Then Iscivius roared, “Get him!”
Adder lunged toward the enforcers closest to him. “The Kormanley must die!”
Kara jerked back as he drove the blade through another enforcer’s chest and pulled it free. The man staggered, a look of surprise crossing his face as he fell, but Adder was already moving. He struck another man in the arm, slicing deep, the enforcer screaming. He caught another across the chest as Tim dove for the enforcer already dead from the chest wound. The younger Dog drew the man’s sword and stepped into position at Adder’s back, the two settling in and circling as if they’d practiced the move before.
But the enforcers had had enough time to shake off their shock and react. Swords had been drawn on all sides.
The nearest enforcers charged forward.
At the first clang of sword against sword, Kara spun, searching out Carter and Aaron. The younger Hollower stood paralyzed, mouth open, two steps behind her. Carter had one hand gripping the back of Dylan’s wagon, knuckles white.
Kara bolted for the plains, grabbing onto Aaron’s arm as she passed. “Come on.” She didn’t dare shout. It might draw the enforcers’ attention. But Carter didn’t move. Not even when he saw them charging straight for him. His entire body stiffened as Kara halted in front of him, shoving Aaron out onto the plains. “Run!”
Aaron sprinted into the grassland.
Swords clashing behind her, Kara seized Carter’s arm. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”
Carter stared into her face, expression lost, mouth working.
But then he hardened, straightened. His hand refused to let go of the wagon. “I’m not coming.”
“What?”
“I’m not coming! I’m staying with the White Cloaks. They need Wielders. They need me. No one in the Hollow cares about any of us. They only care about you.”
Kara gripped both of his shoulders, aghast. “Carter, listen to me. We do care about you. The Hollow needs you. You don’t know the Kormanley. You don’t know what they’re capable of. You need to come with us now. This is our only chance!”
She glanced over her shoulder. Adder and Tim were holding their own, Tim bloodied, but they were surrounded by the enforcers. None of the White Cloaks or the guards were paying any attention to them. But it wouldn’t last long.
She spun back to the Wielder. “Carter, they will destroy you!”
“I’m staying.”
He meant it. Kara could see it in his eyes.
She dropped her hands from his shoulders and ran onto the plains. The stone of the road changed to the softer pounding of earth as stalks of grass slapped against her thighs. She ran without a destination, pushed as hard as she could, her legs already protesting after the long, exhausting days of walking behind the wagons. Air burned in her lungs and sweat broke out on her forehead. Her still-damp clothing scraped at her skin, but she shoved all of the discomfort aside, her mind boiling with images of what the Kormanley had done to Erenthrall since she was young. The explosion in Seeley’s Park that had killed her parents. The bombing of the Barons’ Meeting that had set off the Purge that had killed Ischua. The riots that had rocked Erenthrall for years afterward.
She didn’t want anything to do with the Kormanley or the White Cloaks or whatever they’d decided to call themselves now. This was her only chance to escape. They hadn’t been given an opportunity before, but Adder and Tim had created one—
Adder.
She halted, so abruptly that she nearly pitched forward into the grass, and looked back. She’d made it maybe three hundred feet onto the plains. Adder and Tim were still fighting, and she suddenly realized they had no intention of breaking away to follow her and Aaron. They were fighting solely to give them the chance to flee. But by the wagon, Carter was calling out to the enforcer who’d remained with Dylan on the wagon and motioning toward her position.
The enforcer stood up and pointed.
Then he reached over into the seat of the wagon driver and pulled up a bow, already strung. He grabbed an arrow, nocked it, drew.
A moment before he released, Dylan leaped up and swung a water skin at his back. The arrow launched, shot harmlessly to Kara’s left, as the archer tumbled from the wagon to the ground, Dylan clinging to the headboard between the bed and the seat. He shouted something to Kara that she couldn’t hear through the pounding of her own blood in her ears, but she knew what he’d said.
