Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Daniel stepped from the curb and made to greet them. “Welcome back,” he said, trying to sound light-hearted. “Did Preceptor Kerrigan send you? We—”
“You’re Daniel Black?” The first ranker interrupted him, completely ignoring his question.
Daniel pulled up short, perplexed. “Of course I am.”
The three in the back looked at each other with odd expressions that made Daniel’s stomach churn. Something was very wrong here.
“I’m First Preceptor Dom Maravek. Put the girl down.” The first ranker took a step closer.
Daniel retreated a step. “What? No, you don’t understand.”
The man leveled a gun at him. “I said, put. The girl. Down.”
Daniel stared at him, aghast. What was going on? Litty whimpered and buried her face in his shoulder. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“Daniel, do it,” said Kerrigan’s soldier. “Please.”
His brow furrowed. “No.”
The first ranker shot her a stern glance. “Quiet, Moriah.” He turned back to Daniel. “I’ll say it one more time, Black. Put the girl on the ground, or you’ll both be on your faces before you even dare to say no to me one more time.”
The gun wasn’t lowering. The corner of Daniel’s lip lifted in a snarl, but he slowly bent down to let Litty stand right beside him. The moment she was out of his arms, two of the other three Preceptors aimed their own weapons at his chest.
He instinctively threw his hands up. “What’s wrong with you? We need your help!”
Once again, Maravek ignored him. He took long strides towards Daniel. “Daniel Black, by mandate of the Order of Preceptors, you are under arrest for the murder of Ider Grasp.” He whipped handcuffs from his belt and spun Daniel around, yanking his arms behind his back. “You have the right…”
Daniel didn’t hear the rest. He was stunned, dazed. What was happening? “I need to talk to Preceptor Kerrigan!”
He felt the cold metal of the cuffs dig into his wrist.
“Let me talk to Kerrigan!” His voice rose to a shout.
A small cry ground the world to a halt around him. He turned. One of the low rankers held on to Litty’s arm while she tried to pull away from him. “Danny!”
At the sound of her voice, Daniel lost all control. He ripped his arms free from Maravek’s grip, taking the cuffs with him. He spun around, half crouched like an animal. His teeth bared in a silent growl, he brandished the cuffs like a flail and struck Maravek in the jaw. The blow sent him reeling.
Nearly deaf to the shouts of the other Preceptors, he lunged at the man holding Litty, knocking him down with a charging shoulder to the chest. The Preceptor landed on his back with Daniel on top of him.
Daniel nailed a clenched fist into his cheek. Then again, and again.
Litty cried behind him.
A hand gripped his neck and pulled him right off the stunned Preceptor. Maravek threw him onto the gravel and swiftly kicked him in the side before he could crawl away.
Daniel grunted, the wind knocked out of him. Maravek continued his battering, landing blow after blow with his heavy boots until Daniel could only curl into a ball and try to protect himself with his arms. The acid taste of blood coated his tongue. His ears rang, blocking out all other sounds.
Then he felt something sharp press against the back of his neck. A sharp jolt made him arch his spine in pain, and then the world blurred into a whirl of dark colors. Everything went black.
Chapter Thirteen
Hazelsparks pecked at all four corners of Ram’s mind, tweeting and chirping back and forth, their merry conversations ringing like church bells inside his head. It hurt, as though one of the drills from the mines in Obenon had found its way between his ears and was digging chunks out of his brain. He clutched at his temples with his hands, trying to drive the birds out, until he realized that they weren’t in his head at all, but flitting about the lattice of green boughs above him. Once he had opened his eyes and, blinking furiously, confirmed this fact, he made to sit up and holler at them—for some reason that seemed like the thing to do—until a wave of dizziness knocked him back down. He lay still, blinking.
