“Ah.” Evelyn said nothing more, but she suspected that meant Orrin had protected the lad from Elanore.
Mage gave her an envious look. “Wish I knew more, but—”
“With what I’ve seen, you may be at journeyman level, if you were to be tested,” Evelyn said.
Mage sat upright. “Really? But I still have to use paper to keep my spells.”
“You didn’t at the shrine,” Archer said.
“And you were using what you can do to good effect,” Evelyn said firmly. “I wouldn’t have thought to use magic to hold odium still and let Archer take his shots.”
They all turned and looked at her, and Evelyn realized it was her turn.
“I was trained as a battle mage, but I never mastered the ability to use my spells in an enclosed area. I also never really learned to control my emotions to develop the finer control of those powers.” Evelyn wet her lips. “I can cast the priestly magics easily, and I am a powerful healer. But if I become too angry, or too frightened, I lose control.”
No one said anything, so Evelyn continued. “Outside, I can wreak havoc. But inside, I’m going to have to be careful that the flames don’t wash back over us.”
“Could you give some warning?” Sidian asked. “Maybe we can cover our faces with shields or cloaks.”
Evelyn gave him a doubtful look. “I can try.” She shifted in her chair, well aware of Orrin’s scrutiny. “I haven’t used battle magic for a very long time, and the last time I did, people on my own side were badly burned by my magic.” She clutched her hands in her lap. “I don’t like hurting people.”
“They are not people,” Orrin said softly. “They are bodies, just clay, that someone is using against us.”
“You did it at the shrine,” Mage said.
Evelyn nodded. “I was terrified.”
“Those things give everyone the shivering fits,” Archer added.
“I’ve got an idea,” Mage said. “Not sure if it’s right, but . . .”
“Spit it out,” Archer said.
“I think those things might be sensitive to magic,” Mage said. “I know they are magic, but I think that maybe they can sense magic being cast.” He looked around the group. “I’m not sure. But I thought it best to say now—”
“And you were right, too.” Orrin gave him a nod. “We will keep it in mind.”
Mage smiled, and Sidian clapped him on the back.
“One last thing,” Orrin added. “We’re going to wear the sigil of the Black Hills.”
They all shifted, uncomfortable.
“The odium were trained not to attack anyone wearing the sigil of the Black Hills,” Orrin insisted. “We can’t give up any advantage it might give us.”
“Wearing it can get us killed, if we run into any Queen’s men,” Archer said quietly.
“Not once we accomplish this,” Orrin growled. “I’ve sworn to you that I will use that reward to get a pardon for the men who aid me.”
“All of us?” Mage asked.
“All of you. That means the men we leave to guard the town, and any who offer us aid. Even the men who still guard their families’ enclaves in the Hills, the ones that we can’t get to, and that I can only hope are still alive. A pardon for the army of the Black Hills.”
They all nodded, each in turn, as Orrin looked them in the eye.
“Enough of this, then. Get some sleep, because we’ll leave at dawn.”
The men stood, stretched, and left, leaving Orrin and Evelyn alone in the firelight.
Evelyn waited for the last footstep to fade before she turned to Orrin and opened her mouth, but Orrin cut her off with a gesture. “Oh, no, Lady High Priestess. Not another word.”
TWENTY-TWO
“DON’T even start,” Orrin growled, seeing the look in her eyes. “We’re not going to talk, discuss, or argue. Go up to your room.”
“I’ll say just one thing, then I’ll go.” Evelyn raised that lovely chin of hers and glared at him.
“Fine.” Orrin stood, and walked toward the door. “I’ll go. Talk to the fire, because—”
“Loving you—”
Orrin stopped, his back to her.
“—caring for you, is not a sin.” Evelyn’s soft voice came from behind him. Her tone was firm and resolute.
He turned. “Lady—”
“That doesn’t mean that I condone your past, or that I’d support you now if you were still doing those things.” Evelyn stood. Her hands lifted in a familiar gesture, as if to tuck them into the long sleeves of robes she no longer wore. Instead, she wove her fingers together, and twisted them nervously. “I—care—for the man standing before me.”