The wagon’s driver clubbed Dylan on the back of the head as she spun and lurched back into a run, thoughts of the Kormanley now threaded with a sickening nausea over what Adder and Tim had done. Tears blurred her eyes and she wiped at them furiously. Her mouth and throat were dry. She was choking on her own breath. Ahead, Aaron’s figure outpaced her, at least five hundred feet away, a dark blot on the green-yellow grass.
Then he disappeared behind a ridge, dropping out of sight suddenly.
Kara continued, not slowing, her legs tiring, her chest aching. All she could think of was Adder and Tim, Dylan slumping into unconsciousness, Carter’s betrayal. She and Aaron would have to return to the Hollow, get Bryce and some of the other Dogs, and return to save them. If they were still alive.
And then a figure rose up before her, a fist flying in to land a mind-numbing blow across her face.
Her last thought, before she slammed into the ground on her back and darkness claimed her, was that they’d forgotten about the enforcer scouts.
She woke abruptly with a cry of pain as someone tied her hands behind her back, the ropes cutting into her flesh. The cry was muffled by the gag in her mouth. It tasted of someone’s sweat, salty and rank. As soon as the knots were finished, someone grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her into a seated position.
She blinked, her head throbbing, her jaw swollen and aching. The sun hadn’t moved. Dylan was still slumped over the headboard, the wagon driver standing over him. Adder lay prone, and Kara’s heart skipped a beat in horror until one of the enforcers straddled his body, snatched up both limp arms, and began tying them as they’d done hers. They wouldn’t be bothering if he was dead. Adder didn’t stir. Behind him, Tim knelt, hunched forward with blood drooling from his mouth, his blond-brown hair hanging over his face. The front of his shirt was covered with blood as well, a flap hanging open where someone had cut him. He spat once, then lifted his head and met Kara’s gaze.
“But I warned you!” Carter was thrown to the ground in front of Kara. “I stayed! I want to stay with you!”
An enforcer placed one knee on his back, and he could no longer breathe. He struggled, flailing, until another enforcer—the captain—grabbed his hands and trussed him with a few quick twists of the rope. Then they rolled him over and sat him up next to Aaron, the young Hollower hunched and dejected.
Iscivius, Irmona, and Okata stepped into view. Their white cloaks were stained with dirt, but they still hurt to look at in the bright sunlight. Or else Kara’s vision had been screwed up from the fist to her face. She wondered where the other two White Cloaks were.
Iscivius moved to Adder’s side, nudged him with one foot, hard, then knelt down to the unresponsive body. He rolled him over onto his side, slapped the Dog’s face a few times, then let his body fall back as he stood.
He pointed to Tim. “Kill him.”
Kara’s eyes widened as one of the enforcers stepped forward, drawing a blade. She screamed, “No!” through the gag as the guard gripped Tim’s head by the hair and slit his throat in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed outward onto the dusty road, Tim’s eyes widening in mild shock as he choked and gurgled. Then the enforcer thrust him forward. His body slumped to the stone behind Adder, twitched, then stilled.
Kara swallowed back the urge to sob, her chest swollen with the effort. She wanted to scream, to let the cries rack her body, the accumulation of terror from all that had happened in Erenthrall seething inside her. But she bit down on
the gag instead, breathed out forcefully through her nose, focused her anger and rage on Iscivius as he stepped forward. His cloak had been splattered with Tim’s blood, but he didn’t appear to have noticed. His attention was fixed solely on her.
He knelt down on one knee so that he was at eye level with her. “You shouldn’t have tried to run. And they shouldn’t have tried to fight.” He motioned to Tim and Adder. “No Wielder from Erenthrall can fight like that. I suspected they were Dogs, but couldn’t prove it. Now they’ve given themselves away.”
He pointed to the unconscious Adder. “Kill him.”
Kara bit down so hard on her scream of frustration she caught her tongue. The salty taste of blood flooded her mouth as two enforcers stepped forward, grabbed one arm each, and hauled Adder upright. The same enforcer that had killed Tim twisted his fingers into Adder’s hair and yanked his head back. He raised the knife, still stained with Tim’s blood, and placed it on the Dog’s neck.
