alvaro’s magic. “I know you are weak,” she said. “So he is injured but alive. I need your help. Obey me.” She felt the magic pool around her, what little there was. It drew itself in from the rest of the house and gathered near to her. “I need clothes. Black. Tight. I need black boots with soft soles. I also need weapons.”
The magic could not spend energy on opening the doors, so Keturah forced them open herself, going to her bedroom in the fading light of twilight. “Give me two long daggers, one for each thigh, two short ones for my boots. I need poisoned darts to go in my gauntlets, a stiletto for my hair. I also need wire twenty six inches long with a wooden handle at each end. Make sure the blades are poison-laced. I don’t have the strength for deep blows. They need to kill.”
With time, the things appeared. Keturah slid into the fitted, black pants and tunic, as well as black leather gauntlets for her forearms and cuisses for her thighs; she pulled on a leather vest and laced it up. With the stiletto, she wrapped her hair up tight and pinned it in place. “I also need gold. I’m going to have to bribe a hell of a number of people for this.” A black bag appeared, holding fifty pieces of gold, and Keturah gave a low whistle before tying it together and attaching it to her belt. The gold would make noise, but she didn’t need it the whole time.
Outside, the Dark Sorcerer’s horses and carriage were waiting, unhappy but unharmed. They had been grazing enough to eat and drank water from the fountains, but they would have preferred not being attached to the cart. Keturah released them both and grabbed what looked to be the fresher and faster of the two. She patted him and murmured softly, letting him get used to her, and then she mounted bare-backed and urged the horse into a swift pace.
Unlike Alvaro’s stone horse, Keturah’s would tire and could not be pushed too hard. She had to stop for the night in a busy village where no one would notice her comings and goings. She had the horse rested and fed and was up before sunrise to leave again. She went around Ansliegan, avoiding main roads and using the white to cover the black in her hair. It was enough to escape detection. Then again, she was fairly certain that everyone thought she was dead. When Alexzander wanted to kill someone, they did not live.
Past Ansliegan was another little town, small and quaint, like her own Kaldir. She waited until the sun sank a little lower, turning the sky a molten red and gold. As the sky darkened, the townspeople began to pack up their wares, moving slowly and steadily inside. The tavern lit up with the warm glow of lanterns and those who fed from its warmth dined and laughed. She waited as those people either stumbled out drunk or up into the inn for rest, and the tavern faded to a low, quiet dim.
Then, and only then, she moved to the inn, tying up her horse and heading inside. The place was old and worn, but she could tell that it was well kept. It was clean and patched in places, and it smelled of hot meat and rich spices. “Good even’in’,” greeted a burly inn keeper as he stacked chairs so that a young woman could sweep up the tavern floor. The man sighed a tired sigh, took a look at Keturah, and put his hands on his hips. “Are you by yourself, girl? You shouldn’t travel alone.” He left the chairs and headed towards her.
“I am fine,” she said simply, inclining her head. “I have a friend who will be joining me later tonight.”
He raised a brow. “Look here, miss. I don’t have much a mind for any unsavory matters in my place o’ business.” He frowned at her.
Keturah blushed a bit and shook her head. Such a thing wouldn’t have bothered her except that he was talking about Alvaro. She smiled a bit. “No, sir. My companion is my intended, not my client.”
He studied her for a long moment and then nodded his head. “One room then?”
She glanced to the girl minding her own as she cleaned and then to the inn keeper once more. “Actually, I’m in need of different accommodations…and I am willing to pay for them.”
He frowned, not liking the idea, but Keturah was a small creature, her cloak thankfully hiding her arsenal, and he was inclined to listen to her. “Alright…come this way.” He led her back behind the bar and into the kitchen.
She looked around and found it empty before looking to the man. “Are you familiar with the Golden Dragon?”
The man hissed out a breath between his teeth and made a sour face. “I don’t want nothin’ o’ his here. Ye take his business elsewhere, girl.”
She shook her head. “I believe he is dead, or else my intended would not be alive.” The man paused, his eyes going wide as he watched her. “But he has not returned. I believe Alexzander’s men are holding him.”
