by Ben Cassidy
Joseph didn’t wait for anything else. He pushed past the nurse.
Kara sat in the middle of her bed. She wore the plain dress that the Sanitarium supplied to its female occupants.
For a moment Joseph was taken aback. This was not what he had expected.
“We’re leaving, aren’t we?” Kara’s voice was thin and small, like a fragile reed. “Leaving, leaving.” She closed her eyes, but her face was calm. “A ladder of green, a swan in ice. Horses, horses in the night.” She opened her eyes, but still didn’t look at Joseph. “Follow the stones, the stones of white.”
Joseph stared at the woman he had come to love. It felt as if his heart would burst. All the grief and sorrow that had weighed on him since the firestorm in Vorten came crushing back on him again.
Maklavir came up beside Joseph. He cleared his throat. “Well, she’s certainly awake. Dressed, too.” He looked at the redheaded girl. “Kara, can you hear us? We’ve…come to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye, goodbye,” Kara whispered. She stared at the corner of the wall. “We’re all leaving. Soon, soon. Ladder of green. Swan in ice.”
Joseph swallowed. He could feel goosebumps on his arms.
Iola stepped up next to the bed. The soft golden glow of the candle flickered off the bedroom walls.
“Fangs,” Kara said to no one in particular. “Fangs, fangs in the east.”
Maklavir lowered his head.
Joseph glanced behind him.
The doorway to the room was dark. The gendarmes lounged about just outside. As frightening as the hallway was, they apparently preferred it to being close to Kara’s soft chanting.
Joseph looked hard at Kara. The woman he loved. Gone forever.
“Horses, horses in the night,” Kara said in her sing-song tone. “Follow, follow the stones of white.”
Maklavir turned for the door. “This is pointless,” he said. There was a heaviness in his voice that Joseph wasn’t used to hearing. “I don’t know why we even came.”
Joseph grabbed Maklavir by the arm, squeezing hard.
Surprised, the diplomat looked over at his friend.
“Listen to me,” Joseph said. His voice was the faintest whisper. He motioned with his eyes to the hallway behind him. “Kara needs help, not a dungeon. I’m getting her out of here. Now.”
Maklavir stared at his friend, uncomprehending for a moment.
Iola looked up with a start.
Kara smiled. “Leaving, leaving,” she said.
“Are you with me?” Joseph hissed. He squeezed harder. “Maklavir?”
Maklavir swallowed hard. For a moment he didn’t say anything.
Joseph could see a flash of pain in his friend’s eyes. It was only then that he realized what he was asking of the man.
“I’ll lose everything,” Maklavir said quietly. “My house. My reputation. Any chance of getting back into the King’s good graces.”
“I—” The words died on Joseph’s tongue.
“Oh don’t be a bloody fool,” Maklavir said sharply. “Of course I’ll help you.”
Kara got up from the bed. She still didn’t make eye contact with either of the men.
“Leaving, leaving.”
“I don’t think those gendarmes will just let us walk out,” Maklavir said, still keeping his voice down.
Joseph nodded. “I’ll deal with the gendarmes. You take care of Kara.” He turned for the door without waiting for an answer.
The two gendarmes straightened as Joseph walked out into the hall. They looked at him.
“Gentlemen,” Joseph began. He didn’t quite know what to say. He felt calm, and sure of himself, more sure than he had felt in a long while, but the words still tripped on his tongue.
There was no going back after this. He couldn’t let them take Kara away to rot in some dungeon. He wouldn’t.
He owed her that much.
One of the gendarmes, the one called Yuri, gave a quizzical raise of his eyebrows. “Sir?”
Joseph sighed. “We’re leaving. With Kara. I know you both have your orders, but I’m asking you to do the decent thing and let us go. We won’t cause any trouble.” He raised a hand. “Look, I’m a soldier, just like you. I’ve fought and bled against the Kalinglanders and Baderans over the last few weeks here. I’ve given everything I have for Valmingaard, and for Vorten. But I can’t stand by and watch this girl get locked up because of some nobleman’s irrational fear.”