“Iscivius! Iscivius, someone’s coming!”
Iscivius rose abruptly and turned toward the lead wagon, where one of the other White Cloaks now stood, pointing off toward the south. “Who?”
“It’s the Son.”
“How long do we have?”
“Not long. They’re moving fast. It looks as if the Son and a small escort are outpacing the rest of the force.”
Iscivius glanced around, gaze falling on Adder. “Release him. We’ll have to let the Son deal with them now.”
Okata merely stood to one side as Iscivius motioned for the enforcers to remove Tim’s body. As they dragged the younger Dog off, Iscivius spoke with Irmona and Okata, their voices too low to make out, and then the White Cloak standing on the wagon warned them that the Son was near. Iscivius and the White Cloaks moved forward, to the far side of the wagon, along with the captain of the enforcers.
Adder was still unconscious. The man who’d killed Tim stood over him, knife still readied.
Kara’s gag was soaked with saliva now and she realized it felt loose. She worked her jaw, managed to spit it out. “Who’s this Son you’re so afraid of?”
The man flicked a glance toward her.
Kara let her eyes wander over the rest of the enforcers. “So who is he? What has he done to make you fear him so? Why do the White Cloaks hate him?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” someone murmured.
“Quiet!” Tim’s executioner dared someone else to speak, then wiped the blood from his knife using his sleeve.
Kara turned toward Aaron and Carter. “What about you two? Ever hear of this Son? Or this Father?”
Carter dropped his gaze, shoulders tense with defiance, but not fast enough that Kara didn’t see the flicker of doubt. He pulled at the ties binding his hands as the muscles in his jaw clenched.
“Never heard of either of them,” Aaron said.
One of the enforcers stepped forward and clouted him across the back of his head. The Hollower hissed in pain and hunched forward, but then caught sight of the pool of blood soaking into the ground where Tim had fallen. He carefully straightened, back stiff, stance rigid. A stoic defiance, in counterpoint to Carter’s sulk.
On the other side of the wagon, the thunder of approaching hooves grew, then died as the horses slowed on approach. She couldn’t see anything and didn’t dare move, not with the enforcers watching them so closely, especially Tim’s killer. But she heard the heavy thuds as the men who’d approached dismounted. Harnesses jangled, and one of the horses snorted.
“What did you find in Erenthrall?”
Kara stiffened. Iscivius answered, but his words were lost in the blood rush in Kara’s ears. Aaron shot her a questioning look. She knew her face was likely white with shock, slack with denial, but she couldn’t force any words out, her throat too tight.
Iscivius, Irmona, and Okata appeared from around the side of the wagon, followed by the enforcers and another man, head turned slightly away as he spoke to the White Cloaks. He was dressed like them, the white blazing even though he was as dusty as they were, if not as bloody.
As he rounded the corner of the wagon, he turned and caught sight of Kara. He stopped dead in his tracks, whatever he’d been saying cut off midsentence.
“Kara?” He laughed, the sound choked off by disbelief as he ran a hand through his thick, brown-blond, mussed hair. He hesitated, the other White Cloaks staring at him in confusion. He didn’t appear to notice. Instead, he reached for her, another laugh breaking out, and asked, “Is it really you?”
Through teeth clenched so tight her jaw ached, she spat, “Marcus.”
Seventeen
MARCUS RECOILED FROM HER. The enforcers surrounding them tensed, the man who’d killed Tim stepping forward until Iscivius halted him with a wave of a hand. Marcus appeared oblivious to all of it, his focus on her. After his initial retreat, he stilled, hands falling to his sides.
“Kara?” Hope still touched his voice, although it had become curiously flat.
None of it affected Kara’s rage.
“It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one causing the blackouts. You were the one manipulating the Nexus. All for the Kormanley? You destroyed Erenthrall. You destroyed everything!”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand. That’s why I never told you.” He noticed the tension in the guards, in his fellow White Cloaks, even the anger in the rest of those captured. He also noted the pool of blood soaking the earth where Tim had bled out, but his gaze returned to Kara. “You don’t understand. But you will.”
