Suddenly, the air filled with the squeaking sound of a door opening. A most foul odor followed. She tried not to breath through her nose, but then the thought of taking the stench in from her mouth left her nauseated.
Finally, they halted.
The man ordered her to remove her shroud. Once done, he pointed down a hallway lined with cells. Barred windows high up in some of them allowed scant light in, as the sky was overcast with heavy gray clouds.
“In the last two cells down there,” he said, “you’ll find the prisoners. Now remember—I’ll be here the whole time. And you can trust me when I say that the last woman got off easy. It won’t happen again. There will be no talking to them. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“You will not communicate with them in any way.”
“I understand.”
He turned to his side where a bucket of bug-infested gruel sat on a table, along with a loaf of stale bread. He handed the items to her.
“You give them their food,” he said, “and you report to me, anything that you think is significant. That’s it. Understood?”
She nodded.
“I’ll be watching you at all times.”
“I understand.”
“Get at it, then.” He pushed her.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkened space, and her nose to the foul odors, she made her way. The first cells she passed were empty, but finally, she approached the first of the occupied cells.
Upon her arrival, a rat dived past her. She jumped out of its way, then looked up.
And that was when she dropped the bucket.
The guard rushed toward her. When he reached her side, he pulled his hand back, as though to strike her, but then seemed to think better of it.
“Damned clumsy, witch!” he cried. “Look what you’ve done!” He pointed at the mess.
“I’m sorry! There was a rat and—”
“Never mind.” He glanced in at Mara. “The prisoners will be fine without food until tomorrow.” He turned back. “Now clean this up!” he ordered, throwing a rag at Carlie before marching off.
She watched until he reached the end of the hallway before looking into the cell again. She held Mara’s gaze for a long moment. Then she squatted down to clean up the mess.
Gracious Ehyeh, but it stinks. How could anyone be expected to eat this?
Holding one hand over her nose, she mopped up the last of the spilled gruel. Then she put the rag in a bucket next to the nearby table.
Dreading what she might find, she proceeded to the next cell.
“Dear Good One!” she muttered under her breath, a hand over her mouth, upon sight of the twins.
“Shhhh . . . Carlie,” Reigna whispered. “We don’t want you in any trouble.”
She nodded.
“Are you all right?” Eden asked, her voice nearly inaudible.
Carlie’s eyes flashed toward the guard before she nodded again, faintly.
“Never mind about the food. It’s inedible anyway.”
Biting her lip, Carlie glanced up again, only to find the man staring at her.
She pulled back, then stood at the wall opposite the cells from whence she could see into both. Her thoughts in a turmoil, she leaned her head back, rested it against the wall, and closed her eyes. She had to tell Broden. She had to get him in here.
Dear Good One! Would he even know what to do?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lucy sat back, watching the other attendees. With Dixon, Dax, and Aliza, all missing, the group of leaders remaining in the city had grown rather small. Consequently, she’d brought Jerrett and Velia back to the city with her from her recent trips to the palace. Now they assisted with training and planning.
She felt she knew all the attendees so well. Surely, it wasn’t possible that one of them was a traitor, she mused. Besides, how could someone possibly get word to Zarek so quickly? Still, she had to admit, it was strangely coincidental—or else contrived—that so shortly after Mara decided to leave for Aliza’s with the twins, they were all taken prisoner. So, since she’d asked for her assistance, Lucy would do the deed. Even so, she couldn’t wait to report back that all was well within their ranks. Thoughts to the contrary were too painful to contemplate.
She turned her focus back to the proceedings.
“So,” Percival was saying, “we’re putting the healers on half-day shifts, starting immediately.”
“That sounds good,” Lucy said before turning to Petrus. “How are the plans coming along for interrupting Zarek’s supply chain?” she asked him.
“Ahhh . . . Well enough, I guess.”
“Excellent. Now, toward that end—” She turned her attention to her paperwork before looking back up. “There’s one last thing for today.”
“Oh?” Jerrett asked.
“Yes. Mara messaged me again.”
“Great Ehyeh,” Velia muttered, “is she all right?”
“In truth, she didn’t sound good. Still,” Lucy said, before clearing her throat, “she says it’s time we intercept some of Zarek’s plans.”
Pausing, she tapped on the table. “Liam and Rafal reported to me just days ago that they’d discovered some succedunt storing a cache of food and weapons in a dried up well in the center of a little abandoned town just south of Fallique. Apparently, the succedunt troops act rather independently,” she added offhandedly. “In any case, when I told Mara about what they’d heard, she insisted we destroy the goods.”
Percival sat up straighter. “How?”
Jerrett stared at her. “It could take weeks to get some of our special forces there.”
“Well, fortunately for us,” Lucy said, “we don’t need special forces. We just need Liam and Rafal.”
“Oh?”
“They know where the place is—and they carry crystals, which they can use to blow up the cache.”
“Where are these goods, did you say?”
Lucy picked up a nearby scroll. A crinkling sound filled the air as she unrolled it to reveal a map.
“The place is called Wylie,” she said as she circled something on it. “Here,” she passed it to her right, “you can all take a look at it.”