Then, as though driven by a gust of breeze, the fog in his head rolled away. Ram’s senses sharpened and he was able to look around. He was laying on his back between two black pines. A rolled blanket propped his head up, but pine needles and twigs pricked his back and legs. The air smelled like fresh rain, and to his relief, the clamoring hazelsparks weren’t nearly as loud as they had been a moment ago. Judging by the peaking sun, it was near noon. He was alone.
Ram stood, bracing himself on the pines. His legs were stiff and weak, but as he hobbled around, his strength returned to his limbs. He shifted his attention to figuring out where he was. There wasn’t much to go on. This section of the forest looked just like any other, and other than the blanket he had been resting on, there was no evidence of human life anywhere.
He thought about calling out to see if anyone was nearby, but as he opened his mouth, it suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea. He was as likely to draw attention from unwanted parties as he was to find help. He leaned back against the rough pine bark and closed his eyes. Questions drove at him like angry bees. Where was he? What had happened to Kora? Was she even still alive? And Tess—had she escaped after all? What about Myra? He bit his lower lip. Myra. After all that he had been through to help Kora, he found himself worrying about her most of all. After what he had seen last night, he felt like she was the only person he could really trust anymore.
Shaking his head to clear the molasses from his mind, Ram bent and picked up the blanket. It was gray, plain, and rough, and he was almost certain it was the same as the ones in the chambers in Bryn Mawr. Then he noticed the scrap of brown paper that had been under it. Curious, he turned it over, and on the back, scribbled in hurried handwriting, were the words ‘Stay here. We’ll find you.’ Ram squinted at the note. He assumed Myra or Koldin had left it. Then again, was it safe to assume anything?
A gunshot cracked like a whip somewhere in the forest. Ram jolted upright, and the hazelsparks zipped away in a cacophony of alarmed chirps. Two more quick shots followed, each one further away than the first, and then an eerie silence enveloped the mountains.
Ram glanced down at the note in his hand. Stay here. We’ll find you. He shook his head. Not a chance. He dropped the note and the blanket and plunged through the forest in the direction the gunfire had come from. He had no idea what he would find, but it was better than sitting still and twiddling his thumbs while his friends were out there shooting holes through each other.
The terrain steepened, and before long, he found himself trudging up an endless incline, inhaling quick breaths into burning lungs. He listened for more gunfire over the sound of his own labored breathing, but none reached his ears.
A figure lunged out from behind a thick oak. Before he could react, a hand clamped over his mouth and a strong grip pinned his arms to his sides. With a muffled cry he heaved his shoulders, trying to shake off his attacker.
“Quiet, Ramsey,” said a female voice close to his ear. “And stop struggling. Do you want us both dead?”
The pressure over his mouth slackened, and he felt himself being spun around. His eyebrows shot up. Tess Kerrigan kept her hand over his mouth, her stern eyes searching his. She was disheveled, red in the face, and carried no weapon that he could tell, yet she retained all the authority of a Second Preceptor. He felt himself wilting into submission. He ceased his pointless thrashing.
“That’s better.” She took her hand from his mouth but motioned for him to remain silent. Her eyes darted around behind him, as though searching for an unseen foe. “We need to leave now. I have been able to outmaneuver the Akorites thus far, but several of their shots strayed too close for comfort.” She paused, and her gaze landed back on him. “But what of you? You were with them. I saw you.”
“You almost killed me.�
�� Ram couldn’t hold back the remark.
“I don’t know what possessed you to intervene,” she said, ignoring him, “But as I am unscathed, it is of little consequence for the time being. For now, we move. You’ll tell me how the Akorites captured you on the way, but we must hasten to the camp before the mountains turn against us.”
Ram pulled up short. It was just beginning to dawn on him how little she knew of what had transpired in Bryn Mawr, and how skewed her perspective was. In her eyes, he was just as much a victim as she. She beckoned him to follow, but he stayed put. “I can’t go with you,” he said, stammering.
She tilted her head at him. “I don’t think you understand, Ramsey. You must. If you don’t, you’ll be found, and if they get their hands on you again, I won’t be able to help you.”