He gestured toward the blood on the ground. “What happened?”
“They tried to escape. Two of them attacked our enforcers while the others tried to flee onto the plains. Our scouts stopped them.”
“Not all of us tried to run,” Carter grumbled. “I warned you. They might have escaped if not for me.”
Iscivius gave the young Wielder a condescending look. “Our scouts would have found them regardless.”
Marcus ignored the exchange. “So what happened? Was one of them killed during the attack?”
“No, we killed him afterward. He wasn’t a Wielder. He fought too well for that.”
Marcus’ hands closed into fists. “You couldn’t have known that. Not all Wielders are like us. Some of them know how to handle weapons. Have you forgotten about Chekla? She had no idea she could manipulate the ley, because those in the Archipelago aren’t tested. Yet Lecrucius said she had more latent talent than even you. We need every Wielder we can find.”
“He wasn’t a Wielder.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?” Marcus swept his gaze over Kara and the rest. “Were these the only ones found in Erenthrall? I thought there were more.”
Irmona stepped forward. “There were. The Underearthers brought twelve of them to the meeting place. Iscivius had one of their archers killed, but only wounded the second. We would have had them all if the damn Wolves hadn’t attacked. The entire square erupted into chaos. We had to call up the ley in order to keep the Wolves at bay. But before that, they tore into our enforcers. Five of the ones the Underearthers brought us escaped with one of our wagons. We managed to subdue these and drive off the Wolves.”
Marcus scanned the rest of those with Kara. “Aside from her, which of the others are confirmed Wielders?”
“The man in the wagon, named Dylan, and the snitch, Carter.”
Carter focused on Marcus. “I want to join up with you. I want to become a White Cloak.”
Marcus moved closer, until he stood over him. “Why?”
“Because they don’t listen to me. They don’t let me do anything. It’s all about her.” He jutted his chin out toward Kara. “I’m better than her, but they don’t give anyone else a chance to do anything.”
Marcus’ eyebrow rose. “Better than her? Are you certain?”
Carter dropped his gaze to the dirt. H
e steadied himself, then raised his head, eyes narrowed and hard. “I know I can be better than her. You just have to give me a chance.”
Kara didn’t think they’d been ignoring him in the Hollow or on the excursion to Erenthrall, but obviously Carter had seen things differently. Resentment laced the pain in his eyes as he stared up at Marcus.
The tableau held for an uncomfortable moment, even the enforcers fidgeting in place. Irmona and Okata traded glances. Iscivius stiffened in affront.
Finally, Marcus reached out. The young Wielder flinched back at first, as if he expected Marcus to strike him, but when Marcus simply held his palm flat, arm extended, Carter shifted back.
Marcus rested his hand on the Wielder’s head. “The Father accepts this young man’s words as truth through me, his Son. He will be judged by the Father on our return.” Then he dropped his hand and faced Iscivius. “Release him. He’s one of us for the moment, until Father has had a chance to speak to him.”
Iscivius drew a breath as if to protest, but Irmona cleared her throat behind him and, after a slight hesitation, he motioned the enforcer who’d killed Tim forward. The guard stepped behind Carter and cut the ropes that bound him. “What of the others?”
Marcus looked directly at Kara. “Keep them bound. Load them into the back of the wagons and join up with our group. Keep a watch on them at all times.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Back to the Needle. The latest quakes to the north have rearranged the ley lines yet again. There are some new, stronger lines coming down from the north that we may be able to use to our advantage. We need to consult with Father.”
Iscivius pointed to the guard who’d killed Tim. “Riley, get them into the wagon. Then secure it. I want at least half a dozen enforcers around it at all times. As soon as you’re ready—”
He stilled, eyes going wide, then spun toward the southeast, hands rising as if to ward off an attack. Everyone in the entire group halted where they stood, midmotion, the enforcers in bewilderment. Aaron gasped. Riley’s hand flew toward his sword.
Threading the Needle Page 32