The gendarmes didn’t move. They stood as still as statues.
Maklavir and Kara appeared at the door to her bedroom.
“Ladder of green,” Kara murmured. Her eyes were fixed on something only she could see.
Joseph spread his hands. He gave his best smile. “Please. Ten minutes. That’s all we need. Then you can tell Potemkin. I’m asking you as one soldier to another.”
For a moment there was a tense silence in the dark hall. The gendarmes stared at Joseph. No one moved.
Then, as one man, they reached for their carbines.
Chapter 9
“Hmm.” Kendril bent down next to the pile of ashes. He fingered some of the residue with his gloved hand. The flakes of gray stood out against his black gauntlet. “Seems fresh.”
Marley stood a respectful distance away, his shoulders huddled against the brisk wind. He clutched a musket in his hands, and kept casting nervous glances at the tall standing stones that stood in a ragged circle around the overgrown hill top.
Kendril stood and wiped his hand on his trousers. “Keep an eye out, Marley.”
The sailor shivered, the wind tearing at his clothes. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Kendril, but we shouldn’t be here.” He looked over at one of the tall menhirs that stood just a few feet away from him. “This is cursed ground, it is. Old, and evil.” He made the sign against evil across his chest.
Kendril gave a heavy sigh. He stepped over to a large stone set in the ground, and examined the burnt remains on top of it.
Tomas came out from behind one of the stones, as softly and silently as an evening shadow. “There’s no sign of whoever was here,” he said in a hushed voice. “At least not that I can see.” He eyed the remains of the sacrifice. “How old, do you think?”
Kendril made a face. He tossed a greasy bone he had been inspecting down onto the ground. “Hard to tell. A day, maybe two. I’m no ranger.”
Tomas grunted. He gave the pile of ash a nudge with his foot.
Kendril turned, looking at the twisted path that led up the hill. Past the stunted and wind-bent trees he could glimpse the long gray band of the ocean.
He needed Joseph. The pathfinder could have examined the ground around the standing stones and told in a heartbeat how many people had been here, how long ago, and which direction they had gone afterwards.
But there was no use wishing for that. Joseph had been a man broken by anger and grief the last time Kendril had seen him.
In truth, he doubted he would ever see his old friend again.
“How did you know Bronwyn came here?” Tomas put a gloved hand against the mossy side of one of the stones. “How did you even know this place was here at all?”
“The robe,” Kendril said. He put one hand on the handle of his pistol as he looked around. “She was wearing black with a white hood. That’s a witch’s ceremonial outfit.” He glanced over at Tomas. “Of course, I still don’t know for sure that she was here at all. But it’s a good guess.”
Tomas gave Kendril a sharp look. “You must know this place pretty well, then. These standing stones are a good day’s travel from Redemption, and not visible from the ocean.”
Kendril shrugged. “Not my first time to Jothland.”
“Yeah,” Tomas said blandly, “I gathered that.” He rolled his shoulders back against the cutting wind, and looked out towards the sea. “So what now? There’s no sign of Bronwyn here.”
Kendril knelt down and rubbed a patch of grass with his hand. It was dark, stained with something. He frowned. “I don’t know.
”
Marley peered around the stone, deliberately avoiding stepping into the circle. “Is that…that a human?”
Tomas smiled and shook his head. “It’s a goat, you old fool. They burned it on the altar.”
Kendril picked up something out of a patch of weeds. It glinted dully in the watery sunlight.
Tomas raised an eyebrow. “What did you find?”
Kendril stood, brushing the dirt of his trousers. “Take a look.” He tossed the small object to the other Ghostwalker.
Tomas caught it and turned it over in his hand. “Looks like a bronze band…shaped like some kind of an animal. A fox, maybe? Dog?” He squinted.
Kendril looked out towards the ocean, deep in thought. “Wolf.”
Tomas lowered his hand. “You know something? I hate being left in the dark.”
Kendril bit his lip, thinking for a minute. “The craftsmanship. I recognize it. It’s Jombard.”