“I’m not worried about the Akorites,” he said. “I know a lot of things that you don’t.” He drew in a breath. “The other Preceptors are gone. They left the valley sometime last night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Maravek wouldn’t abandon me.”
Ram gave a weak shrug. “I don’t understand either.” In that moment, her authoritative exterior cracked, and he caught a glimpse of the exhaustion and confusion that hid behind it. He softened his voice. “I never meant for the fighting to happen. But there are people out there who need me still. Please. I need to find my friends.”
Tess’s stiffened. “I have too many questions for that, and I have a feeling you just might have some of the answers I’m looking for. Too much has happened in the last few days for me to just let you walk away again.”
Ram stood resolute. “I’m sorry.”
Her lips tightened. “Let me make this clear. I have the authority to arrest you if it comes down to that. I don’t want to—I’ve got enough bricks in my bag—but if that’s what it takes to get a sensible conversation with you, I won’t hesitate.”
“Arrest me?” Ram balked, and he involuntarily took a step back. “What for?”
“Disobeying direct Preceptor orders,” she said casually, as though reciting a list, “Conspiring with a convicted murderer. And willing association with assassins and terrorists, unless you intend to clarify why you were with the Akorites.”
Ram’s jaw hung open. “Conspiring with…what do you mean?” Then it hit him, and his gut twisted. “Daniel. You think he killed that Preceptor just to get away, don’t you?”
“I can only judge what I saw, Ramsey.”
“But you didn’t see! We were there, watching. You told him to go do something, and he turned on you. He was going to stab you with this knife.” He pulled the weapon from his belt. In the midst of the confusion, he’d completely forgotten he still had it.
Tess shook her head. “Ider Grasp was one of my own men, Ramsey. He—”
“Ider Grasp?” Ram nearly shouted the name. Tess hissed and motioned for him to lower his voice. He did—barely. “Ider Grasp was the man who injured Tarvin in Bryn Mawr. How could he…?” He trailed off. His mind raced like a thoroughbred.
“Impossible,” said Tess. “He’s worked under me for—”
“For a year, I’ll bet. Since the war ended. Am I right?”
She hesitated, but nodded. “What of it?”
“Did Nikolai ever tell you what happened to Tarvin’s attacker after the incident?”
Another nod. A slow one. “He was unstable. A liability. They banished him from Bryn Mawr and never saw him again.” She frowned. “That proves nothing.”
“They told me the same thing,” said Ram, talking faster with each sentence. He paced back and forth in short lines, wringing his hands together. “And they told me his name. It was him—Ider Grasp. He lost his marbles during the war, and when an authority turned on him, he reacted with unrestrained violence. Nikolai kicked him out, and next thing you know—”
“A new soldier volunteers to join the force heading to Obenon.” She finished his train of thought for him.
Ram pounded a fist into his palm. “That’s it. That’s what happened. He knew Obenon was close to Bryn Mawr, and figured it was his best shot at getting back at Nikolai. Only—only he never got a chance.”
Tess pursed her lips together. “But it doesn’t make sense. What reason would he have had to want my life as well?”
“The man was crazy, though he probably never showed it,” said Ram. “Could’ve been anything—something that you thought to be meaningless, but for him, triggered the same kind of hatred that he had for Tarvin.”
She sucked in a breath. “The day of the evacuation, by the distribution center. There was an old man. The reject.”
“Bottle-man Basel?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Basel Crow, yes.”
Ram felt his cheeks go red. “I wasn’t in the square that morning. What happened?”
“He was causing trouble, as usual. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, what with preparing the supplies to be loaded on the train and all, so I sent Ider Grasp to sort things out.” She paused, realization kindling in her eyes. “He was in a foul mood—I never found out why—and he took out his anger on Crow. It was excessive, and I reprimanded him harshly for his behavior afterwards.” She glanced up at him. “You don’t think…”
“I do,” said Ram. “Daniel saved your life, I’ll have you know, whether you want to see the truth or not. I’m not trying to work against you, but you’re not safe here. Daniel’s probably waiting for me in Obenon, and seeing as how things here have spiraled out of my control—if they ever were to begin with—I need to get back to him.”
