Songkeeper

by Gillian Bronte Adams

  “Whopping good you did too.” Slack broke in. “Else we’d still have that filthy Nikuto and his men on our heels.”

  “Indeed . . . and whose fault would that be?”

  Slack’s chuckle died, and for a while, there was no sound but the soft slap of their feet, the rattle of weaponry, and Meli’s broken breaths. Twice Ky felt Cade’s eyes flicker to him and knew that his steps had slowed. Now that the rush of battle had faded, exhaustion and pain hammered into him with the relentless force of the River Adayn.

  “Here.” Cade stopped finally and held out his arms. “Let me.”

  Ky held Meli tighter and trudged past. “I can make it.”

  Time was difficult to measure in the darkness of the tunnel, so he fell back on counting his steps. At one thousand and fifty-five steps, he heard whispering and coughing up ahead. A moment later, they rounded a bend in the tunnel and stumbled upon the Underground runners crowded in a circular space where the tunnel split and ran off in five different directions. Most of the runners sprawled in clumps on the ground, eyes glazed with exhaustion.

  But Paddy drifted between the five tunnels, muttering to himself, with Syd at his heels and the scrap of cloth in his hand. He glanced up at their approach. “Took you long enough to catch up. I take it we no longer have crazed madmen on our tail?”

  “No, now what’s the hold up?” Cade demanded.

  Paddy flapped the scrap of cloth. “Syd doesn’t know the way. I don’t know the way. For Mindolyn’s sake, Ky, please tell me you know which way to go.”

  Gray tinged the edges of Ky’s vision. He stumbled back until he felt the coolness of the wall behind and slid down it until Meli lay in his lap. “Why did you think I need you here?”

  He could practically feel the heat of Cade’s glare boring into the side of his head for a full minute before the older boy spoke. “I’ll take rear-guard. Let me know when you figure it out.”

  “Shure, shure. No worries. I’ve got it. It’s all grand . . . just grand.” Paddy turned back to his scrap of cloth and flung a hand in the air. “Nobody speak. Nobody move. I need to focus. This might take a while.”

  Ky drifted in and out of sleep. Every time his eyes flickered open, it was to the same sight: Paddy huddled over his map, torchlight painting his cheekbones with a ghoulish glow, and Syd standing over him, still clutching the clunky sword Ky had given him, an expression of the fiercest determination on his round face.

  Then somebody was shaking his shoulder, and he startled awake, looking up into Slack’s wild eyes. She had her chin turned to the side and her collar clutched up over her nose, so her voice came out muffled. “Up and at ’em. We’re moving out.”

  He realized then that he was still cradling Meli’s fevered form in his arms—had been holding her for hours—and he hadn’t once thought of his own protection. Too late now. He was as good as doomed. They all were.

  Using the wall for leverage, he pushed up to his feet. The runners were already moving out, following the glimmer of Paddy’s torch down one of the tunnels. Cade paced alongside Paddy at the front of the column, and Slack maneuvered her way up to his side. Ky settled into the back of the line, moving with slow, shuffling steps behind the sick and their keepers. Now that they were moving in the right direction, Cade was welcome to lead.

  He was more than content to follow.

  20

  Given the number of things that had gone wrong over the past few days—let alone the past few months—Ky almost didn’t dare believe the whispers trickling down the line. We’re free . . . the tunnel’s ending . . . there’s a way out! But for the first time in hours, the sluggish mass of runners came to a halt, and he just stood there, swaying on his feet as though his body hadn’t yet grasped the fact that he’d stopped moving.

  Someone tugged his elbow. He looked down into Syd’s wide eyes, and the boy jerked his chin at the head of the line. So he was being summoned then? Big boss Cade finally admitting he needed a little help? Not likely—that wasn’t Cade’s way.

  He was too tired to care.

  Syd pointed a stubby finger at Meli and shook his head solemnly.

  “Fine.” Stifling a sigh, Ky lowered her to the ground. “But you get to stay with her.” He hesitated before leaving. The way she was lying on the cold earth with her head crooked to one side and her neck bent—it couldn’t be comfortable. He shrugged out of his fringed animal hide jacket and balled it beneath her head.