Hope blazed through his chest, and with one swift breath he crushed the emotion, trying to kill it.
Might as well have tried to stop his heart from beating.
She licked her lips, and continued. “I wanted to tell you before we leave in the morning. If we both survive, we can argue the rest for days on end.”
“We’ll survive,” Orrin growled. “And when we do, you’re for Edenrich and I’m going to find a tavern where no one knows my name and get lost in a bottle for a month.”
“We’ll see,” Evelyn responded. “But for now, we’ll be about the business. Agreed?”
Orrin gave her a hooded look, standing silent.
“Fine,” Evelyn sighed, and walked past him toward the stairs.
He turned his head to watch her go, fully intending to let her walk out—
But she brushed past him, and he caught a whiff of her sweet scent with just a touch of soot. He couldn’t help himself. His hand reached out of its own accord.
HE touched her shoulder as she walked past him.
Evelyn stopped, looking at his callused hand. She raised her face to his warm hazel eyes, giving him a puzzled look.
His mouth quirked in a rare smile and his hand slid along her shoulder, his fingers curling around the back of her neck.
Evelyn shivered. Without the weight of her braid, the skin there seemed extra sensitive. Or maybe it was just . . . him.
He pulled gently, and she found herself facing him, her hands reaching for his waist. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, fully prepared for a demanding kiss.
Instead, she felt a gentle brush of his lips on hers. Warm, dry, soft as a feather. With a sigh, she leaned in, as he explored her skin with the faintest of touches all over her cheeks and eyelids.
She brought her hands up then, to wrap around his shoulders, and his hands wrapped around her, rubbing her back. There was no demand, just a gentle gift. Dimly, lost in the pleasure of his touch, Evelyn understood he was telling her something he couldn’t express with words.
Finally, he stopped, and hugged her tight, breathing in her ear. Before she could say anything, he stepped back, his eyes on the floor.
“Go, Evelyn.”
“Orrin—”
He lifted his head, his hazel eyes blazing. “Lady, my head is so fucked up right now, that it little matters if I live or die on the morrow.” He stepped back from her. “I’ve a town to see to and orders to give. Get to bed.”
Evelyn looked away, and headed up the stairs.
“Evelyn,” Orrin said.
She paused, one foot on the steps, her hand on the railing.
Orrin stood there in the doorway, lit by the fire, his hazel eyes reflecting the firelight.
“Lock your chamber door,” he growled, then vanished into the night, pulling the door behind him.
She smiled then, her heart feeling oddly happy as she went up the stairs. She didn’t lock her door.
But Orrin never came.
THEY gathered in the kitchen at dawn. There were no smiles this morning, no levity. Evelyn understood the change, as they all started to focus on the task at hand. Dorne had prepared a meal, and they ate quickly, drinking strong kav with their food.
There was some last-minute fussing with packs and gear, and Dorne handed out sweet nut bars for everyone to put in
their packs. Then they silently walked to the well, to fill waterskins.
“Ready?” Orrin asked.
There were nods all about, but Dorne shook his head. “Not quite.” He wiped his hands on his apron, then raised them to the sky. “Bless these warriors, Lord of Light and Lady of Laughter.”
Orrin rolled his eyes, but stood silent. The others bowed their heads respectfully, with some shuffling of feet. Evelyn bowed hers as well, but not before she noticed that Sidian had lifted his face to the sun, his eyes closed, his lips moving in his own prayer.
“Lord of Light, bless us with your light, to grace our paths and illuminate our ways. Lady of Laughter, bless us with your mirth, to bring our hearts comfort and strengthen our resolve for the task ahead.” Dorne’s voice was firm as he finished. “Praise be given.”
“Praise be given,” Evelyn echoed.
“Now, are we ready?” Orrin asked.
“Not quite,” Reader said. With a very serious look, he produced a small brown bottle.
