Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (38 page)

“Well enough.” Evelyn looked at her with wide eyes. “What—?”

“Can you work magic?”

“No.” Evelyn shuddered, rubbing her wrists. “Whatever those chains are, they’ve drained me completely. I’ll need rest before I can do anything.”

Bethral handed the keys to Evelyn and gestured for her to free her legs. She turned slightly, watching the room. Blackhart was talking to a group of the hooded warriors, who then darted off in all directions.

Blackhart looked their way. “Leave with her,” he suggested. “You can do nothing with this place.”

“I’m free?” Evelyn whispered.

Blackhart gave her a long look, then jerked his head in a nod. Bethral helped Evelyn to stand as Blackhart continued. “I will give the orders to my warriors, and then I will emerge from the gates and surrender myself. Your men will let my people pass?”

“I will give the orders myself,” Bethral replied, as Evelyn took a few shaky steps. “I have your word?”

Blackhart gave her a grim smile. “For what it is worth, Lady.”

Evelyn’s head jerked up at that, and she focused wide eyes on Blackhart. For a long moment they looked at one another, then Evelyn advanced, folding her hands into her robes.

Bethral followed, first grabbing the chains on the floor. At best they might aid Ezren. At worst, she’d use them as a weapon.

Evelyn walked forward, pausing to study Blackhart’s face. “I thank you, Lord—”

“No.” Blackhart gestured. “There’s no time. Go, and quickly.”

Evelyn made no move to obey.

Puzzled, Bethral reached for her arm. “Lady High Priestess, we must go.” She took her by the elbow, and urged her forward.

“I will be at the gate within an hour.” Blackhart was looking at Evelyn as he made the promise.

Whatever had passed between them, there was no point in lingering here, and every reason to leave. Bethral took the chains and the High Priestess, and left the throne room, marching down the long, dark hall. The torches still burned, the Odium still stood watch. “Did he hurt you?”

Bethral demanded.

“No,” Evelyn said, breathless. “Why are we—”

“Elanore is dead,” Bethral said softly, not breaking her pace. The chains were wrapped around one hand; the white banner was in the other.

“No, she’s not,” Evelyn insisted. “If she was, the Odium would collapse. Although how she had the time and power to create so many is beyond me.”

“That’s the point,” Bethral said. “She may not have.”

“Then who…?” Evelyn wondered.

Bethral shook her head, and hurried their pace to the courtyard. The man was still there, and Bessie came instantly alert when Bethral emerged from the building.

Bethral wasted no time in mounting, pulling Evelyn up behind her. “Hold on, Priestess,” Bethral commanded.

With a clatter of hooves, Bessie turned and cantered through the gates and down the road.

Bethral urged the mare on, noting the movement of people in the barren land between the walls.

Blackhart must have planned this for days. From the looks of it, people were prepared to flee the Keep in droves.

Once out the main gate, Bessie galloped to where their forces stood waiting. Bethral pulled to a stop, and called for one of the warriors to help Evelyn down. “Take her to the shrine in the village, and get out of here,” Bethral ordered.

“The village?” Evelyn said breathlessly.

“Deserted when we came through,” Bethral snapped. “We’ve a mage waiting to open a portal.”

Evelyn shook off the hands of the warriors around her. “I’m fine. I want…”

The gates opened behind them.

Everyone went on guard instantly. Bethral turned Bessie to face the gate, grabbing her mace from the warrior who held it for her. Evelyn was pushed to the back, and warriors formed up in front of her.

They needn’t have bothered. The wave of people emerging from the keep had no interest in them. They swarmed down the road, some on horse, some in wagons, some on foot—all wearing black cloaks, all fading into their surroundings like shadows.

“Let them pass,” Bethral called, and no one raised a hand.

From horseback, Bethral could see others emerging from hidden doors in the walls and following faint paths into distant woods. She kept a sharp eye for betrayal, but none was evident. The only thing here was fear.

Finally, the wave ebbed, and then stopped. At the last a troop of seven mounted men emerged, moving slowly down the road to the gate. Blackhart was in the lead, apparently looking about for stragglers.

Just shy of the gate, he pulled his horse to a stop and spoke with the man to his right, seeming to argue for a moment. Whatever the talk, Blackhart won. They clasped hands, and then the six mounted men galloped off through the gate and turned to the north.