  Bare-chested and shivering, he jogged through the line of runners to where Cade, Paddy, and Slack crouched before an opening. It was little more than a hole in the ground, overgrown by tentacles of tangleroot vine. A dying torch sputtered dull red in Paddy’s hand—bright enough to see the opening, but faint enough that Ky could also glimpse specks of starlight beyond.

  “Did we make it?”

  “Shure. Maybe.” Paddy shrugged. “I think?”

  “Quiet.” Cade’s harsh whisper echoed off the tunnel walls. “Scouting mission. Us three. Slack stays behind to guard the others.”

  Slack snorted. “Uh, no can do, chief. Paddy stays behind. Slack goes.”

  “Don’t press your luck, Slack. I still give the orders around here. Can’t risk you getting “just a little mad” and attacking anyone, now can we?” Cade squeezed through the hole, then stuck his head back in. “Ky, Paddy—take ten minutes and loop around. Meet back here. Slack, you keep everyone inside and quiet until we get back. Just have to make sure we’re beyond the patrols.”

  “Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

  Ky slipped through after Paddy, leaving Slack muttering to herself. The frostbitten tangleroot vines left icy trails across his back, and he shivered when the crisp night air hit his skin. He emerged in a narrow hollow, slick with mud and loose, smooth stones and clogged with thickets of heather and weeping thrassle. Looked like it might have been a streambed at one point in time, though the stream was obviously long gone.

  With numbed hands, he rubbed his arms, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

  “Where’s your shirt?” Cade gripped his elbow, but he shrugged free.

  “Don’t need it.”

  Ordinarily that kind of response would have triggered a clout from Dizzier and a challenge from Cade, but the older boy just growled something beneath his breath, yanked the cloak from his own shoulders, and shoved it into Ky’s hands.

  “Put it on, and be quiet. Don’t blow this mission.”

  Ky stood there dumbfounded until the older boy melted into the darkness, then he fumbled with stiff fingers to fasten the cloak around his neck.

  Paddy clucked his tongue, but it was a kind sort of clucking. The ragging of a friend. Ky hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. “You’re a fool, you know that, Ky?”

  “’Course I know it. Doesn’t stop you from reminding me.”

  “Shure and I’m only tryin’ to—”

  In a blur of movement, Cade was back at their side, muffling Paddy’s voice with one hand and shoving Ky to the ground with the other. “I said be silent. We’re yards away from their bloody camp.”

  He jerked his head for them to follow, then led the way up the side of the hollow and out onto the moorland beyond. After a minute or two of creeping, they crouched behind a weeping thrassle bush on the northern edge of the Khelari encampment. A basin sprawled between them and the ring of hills surrounding Kerby. It was filled with the hulking shapes of countless tents silhouetted against the lights of a hundred campfires.

  The camp was quiet, but it was a wakeful quietness, like a hound snoozing on his master’s threshold. No telling when it might spring to its feet, barking fit to raise the dead.

  Ky glanced at Cade. “Patrols?”

  “Doubtless. Probably not so alert on this side of the camp though. Who’s going to attack? These are the Nordlands—there isn’t a village outside the Takhran’s control f
or miles. Gives us an advantage.” Cade pointed his chin to the left, where a couple dozen of the Khelari’s oversized supply wagons were circled, horses bedded down in the middle, drivers snoring on their benches. “Think the cursed soldiers will miss one?”

  Ky didn’t trust himself to speak right away. His body trembled. He hugged the borrowed cloak to his chest, though whether he was shaking from cold or rage, he couldn’t tell. “You want to rob the dark soldiers . . . again?” His voice sounded strangled.

  “No, I’d rather kill them all. But robbing them will have to do.”

  “Because that worked out so well the last time.”

  Paddy’s groan confirmed his suspicion that he’d gone too far.

  He forged bravely ahead, feeling more the fool than the hero. “What about all the runners waiting back there in the hollow? Are you going to forget about them just to spite the Khelari?”

  Cade seized his shoulders. “Enough.” His voice was deadly quiet. “No more second guessing my commands and challenging me in front of the others. This has to stop. I’ve led the Underground for years and we’ve managed just fine—better than fine. I happen to know a thing or two about providing for my runners.”

