Oracle (Book 5) (21 page)

Kendril felt cold ice in his stomach.
It wasn’t possible.
He blinked the stinging oil smoke out of his eyes trying to see clearly in the orange half-light of the dying fire.

The Jombard was bigger. Taller. Hair covered his chest and arms.

No, not hair.
Fur
.

The Jombard growled. He flexed his impossibly huge arms out to either side. Claws glinted where fingers should have been. Yellow eyes glowed dully in the darkness of the cave. The barbarian’s head had changed. It was elongated, stretched out into a muzzle.

Kendril took an involuntary step back.

In front of him was an eight-foot tall werewolf.

Chapter 12

Joseph grabbed Maklavir. He dragged the hapless man back towards the gate.

The gendarmes charged forward. The one in front gave a cry and lowered his cavalry saber.

Joseph had seen what one of those weapons could do when used by a rider from the back of a horse, and the result wasn’t pretty.

“Perhaps we could—” Maklavir began to stammer.

Joseph didn’t bother to hear the man out. He kicked the iron gate open and threw Maklavir into the garden.

A shout came from the other side of the garden. More gendarmes, probably tracking them from the back patio of the Sanitarium.

They were trapped.

Maklavir backed up. The sword shook in his hand. Even in the darkness, his face looked white as a sheet. “I say, where do we go now?”

Joseph looked around, his breath hissing out white into the night air. The gendarmes would easily jump the iron gate and be in the garden in seconds. If there was—

His eyes fell on the white stones. The path that led out of the garden between the two hedges.

Joseph made his decision immediately. There was no time for discussion or debate. “That way!” he said. He grabbed Kara by the hand, then pointed down the white-stone path. “Move!”

Maklavir crinkled his nose. “Are you quite sure? I don’t think that—”

“I said
move
!” Joseph was already running. He pulled Kara along behind him.

The clattering of hooves and neighing of horses grew louder by the second. Garbled voices came through the hedges on the other side of the garden.

Joseph ran for all he was worth. He didn’t even look to see if Maklavir was following him. If the man wanted to stand around and debate a time like this, that was his problem.

Joseph barely made it past the first hedge before the dark shape of a horse came crashing over the waist-high iron gate and into the garden.

Maklavir scrambled around the edge of the hedge, right behind Joseph and Kara.

There was no way to know if the mounted gendarme had seen them or not. If he had, they would undoubtedly know very soon. Besides, there were only so many ways out of the garden behind them.

Joseph ran, his hand still grasping Kara’s. Despite the coldness of her skin, it felt good to touch her again.

The path tilted sharply downhill, running between two high hedges. Joseph ran as fast as he dared in the darkness, glad that the white path was relatively easy to see.

Shouts came from the garden behind them, along with the whinnying and stamping of horses. Another gunshot rang out.

Eru only knew what they were shooting at. All Joseph knew was that he had to get Kara out of here, had to get her to safety. At this point nothing else mattered.

The hedges came to an abrupt end.

Joseph stumbled out into a wide open space, and felt the sudden panic of being exposed. It was silly, of course. The darkness hid them far better than any hedge ever could.

Maklavir came up next to Joseph, panting heavily. “Oh, bother.”

It was a river. The bank was mere yards away from where they stood. Ice clung close to the shores, and the steady gurgling of water could be heard even over the shouts and cries that came behind them. Several large trees loomed in the darkness, right up against the riverbank.

Joseph let go of Kara’s hand and stepped almost to the edge of the water. It was hard to see, but he could see enough to know that the water was moving fast and the river was wide. It was probably one of the many branches of the Inersa River that flowed through Vorten.

The water would no doubt be cold, and deep. Swimming for the other side seemed like certain suicide.

Joseph turned, his breath ragged in the cold air. He lifted his sword. “Maklavir, take Kara and swim for it. I’ll hold them off as long as I can.”

Maklavir lifted an eyebrow. “I see you’ve taken a page out of Kendril’s book of strategy.”

“I mean it, Maklavir,” Joseph snapped. He glanced back up at the white path, then pointed his sword across the river. “Get Kara to the other side.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Maklavir glanced down at the crust of ice that clung to the bank. “Even if we made it we’ll freeze to death for sure.”