He swore and rubbed his face. “What? And you plan to go after him?”
Keturah smirked. “I am the best thief in Alexzander’s company.”
He just stared at her, doubtful. “Why would you tell me that?”
She studied him for a long moment. “Because you won’t help me if you think I’m lying to you, and right now, all I care about is getting my friend back.”
He crossed his arms. “And what’s to say I don’t sell you out to the Dragon’s clan?”
“You said that you want nothing to do with him,” she said simply. “People who work with Alexzander are either desperate or stupid, and you are neither.”
He scoffed. “Which are you then?”
She glared. “None of your damn business.” He quirked a brow. “In any case…I can’t fight all of Alexzander’s men. I will need a place to hide.”
He swore and rubbed his face. “Hold, now, I don’t want to make enemies with that clan, either.”
She shook her head. “I can pay you well. What’s more …now that Alexzander’s gone, his remaining crew will be… disbanded.”
The man watched her warily. “Oh? And how can you be sure of that?”
She said nothing for a moment, instead, just watching him solemnly. “Trust me,” she said simply, quietly. “After what they’ve done, I will hunt down every last one of them.” She inclined her head. “My intended can protect your family once he is rested and healed. I do not know what they have done to him but…” She sighed. “If he is alive, I will bring him here, and with enough rest, he will recover from whatever they have done. If he is not alive, then…you can keep the gold and I will not be back.”
He frowned at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “And just who is your intended that you could dare to make such a bold promise?”
Again, she locked eyes with him. “His title and twenty gold pieces, twenty more when we leave here safely.”
His eyes widened a bit and then narrowed. “Very well.” It couldn’t possibly be worse than the Gold Dragon.
She inclined her head. “The Guardian.”
He swore and backed away, rubbing his face and then turning his back to her and rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed and muttered to himself before rounding on her. “Are you mad? You mean to involve me in a war between dark sorcerers? Get out.”
She shook her head. “The Guardian is not a dark sorcerer, and the Golden Dragon is dead. I am asking for your help in destroying the Dragon’s clan, removing his influence from this part of the world entirely.”
He sighed and frowned at her darkly, considering her for a long, long moment. He would be a damn fool to get involved with any of this. But, if there was any chance…any chance at all that this little creature was what she said… “What do you need?”
Chapter Eighteen
Getting into the building wasn’t difficult. The clan was more concerned with keeping Alvaro in than on keeping anyone else out. They weren’t banking on anyone coming to save him.
Keturah went for the kitchens, one of the most loosely guarded areas of the den, and also the noisiest. There was always someone moving about, banging on this or shouting about that, pounding out a meat or some dish. She slid in unnoticed and spied the woman working over at a table with some dough, probably for bread in the morning. Keturah hated killing people. Even deplorable people. It was never enjoyable. But everyone here had something to lose, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that anyone who saw her was a liability, someone who could end up getting Alvaro killed. She had to chose: him or the by-standers. In the end, that was no choice at all for her.
The garrote was swift, quiet, and painless. The wire went around the neck and sliced clean through the artery before the woman could scream. Keturah lowered the body and then moved on quickly and quietly. Where would they keep him? Someone of his size? Most likely a basement or cellar. Probably not the cellar. They wouldn’t want him near the food, especially if they expected any bleeding. She clenched her jaw and moved on towards the back room. A man passed through the hall, and he was a swift kill with a dagger up the throat and artery, cutting off sound and killing him. She dragged him into the storage room with her and let him lay there as she looked around the ground.
Finally, she found some loose boards and began to pull them up, making a hole just big enough for a child, or rather three-quarters of a person—Keturah’s size. She pressed her ear to the stone below and listened for sound carefully. She could hear quiet foot steps back and around, then a grunt and a sigh as someone sat. But the sounds were too soft to be someone of Alvaro’s size, and she could not hear him at all. She would have to be careful.