  “Uh, lads.” Paddy coughed into his elbow. “Must we discuss this here?”

  Cade removed one hand from Ky’s shoulder just long enough to prod him in the chest with a stiff finger. “It was your half-baked idea to leave Kerby behind. Now what? You have a plan for where we should go and how to get there? Or do you intend to walk thirty runners across the Nordlands in search of refuge with barely enough supplies to last another four days and half our number falling to the white fever already? How far do you think we would get? These are the things a leader has to think about, Ky.” He released his grip so suddenly that Ky wound up sitting on the ground. “So stop whining and think.”

  Thinking sure could get a fellow in a lot of trouble. Almost as much as opening his big gabber and sticking his muddy foot in it. Well done, Ky. Well done. Ky squatted beside the front wheel of the northernmost wagon, peeking through the spokes at Cade and Paddy’s crouching forms and the horses grazing beyond. The shaggy beasts seemed alert and aware of their presence, but not overly bothered by it.

  It eased Ky’s mind a bit.

  Ever since the whole incident with the orange cat, and the way Birdie and that Carhartan fellow both talked to it and acted like it could talk back, Ky hadn’t viewed critters the same way. For all he knew, they could all be spies, and none of the common folk would be any the wiser.

  Sling in hand, he inched to his feet. The horses were Cade and Paddy’s concern. His task was dealing with the driver. He scrambled up and over the side of the wagon, landing in a crouch behind the driver’s seat. The man didn’t so much as stir. It was but the work of a moment to wind his sling around the man’s neck and tighten his grip. The driver’s eyes flashed open and his body bucked, once, twice, then he relaxed, unconscious.

  At Ky’s all-clear sign, Cade and Paddy approached, each leading a shaggy-coated monster of a horse, and backed them into place alongside the wagon tongue. While they harnessed, Ky stuffed his sling through his belt and muscled the driver’s limp form over the side of the wagon. The man landed with a thump that made Ky wince. But none of the other drivers stirred, and the hound dog of a camp snoozed on. Every now and then, a soldier appeared as a dark splotch against the firelight, drifting between the tents, just long enough for the camp to rustle, scratch at its fleas, and turn over in its sleep.

  Ky leaned over the front of the wagon and almost got a mouthful of swishing horse tail. “You almost done?”

  “Getting there.” Cade wrestled a heavy collar up around the right horse’s neck. “Keep an eye out for patrols. If we’re spotted now, we’re sunk.”

  Yeah, and the rest of the runners with us.

  Ky folded a stone into the pouch of his sling and trailed the strands through his fingers. Beside the nearest group of tents, a stake crowned with a blazing torch was set in the ground. Shadows lumped at the base of the stake. He strained his eyes to pierce the night and could have sworn he saw the shadows move.

  Not shadows then.

  A person?

  Or one of the Takhran’s strange creature spies?

  He slipped over the side of the wagon and clapped Paddy’s shoulder in passing. “Something to check on. Be right back.”

  Paddy nodded. “Still got to grab two more horses, but hurry.”

  From cover to cover, he crept across the intervening space, ready at a moment’s notice to send a stone flying from his sling, until he stood beneath the circle of torchlight, staring at the wreck and ruin of a dwarf.

  His wrists and ankles were bound to the stake with his arms stretched above his head. Had he been standing, his head probably would have been even with Ky’s shoulder, but he sagged in his restraints, knees buckled, head lolling forward like the laden pouch of Ky’s sling. Blood and muck matted his curly hair and beard, stained the front of his filthy robe, and formed a crusted border around numerous rents in the fabric. Ky held his breath against the stench of filth and rot.

  The dwarf sucked in a ragged breath through snarled whiskers. His chin tilted up, and for just a second, Ky caught a glimpse of the flash of his eyes. “Something wrong, bucko?” The dwarf broke into a wet chuckle. His voice was weak, but there was no mistaking it. “Or didn’t your mam teach you staring was downright rude?”

  “Migdon?” Ky knelt in front of him. “I thought you’d gone north?”

