Cursed by Ice (7 page)

“And the girls?” Garreth demanded.

“Poor lambs.” The woman tsked. “The mage holds them over the wrena … only lets her visit with them if she behaves according to his will.”

“The
wrena
?” Garreth asked.

“Aye. The woman who controls the wyvern.”

“Where’s the undercity?” Dethan wanted to know.

“Just as it says. Under the city.”

The brothers exchanged looks. They had not been aware there was a city beneath the city they were in the process of conquering.

“Tell me, how do we get past this mage?”

“You can’t!” the man cried. “He’ll melt away your mind like steel in a forge. Liquefies it and shapes it whatever way he pleases!”

“There must be a way,” Garreth said quietly to the woman, meeting her eyes. “I want to bring those girls safely back to the wrena. Tell me how.”

She bit her lip and seemed to think on it. “He’s weakest when he sleeps.”

“You mean he can’t hold sway over magic when he sleeps? And I’ll bet he can’t hold sway when he can’t focus either.” He patted the woman on her plump little cheek. “There’s a good woman. Come to the keep on the morrow; find Tonkin, our head page. He’ll find you work if you’d like it.”

Garreth turned to his brother. “I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.”

“First, let’s get a feel for this undercity. How do we get to it?” he asked the woman.

“Wherever there’s a city gate, there’s a door leading to the undercity beside it.”

“So all four compass points. We’re closest to the south gate right now,” Dethan said.

“I don’t like the idea of heading underground to a place we know nothing about,” Garreth said. He had a very bad feeling about the whole situation. It was almost as though the bennesah had planned for every contingency … perhaps including them finding servants and compelling them to divulge the location of their master. It was possible none of these leads were worthwhile and they were simply being led astray again.

“What is this undercity like?” Dethan thought to ask.

“It is the sewer system. Some people they live down there. But mostly it is a place for vermin,” the man said.

Garreth looked at his brother. “I might be mistaken,” he said slowly, “but did the bennesah strike you as the kind of man who would volunteer to live in a sewer system?”

“With that belly and all those fine gold rings? I think not.”

“Then I believe we’ve been on a wild chase all this time.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Dethan noted.

“I can see that. But it doesn’t follow that
he
was truthful with
her
.”

“Also true. So, what’s your feeling?”

“He’s left the city already. As soon as he got the chance,” Garreth said.

“Agreed. Let’s get our horses and some search parties.”

“You think they walked out right under the noses of our army?”

“Yes.”

“Then search parties might do us very little good. We need a way to countermand this magic.”

“The wrena,” the woman said cautiously.

“What of her?” Garreth asked.

“No mind magic can be used on the wrena. The eyes of the wyvern see clear.”

“Intriguing,” Dethan said.

“I agree. I’ll go get her.”

“She’s wounded,” Dethan said with a frown.

“I am well aware!” Garreth called over his shoulder as he hurried away.

CHAPTER
FIVE

When he entered Sarielle’s room she sat up quickly in her bed. She also immediately cringed, her hand pressing into her belly in pain.

“Did you find them already?” she asked, guarded hope in her eyes.

“He has escaped the city, walked out right past our army. I’m certain your sisters are with him.”

“Vinqua,” she spat. At his questioning look, she explained, “The mage. I should have guessed.”

“He is laden with the gold from the treasury so he has not gotten far. I know you are unwell, but I am told you are immune to the mage’s magic.”

She was on her feet in an instant and then she staggered. She was incredibly pale, and he noticed that her bandages had soaked through with blood again and blood was staining her robe.

“Are you well enough for this?” he asked with concern.

“For my sisters’ safety and lives? You would have to bury me in the ground first. Besides, if he has my sisters, then that means he plans to come back for me or retake the city while you presumably have no control over me or the wyvern. I do not think you are any better than
the bennesah … but for now you are my only means of getting my sisters back.”

Garreth displayed a small smile at that. “So be it,” he said. He knelt down at her feet and unlocked the manacle around her ankle.

“Now, need it be said that you should not try to escape?” he asked sternly.

“Without my sisters’ safety guaranteed first? Leaving them behind?”

“I do not know you well enough to assume you have such pure intentions,” he pointed out.

She took his offered hand, stepping carefully around the chain on the floor. “I might say the same. But I will pretend to believe you mean what you say and will return my sisters to me without holding them over me. I … have little choice but to
hope
you are a better man than the bennesah.”

“And I have little choice but to prove it to you. Come. You will ride with me.”

“I can ride on my own,” she said stubbornly.

“Gods, woman! You can barely stand! You will ride with me and use the support of my body. The last thing I need is for you to fall from a horse!”

She seemed to think on that a moment, then with great reluctance she let him lead her from the room.

She was exhausted before they even made it to the bottom of the stairs. Realizing this, Garreth swung her up into his arms, holding her high against the broad width of his chest. She pushed at his strong shoulders in resistance, but she may as well have been trying to push a cart full of boulders. Eventually she just sighed and relaxed against him, her arms hanging loosely about his neck.

“There, now. Is this so difficult?” he asked her.