Keturah took one of the daggers and began chiseling quietly, pulling up one large stone and setting it aside. She waited and when nothing happened, began making soft, little sounds against the stone. Whoever was below seemed to notice, for from the darkness below, she watched a shadow come into view. “What the—” She tossed a dart, and it embedded itself right in the man’s neck. He gasped in a breath and rasped as he tried to scream, staggering back. Foam formed at his mouth while Keturah slipped through the hole and down to the ground, crouching and pulling her other dagger. The poisoned man was quiet now and mostly still aside from a few twitches.
She blinked slowly as the room came into view, looking around in the darkness. In the corner, one massive form was crumpled, and she moved towards him. The form shifted slightly, and Keturah heard a low, guttural growl start up slowly. “Shut up,” Keturah hissed softly, crouching down in front of him. “Do you want them to find me?”
The sound stopped instantly, and Keturah began to inspect his holds. She could see his form, close to the wall and crumpled up in a heap. The smell of blood and dark magic permeated her senses, and she sneezed a bit, shaking her head and trying to clear her mind of it.
“Keturah?” Alvaro rasped softly as she found his manacles. His hands were both bolted to the wall, and she could feel a spell carved into the metal. His neck was bolted as well, but there was a thick chain with some slack to it. She moved closer to him and reached behind him, checking the chain. The collar and each link all had holding spells scratched into them as well. She sighed. “Keturah?” he rasped again, a little louder.
“Hush,” she snapped under her breath. Damn fool was going to get them found out. She pulled out one of her daggers and reached for the bolt on the wall since it seemed to be the least secure, working at the lock. She began working quickly and quietly, pulling it away from the wall. She felt him move then, just a small shift and a clatter of chains, and he leaned his head into her. Keturah felt his shoulders tremble, and he tucked his face into her neck as she worked, his breath on her skin, hot tears dropping onto her shoulder.
He had not expected, never had hoped or dreamed, that he would ever see her again. He was nearly certain that she was an illusion from his tormented mind. But he could feel her there, smell the scent of his hearth fire on her. And only she was insane enough to break in to try and save him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered. “Keturah, there are too many. Get out.”
“No.” She kept working, finally pulling the bolt out of the wall. “There. We can worry about the chain later. Help me with your wrists.”
“Get out of here,” he hissed again, nudging her with his head—which was surprisingly effective—and nearly knocked her back.
She glared at him in the darkness. “No. Now shut up and help me.” She turned to start on one of his wrists. They were running out of time. She had to work quickly.
“Keturah…” he tried to push her back again, but she just gl
ared at him.
Finally, she grabbed his jaw roughly in her hand and pressed her mouth to his. She could feel his warm breath against her mouth, the bite of sharp teeth against her lips. He began to tremble, and for a moment she wondered why, until she realized that it was fear…for her. “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered when she pulled away. “Now shut the hell up and help me.”
He said nothing more after that, turning his attention to his right hand as she worked. She first had to break the binding spell on the bonds and then help him to pull free from the wall. She was nearly finished with the second hand when someone called down, “Okay, Sam. Go get your damn beauty sleep. I’m takin’ over.” She swore quietly and backed away from Alvaro, disappearing into the darkness, waiting.
“Oy! Sam! You fall asleep? Lazy bastard…” Keturah crept without sound along the ground as the man headed over towards where the poisoned man lay dead, and as he took in a breath to shout, Keturah was on him, slamming her dagger up into his throat, silencing him and holding his nose and mouth closed until he didn’t make a single sound. She lowered him to the ground and went back to Alvaro.
“Keturah…what…” Alvaro began, whispering quietly. He stood, using the wall to help him, and she could feel how weak he was.
“Not now,” she snapped and went to work at his feet, breaking the binding spells and helping him get loose. “Come on,” she whispered. “The entrance to the basement will be heavily guarded. I need a boost back up, and I’ll start a distraction. When you get out, head southwest and meet me at the brook. Stay low and hidden. I will find you.”
“No,” he said, grabbing her. “Keturah, you can’t fight off all those men—sorcerers. I can face them.”
She turned back and glared at him. “For once, can you shut up and trust me?” she hissed. “I know this place, these people. You don’t. You don’t have near your strength or magic left, so don’t try and lie that you do. Wait for the entrance to clear and then head for the brook.”
Rose Borne Page 17