Tess was silent for a prolonged moment. When she spoke again, her words were slow and calculated. “If Maravek and his men have indeed gone to Galaratheas, then Daniel is no longer in Obenon.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated. “Maravek knows about Daniel and Ider Grasp. He would not return to Galaratheas unless he had accomplished his tasks here.” She paused. “All of them.”
Dread swelled in Ram’s chest. “So what you’re saying is…”
She nodded with a grimace. “They have him.”
Ram’s jaw tightened, and he felt an emotion well up inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—anger. Daniel wasn’t a criminal, he was a hero. Sure, he was gruff around the edges, but his heart was where it should be, and instead of being heralded, he was arrested? Koldin’s words came unbidden to him. Were the Preceptors truly his allies? He stared back at Tess, wordless.
The wall of control and authority cracked a little bit more. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Voices broke through the barrier of the trees, along with pounding footfalls.
“You need to go,” said Ram.
She wavered. “But they’ll—”
“I’m not the one to worry about. Just go!”
Tess hung back for a moment, concern on her face, but as the voices drew nearer, she retreated into the forest like a hunted animal.
* * *
It was dark and loud, but Daniel’s mind was too closed to the sensory world to remember what had happened or where he was. Maybe it was part of some twisted dream he was having. Raucous, repetitive rumbles pierced through the barrier of his unresponsive consciousness but gave no explanation as to their meaning.
He groaned. Or at least he thought he did. It may not have actually happened out loud. He couldn’t be sure of anything. He felt as though he were in a nightmare from which he couldn’t quite wake up but was sufficiently aware of it to experience twice the torture.
The rumblings went on and on, sometimes fading to the point where he could barely hear them over the sound of his own slow heartbeat, sometimes so joltingly loud he felt like screaming at the darkness to just stop. But he couldn’t escape the grasp of his semi-conscious state, much less lift himself up and have enough energy to shout out at an unseen foe.
At some point—how much time went by, he couldn’t tell—the noise finally ceased, replaced instead by the slower beat of human activity. The feverish dark still smothered
him like a fleece blanket on a summer night.
He felt himself sliding back into the recesses of his mind.
Metal grated against metal. Hands on his shoulders, his arms, and his legs. Voices—rough voices, with no hint of comfort or relief. He felt himself being lifted up—or dropping; it really made no difference to him—and then warm air washed over his limbs. The hands were still there.
Up. Down. Up. Down. He was moving, unless this was still just part of the nightmare. A hard surface under his back. Darkness again. The hands were gone, as were the voices.
He was alone.
He slipped back into the dark.
* * *
It was a small relief to Ram when Koldin emerged from the trees with Myra close behind. Their familiar faces almost brought a smile to his face. Almost. Both had obviously been on the move for some time, but other than being out of breath, the girl retained her usual poised gracefulness. Upon seeing him standing there like a part of the forest, a blank expression on his face, Koldin pulled up short. Myra strode forward and pulled Ram into a tight embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered. The scent of pine needles lingered around him even after she let him go.
Ram simply stared at her, as though in a daze. He wanted to respond in turn. To reassure her that he was okay. To comfort her. Even just to be able to say ‘you’re welcome.’ But the conflicting emotions in him rendered him mute.
Myra’s emerald eyes held his gaze with tender concern. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugged as if such a simple gesture would make everything okay. “Maravek has Daniel.” Seeing the question marks on their faces, he told them of his encounter with Tess, her attempts to get him to go with her, her eventual threats at arrest, and the subsequent discovery of the truth. He concluded with a feeble plea for them not to pursue Tess any longer.
To this, Koldin simply replied, “We’re here for you, not her.”
“You were supposed to stay where we left you,” said Myra. “Didn’t you find the note?”
Little One Page 16
