Danica opened her eyes, casting aside her sleeping blankets in the same instant, and sprang from her sickbed.
†
Agnar poked idly at the fire. The still of the night lay on the camp and all he could hear was the crackle of the flames and the hiss of sap boiling out of green wood, but he felt the eyes of the Galacian’s on his back.
When he had approached the camp he made no effort to hide his coming or blunt the sound of his passage. He did not want to catch the Galacians unaware or be mistaken for an assassin or rogue. He had found the foot tracks of the queen’s party a day after he left Elias and about half a day after that the tracks grew sporadic. Evidently the Galacians had returned to cover their trail. Agnar continued to follow Elias’s directions and soon spotted the first sign that he closed on them.
A pair of Galacian guardsman were running sentry duty through the forest, presumably checking to see if the enemy had found them. Agnar pretended not to notice them because he felt that as long as the Galacians had the upper hand they would bide their time until they found what he was about. He pulled Comet off Elias’s course and meandered away from the river so as to allow the guardsmen to return to their camp and report their findings. It was his hope that if the queen’s camp knew of his presence they would be less likely to react violently.
As he spotted the smoke from their low-burning fire winding through the twilight he felt the presence of a couple of men flanking him, but he resisted the temptation to turn about in his saddle and check. He slowed Comet to cautious walk and as he approached the perimeter of the camp cried, “Ho! Galacians! I, Agnar of clan Vundi, come in peace to deliver a message from Marshal Duana.”
A disembodied voice said, “Elias Duana is dead, so I ask you what treachery is this, Agnar Vundi?” A second voice, also speaking out of the empty air, said, “You are flanked by two of Galacia’s finest archers. Make a false move and you’ll be easy target practice for them. Keep your hands where we can see them.”
“Gladly,” Agnar said as he scanned the dark and seemingly empty camp, “except I don’t know what you can or can’t see as you are presently invisible. As for the archers, Elias did not mention having put bows and arrows in your escape boat. Again I say, I am here as your ally with a message of grave importance.”
His words met a pregnant silence and Agnar felt sweat wind down his neck. Then there was the rustle of a tent flap and Danica Duana strode toward him. “For shame,” she said, “this man has helped Elias foil the Hand, I think we can spare him the parlor tricks. Now, where is my brother?”
“We were forced to split up,” Agnar said in a hollow voice. “He thought that we were being tracked, perhaps by some black magic. He ran toward the center of the wood in a hope to lead our pursuers away from the queen. He sent me to deliver his message.”
The air before Agnar shimmered and Lady Bryn Denar materialized. “Is it true? Elias lives?”
“Presently, but he is in peril, having succumbed to a black curse. Mirengi took him captive but kept him alive so that he could learn his secrets.” Agnar swallowed. “I could hear his screams from my cell, but he never broke. I thought he had died but one day he literally blew out his cell wall and rescued me and together we escaped. He could have left me to die, but he saved me.”
Brush rustled behind Agnar and he stiffened, but held his ground, and his breath. Eithne Denar circled in front of him. “Master Vundi, I think you better start from the beginning. Join us by the fire and warm your bones.”
Agnar filled them in on everything that had happened since their escape as he warmed his hands by the fire. As soon as he finished the Galacians began firing one question at him after another, but only one stood out and kept rolling around inside his head as they discussed their next move and his fate: Why did you leave my brother alone? He had looked up at Danica Duana, into her feline eyes, and found his mouth had gone dry.
Elias is persuasive, he had said. He made me promise to do as he said. I didn’t want to leave him behind. His words echoed hollowly in his ears. Danica made no response but continued to look at him openly with those unsettling green eyes.
So there he remained, poking at the fire, waiting to see what fate had in store for him and his tenuous allies, all the while wondering about his new and unlikely friend, the singular Elias Duana. Just when he thought he could sit still no longer a din of arguing voices drew toward him.
