And Briand was happy.
Storm clouds gathered in the distance, threatening rain at the brink of the mountain range. The wind whipped Kael’s hair across his eyes as he drew his horse to a halt and called to the rest of them, “We’ll need to find shelter before the storm hits. There’s a small village at the base of these mountains where I can send word to the prince.”
“A village,” Crispin said, as if discussing paradise.
“Hot food, spiced ale, and a mattress sounds like a king’s fare right now,” Nath agreed, and sighed. “This horse has the gait of a mule. My bones need rest.”
“You’re growing soft, old friend,” Tibus said, and laughed. “Serving as the thief-queen’s advisor has ruined you.”
“Let me sit in the tavern for a few hours in front of a hot fire, and then I’ll fight you over those words,” Nath replied with a twisted grin. “But first, my spiced ale—”
“We’re too close to civilization,” Auberon interrupted coldly. “I might be recognized.”
They looked at him in silence, and he stared back, stubbornly irritated, his haughty face arranged in a scowl as if they had suggested he bathe in mud. Nath sighed loudly, and Crispin groaned.
“Does this mean what I think it means?” Crispin asked with a scowl.
“One of us could stay,” Briand ventured.
Nobody looked happy at that prospect.
“The rest of you ride ahead,” Kael commanded after a moment’s thought. “I’ll go alone to the village and send the message, and I’ll reconvene with the rest of you in the ruins of Arcane.” He looked at Nath and Tibus, who nodded.
“Protect the dragonsayer,” Kael added.
“The dragonsayer will protect herself,” Briand responded, but her words were more playful than indignant. “We’ll protect Crispin, though. I promise.”
Crispin started to protest, and then he reconsidered. “Yes,” he said, jerking his chin in a nod as he stole a glance at Auberon’s stony face. “Protect me.”
One corner of Kael’s mouth ticked up in a smile. With that, he wheeled his horse around and galloped hard to the west, his cloak rippling behind him in the wind. The horse leaped over a rock outcropping and disappeared, its hoofbeats fading.
“Come on,” Nath said, his tone irritable.
They rode in silence now, the storm growing ahead of them, the energy in the air electric. Droplets began to fall intermittently. Crispin covered his head with his cloak.
“Look,” Tibus grunted, pointing. “The ruins.”
At the place where the ground sloped upward into mountains, a ruined cluster of pillars rose from the grassland like a circle of petrified tree trunks.
“What is it?” Briand asked, taking in the sight with relief.
“The ruins of Arkane,” Nath said. “A great city, once, before Austrisia had even been formed. Renowned throughout the ancient world as a place of learning and knowledge. It had a vast and famous library—”
“It was a Seeker city,” Auberon said, sounding smug.
“Nobody wants you to talk,” Nath snapped. “It’s your fault we aren’t sitting in a nice, dry tavern right now.”
“Weren’t you a Seeker slave once?” Auberon shot back with a cruel smirk. “I’m surprised you didn’t lose your tongue, considering how you brandish it about.”
Nath paled. He jerked a knife from his belt and spurred his horse in front of Auberon. “Say that again, Seeker,” he hissed. “Say it again, and I’ll cut out yours.”
“Nath,” Tibus said, shifting in the saddle. “We need him.”
The soldier sounded almost reluctant to say it.
“We don’t need his tongue!” Nath argued.
“We probably do,” Crispin said thoughtfully. But he too looked angry at Auberon’s words. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparking.
“The blood loss might cause some issues,” Briand mused. “But we could cauterize the wound…”
Auberon glared at them all, looking genuinely frightened. “The moment your commander isn’t here to bring you to heel, you Monarchists turn into a rabble!” He looked at Briand as if for solidarity, but she glared back. She was furious with him for such a low, cutting remark.
“Ah, so now he’s a commander?” Nath demanded. “Not a traitor? Not when your tongue is at stake?”