Velia set down her quill. “So you’ll tell Liam and Rafal to go there and destroy the goods?”
“I already did. Fortunately, they were close. They expect to arrive there overmorrow, between midday and dusk. Immediately thereafter, they’ll return here, to Oosa. They’ve found no clues as to Carlie’s whereabouts, and frankly, I can’t justify their remaining in such danger themselves any longer.”
“That was a fortunate discovery—about the stored goods,” Petrus offered as he surveyed the map that Jerrett handed him.
“It was, indeed.”
“Well, it sounds good to me,” Jerrett said. “I only wish I could be there with them for this mission. I’d like to destroy some of Zarek’s things myself.”
Lucy chuckled. “It would be deeply satisfying, wouldn’t it?”
Lucy had communicated back and forth with Liam and Rafal before the meeting with the other leaders. She’d insisted the men identify a deserted place close enough to the city of Fallique for some of Zarek’s men to reach there on short notice. Fortunately, they’d come up with Wylie, a ghost town, which they described to her in minutest detail. Once done, Lucy instructed them to return to Oosa.
Now that her meeting was over, she set out.
Her magic journey went off without a glitch, but already she grew weary of waiting as she crouched down inside a deserted gristmill. She peeked out of its dirty, multi-paned front window. The cracks in one panel looked like a hastily spun spiderweb. She picked at the gummy substance that held the glass in place, and then wiggled the shards free. As a consequence, even more cold air gusted inside.
If no one showed up, she couldn’t be certain there was no traitor in their midst. After all, it could just be that the person couldn’t get a message to Zarek in time, or that his men couldn’t get to Wylie in time. But if Zar
ek’s guards did show up, she could be fairly certain that there was a leak in their system—either that someone was careless with their information, or that they hosted an outright betrayer in their midst.
And then what would I do? Oh, gracious Ehyeh, I sincerely hope that’s not the case.
Shivering, she drew her wrap tighter, even as a gust of wind shook the building’s rickety exterior and then worried its way inside through the one missing windowpane and the cracks in the others. It whistled, eerily.
She looked out again.
Nothing.
Having arrived late the night before, to be certain she got there before anyone else, she was cold to the bone—and tired.
With her teeth chattering, she stood and paced. It was nearly noon already, yet she’d seen no sign of anyone.
She glanced out again to find snow falling. She watched in silence for several minutes as it grew heavier, but still, no one showed. She contemplated heading home, then dismissed the idea. It was too soon.
Just then, a faint jingling caught her attention.
She got down on her haunches and looked out.
For a long minute, she saw nothing through the snow-filled air. Then out of the misty flurries, a band of four guards, all dressed in black from head to toe, neared. They soon arrived at the center of the ghost town.
This doesn’t mean anything. They could just be passing through.
The man at the front directed his gelding around the abandoned city square. Although the snow-covered ground muffled the sounds of the equine’s steps, its leather tack and metal hardware crunched and jingled. When he brought the animal to a halt, it pranced, whinnied, and jerked its head up, repeatedly.
“See anyone?” he asked his cohorts.
Lucy couldn’t hear his comrades respond, as they all faced the other direction.
“You,” the leader said, pointing at one of his men, “check it out.”
The man dismounted. He approached the well that sat in the midst of the town square, just as Liam and Rafal had described it to Lucy, then tied his mount to a nearby post.
Lucy inhaled sharply. It can’t be!
Looking down, he released the rope attached to a bucket hanging above it. After it dropped to the bottom, he drew it back up. Then, “Nothing,” he said.
“Check out the buildings,” the first of the men ordered.
The man that he addressed headed to an abandoned apothecary shop, even as two more of the gang dismounted.
The leader looked around the square. “I’ll ride out a distance to see if anyone is still on the way here, or if someone might have heard us approaching and left before we arrived,” he said. With that, he set off.
So, it’s true, Lucy thought. We have a leak. Well then, I’d best get to it.
She took up her bow and an arrow from her quiver, and then turned back to the missing windowpane. She’d get the leader later, when he returned. In the meantime, she’d see to men just outside.
After tying their horses up, one of the soldiers headed toward a former blacksmith shop.
Lucy took aim.
The air held the heavy cold wetness of late winter. It was the kind that settled deep in one’s bones. Shivering, she exhaled slowly, her breath fogging the air, willing herself to still. With one more breath, her shivering now brought under control, she released her shot.
The man went down, landing with a thud.
As another of the men approached what had once been an inn, he jerked around at the sound. Not having seen the source of the shot, he cried out for his cohort, then dashed back toward his mount.
As he struggled to saddle up, Lucy took aim and shot for the second time. She hit his leg.
Notwithstanding his injury, he pulled up, then grabbed the reins.
As he turned his mount away, Lucy shot again. The arrow landed in the center of the man’s back.
“Uffhhhhh,” he groaned as he dropped to the ground.
At the sound, the third man came running back from the apothecary shop where he’d headed earlier. Upon sight of his fallen comrades, he spun back around.
Meanwhile, Lucy reached for another arrow. She nocked it, pulled her arm back, took aim, and then released her shot.
