“Who? Cutter and Glenn are both hurt. Gaven and I don’t know the first thing about tracking. Allan, you’re the only one fit enough for that.”
“Then I’ll do it myself.”
“Like hell. You’ll take me with you.” Glenn motioned with his bloodied arm, trying unsuccessfully to hide his wince of pain. “This is nothing. The Wolf barely tore the flesh.”
“Fools.” Artras reached out and snatched his arm, jerking it close. Glenn yelped, but Artras had already yanked the bloodied sleeve back, exposing the mangled flesh beneath.
She glanced up as Glenn, Gaven, and Allan sucked in horrified breaths. “This is more than ‘barely torn.’ Allan, we need water. This has to be cleaned before I can do anything. He’s left it exposed too long. Gaven, start a fire and find more cloth for bandages.”
Allan slid out the door. Gaven started a small fire not far from where Cutter lay. He also found the remains of a bed in one of the other rooms, and they hauled the metal frame and disintegrating stuffed mattress into the corner, setting Cutter up on it. The tracker promptly fell asleep. Glenn sat next to the bed, leaning against the wall, muttering to himself. Artras checked him for fever, but his forehead was cool and his skin wasn’t flushed.
An hour later, Allan returned bearing three skins and a stoppered urn filled with water. Artras didn’t ask where he’d found the containers or the water, taking the clay jug, pulling its cork with her teeth, and immediately dousing Glenn’s arm. He roared in pain, thrashing until his free hand closed down on the edge of Cutter’s bed, jerking the tracker awake. Artras ignored his cursing. The Wolf’s teeth had punctured Glenn’s forearm in two distinct ridges, one on top and the other below. But he’d thrashed back and forth once he’d taken hold. Glenn’s skin was shredded, a few flaps hanging loose.
“It’s going to require stitches.”
“Do what you have to.”
At some point during the stitching, Allan slipped out again. He still hadn’t returned when she finished, and Gaven didn’t know where he’d gone. She cleaned Glenn’s arm once more, then bound it, the sweat-slicked Dog leaning back against the wall. He shifted into a more comfortable position and then dropped to sleep almost as fast as Cutter had.
Artras packed up the healer’s bag. She’d used up most of the valerian root and all of the yarrow. One or more of the vials may have been helpful, but she didn’t dare apply any of them without knowing what they held. Once finished, she sat in front of the fire, staring blankly into its flames. Her shoulders ached. The joints of her fingers throbbed with arthritis. She massaged them without thought. Gaven had stationed himself near one of the windows, watching the street below. Neither one of them spoke, the silence calming.
Artras must have dozed off, for her head snapped up when sounds came from the stairwell. Gaven rose from his crouched position at the window, sword raised awkwardly in one hand, but he relaxed as Allan reappeared, carrying two hares tied together by the feet.
“I followed the White Cloaks.” He set the hares down near the door, retrieved the hunting knife from the trunk they’d found in the wagon, and began to skin them. “They followed the street until they reached the burned-out section of Erenthrall to the southwest. Then they turned directly west.”
“But there isn’t anything to the west. The fire that started in West Forks burned uncontrolled all the way to the edge of the city in that direction.”
“I know.”
“That means they aren’t from the city.”
All three of them turned toward Glenn. Artras rose, grimacing as the muscles in her legs protested. “Then the Needle isn’t in the city either.” She knelt down next to Glenn, one hand pressed to his forehead, the other raising his arm so she could inspect the bandages. “That’s likely why none of us have heard of it. And that changes everything.”
“No, it doesn’t. We still need to follow them.” Glenn pulled his arm from her grip and shifted into a better position. “We need to find out where this Needle is, or get Kara and the rest away from them before they reach it.”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” Artras glanced toward Allan. “He’s burning up with fever.”
“What about Cutter?”
Artras shifted to the tracker’s side, laid the back of her hand to his forehead and frowned. “No fever yet. But now that we have water, I should change the dressing, see if there’s sign of an infection.”
“Get both of them ready for travel. We’ll take the wagon and head west, then north, back toward the Hollow.”
“What?” Glenn lurched forward as if to rise. Before he’d made it halfway up, he faltered, wavering as if dizzy. Artras caught his shoulder and lowered him back to his seated position. “We can’t. We have to get Kara and the others. We can’t leave them with the Kormanley!”
“I don’t want to leave Kara and the others with the Kormanley any more than you do, but look at us. Both you and Cutter are wounded, which means if we have to leave the city, we either leave you behind or split our group.”
“So split the group!”
“How? You and Cutter need a healer. The closest we’ve got is Artras, which means she’d have to stay behind with both of you. But she can’t protect you and care for you at the same time. Gaven is a fine wagonmaster, but he’s a lousy fighter.”
Glenn refused to look at any of them. A stricken look crossed his face, but then he hardened, turning back to Allan. “Then leave us behind. Take Artras and Gaven and go.”
“We aren’t leaving either of you behind.” When he made to protest again, Artras cut him off with a jerk of her hand. “No! We’re taking both of you and heading back to the Hollow and that’s final! We can get Bryce and some of the others, track where these Kormanley have taken Kara and the rest, and figure out what to do then.”
