Chapter Forty
Fury In The Face Of Fear
The moment Niam saw the fire’s glow rimming the tree line near little Madeline’s house, Davin had been struck by a powerful premonition of danger. The last time one hit him like this was the day they had walked to the Vandin camp. He had a feeling that whatever menace was afoot this night involved everyone, not just his two friends or Niam’s little protégé. Something big was up. Something planned and something evil. A dangerous intent lay behind this.
“My girl has been stalked by a filthy minded pervert and now the person that killed her cousin,” he growled. “I won’t be absent this time.” Beside the fear and anger written across Mr. Marie’s face, Davin saw that there was something else there as well—a deep sense of failure. As the man saw it, his only daughter’s life had been threatened twice already by Card and Salb, and now a third time tonight.
“And you won’t, sir,” Davin told him. “Some very bad people are trying to make us dance to their tune, and if we all go running off in different directions, they will.”
Something in Davin’s words caused Mr. Marie’s expression to change. None of the anger abated, but the intensity of his sudden burst of fury ebbed a bit. “But my home and my girl,” he said helplessly.
Davin’s voice was steady. His eyes caught Mr. Marie’s and held them. “Our homes were attacked, too. They’re gone, just like yours.”
Madeline’s father’s eyes widened.
“Everyone’s fine, sir. They got out just like your family. But the best thing for you to do instead of getting a blade is to go tell your neighbors to look for her. I think you need to be here to organize everyone’s search. That’s honestly the best thing you can do for your daughter.”
Mr. Marie looked back to his home for a moment, and Davin worried for a second that he had failed, but then he nodded, and a steady resolve took the place of some of his anger.
“Now you know what you need to do,” Davin said reassuringly.
When Mr. Marie looked back at Davin, he wore the anguished expression of a lost girl’s father. “You find my girl and bring her back,” he said.
“We will,” Davin assured him.
As they trotted away, Niam echoed Mr. Marie’s sentiment as he said, “I’ve got to find her, Davin. She’s my responsibility. Bug’s in this because of me.”
Davin shook his head. “Card would have gone at her anyway.”
“Faugh!” Niam spat, then said, “Get Maerillus and as many people as Mr. Sartor has to spare. I’m going to check for Bug in all of her favorite hiding places—Hopefully she’s just in a barn loft somewhere.”
Davin grabbed Niam’s reins before he drew away. “Don’t take on Salb by yourself. He’s dangerous, Niam.”
“Left my staff in the house. I don’t have anything with me,” Niam replied grimly. “I guess all I can do is find Bug and run.”
Davin didn’t like that. Not one bit. Especially since trouble had a way of finding them, and that went twice for Niam. Davin forced his friend to meet his eyes. “I’m serious, Niam. People are going to get hurt tonight.” Then he firmly stressed each word that followed. “Don’t. Fight. Salb.”
Niam met his gaze with an indeterminate expression. Davin sighed. If he had a copper penny for every expression that flitted across Niam’s face he knew he would be as rich as a king. “I’ll figure something out,” he said with resignation. “I always manage something, don’t I?”
His friend’s tone worried him. Davin wished he could stick with Niam, but along with the premonition of danger came the certainty that he needed Maerillus for what was coming. “Just stick close,” Davin said.
“The barns,” Niam replied, chewing the edge of his lip. Then he looked at Davin and said with a shiver, “This scares me. I don’t know if any of us are ready. There’s an energy building. It’s vile and—” Niam stopped as if he couldn’t find the words, so Davin finished for him.
“Evil?”
“I was going to say hungry,” Niam said, and with that he spurred his horse into a swift canter toward the closest barn just on the other side of the hill. Davin turned his horse toward the sartor manor, which sat waiting atop its hill like a lighthouse in the night. He gave his horse rein and urged it into a gallop.
No one was on the road as the sound of four hooves pounded the ground. Darkness wrapped around Davin like a tunnel. In front of him was the friend he needed to get to, and behind him was the friend and a little girl he needed to help, and beyond all of this there was something building in the air, like a vanguard of clouds preceding a line of fierce storms.
Davin did not notice the men in dark cloaks until the moment that they attacked him. So dark were their garments that a man all but materialized out of the night swinging a heavy staff that struck his ribs with a jarring impact.
“He’s past me,” the assailant yelled. Davin cut off a surprised yelp and swung his leg out of the saddle. Pain shot up from his side as he leapt from the horse. Dropping to the ground, he heard the release of a bowstring and the thwack of an arrow striking a tree somewhere deep in the forest. Davin landed and didn’t have time to think. He knew he needed to tap into his ability if he was going to survive. Deep within him an ocean fathomless and still waited. All he needed to do was to focus on it for a moment and accept it.
And accept it he did.
Footsteps approached; somewhere in the dark another man dressed as the night readied another arrow. Davin felt the sensation of something surging into him. Every stitch off his being trembled, stretched, and loosened . . . and finally snapped.
A smile formed at the edges of his lips. All around him time slowed to a standstill. He felt himself floating in a point of absolute stillness. The night sky was veiled in a dense canopy of clouds, and the air was sharp and motionless, a burning cold lay across the land. Nothing seemed to move. Except Davin knew that to his right one attacker threw his staff down and drew a blade incase his partner’s arrow missed. The man may have been experienced, but his partner only needed to find a good line of sight in order to aim his bow. The archer had no need to close the distance between them.