But the sight of Auberon’s fear seemed to placate Nath, and he sheathed his knife with a snap. “Keep quiet,” he grumbled in Auberon’s direction. “You haven’t seen a proper rabble yet from us, and you don’t want to.”
As they approached the ruins, the remnants of the city seemed to grow from the earth around them. Most of the former city was sheltered by the hills, making it appear inconsequential from a distance, but up close, Briand realized the ruins were massive. Sun-bleached steps of stone ascended to nowhere, and grassy pyramids were all that remained of what must have been palaces an age ago. Ahead, a forest of pillars rose from beyond the hill. Vines covered the crumbling rock spires, and a broken stone floor set with images of men and dragons formed from triangular shapes.
“This must have been a temple,” Nath mused. “Look, see the images in the three-sided unit style? They’re called trilazyti. The language of an ancient lore. They tell stories of curses and oaths. Seekers used them once, and other ancients too.” He shot a warning look as if daring Auberon to interject, and the Seeker only turned his face away sourly.
The dracules darted among the vines, sniffing and frolicking after dragonflies. In the distance, thunder rumbled. A tongue of lightning flicked at the earth. Some of the vines stretched across the path, and Tibus drew his sword and began to hack at them, making a path for the others to ride through. A gloom of deep shadow enveloped the group.
“Legend says this place was destroyed by magic,” Nath continued. “Some traders tell stories of ghosts in this region. Faceless white creatures that glow in the night—”
“Ghouls, technically,” Crispin said.
“Don’t try to nitpick me, lad,” Nath pushed a vine out of his face but didn’t hold it for Crispin. The vine snapped the boy on the head. Crispin yelped indignantly, and Nath’s mouth curved in a smile.
Briand shook her head at him. “You’re too mean to him.”
“He is asking for all of it,” Nath insisted. “All of it!”
“There’s a difference between ghost and ghoul—” Crispin began again.
“If I might interject,” Auberon said in a thin voice, as if he were bored just stating the words, “We’re riding into a trap.”
The others reined in their horses and turned to look at him.
“Say that again, prisoner?” Tibus growled, drawing his sword.
“It’s a trap.” Auberon nodded ahead of them. His horse shied nervously as another crack of lightning struck in the distance.
“Why do you say that?” Briand asked.
“Well, for one thing, the trilazyti said, ‘You’re riding into a trap,’” Auberon said innocently.
Nath rolled his eyes, and Tibus make a scoffing sound.
“Is that all?” Nath said. “Stop pretending that you—”
“And do you see that tripwire there?” Auberon’s chains jingled as he pointed one gloved finger in the direction they were riding.
A slender, almost imperceptible silver line glimmered in the dim, storm-darkened light.
“Is it Seekers?” Crispin asked, the color draining from his face.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Auberon replied coolly. “I just saw the tripwire and thought I should say something before you idiots blundered into it and got us all killed. Maybe it is those ghouls you spoke of, boy.”
Crispin flinched at being directly addressed by Auberon. He ducked his head.
“How do you know how to read the trilazyti?” Nath demanded. “Not even I know how to read the trilazyti!”
“Never mind that now. Who or what do you think it is?” Auberon said.
“Bandits, most likely,” Tibus said, his tone c
alm. He exchanged a look with Nath. “We could do the Masiret Maneuver.”
Briand dismounted in a single, fluid motion.
“Where are you going?” Auberon said, turning in his saddle to gaze down at her. His eyes scorched into hers with unspoken emotion.
“I want to check it out,” she replied. “We need a scout for the Masiret Maneuver.”
“How does she know the Masiret Maneuver?” Tibus asked Nath in a low voice.
“Sometimes when she had trouble falling asleep over the last few months, I’d tell her stories of our glorious exploits,” Nath said, somewhat sheepishly.
“Bedtime stories? Our bloody battles put you to sleep, dragonsayer?” Tibus said.
“They’re soothing!” Briand protested. “I like the camaraderie, and I find the fact that you succeed comforting.”