“Not some of your gutrot,” Dorne said with a frown. “Why not just cut your stomach out?”
“It’s tradition,” Reader protested. He lifted the bottle and took a healthy swig. “Whoosh, that’s fine.” He coughed as he handed it to Sidian. “I let it age a bit this time.”
Sidian tipped the bottle, then wiped his mouth. “Oh, what, all of a day?”
Timothy and Thomas took their gulps, dancing a jig after they swallowed, making what she assumed were appreciative noises. Their eyes were watering as they handed the bottle to Mage.
“What’s in it?” asked Evelyn.
Orrin shook his head. Dorne waved both his hands in negation. “You don’t want to know.”
“Only the finest of ingredients,” Reader said stoutly. “I even washed the barrel.”
Mage took a swig, his face screwed up with anticipation. He couldn’t speak, just handed the bottle to Archer, who accepted it with a nod, and took two swallows.
He held the bottle out to Orrin with a smile. “It’s not quite got the kick of the last batch.”
Reader frowned. “Must be the aging.”
“Or the clean barrel,” Dorne observed.
Orrin reached for the bottle, but Evelyn beat him to it. Before she could have second thoughts, she took a careful sip.
She might have dropped the bottle if Orrin hadn’t rescued it. Her eyes opened wide as she swallowed, the burn racing down her throat. She gasped as she started laughing, unable to form words.
Orrin had taken his turn, but started sputtering a bit when he saw her reaction. There were smiles all around as she coughed.
“Reader, that is the gods-awfulest—” Evelyn shook her head as it hit her stomach, and burned.
“Why, thank ya.” Reader beamed.
Orrin gave the bottle back to Reader, who corked it and put it back in his pack. “Now, are we ready?”
A change came over the group then. The levity was gone in an instant. Evelyn watched as their eyes hardened. Even Mage lost his youthfulness, in his grim determination.
They looked each other over, and they all nodded.
“Very well,” Orrin said. “Evelyn, if you would. . . .”
Evelyn cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and pictured the shrine in her mind, sending out her magic, seeking. . . .
Her stomach burned, and she shifted a bit. Hard to cast a spell with your stomach on fire. She took a breath, cleared her mind, and . . . sought. . . .
A shrine to the Lord, built of stone, with a painting of the rising sun over the Keep. Just a glimpse, but it was enough. A glimpse, a direction, and with just the right. . . .
She gestured, chanting under her breath. . . .
“Wow,” Mage breathed.
Evelyn opened her eyes and saw the familiar oval, with the vague white curtains that seemed to move in the air. She concentrated, holding it open.
“Reader,” Orrin said.
The smaller man lowered himself to the ground and slowly put his face in the portal. He pulled it out, and grinned back at them. Then he crawled forward, disappearing into the veil.
Orrin gave a nod, and Sidian and Archer walked through, with Timothy and Thomas right behind.
“Wait for a signal,” Orrin said as he stepped through.
Evelyn held her breath, then let it out slowly, before Orrin’s hand appeared and gestured for them to come through. Mage gave her a look, then closed his eyes and stepped through.
Evelyn took a breath, and followed.
TWENTY-THREE
ARCHER’S skin shivered as he stepped through the portal. Stepping into nothing and going to something was not the right way of things. But he cleared the magic with ease, and brought his bow to bear as soon as he was through.
Sidian was crouched next to the door to the outside, scanning the street beyond. Timothy and Thomas pressed close behind him, holding their spears carefully. Reader was outside, tucked into a doorway, dagger at the ready.
Archer steadied his aim, and waited.
The sound of Blackhart’s boot came from behind him. “Clear?”
Sidian held up a hand, and Reader gave a nod.
Archer heard the rest of them come through, and then there was a sound like a cork being pulled from a bottle. Evelyn moved past him, with Mage and Blackhart close behind.
Blackhart signaled Reader to take the lead. The small man darted down the street, staying low. Sidian waited a breath, then flowed out the door. Timothy and Thomas followed him.