Tomas shuddered as a fresh gust of cold wind assaulted the hillside and whistled between the stones. “Jombard? Who are those, the local pagans?”
Kendril nodded. His eyes were still scanning the ocean. “Warriors who worship the Seteru. They mainly live in scattered tribes east of the Wall. Usually they’re too busy fighting each other to pose much threat to Redemption, but occasionally a war chief bands them together for a large raid.”
Tomas stepped over towards Kendril. He was careful to walk around the ash. “I didn’t know you were such an expert in the anthropology of the region.”
Kendril ignored the comment. “It’s a clue. Maybe the only one we’ll get.”
“But it doesn’t tell us anything.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Kendril stepped quickly towards where Marley and Simon stood just outside the ring of stones. “But if there are Jombards here, even a few of them, there’s only so many places where they could be hiding.”
“You think Bronwyn’s with them?”
Kendril paused by one of the tall stones. He glanced behind him. “I don’t know. It’s possible. If she had come back to town, I think we would have—”
A woman stood near the stone altar, her back to them. Long chestnut hair flowed down past her shoulders, hiding her face.
Startled, Kendril whipped out his pistol and snapped back the lock.
Simon gave a snort and reared back.
Tomas whirled instantly. His dagger flashed out into his hand.
Kendril stared, lowering his pistol. He blinked hard, rubbing a gloved hand across his eyes.
Nothing. There was nothing there.
Tomas gave him a confused glance. “What did you see?”
“No one,” Kendril said, a little too quickly. He shook his head and lowered his pistol even more. “Nothing,” he corrected, “just my mind playing tricks on me.”
Tomas narrowed his eyes. “That happen to you a lot?”
“I said it was nothing.” Kendril stuck the pistol back into its holster. “Not enough sleep.”
Marley glanced fearfully around the stone circle. The old musket shook slightly as he held it. “You’re absolutely sure, Mr. Kendril? There ain’t an ambush of some kind, some of them Jombards of yours sneaking around in the bushes?”
“I’m sure.” Kendril stepped up and gave Simon a reassuring pat.
The beast gave a fierce snort and pushed his snout into Kendril’s chest.
“Whoa, boy.” Kendril rubbed the animal’s neck. Something had spooked the mule, too.
“Look,” said Tomas as he re-sheathed his dagger, “I get that your past is your own. I’ve got my own issues, believe me. But I’m not an idiot. You’ve spent time here in Jothland, that much is clear. I’m guessing before you became a Ghostwalker.”
Kendril glowered, but said nothing.
Tomas stepped between two menhirs, his cape fluttering in the steady wind. “What I can’t have is you suffering some sort of nervous breakdown while we’re tracking down this witch. So if you need to sit this one out, this is the time to say so.”
Kendril glared icily at Tomas. “You don’t know me very well, so for your sake I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that.”
“Maybe it’s time you told me what’s really going on here,” Tomas said.
“And maybe it’s time you stopped digging into my private life and focused on what we need to do.” Kendril snatched the musket out of Marley’s hand and snapped the lock forward a bit. “Keep it half-cocked when you’re not using it, Marls, or you’ll blow your foot off.”
“Or shoot one of us in the back,” Tomas mumbled. He glanced back towards the long line of the ocean. “All right, you said you might have some idea where Bronwyn might be. Any suggestions?”
Kendril ran his eyes over the rain-spattered ground with a frown. “I can’t track them.”
Tomas crossed his arms. “So you don’t know where they are.”
“No,” Kendril admitted. “But I have an idea.” He stuck the toe of his boot in a patch of soft dirt and made a great looping horseshoe shape. “This is the peninsula that Redemption is on. The sea’s on three sides.” He jammed the side of his foot into the open side of the horseshoe and dragged it down to form a deep line. “That’s the Wall. It cuts off the peninsula we’re on from the rest of Jothland. Past that is wild forest and Jombards.”
“And the Forbidden City,” said Marley in a half-whisper. He made the sign against evil with shaking fingers.
Kendril glanced up at Marley. “And the Forbidden City.” He tapped the top part of the horseshoe. “Here’s Dancing Harbor. If there are Jombards here, there’s only two ways they could have come.”