Danica stepped over the log he was sitting on. “You must tell me exactly where it was you split with Elias.”
“You’re going after him?” Agnar said weakly.
Danica snorted. “Did you expect less, northman?”
“With all due respect, lass, you’ll never find him,” said Ogden. “And I might add that you are in no condition to ride out. In any case it’ll be easier for him to find us, and don’t forget Agnar’s message. We have to keep the queen and Bryn safe at all costs. We need to send them ahead to the garrison on the horse.”
“Agnar said that Elias is half-dead. He’ll never make it alone. He needs me. He’s already destroyed a full Hand while Agnar was riding here.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Phinneas asked, and a beat later Bryn and Lar both said, “I’m coming with you.” Meanwhile Ogden pressed back into the conversation.
“Silence!” Danica cried as she slashed her hand through the air. The single spoken word echoed with the resonant heft of an arcane command and the group fell into a stunned silence, compelled by Danica’s power. “Ogden, the queen is safer on foot with two wizards, four adept swords, and one hell of a bitch. Bryn, your duty is to your queen and country not my brother, and Comet is too weary to support two riders in his present condition, which means you’re definitely out, Lar.
“Phinneas, I was right when I told the queen that Elias was still alive, I was right when I said that he was coming for us, and I am right now when I say that without my aid he will die. The queen must escape, granted, but Elias is the only one that can defeat Mirengi, and deep in your hearts you all know it to be true. Forces beyond our ken have drawn my brother and I into this struggle, and now, I beg of you, let us finish what began on that tragic Midsummer’s Day. Let fate not have spent my family’s blood in vain.”
Her words fell into a heavy silence as the party exchanged uncomfortable glances. Agnar crouched with his back to the fire and peered off into the dark wood in the direction that he imagined Elias would be. “I never should have left him,” he said.
“I don’t imagine he left you much choice,” Danica said with a tight smile, “we Duanas tend to be persuasive. Sometimes things happen the way they are meant to, though we can’t always understand the why of it.”
“Very well, Danica,” said the queen. “Go.”
“You can’t be serious,” Ogden protested.
Eithne fixed her hazel eyes on her most trusted counselor. “This past week not an hour has gone by that I haven’t cursed myself for not lending more credence to Elias’s instincts. Now I may have a chance to remedy that. Danica, Godspeed. We’ll await your return here.”
“Preposterous!” Ogden cried. “Child, we must strike for the garrison with all due haste. The Hand is likely onto us and they are mounted. We don’t know how long we have. We’ve tarried long enough.”
“It seems to me we’ll have better odds if we fortify our position here and lay an ambush than if they fall upon us on the trail.” After the queen’s words the party fell to arguing again, with each member striving to be heard.
“I don’t have any more time to waste,” Danica said facing the only one who remained silent, Agnar. “Whatever you decide to do, we’ll find you.” Before anyone could protest further she sprinted to Comet, mounted, and before her foot was in the other stirrup and without a look behind she urged him into a canter.
†
My Lord, we have followed your instructions verbatim, but have yet to locate the queen’s camp.
Sarad leaned forward, peering deeper into his scrying mirror. U
sing the mirror to present him with an image of the communicant gave him a focal point and made it easier for him to transmit and receive telepathic messages. The piece of black stone that hung around the necks of his lieutenants served the same purpose, for the semi-opaque crystal was a potent conduit of psychic energy. Have you had any word from Lieutenant Vash?
None, my Lord.
I’ve warned you that the Marshal is cunning, even in his present condition, as are his allies. Sarad let no small measure of his wrath bleed through the mirror and into the message so that his lieutenant would be fully aware of his displeasure. Duana has misdirected us somehow.
Unless some other misfortune has befallen you, discounting Vash’s hand, you have four hands remaining to you. Is that correct, Kant?
Yes, my Lord.
Excellent. Send two hands after Duana and two to hunt down the queen.
Two full hands for Duana?
You evidently heard me, so I must wonder why you make me repeat myself.