Blackhart waited for a moment, then urged his horse forward. When he reached the lower gate, he stopped and gestured to the side. An Odium shuffled forward.

“Guard,” he demanded in a loud voice.

The figure stood there.

“Guard,” Blackhart said again.

This time, the figure nodded its head. “Gaard,” came a dry, empty voice.

Bethral heard Evelyn gasp in horror. “Odium don’t speak,” she whispered. “They can’t…they can’t!”

Blackhart rode forward, and the gates closed behind him. He kept his horse at a walk and drew up next to Bethral. With a flourish, he handed her his sheathed sword. “We’d best be on our way.”

Bethral nodded, and gave the orders. Willing hands lifted Evelyn back onto Bessie. Bethral felt her shift, looking toward Blackhart, whose hands were being roughly secured.

Blackhart wasn’t looking at the men around him. His eyes were fixed on the High Priestess.

Bethral felt her shift again, and knew full well that Evelyn had looked away.

Something had passed between those two, but there was no time for speculation. With one last look at the Black Keep, Bethral gave the order to leave.

IT was ten days before Josiah and his escort joined the army of the Chosen. And that was just the outer edge. It took another full day of riding to reach the command center, and Red’s tent.

Josiah slid off his horse with a weary sigh. They’d had no problems on the road, but it had been a hard ride nonetheless. He ached.

“This way, Lord Josiah.” One of the young guards headed toward the command tent, and Josiah followed. Alad and Riah were right behind.

The huge tent was filled with tables and maps. The men who surrounded the tables were all talking at once. Red stood in the center, at the largest table, considering the map before her as two men described the movements of the Regent’s forces.

He could tell that she’d sensed his presence the moment he stepped in the tent. She didn’t react, didn’t turn her head, but Josiah knew.

The men finished their explanation, and she dismissed them with thanks and a nod. Only then did she turn and look at him.

She tilted her head, her unbound hair falling to her shoulders. “What, no chains?” she asked Alad as she looked at Josiah.

“Not necessary, Chosen.” Alad’s tone was formal. “We’d no trouble on the journey.”

“You made good time. I thank you for bringing Lord Josiah to me safely. I’m sure you are tired

—”

“Not too tired to fight, Chosen,” Riah blurted out. Alad nodded his agreement.

Red smiled. “Oris was hoping you’d feel that way. He’s got positions waiting for you. Again, my thanks.”

They nodded to both her and Josiah, and left the tent.

“Sit.” Red gestured to a chair without looking at him. “There’s kavage, if you’d like.”

Josiah eyed her closely as he sat. She ignored him, studying the maps before her, so he was free to look at her. Lord of Light, she was beautiful. Maybe not in the classic sense, but she had her own sharp beauty. She was at ease in her armor, her sword and dagger on her hips. Strong and confident. His mouth suddenly went dry. To break the silence, he looked at the table, at the maps and notations. “How does it go?”

Red shrugged, again without looking at him. “Well enough.” She moved around the table, away from him. “We’ve cut the supply lines to Edenrich, and while Swift’s Port is not aiding us, they are not sending aid to the Regent, either. He’s made a few forays against us, and was lucky once, but we got our people out with reinforcements. He’s working up his courage to confront us. It won’t be long now.”

“Red, I—” Josiah started.

Red cut him off. “Evelyn was taken.”

“What?” Josiah asked. “Who?”

“Elanore’s forces,” Red replied. “She’s safe. Bethral parlayed with Blackhart for her release.”

“Why did he offer a parley?” Josiah demanded.

Red looked at him finally, her eyes steady. “He learned that Elanore was dead. Apparently the Odium in the Keep are under someone else’s control. He released Evelyn unharmed and surrendered himself so that we would let his people flee the Keep and the countryside unmolested.”

Josiah drew in a long breath.

“I’ll send for food,” Red said. “And a messenger to Evelyn. You will want to talk—”

Josiah stood. “I don’t want to talk to her, I want to talk to you.”

Red gestured at the map. “I’m really very busy, you know. The prophecy and all.”

Josiah snorted, and moved around the table. “As if you believe—”

“The western scouts, Chosen.” A voice came from outside the tent.

“Enter,” Red called before Josiah could protest.