“I don’t have time to argue.” Joseph half-turned. He felt the overwhelming temptation to hit Maklavir with the sword in his hand. “We don’t have a lot of options. It’s the river or the gendarmes.”

“What about the
boat
?” Maklavir asked with deliberate calm. He pointed to a rowboat that was gently bobbing a few yards away. In the blackness of the clouded night it was almost invisible.

Joseph clenched his teeth. He was equally torn between the rush of relief at Maklavir’s find and the heat of his anger at the man’s superior attitude. He turned and dashed to the boat.

It looked to be in one piece. It was floating, at any rate, and was big enough for three people.

Joseph swung around and grabbed Kara. He pulled the unresisting woman down into the boat.

Maklavir stepped tentatively down into the rocking vessel, gathering up his cape. “Good Eru, who leaves their boat uncovered at this time of year? This is probably covered with grime and dirt, not to mention—”

“Tuldor’s beard, Maklavir, are you for real?” Joseph felt for the rope that tied the boat to the shore. “Just get in the Void-cursed—”

Two gendarmes emerged from the hedges. One held a lantern, and a sword was in his hand. The other held a wheelock carbine.

Time had just run out.

Joseph’s hand closed on a thick, knotted rope. There was no time to find where it was tied and undo it. They would have to push-off the old fashioned way. He grabbed the rope and began sawing at it furiously with his sword.

The gendarmes looked around them, scanning the riverbank.

Even with the darkness and undergrowth, it would only be a matter of seconds before they spotted the boat.

Joseph kept cutting away, feeling strands of the thick rope peel away as the blade sliced through it.

The gendarme with the lantern looked in Joseph’s direction. He shouted and pointed.

The second gendarme snapped back the lock on his musket and raised it to his shoulder. “Stop in the name of the King!” he yelled.

Joseph didn’t stop.

He sliced through the last bit of the rope, feeling it come apart in his hands. He jumped up, grabbed the boat with both hands, and pushed it out into the water.

Then he jumped.

The sharp
bang
of a gunshot sounded in the night.

Joseph felt a red hot flash of pain tear across his shoulder. He crashed into the bottom of the rowboat.

The craft wobbled uncertainly. Cold water splashed in from the sides.

“Steady on!” Maklavir cried. He grabbed at the gunwales as the boat tipped.

Joseph rolled in the bottom of the boat, grabbing at his shoulder. He could feel warm blood soaking through his greatcoat. It hurt like a line of fire across his shoulder blade.

“Stop!” The gendarme with the lantern yelled. He waved his sword uselessly.

The second gendarme reloaded the carbine, surrounded by a wreath of gun smoke.

Joseph collapsed back in the stern of the boat with a grunt. He felt the hard shape of an oar underneath him. “Here,” he gasped at Maklavir. “Oars. Get us downstream.”

“Covered with more dirt, I suppose,” Maklavir grumbled. He took the oar all the same, and began paddling off one side of the boat.

Joseph looked up over the side of the boat.

The shore was rapidly disappearing. Shouts and whistles were sounding off in the darkness, and the shadows of running men and horses could be seen. The current was swift, however, and already they were fast heading downstream.

“You’d better grab the other side,” Maklavir said coolly, “or we’ll end up going in circles. I can’t see a blessed thing out here. There could be a waterfall ahead, for all I know.”

“There are no waterfalls in Vorten, you twit,” Joseph said. He tenderly felt the  back of his shoulder, and flexed his hand.

The wound stung and hurt something fierce, but it didn’t hurt enough to be a serious wound. Joseph could move his arm and hand well enough, .He guessed that the musket ball had skated across his back and shoulder, tearing flesh and clothing but not actually lodging. Kendril would no doubt have dismissed it as a mere flesh wound.

Flesh wound or not, it hurt like blazes.

But what hurt even more was Kara’s reaction. She sat placidly in her seat, staring off into the darkness and muttering something over and over, just softly enough that Joseph couldn’t make it out. She showed no concern for Joseph, no real awareness of her surroundings or what was happening.

She was still lost. Still essentially dead.

Joseph gritted his teeth against the pain and lifted the second oar. He pushed it down into the water and paddled for all he was worth.

Behind him came another flash and the report of gunfire, followed by a nearby splash.