Tibus grunted a laugh, rubbing his grizzled chin.
“The story of our Masiret heist is one of her favorites,” Nath said, and waved a hand. “Anyway, she’s right. We need a scout.”
“Is any of this discussion really necessary right now?” Auberon hissed. “You can chatter about how much you like each other and then hold hands and braid your hair later. Because right now, I’m worried we’re going to be set upon by bandits.”
“Or ghouls,” Crispin added.
“Whose side are you on, lad?” Nath demanded.
“Furthermore, why is the dragonsayer the one to go?” Auberon said with a scowl. “You’re the only other person who is absolutely necessary to this mission, dragon girl. You should not be sneaking off alone!”
“I cannot believe I’m saying this,” Nath muttered, “but he has a point, dragonsayer. I should go.”
“No,” Briand said. “For one, I am by far the quietest on my feet. They don’t call me Catfoot for nothing. Two, I can hit a man in poor lighting from twenty yards away with my knife. Can you do that?”
Nath sighed. “I cannot.”
She gave Auberon a pointed stare.
Auberon pressed his lips together in an expression of scorn. “I’m a prisoner. It’s utterly irrelevant what I can do, because I’m gloved and chained.”
“Three,” Briand said, “I have the dracules.”
She looked at Tibus, who said, “You’ll get no objection from me, dragonsayer.” Beside him, Crispin nodded.
“Then it’s settled,” Briand said, putting the reins of her horse into Nath’s hand before she turned toward the verdant greenery that grew between the stone pillars like a small jungle.
“Dragonsayer,” Nath said, a strained warning note in his voice. “The commander of this mission ordered us to protect you. I follow orders.”
“Good, because your thief-queen is ordering you to do this.” Briand drew her knife. “Protect each other. Even the Seeker.”
With that, she called the dracules with her mind and plunged into the forest of vines that grew up and around the pillars.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KNIFE DRAWN, BRIAND crept through the tangle of vines that formed a web all around her. The light was murky and green, distorted and discolored by the storm and the leaves that surrounded her. She could hear the murmur of Nath and Tibus talking behind her and to her right, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. But the words didn’t matter anyway, just the tone. Theirs rose as their conversation volleyed back and forth, their voices rising to a heated pitch. They’d moved forward, but only a little bit. She couldn’t see them, but she knew it would look to an observer as if they were about to come to blows.
She crept along, her feet moving as lightly as the wind. She paused, sending the dracules ahead to scout for her. Sieya darted forward eagerly, but Vox hung back, reluctant and grumpy. His thoughts were full of charred wood and blood, and he whimpered as he nosed in the dirt at Briand’s feet.
Sieya saw nothing but more vines from where she’d gone.
Thunder crackled in the distance, and the leaves of the vines fluttered and swirled in the stiff breeze. The air smelled like lightning, and the vegetation was a sharp, vivid green color.
Calling Vox to come with her mind, Briand rounded a column and dropped to a crouch at what she saw.
Ahead, hidden behind another column, was a glowing white figure.
A ghoul!
As Briand watched, the figure drew a knife from its belt.
Not a ghoul, then. A bandit.
The figure moved, and she saw a second figure behind the first, also dressed in glowing white.
They must be waiting for the rest of the company to fall into their trap.
She checked in on Sieya, who had paused, quivering, to listen to a sound. The dracule caught a scent on the breeze, and she perked at attention, thinking of rabbits.
Vox had hidden in the bushes again, and through his mind, Briand saw that he’d become preoccupied with a butterfly-shaped flower.
She would scold him later. There wasn’t time to worry about disobedient dracules now.
Briand crept forward slowly until she reached the bandits. They were talking in low whispers. She pressed her blade to the neck of the one closest to her and said, “Don’t move.”
The one with her knife against its head went still, and the other scrambled up. Cloth covered the bandit’s face, so Briand couldn’t see who she was dealing with.