The tent flooded with men just off their horses and brimming with news. They started to move maps, eager to report. Red leaned over the table, intent on every word.

Josiah growled under his breath, and got some kavage. Food could wait. He wanted to talk, and talk they would, if he had to wait all night.

TWELVE, she wanted him.

All he had to do was walk in the tent, and her hunger was there. It had been nine long nights since she’d seen him last, and she’d ached for him each and every night.

He looked tired, but well enough otherwise. The scouts had spotted them earlier, so she’d known when he would arrive. She thought she’d been prepared, but it was harder than she’d ever imagined.

Red listened as the scouts spoke and gestured at the maps. She noted the information, but her mind wasn’t really on it.

She had to distance herself from him, and it had to start now.

She’d thought about keeping him in her bed until the final battle. But that was unfair and unwise.

He was a distraction. A pleasant one, to be sure, but dangerous all the same. She needed to be focused on her plans, and not on him. It hurt, a physical pain deep in her chest, but she set that aside.

The scouts were finishing, and she was nodding and making the right responses. But Josiah was still there in the background, a mug of kavage in his hand and a look of determination on his face.

But she was just as determined. Best to cut right to the heart of it and make it quick. Josiah of Athelbryght had his own destiny to fulfill.

As she had hers.

JOSIAH waited patiently. Red gave him a glance as the last scout left the tent. She arched her eyebrow as she spoke. “We’ve a staging area a distance away, where Gloriana and Vembar stay as safe as I can make them.” Red pushed her hair behind her ear, still looking at the map. “I’ve had a tent prepared for you there. Evelyn will wish to see you as soon as possible. I’ll summon an escort—”

“Red,” Josiah said, and she stopped talking, darting a glance at him. When he realized that she wasn’t going to speak, he moved closer. Red gave him a cool glance. “And where will you sleep, Chosen?” he asked.

“Here, of course. I must stay close, in order to—”

“You’re afraid,” Josiah said softly.

THIRTY-FOUR

RED stilled.

“You can expose your breasts to anyone without hesitation,” Josiah continued, “but you can’t expose your emotions, can you? Any more than you can show your hands.”

Red glared at him, but he raised a hand to stop her. “You were right to kill Elanore. I see that now. I’m sorry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, kit—”

“The bitch was defiant, spewing hate and threats. Her death was quick, which was more mercy than she deserved,” Red growled. “The Twelve teach that we build our own hells in the afterlife.

May she burn long and hot in the fire of her own making.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Josiah said. “Red, I—”

Red shook her hair back then, her lips pressed tight, her hand on her sword hilt. “Our agreement is at an end, Lord Josiah. A larger profit awaits me now.”

Josiah stood, and started around the table, staring into Red’s eyes. “You’re afraid that I—”

The tent flap lifted, and Ezren stepped in. Josiah stopped, not recognizing the stranger with the new growth of auburn hair over his pate. But then those green eyes flashed a welcome. “Josiah,”

Ezren said with a smile. “I heard you had arrived. How good to—” The storyteller paused, looking at the two of them with concern. “I have interrupted. I beg you pardon.”

“No need.” Red picked up her helmet from the table. “I’ve work to do. Please see that Lord Josiah is escorted to Gloriana’s tent.”

“This isn’t over, Red Gloves,” Josiah warned.

She looked at him then, and he saw the determination in her eyes. “I’ve a war to win, Athelbryght. We will have time to discuss this later.” She turned and left without another word.

TWO dusty days later, Red sat on Beast and cursed the whole business. The Regent wasn’t stupid, nor were his men. She looked down into the valley before the city walls, and surveyed the placement of their forces. The Regent’s army had emerged from behind the city walls at first light, and Red had formed up accordingly. But he’d more men behind those walls, and fresher cavalry. Red wasn’t at all certain of the outcome, but the odds were not in favor of the Chosen.

Horns blew as instructions were relayed and the formations changed as a result. It would have to do, at this point. Finally, they’d have this out, here and now.

She secured her helmet and checked her weapons, for she had no intention of sitting this one out.

One comfort: Josiah was well back, safe as he could be made. The warriors with him had orders to flee at the first sign of defeat. She’d have started Josiah off to Athelbryght before this, but the man flatly refused to go. All he wanted to do was talk.