Despite this, Davin knew he had to stop them. These killers could not be allowed to go loose and hurt other people on the estate.
Davin felt the ocean of power thrumming through him as time slowly sped up. He knew what he had to do. The man with the bow was now the closest one to him, nocking his arrow and preparing to aim. Where the darkness had worked for his attackers as Davin barreled down the road on horseback, now it was his ally. He sprinted across the snowy road, keeping low. An unmistakable tufting of bowstring snapping taut clearly sounded in the dark. Davin dove and rolled as another arrow missed him. The archer cursed as he heard Davin spring up and continue into the wood line.
“He’s run for the woods!” the assassin growled.
Davin heard the other man’s response, which sent a shiver of anger rippling through him. The attacker’s voice was meant to go unheard, but Davin’s sharpened senses picked it up. “If it’s one of those three boys, we’ll get bonuses.”
Turning in a slow arc, Davin deliberately dragged his feet as he wove between trees and grabbed the first hefty stick he found. Then he continued to plow a path deeper into the woods, keeping as strait a line as possible. The sounds of feet moving in clumsy pursuit followed.
“Come out and you won’t be hurt,” a gravelly voice called into the darkness. Davin was certain that the men wanted to remain close to the road in case more travellers ventured down its dark path. They did not know who they were following or who they had just tried to kill. That meant they had more than one objective. One of their goals had to be to attack or slow down anyone moving across this part of the estate.
Why?
Davin did not like not knowing the answer to that. Slowly, he came to a stop and dodged behind a tree as quietly as possible. “He’s trying to hide,” he heard one of the men whisper. Davin exaggerated the force of his breathing. If he had to be game, he wanted to leave them a tempting trail to follow.
“He’s this way,” the second voice grunted eagerly. More loudly, the same voice called out, “Easier for you just to show yourself. We had the wrong person. You’re safe now, friend.”
As they approached, the false assurances continued. Davin listened and continued to breathe heavily. The second killer whispered, “This one’s about to wet himself.”
As their approach slowed and became more cautious, Davin slowed and quieted his breathing, counting their steps. Slowly, he drew his arm back, sure that he had the weight and the balance of the stick properly gauged.
“How far do you think he ran?” one of the men whispered. “I don’t hear him breathing no more.”
Davin stepped out from behind the tree and said loudly, “About six paces, you pile of dung.” He snapped his arm out and threw the stick, adding a vicious spin to it as it left his hand. The men looked up at him in surprise, and even in the dark, Davin saw their eyes widen. Then the man standing to the left had only enough time to give out a small cry of alarm before the wood struck him squarely between the eyes. Davin was moving before the stick even had time to strike its target. The killer’s head whipped back and he fell while his partner gave an involuntary leap to the side. Davin snarled and bore down on his target.
The assassin looked up at him, cursed, and lifted his sword to strike. As he began to swing, Davin threw himself down into a sliding kick. His foe swung. His sword passed harmlessly over Davin’s head as he put his weight and momentum behind his attack.
Davin’s foot connected with the killer’s knee, and a sharp snap followed. Davin looked up as the man’s face twisted in shock and pain. He dropped his sword as he toppled. Davin rolled and was up in an instant holding the assailant’s blade in his hand. The attacker writhed on the ground, cursing as Davin leveled the man’s own sword at his face.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
The wounded man pulled his arm out from beneath himself, and Davin realized that he must have reached into a pocket as he went down because he held a small object that glowed softly in the starless darkness of the night.
“I’ll see you dead, first!” the man spat. Despite his intense pain, the killer began fumbling with the object in his hand. Davin plunged his sword into the man’s throat before he was able to complete the act. The sword sliced true. A series of wet gurgles followed the killing stroke.
Wrinkling his nose at the gory sight, Davin cautiously stepped on the man’s outstretched arm, using his boot to turn the hand over, wary of the object frozen in the dead man’s grip. Davin pried the corpse’s fingers apart with the flat edge of the sword, and the object it contained revealed itself to be a vial filled with a glowing greenish substance that pulsed as if alive. Davin squinted as he gazed into the vial’s contents.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw something stirring and moving within.
A shiver ran down his back. As he warily bent to retrieve it, he thought better of taking ahold of the thing. The dead man wore a bulging pouch that had partially shifted to the side as he fell, and it now protruded beneath his left shoulder. Instead of fetching the vial right away, Davin chose to turn the body to the side in order to search the pack. With any luck he might find something to use as a barrier between his own fingers and the mysterious vial. The sack contained several lengths of coiled rope and eyeless hoods. “Just what were you planning to do?” Davin softly asked the still body. It looked as if he and his friends might be valuable enough to be taken dead or alive. Great Lord, Davin thought, a necromancer, the Count of Kalavere, and a corrupt Wizard’s Hammer . . . how many enemies have we made?
With that thought, the connection he held with his power trembled within him. Davin forced himself to focus. He rolled the corpse over and removed the strap from around the dead man’s shoulder. It came free easily, and he retrieved one of the hoods and used it to scoop the vial up, then rolled it tightly in the cloth and stuffed it into another hood. Wrapping it tightly in one of the ropes, Davin tied the ends off as securely as he could manage. Nearby, the second assassin remained unconscious and still where he had fallen in the cold carpet of snow.
The Dread Lords Rising Page 92