Tomas studied Kendril’s crude map as if it was an in-depth parchment. “Either over the Wall, or across the sea.”
“Nothing gets over the Wall,” said Kendril darkly. “Not without a few thousand screaming berserkers to smash a hole in it first. And the Jombards have never been great sailors.”
Tomas looked up “I doubt Redemption would have lasted very long if they were.”
Kendril tapped the side of his head. “Now you’re getting it. But just because the Jombards aren’t a seafaring nation doesn’t mean that they don’t have a boat or two.”
Tomas nodded. “So if there are Jombards here near Redemption, that means that they had to come by sea.” He looked up, catching sight of the gray ocean. “And it would be somewhere close to here, I’d reckon. Along the shore.”
Kendril glanced back towards the standing stones, almost expecting to see the phantom girl again. But the area was empty save for the whistling wind and the tall, motionless stones. “There aren’t many places they could hide,” he said, turning his head back to Tomas again. “And there’s a good chance that they’re not here anymore. But if they are, I think I might have a good idea where they might be.”
“All right, then. Where?”
“There’s a series of sea caves in the cliffside,” Kendril said. He stuck the toe of his boot onto the top edge of the horseshoe. “Right about here. The eastern end of Dancing Harbor. Some of the caves are pretty big, and at high tide many of them are completely submerged. They used to be stopping points for smugglers and pirates.” He lifted his head up and pointed off towards where the trees covered the view of the ocean. “Over that way, probably less than an hour’s walk away.”
Tomas scratched his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a good start, anyway.”
Kendril lifted the hood of his cloak. “We have no way of knowing how many Jombards there are, or whether Bronwyn is with them or not. Things could get hairy.”
Tomas gave a crooked grin. “Are you trying to scare me off, Kendril?”
The Ghostwalker shrugged. “Just a fair warning.”
“I could stay here,” Marley ventured hopefully. “With Simon.”
The mule brayed his approval of the idea.
Kendril gave the old sailor a cutting side-glance. “Don’t worry, Marls, I won’t pull you into any fighting unless I have to. I have no doubt you’d be next to useless
if things went south on us.”
“Thank you, Mr. Kendril,” Marley said.
“We don’t have a boat,” Kendril said. “We’d best wait for low tide.”
Tomas snorted. “Well, unfortunately I forgot my tide chart.”
“Low tide?” Marley slung his musket back over his shoulder by the strap. “I’d say about ten o’clock tonight. Maybe ten-thirty, give or take.”
Kendril and Tomas both looked over at the crusty man.
A smile appeared on Marley’s cracked face. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Kendril, but the two of you are a bunch of landlubbers for sure. You’re too easy forgetting that old Marley spent fair his whole life on the sea, now ain’t you?”
The moon was barely a sliver in the black sky above, like a glinting fingernail among the stars.
The beach was dark, lit only by the weak moonlight and the stars not blocked by clouds. The gentle roar of the ocean drowned out almost any other sounds, even though Kendril strained to hear what he could not see.
Tomas had been gone for a long time. Too long. He was supposed to go on a simple reconnaissance mission down the beach to check out the nearest caves, then scoot back to the rocks Kendril was hiding in.
Kendril didn’t have a pocket watch, and wouldn’t have been able to see it even if he had, but he was sure it had been at least thirty minutes since he had last seen Tomas.
He grunted, and tried to shift his position among the rocks. Sharp edges dug into his side and back, and the wet of slimy seaweed and saltwater soaked into his clothes. His knee still ached dully from where he had twisted it back in New Marlin. That seemed a lifetime ago now.
Kendril peered through the darkness, trying to make out the black shapes of the caves in the cliffside up ahead. He knew they were there, but he could barely see anything in the weak starlight. There was no sign of life anyway. Not a campfire or the slightest sound that could be heard over the murmuring of the ocean.
With a muttered curse, Kendril tried to change position again. His legs were throbbing from sitting for too long, and his bum was no doubt bruised black and blue from the oddly shaped rocks underneath him.