  The dwarf’s eyes focused on his, and a scowl deepened the creases around his eyes. “Didn’t make it. Dark soldiers extended a forceful invite to come back to camp.” He tilted his head to one side and spat out a glob of blood. “Hospitality stinks. Mighty kind of you to launch a rescue operation though.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Ky was already at work on his bonds, stiff fingers clawing at stiffer knots. “Any guards around?”

  “Nope. Reckon I wore ’em out. Won’t be long before they’re back at it though. They never leave me for more than an hour at a time.”

  The ropes came free and the dwarf crumpled. Ky caught him before he hit the earth, but the weight almost knocked him flat. Migdon was surprisingly dense for his size. Hugging Migdon’s arm around his shoulder, Ky hauled them both upright and started back toward the circle of wagons.

  “Not far to go . . . we borrowed a wagon and team . . . riding out in style.”

  The dwarf jerked to a stop. “My knapsack. We’ll need it.” He set his feet, resisting Ky’s effort to drag him forward. “Can’t leave without it.”

  Ky didn’t bother wasting time arguing. Weeks of traveling with the dwarf had taught him that much. A glance revealed the oversized monstrosity perched on a stump not far away. He unceremoniously released the dwarf, heard him hit the ground, raced to the knapsack, and hefted it over one shoulder.

  Weighed almost as much as Migdon.

  Scads of fun.

  Back at Migdon’s side, he dragged him to his feet. “Get up!”

  “Hoi, what’s goin’ on out ’ere?” A soldier stumbled, blinking, out of the nearest tent. He was clad in a tunic and leggings. No armor. “What the—”

  Sidestepping away from Migdon, Ky launched a stone that slammed into the soldier’s disheveled mess of hair. The man swayed on his feet and stumbled back. Ky was already reaching for another stone when Migdon collapsed —or dove, or rammed, he couldn’t tell which—into the soldier. Both went down in a heap.

  “Mig!”

  The dwarf righted himself before Ky could reach him, reeling to his feet like a drunken sailor. “It’s done,” he rasped, wiping his hands on his robe, leaving smears of something dark that glistened in the light of the moon.

  Ky’s gaze trailed to the blade protruding from the soldier’s throat. “You killed him.”

  More a statement than a question.
>
  “Fool tried to pull his dagger on me. I pulled first.” Migdon swiped a forearm across his chin, leaving a smear of blood. Could have been his . . . could have been the soldier’s. He toed the body, forcing it to flop on its back, unseeing eyes staring straight up at the night sky.

  Ky swallowed and turned away. It was the eyes that made them human. Faceless soldiers in dark armor were one thing, but up close, you had to face the fact that they were as human as you. In the end, what made them any different from folk like Nikuto and his men?

  It was easier to think of them as monsters.

  “Give me a hand, will you?” Migdon’s words slurred, and Ky could imagine the pain he had suffered at the hands of the Khelari. “Let’s get out of here before the whole camp wakes up.”

  Migdon flung an arm over Ky’s shoulder, and he muscled onward, staggering beneath the combined weight of the dwarf and his enormous knapsack. He’d heard dwarves were stout creatures who could tramp all day carrying twice their own weight without even getting winded. Wished he could do the same.

  Just when he thought he couldn’t go any farther, he heard the faint creak of wheels and the wagon pulled up directly in his path. Paddy was at his side in an instant, lifting the knapsack from his shoulders while he helped Migdon up into the high wagon bed.

  “In faith, laddy-boyo!” Paddy tossed the knapsack up and clambered in after. “Weighs almost a ton! What’s in there, a bloody suit of armor?”

  Coughing weakly, Migdon tugged the knapsack into his lap and sprawled back with his head propped against the side of the wagon. “Among other things.” He patted it down, peeking inside the dozens of pockets and pouches. “Good . . . good. All here. Those cursed Khelari dogs kept it sitting just out of my reach to taunt me, kept asking questions and pawing their grubby hands through it.”

  “Who is that?” Cade scowled from the driver’s seat. “And what is he doing on my wagon?”

  “Tell you later.” Ky stationed himself on the camp side of the wagon, scanning for any sign of discovery. Sometimes explaining wasn’t worth the trouble. “We need to get out of here fast.”