“I find it bitterly difficult,” she said. But after a moment she did concede, “But thank you just the same.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Before long, they were in the courtyard and a powerful grey stallion was being led up to Garreth. Thinking he would put her down, mount, and then have someone hand her up to him, she made ready to be put on her feet. But to her shock, he barely broke stride before putting his foot in his stirrup and swinging them both into the saddle in one tremendous movement of strength. The next thing she knew he was pulling the skirt of her robe up between her thighs. Feeling his hand between them, his knuckles a hairsbreadth from touching her bare woman’s flesh, she cried out and tried to push him away. But he ignored her and threw her leg over the saddle so she was riding astride, her robe bunched up around her. She flushed to find herself in such a position. Women, especially slave women, were not allowed to ride astride. It was commonly thought that it would give a woman ideas of independence their male counterparts would rather they not have. This was doubly the case when it came to slaves. Slave males were allowed to ride, but only sidesaddle, and slave women were not allowed to ride at all. They must be carried in a litter or, more commonly, must walk. Only the most expensive slaves rode in litters.

She was a most expensive slave.

Had been.

She allowed herself to think on the possibility of freedom for a moment. For the likes of her? It was too alien a concept for her to fully grasp. Like riding astride, it was simply one of those things she had never entertained, because to do so meant facing the dissatisfaction of not having it.

She found too much about being in the saddle disconcerting. Riding astride. Being forced to sit upright in spite of the pain in her midsection. The feel of a hard wall of muscle at her back and more muscle on either
side of her hips. Her bottom was drawn back on the leather until she was notched into him like a hand would fit inside a glove.

With a single hand he grabbed the reins of the massive horse while his other arm banded beneath her breasts and held her back against him. He was, she realized, very careful not to hold her around her wounded midsection.

He spurred the horse hard and they leapt forward.

“We will ride around the city in ever-widening circles until we track them. Keep your eyes keen to any sign of their trail,” he said in her ear.

“It has been a dry summer,” she said a bit breathlessly. “There should be tracks leading away from the city. They will be fresh and clear because no one has left the city since it was said you were moving toward us.” She gasped at the pain rocketing through her with every stride, but she also laughed.

“What is it?” he asked, bemused.

“Is this what it feels like? I had always wondered!”

“What what feels like?”

“Riding on horseback!” she cried, her delight apparent in every word.

“You’ve never ridden on horseback before?”

“Never! Slaves are not allowed! Woohoo!!” she cried out, laughing into the wind. She had never felt anything so exhilarating in all her life. Never except once …

Garreth was delighted by her in spite of himself. They were not out there to have fun or to be entertained; a great deal was riding on them having success. But just the same, he found himself taking pleasure in her joy. He kicked Draz, his grey stallion, into a hard gallop, sliding himself under her bottom as best he could to alleviate the impact of her rear against the saddle. But she would feel the pain of it when her excitement wore off no matter what he did.

He followed Dethan’s lead, watching the ground as it flew by beneath them.

“There! Wagon tracks!” she cried out suddenly. Garreth whistled sharply to Dethan, and his brother reeled around and rode back to them. He looked to where she was pointing but saw nothing except barren ground.

“There’s nothing there,” he said with a frown.

“There are tracks here,” she insisted. “The mage has obfuscated them from you. I can see them plainly.”

“Do you see him in the distance?” Garreth asked.

“No. Not yet. But it is too dark.”

“Perhaps we should pick this up in daylight,” his brother said, looking up at the bright moon. It was so full it was almost as good as daylight, in some respects. Had it been waning, they would not have been able to see.

“No! They will escape by then and I will never see my sisters again!” she said, panic in her voice and in the grip she latched around Garreth’s wrist.

“I will not let that happen. Dethan, they cannot be far. They are on a laden wagon while we’re on horseback. We can easily catch up to them as long as we can follow the tracks.”

“But she’s the only one who can see them.” Dethan’s eyes narrowed on her. “What’s to say this isn’t all some kind of an elaborate trap?”

Sarielle scoffed. “The mage is wickedly clever, but the bennesah suffers no such affliction. He would not have thought so well in advance of his situation. Now, Vinqua—he is another story. But his downfall will be his hubris. He does not see anyone as a threat to himself or his skills. You should know, however, that he will abandon the bennesah instantly if it comes to a sticking point.”

“That is good to know. Now, keep your eyes on those tracks and tell me if you need to stop and rest.”

“I won’t. Come,” she said urgently, trying to spur the horse on herself. “Hurry!”

“We will, little fira, be patient.”

“Fira?” she asked as he kicked the horse into a canter.

“It means ‘fire’ where I come from.”

“Where do you come from?” she asked.

From a mountain of ice and snow
.

“A long way from here. Across the great Kolla Ocean, a land called Toren. My brothers and I were born there, though I spent very little of my lifetime there.”

“Brothers? There are others?”

“Aye,” he said, his tone short and hard. She was smart enough to know he didn’t wish to discuss it further, and she wasn’t much in the mood to press. Her whole body was on fire. Waves of nausea were beginning to roll through her. She swallowed hard, pushing it down inside herself as best she could.

“Have you any sisters?”

“Not anymore,” he said. Again, his tone was hard. This strong man harbored pain over the fate of his sisters. A feeling she could understand completely.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was a very long time ago.”

“Oh. The tracks go that way,” she said, correcting his course.

“Is it just you and your sisters, then?” he asked.

“Yes. My parents died some time ago.”

“No brothers?”

“Not anymore,” she echoed him.

She expected him to ask her to explain but then realized asking the question would open him up to a similar question in return, and she had a feeling he would rather have a mouthful of sore teeth.

“So … have you a sweetheart?” he asked her after a moment.

She snorted at that. “Slaves are not allowed to have sweethearts,” she said bitterly.

“But your parents had you. Surely the masters of Kith want slaves to … to propagate.”