Joseph ducked lower. He dug the oar into the water.

He was going to get Kara out of here. He was going to get her free of all this madness

And then he was going to find some way to bring back the woman he loved.

Joseph awoke with a start. He straightened, then immediately wished he hadn’t. His shoulder and back throbbed with pain, his body was sore and ached from cramps and cold. He tossed the old oar off himself and sat up in the boat.

The vessel was beached amongst some floating ice and reeds. A muddy bank was just a few feet away. It led up towards a forest, dark and menacing. The sky was gray and covered with clouds.

It was day, then. The night was over.

Joseph turned his head gingerly, trying not to strain his wounded shoulder.

Kara was asleep in the bow of the boat. Maklavir’s cape covered her like a blanket.

“I don’t suppose you thought to bring any eggs or bacon with you?” Maklavir asked dryly. He sat on the other side of the boat, his arms crossed against the cold. “I’m starved.”

Joseph grimaced. He picked up the sword from the bottom of the boat. “What time is it? How long was I out?”

Maklavir removed a pocket watch from his vest with a dramatic flourish, and stared meaningfully at the shattered face. “It would appear to be the same time it was when my very expensive watch was broken last night.” He tucked the watch away with a sigh. “As for how long you were asleep, I really can’t say. We’ve been drifting all night.”

Joseph glanced up the bank towards the forest. “How long have we been in the reeds?”

Maklavir shrugged. “Five, ten minutes? Does it matter?”

“It matters,” Joseph said slowly, “because Potemkin’s gendarmes are going to be scouring the river for us.” He looked over at Kara, who was still sleeping peacefully. “How’s she doing?”

Maklavir picked up his own sword. “You can see as well as I can. She fell asleep after you.” He looked up at the red-haired woman for a moment, a shadow falling over his face. “She almost looks…
normal
, doesn’t’ she?”

Joseph swallowed. He looked back in the direction of the forest. There didn’t seem to be any road or path in sight. There had to be some kind of habitation close by, though. A village, or even an isolated farm house.

Maklavir weighed the gendarme sword unenthusiastically in his hand. “Not much of a replacement.” He looked up at Joseph. “Do you have any idea how much my sword cost? You know, the one that is still back at the Sanitarium?”

Joseph tucked his own stolen sword into his belt. “What does it matter to you? You never used the old thing anyways.”

Maklavir lifted his head. “It’s the
principle
.”

“We need to get moving,” Joseph said, abruptly changing the subject. “Find somewhere to lie low for a bit.”

“Yes, well I guess we’re fugitives now,” said Maklavir sourly. “Lucky us. For a brief moment I thought I might actually have the chance to start a new life in Vorten. How silly.”

Joseph gave Maklavir a sharp glance. “I gave you the choice at the Sanitarium. You could have stayed behind. Maybe you should have.”

Maklavir gave a leaden sigh. He stared down at the bottom of the boat. “You’re not the only one who cares about Kara, you know. I couldn’t see her locked away any more than you could.”

Joseph thought he caught a strange inflection in Maklavir’s voice, something he hadn’t heard before. He looked hard at the diplomat, then finally glanced out at the river. “I’m sorry, Maklavir. What I said was uncalled for.”

Maklavir lifted his head and arched both eyebrows. “You’re
apologizing
to me? Well, it looks like the Joseph I used to know isn’t gone for good yet, then.” He looked over at the sleeping girl. “It all seems rather pointless, doesn’t it? She’s not herself. It’s like she’s in a waking dream all the time, here and yet not here.”

Joseph bit his lip. He stretched his shoulder carefully, grunting at the dull pain.

Maklavir glanced over in surprise. “Great Eru, old chap, you’re hurt. I hadn’t noticed. Nothing bad, I hope?”

Joseph shook his head. “No. Just a flesh wound.”

“Sounds like something Kendril would say.”

Joseph tried to smile, but couldn’t. “Maklavir,” he started to say, “what Kara was saying last night….”

The diplomat shook his head sadly. “Nonsense. Just like Grelda said—”

Joseph leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “It
wasn’
t nonsense. Think about it. Everything she said…” he glanced over at the girl, as if expecting her to wake any second, “everything she said happened.”