She stormed away from Glenn and Cutter, past Allan, and into the room across the hall, beyond the stairs. It was another flat, with the same layout as the one they’d occupied, but with different furniture. Whoever had lived here before had had children. There were signs of them in the tiny chairs around a small table in one corner and a few scattered wooden toys. Artras’ heart lurched when she thought of what might have happened to them, but she brushed the pain aside as useless as she crossed to the shattered window and looked down on the street below.
She stiffened when she heard someone pause at the door behind her, the floor creaking beneath his feet. It had to be Allan.
“It’s the right decision.”
“I know. But it still hurts to give up on them.”
“We aren’t giving up on them. I’ll keep an eye on them for as long as I can as we head toward the Hollow. Once we regroup, I’ll go back out, find them, and get them out of the Kormanley’s hands.”
Kara looked back as the wagons of the White Cloaks ground their way through the remnants of the western part of Erenthrall. The multicolored lights of the distortion rose against the eastern night sky, surrounded by a band of darkness where its light washed out the stars. To either side, the darkness was broken by scattered fires within the outer city, both to the north and south. She knew the Temerites were the likely source of the northern fires, but wasn’t sure who controlled the southern parts of the city. Probably the Gorrani, based on what Allan and the others had reported.
Here, at the western edge, no one ruled the streets. The buildings had been reduced to ash and piles of charred rubble. The street they were following had obviously been cleared for easy access to Erenthrall’s interior, which meant the White Cloaks had been operating in the city for a while.
She searched the surrounding darkness as their captors produced more torches.
“I haven’t seen anything.” Adder kept his voice low, his eyes ahead on the wagon where Dylan lay among the supplies.
“You said they escaped?”
“Glenn and Artras made it into the wagon with Gaven and Cu
tter. The White Cloaks were dealing with the Wolves. I didn’t see any of their guards going after them, and the Tunnelers retreated back into the node. I think they escaped.”
The guards kept them penned between the wagons. They’d taken all of their weapons and supplies, tossing them into one of the wagons behind them. But even though the guards watched their group, their attention was focused more on the darkness beyond the wagon train. “Are they worried the Wolves will return? Or is it something else?”
“We don’t know much about this part of the city. We didn’t even know about the Tunnelers in the northern section, and we thought we’d scouted that part out rather well. I’m beginning to think we should have approached the Temerites. At least started talks with them. Maybe none of this would have been necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
He sidled closer, watching the White Cloak in the wagon ahead, but neither he nor the guards appeared to care that they were talking to one another. “Instead of trying to find the supplies on our own, maybe we should have negotiated with the Temerites. They seem to have control over their part of the city and are capable of defending it against outside forces like the Rats.”
“Why would they give us supplies? What do we have to offer them in return?”
Adder looked at her. “You.”
“Me?”
“Not you specifically. But the Wielders. The Temerites must be running short of supplies like everyone else. We could have traded access to the shards in the distortion for a portion of the supplies inside and protection for ourselves while we were inside the city.”
“Why didn’t anyone think of this earlier?”
“None of us realized there were so many groups in play. We knew of the Rats, the Wolves, and the Temerites, at least in the northern parts of the city. No one knew of the Tunnelers or the White Cloaks. If I had to choose an ally from any of those groups, I’d certainly rather work with the Temerites than the Kormanley.”
Kara came to a dead stop. Adder took two steps more before realizing she’d halted. The wagons continued forward at the slow, steady pace. Carter, Aaron, and Tim hesitated, slowing their pace, not certain what was happening.
“The Kormanley.” Her throat didn’t seem to want to work.
Understanding dawned on Adder’s face. He snatched her arm and hauled her back into motion, her body jerky and unresponsive. Her hands ached and she clenched them into fists. She’d been too stunned earlier to react, then too focused on the White Cloaks as they herded them to the wagons and headed out. She’d nearly forgotten what Iscivius had said.
“It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Quiet. They’re watching.”
They’d caught the attention of both the guard and the White Cloak riding with Dylan. It wasn’t Iscivius or the woman who’d spoken to the Tunnelers in the square. This White Cloak was younger, perhaps thirty, with darker skin, like that of the Gorrani, a bound beard jutting out from his chin. The beard made the Gorrani’s typically thin face appear even narrower.
Kara forced herself to look down at the ground. Her fists slowly released as she focused on placing one foot in front of the other. Adder’s grip on her arm tightened in warning at first, then relaxed, his hand finally dropping away.
Kara looked up then to see the White Cloak and guard chatting, their attention diverted.
Carter and the others were shooting both her and Adder questioning looks. At a signal from Adder, Tim drifted closer, the others following suit.
When they were all within listening distance, Adder said, “What doesn’t make sense?”
“The White Cloaks are Wielders. They can’t be Wielders.”
“Why not?”
“The Kormanley wanted the ley system destroyed. They wanted the ley returned to its natural order.”
“How better to do that than with Wielders?”