Forgive me, my Lord. I was merely surprised, for surely Duana must be dead by now.
I’ll tell you who’s dead—Vash and all his men. Duana, a single man, alone and under the rigors of the Kin Carnum, killed them all. See that you are more careful. Bring Duana to me alive, or don’t return at all. The queen is in those woods somewhere. Find her. Capture her and her party, for they will be the fodder for the ritual that awakens the ancient lords of House Senestrati. Understood?
Yes, my Lord. Your will shall be done.
Sarad severed the telepathic link with a thought and rose from his spell-circle. His stomach knotted in rage as he left his study and made his way into his audience chamber. Perhaps Talinus had been right, he thought as he reached for his ivory pipe, and letting Duana go had been a grave mistake. He sank into his armchair with a sigh and drew on the long-stemmed pipe, watching as blue skeins of smoke wound lazily through the air.
An abrupt knock thundered at his door. Sarad’s brief moment of peace shattered, and he thundered back. “You were told I was not to be disturbed!”
The door to his chambers crashed open and through them strode Geoffery Oberon.
“We told him that you were indisposed, but he wouldn’t listen,” said one of Sarad’s attendants.
“Close the doors behind you,” Sarad said quietly. “Dear, Lord Oberon, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Now, you listen here, Mirengi, I have been trying to reach you for days. You promised me that you would clear up this business with the queen. If she resurfaces and goes public we could all be knee-deep in it. And why are all your goons lurking around my palace? Your Justicars can be found on every street corner in Peidra and are acting as if they run this city. Now, I don’t know who you—” Oberon abruptly ceased his rant and eyed Sarad with a quizzical expression that presently turned incredulous. “Are you smoking Opium?”
“Not just Opium, but Aradur’s finest black tar. What were you saying, dear boy? It seems I drifted off there for a moment.”
Oberon trembled and his face went scarlet. He took a long step toward Sarad. “I don’t know who in the nine hells you think you are Mirengi—”
Sarad surged to his feet and extended a hand, and Oberon found himself hurled from his feet and into the air by an invisible force. The world went sideways. Oberon struggled to collect his thoughts and push himself off the floor when someone grabbed him by his collar and jerked him up.
He whacked the crown of his head on something hard and blinked rapidly to clear the swimming stars from his eyes. He felt a terrible pressure on the top of his skull and tasted bile in the back of his throat. Before he could master himself vomit poured from his mouth and nose. After he stopped heaving he coughed weakly and with spastic hands rubbed tears from his eyes. When he orientated himself he lifted his head from his chest and screamed at what he saw.
An invisible and unyielding power pinned him to the corner of the ceiling, bending his neck at a near impossible angle and leaving his legs to dangle in the empty air. Terror gripped him fast as he saw an inhuman madness dancing in the Prelate’s bright blue eyes.
“You’ve made a deal with the devil,” the Prelate said, showing the pink of his gums as he snarled. “Count yourself fortunate that I still need you alive because I am not having a good day. You best hope that you’re on my good side when my masters arrive because then your only function will be my amusement. Now go home and count your golden coins and toy soldiers, for they will avail you little in the days to come. Enjoy them while you can. Now, let me show you the door.”
Sarad cast open the doors to his chambers with a thought and with a motion of his hand hurled Oberon through the open portal and into the hallway beyond.
Chapter 33
Ghosts
“Is he alive?”
“Barely. Only Lord Mirengi can lift the curse but I may be able to stabilize him, give him a couple more days.” The black-cloaked man extended a hand about an inch above Elias’s sternum and chanted a couple of words in the guttural tongue of his masters. A nimbus of brick-red energy cocooned the fallen Marshal.
Brand reared up onto his hind legs and snorted, kicking his forelegs wildly. “Contain that beast!” One of the Hand’s comrades fired a paralyzing bolt of indigo energy at Brand and grabbed his reins.