He fell to the earth. Snow billowed into the air around him.
She dropped her arms. Now she just had to wait for the leader to return.
Seconds later, came a sound at the door. Slowly, the handle turned.
The leader must have turned back and then identified the place from whence Lucy spied.
She grasped her blade, Vivacitas, and crouched.
The door blew open, slamming against the wall.
She threw her blade. As always, it met its mark.
The succedunt soldier dropped to the floor with a last rattling exhale.
She approached, grabbed Vivacitas, and pulled. Once her weapon was free, she stepped over the dead man and out of the building, and then headed for the well.
Looking down into it, she dropped a crystal. She had to make it look as though Liam and Rafal had destroyed some cache of goods in the event anyone looked into the situation later.
As she stepped away, the crystal hit the earth below and exploded, throwing bits of rock and sparks into the air. Lucy ducked. Then, reaching for her magic, she returned to the City of Light.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Looking up at the three-quarter moon, the only one currently gracing the sky, Lucy decided it was time to return to the palace for a visit. She’d informed the other leaders of Liam and Rafal’s report that, having arrived at Wylie earlier than expected, they’d destroyed the cache. Now came the hard part: to identify their leak. She knew it couldn’t be Jerrett or Velia. They’d both proven themselves beyond reproach time and time again over the years. But that still left a number of other options. She decided she’d start with emphasizing to them all, the importance of maintaining confidentiality. Perhaps it was a simple matter of someone’s carelessness. Gracious Ehyeh, but she certainly hoped so. In the meantime, she needed time to think.
She ran to the dormitory in search of Vida and Clarimonde, so as to inquire whether they wanted to return to the palace. They did not. So with nothing else to keep her around—for now anyway—it was time to go.
Seconds after spinning her magic, she landed in the vestibule of the palace. She glanced up as Bane bolted toward her, growling, his hackles raised.
Her hands up, she ordered, “Down, Bane!”
The wolf slowed, then circled her, sniffing at her feet.
“Go on,” she ordered as she pointed down the hall that led toward the kitchen where he stayed in a room next to the larder.
Having recognized her, the wolf dropped his tail and then panted, offering her his strange canine smile.
“Oh, it’s you!” Adele said, as she entered. “I thought I heard some commotion.”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “Goodness, but is he always so . . . so—”
“Aggressive? Protective?” Adele completed her question. “Yes, to both. I have him stand guard when I’m busy.”
“I see.”
“Why are you back so soon? We didn’t expect you for a few days yet.”
“I just need some time to think,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Are Leala and Fidel still up?” she asked as she headed toward the kitchen.
“No,” Adele said, following behind. “They both went down for the night some time ago. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Lucy entered the kitchen, then approached the larder. “Probably not. I’ve just had such trouble sleeping of late. Too much on my mind, I guess.” She reached in and grabbed a labeled bag of herbs. “Oh, good.”
“What is it?”
“My valerian, hops, and lemon balm mix,” she said, bouncing the bag in her hand. “I could use some of this.” She dropped it on the counter. “Is there still hot water on?”
“Always.”
Adele went to the hearth and filled a cup from a pot of water that hung over it, th
en brought it to Lucy. “Here you go.”
Lucy pulled out a stool and sat. She opened the sack, and then rummaged for a tea ball that sat on the counter nearby, just out of easy reach. Once in hand, she filled it.
Her eyes narrowed as she pulled back, looking closely at the tea. Then she drew it nearer and sniffed it, expecting the almost putrid smell of valerian, the weedy scent of hops, or perhaps, a whiff of citrus. Her head cocked, she sniffed again.
“What is it?” Adele asked.
“This isn’t my valerian tea mix.” She dropped the tea ball on the counter, scowling. “Honestly, Adele, what is this?” she asked, grabbing the bag and waving it in the air.
“I— I’m sorry, Lucy. I know I told you that I’d have Barbara Jo help me with organizing all the herbs, but we just haven’t had time.”
“Look, if she’s not working out for you, I can find someone else.”
“Oh no, she’s the best help I could ask for! The thing is that she’s also responsible for cleaning—and that’s taken most of her time and attention of late.”
Lucy frowned. “Still, we discussed this all weeks ago, Adele.”
“Yes, but with all Vida’s children here now—and without her and Clarimonde here to assist with them—” Adele sighed. “Well, it’s been hectic, to say the least.”
Her jaw clenched, Lucy shook her head. “This is important, Adele. The wrong thing taken by someone, or something used by someone at the wrong time, could be . . . deadly.”
“I’m sorry.”
Lucy went back to the cupboard. “I’ll just use chamomile, I guess.” She rummaged about, finally pulling out another item. “It’ll help me to relax, even it if it’s not nearly as effective a sleep inducer.”
She slapped it on the counter, resumed her seat, emptied the tea ball of its former contents, and then filled it from the bag of chamomile. All the while she held her jaw tight.
“I’m sorry,” Adele tried again.
“Never mind. I guess I’ll just do it myself.”
“I’ll get at it tomorrow. I promise.”
“No, I’ll do it.”
“Lucy—”
Ephemeral and Fleeting Page 26