“Hands in the air,” Briand commanded. “Get them up where I can see them.” To the others, she called, “It’s all right now. I’ve got—”
A blow from the back caught her in the head, knocking her to the ground. Briand rolled away before a heavy wooden stick came down with a snap right where she had been a moment before. Her vision danced, bands of white streaking across it, and something wet splashed across her cheek. Blood? She was stunned. Numb. A heavy pain throbbed across her temple, but she was hardly aware of it as she stared upward.
A third bandit, face swathed in white cloth, stood above her, wielding a hand-hewn staff as thick as her arm and as long as she was tall.
The other two bandits scrambled up and melted into the greenery.
Briand leaped back to her feet and slammed her elbow into her attacker’s face before the figure had time to move again, the speed of the move perfect due to the hundreds of times she’d practiced it with Nath lately.
She’d have to thank him later.
The bandit she’d struck stumbled back, clearly not expecting that from her, and she called for Sieya and Vox in her mind as she struck at the bandit’s groin. She didn’t know if her attacker was male or female, but it seemed like a good bet. Her head was starting to throb in earnest now. Her vision was still blurry, and she staggered on her feet.
The bandit dodged the blow and swung at her again. Briand ducked and then slashed her knife at the bandit, catching the edge of a sleeve instead of the chest she’d been aiming for. She shook her head, trying to shake loose the dizziness threatening to incapacitate her, as blood bloomed across the white fabric of the bandit’s sleeve.
Her attacker drew back with a muffled, guttural cry, and then renewed the attack against her. The wooden staff caught her in the chest and threw her to the ground.
Briand lay stunned, her vision spinning in a tight circle. The bandit appeared above her, and she couldn’t move.
The bandit raised the staff, and Briand gathered the strength to roll away one more time, but before she could move, chains locked around the throat of the bandit, wrenching her attacker backward.
Auberon.
The bandit swung the staff awkwardly and caught the Seeker in the side of the face before wriggling free from the chains. Auberon recovered quickly and struck again with his bonds, as if they were a weapon he wielded instead of a means of captivity.
The bandit knocked Auberon back with the staff again, and then disappeared into the greenery.
Briand sat up slowly as Nath, Tibus, and Crispin pushed through the vines, horses in tow.
“He’s gone,” Briand said.
“He wouldn’t be if I wasn’t in these chains!”
Auberon snarled. “I’m an excellent fighter.”
Tibus, sword in hand, charged after the bandit after Briand pointed the way the figure in white had gone.
“We lost the others,” Crispin said in the silence.
Auberon shook his chains with an indignant expression. “If you’d had another pair of hands…”
“Dragonsayer!” Nath exclaimed after looking at her. “Are you all right? Don’t try to run,” he said to Auberon as the Seeker climbed to his feet. “We aren’t taking those chains off, either.”
Auberon splayed his fingers as if to say he wouldn’t. He winced as he felt the place where the bandit had walloped him with the staff. “For the last time, I am as committed to this mission as you are. It’s my sister.”
Briand waved away Nath, who was hovering over her like a concerned mother hen. “I’m fi—Oh, lords, that hurts.” She touched a hand to her head and pulled it away. Her fingers came away red. “But it’s just a scratch,” she added. “The bandit only nicked me with a wooden staff.”
“Just a scratch? Look at you!” Nath yanked off his cravat and pressed it against her temple. Briand winced at the pressure. Now that the excitement of the fight had faded, the pain filled her awareness.
Tibus reemerged from the forest empty-handed. “Whoever it was, they’ve gone,” he said. “There’s no one here now. Just the tripwire and a pit beyond it covered in brush.” His face scrunched with concern as he peered at Briand. “Dragonsayer?”
“Head wounds always bleed a lot,” Crispin said. “Probably looks worse than it is.”
“Of course, we all know that,” Nath snapped. “You’re talking to a couple of seasoned soldiers and a torture-happy Seeker.” But his chest rose and fell as if he’d been worried. “And where were the dracules?”
A Court of Lies Page 14