Elias watched the entire procession numbly, looking down as Sarad’s minion worked on his body. I suppose this is what it’s like to be a ghost, Elias thought. He held up his spectral hand and wiggled his fingers. His spirit body seemed real enough to him, if lighter and with an opalescent aspect.
You’re not dead, but your consciousness has fled your body, said a voice, seeming to issue from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Elias grew stone-still and his heart would have leapt, had he one. Slowly he turned about. Dad?
Hello, son, said Padraic Duana.
He was young again and looked like he did before Elias’s mother died, with jet-black hair and eyes bright with a mirthful light. He rested a spectral hand on his son’s shoulder and Elias felt a warm, electric tingle as their energy fields touched.
You look hardly older than me.
What can I say, the other side has been kind to me, Padraic said with a wry grin.
I feared I would never see you again.
Yet deep down you knew that I was still with you, did you not?
I’ve missed you. There are times when I could have used your advice.
Padraic smiled lightly. I’ve often been at your side, and always when you needed me most. When your shield warms that’s me warning you.
Elias’s mind reeled. I thought that was a function of the shield, some marshal enchantment.
That old thing is just a hunk of sliver plated pewter, but it was precious to me as a symbol of my vocation. Because I had a strong attachment to it on earth it acts as a bridge between our two worlds, so I am able to communicate with you, in a fashion. Though the item is mundane in your terms, in a way it represents the most powerful magic of all—the love of a father for his son. And it contains the secret knowledge you require to defeat the Hand.
The world around Elias began to waver like a reflection in a placid pool that suddenly had a stone thrown into it. This is it, thought Elias. I have died and am passing over to whatever lies on the other side of life. Instead, the Renwood, his body, the Scarlet Hand, all disappeared and he found himself in his room back at the Duana homestead in Knoll Creek.
†
Danica cursed. She crouched behind a copse of abelia bushes on the crest of a hillock. She had found Elias after two days hard ride, following naught but Agnar’s sparse directions and her intuition, but she had also found two Hands of the enemy.
She watched in impotent rage as they tied Elias to his own horse. He flopped and hung like a dead man, but in her gut she knew a shred of life yet remained to him, albeit not much. Her teeth ground and her body trembled. She took a deep, steadying breath and forced herself to remain still. The only sensible choice available to he
r was to tail the two Hands and await an opportunity when she could catch them unawares so that she could steal Elias away whilst he was tied to Brand.
I can help you defeat them.
Danica started and spun around on the balls of her feet as the whisper of a voice tickled the nape of her neck. In her haste she lost her balance and fell from her crouch and onto her belly. The bushes rustled and her stomach dropped. She lifted her head a hair and looked down the hillock at the Hand. The black cloaked figures looked toward her, some drew steel. Her breath caught in her throat.
Fortune favored her, however, for her spill had disturbed a handful of cardinals who inhabited the abelias. One of the Handsmen pointed at the birds taking flight and gave a hearty guffaw. Still, a couple of them continued to search the hillock with their eyes. Danica pressed herself into the earth and imagined that a dark cloak draped her, hiding her from view or from the Hand’s preternatural senses. After a long moment, the men turned back to their mounts and then set off.
Danica exhaled a long sigh of relief and slowly rolled out of the bushes. She gave her immediate area a scan, searching for a person belonging to the voice that had so startled her, though in her heart she knew to whom it belonged—the shade of Slade, who continued to haunt her.
Her skills as a tracker left much to be desired but she had learned the basics from her father. In this case the difficulty was not in following her quarry but in avoiding detection. She had no doubt that Sarad’s minions were highly skilled without the aid of their not inconsiderable fell magic. Her basic tactic was to follow their trail cautiously on Comet, as fast as she dare, and then at night tie the gelding off and approach the last few miles on foot to scout the camp. Her method left her exhausted, for by the time she found their camp it was the middle of the night.
Reckoning (The Empyrean Chronicle) Page 37