Kara drew breath to respond, then stopped herself. She had a difficult time separating the deaths of her parents and her mentor Ischua from the Kormanley’s actions. They’d killed her parents in the bombing at the raising of the Flyers’ Tower. Ischua had died protecting her and the others at the beginning of the Purge after the bombing in the Amber Tower. Every person she’d loved had been torn from her because of the actions of the Kormanley. How could anyone, let alone her fellow Wielders, be part of their group?
“Not only that, but they seem to be searching for Wielders. They traded supplies for all of us. Why?”
No one answered.
“Whatever the reason, we can’t let them finish it. They’ve destroyed too much as it is.”
Before anyone could respond, orders were issued from the front of the group. The wagons slowed, then halted. More torches were lit, and lanterns set up on hooks and posts on either side of the wagons. The landscape had changed subtly. The streets were still scarred and littered with debris blackened by the fire, but there were fewer heaps of stone. Most of the buildings in whatever district this had once been must have been built of wood and were completely destroyed by the flames. Based on the charred remains of support beams, the buildings were smaller as well, probably only two stories high at most. They were at the edge of Erenthrall, and would be passing out onto the plains to the west shortly.
Kara traded a surprised look with Adder. “We’re leaving Erenthrall.”
Around them, the White Cloaks’ guards were forming up into new positions, more of them breaking out bows and grabbing quivers. The guard around Kara and the rest doubled. The White Cloaks checked the ties on the supplies, making certain nothing was loose.
Iscivius and the White Cloak woman appeared. Kara felt a twinge of satisfaction upon seeing the ragged cut across Iscivius’ cheek.
“We’re leaving Erenthrall. If you try to escape, my guards have orders to shoot you.” Iscivius eyed all of them individually, ending with Adder. “Don’t run.”
Then he proceeded down the line, checking with the guard and speaking to the other White Cloaks.
The woman stayed behind, watching Kara. As soon as Iscivius was too distant to overhear, she said, “We need you. But don’t think for a second that we won’t kill you if you cause us problems.” Then she turned to follow Iscivius.
“She’s a cold bitch.”
“Her name is Irmona.” They turned to see the Gorrani White Cloak towering over them, standing at the bottom of the wagon. The hilt of a Gorrani saber peeked from beneath the folds of his cloak. “She is Iscivius’ sister. You would do well to take care in her presence. She is, indeed, a cold bitch.”
He jumped down from the wagon and straightened, still a half a hand taller than Kara or Adder. He moved off toward the front of the wagons.
“We were talking about the Kormanley. How much of that do you think he overheard?”
“All of it.”
Nothing could be done about it now. Kara peered into the darkness beyond the torches and lanterns. It appeared darker now, deeper. “Do you think Allan and the others are following us?”
“I don’t know. Cutter was wounded. I don’t know how bad. Let’s hope. I’m more worried about being followed by the Wolves.”
Grant watched the torchlight of the White Cloaks with their captives fade into the distance on the plains. Around him, the rest of his pack paced in agitation, huffing and grunting and nipping at each other. He’d lost a half dozen of the pack at the square. Many of the others had been wounded. And still the White Cloaks had captured the Wielders.
He spat a curse, the Wolves answering by breaking into howls around him.
He’d waited too long. He should have taken the Wielders when they were fleeing the Rats. They’d been vulnerable for a short while, before that other—the man who’d stepped into the distortion—had found them. He could have seized them and then forced them to release his brethren captured in the distortion—the three Wolves in the shard chasing the wag
on first, then all the others he knew of.
Maybe even find and release his wife.
He quashed the errant thought and the grief that welled up with it. It was pointless. He had no idea where his wife might be, only a vague hope that she’d remained home before the quickening, that she’d been caught in a shard where time had halted, where she’d be protected. He had no way of knowing what her fate had been, caught here on the outside.
But that man could find out. He could walk through the distortion, find her, lead the Wielders to her.
Except he’d lost track of him in the fight at the square, along with the other Wielders.
He growled in frustration, shoved his raw emotion aside, and turned to his remaining Wolves.
“Follow the White Cloaks. Don’t attack them, there are too many. But track them. We need to know where they’re being taken.”
Three of the Wolves broke off from the group and vanished into the darkness after the wagons. The rest gathered closer, sat on their haunches. One of them whined a question.
Grant faced the charred ruins of western Erenthrall. “We need to find the others from their group. We’ll start back at the square.”
Fifteen
MORRELL HEAVED THE SACK OF FEED onto the stack at the side of the chamber that was going to serve as the stable for the livestock, then wiped the sweat from her forehead. Gritty chaff that had filtered through the burlap of the sacks made her skin itch. She wrinkled her nose in irritation, but turned to step out of the way as someone else threw down another sack.
The chamber had already been modified with some stalls for the horses and pens for the hogs and sheep and cattle. Carpenters were working on building additional fence, while those that could be spared from the fields were hauling in the feed and other supplies that could be brought up from the Hollow to the caves now rather than later. Some of the animals were already present, ewes bleating in a pen in the back corner. A few chickens that had escaped their cages before they could be released into the wire enclosure surrounding their new coop were scratching around the floor, pecking at pebbles. Goats were butting heads up against the stone wall on the opposite side, and a few cows were chewing their cuds beside them, unperturbed by the new location. Both would need to be milked soon, although Morrell didn’t intend to be around for that.
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