Blackhart gestured, and Evelyn and Mage went next. Archer lowered his bow and brought up the rear, keeping an eye open.
They moved down empty streets at a trot, everyone alert to the least sound. Archer thought that was the spookiest part of it all, the quiet of the towns and villages they’d searched. And this one was no exception, dead quiet except for their footfalls.
Reader paused ahead, and they all stopped where they were, tucking into doorways and such, trying to hide as best they could.
Archer caught movement from the corner of his eye, and took a quick glance back.
Odium were behind them, moving into the shrine.
Archer caught Mage’s attention, and pointed back with his chin. Mage looked, and his eyes went wide as he jerked his head around to stare at Archer.
The odium were still crowding into the door of the shrine.
Reader moved again, and the others followed. Archer gestured Mage on, and continued moving, keeping careful watch behind.
They’d reached the edge of the village, then darted across the main road to the pine woods beyond. Once they were under the boughs, deep within, Archer got Blackhart’s attention and told him what he’d seen while the others caught their breath. “They didn’t follow,” Archer finished. “Not that I saw.”
“We’ll keep to the woods as long as we can,” Blackhart said. “Ralan will be watching for us.”
“Should we stay in sight of the road?” Reader asked.
The others stood silent as Blackhart shook his head. “No. We’ll angle off. Ralan is running patrols along the woods closer to the walls. They’ll find us.”
Reader gave a quick nod, then headed out.
Fallen pine needles muffled their footsteps. Blackhart and Sidian took the lead now, keeping the pace quick.
Archer kept watch on their backtrail, but there was no sign of trouble. He kept an eye on the Priestess, too, but she was keeping up just fine.
He hoped he could do as well in those damn dungeon tunnels.
Archer growled at himself, and kept his focus on what he was doing. Later was later. Besides, the odium would probably kill him dead long before he got to the tunnels, and wouldn’t all that worrying be wasted then?
He focused on the task at hand, and tried to ignore the fear churning deep in his gut.
If only those tunnels weren’t so damn narrow . . . and dark.
“YOU’RE all a sight braver then I am, that’s the truth,” Ralan said. “Not for blood or money would I go
in there.”
His mounted scouts were bustling around them, seeing to their horses and tightening girths. They couldn’t stay here long.
“There’s no choice.” Blackhart shook his head.
“I know.” Ralan’s gaze darted to the group under the trees. “I just—”
Blackhart lowered his voice. “We’ve got to get it stopped. And this is our best chance.”
Ralan shook his head. “I know, Lord Blackhart. I know.”
None knew better, to Blackhart’s way of thinking. Ralan’s mounted scouts had kept watch over the Keep for weeks now.
To Blackhart’s relief, they’d passed through the pine woods without encountering any odium. Ralan’s men had spotted them as they’d emerged from the forest. From here they had a clear view of the first wall that surrounded the Keep.
Ralan jerked his head toward the wall. “The main gates are forced open, the doors pulled down. Once in a while we’ve seen odium on the top of the second wall, as if they’re patrolling, but it’s not regular.” Ralan hesitated. “I got an odd feeling that they do it only when someone thinks of it.”
Blackhart frowned.
Ralan shook his head. “Don’t ask me why I think that. More a gut feeling than anything else.” He drew a breath. “The main gates are hanging on their hinges. The portcullis is bent and twisted. I’ve sent two groups to sweep the area between the two walls. So far, nothing.”
“You weren’t supposed to go in,” Blackhart pointed out. “Your job is to help us get in, and keep the way clear so we can get out.”
“The faster you’re in, the better.” Ralan shrugged. “The men just swept the area clear of the odd odium. They didn’t try to enter the Keep proper. Horses can still outrun the monsters, and the damned monsters haven’t learned to use the catapults.”
“Yet,” Blackhart pointed out.
Ralan’s easy grin flashed. “Always so optimistic, Lord. Ride double with my men,” he suggested. “We can get you to the second wall fast, and drop you right at the base of that guard tower. We’ll hold position and give you cover while you open the door.”
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