Reign of Ash (46 page)

“Maybe he’s gotten ahead of us, if he found his own sources of information about Valshoa,” Blaine said, scanning the horizon. He saw nothing but trees and the distant mountains.

Niklas shook his head. “Doubtful. The
talishte
scouts flew quite a distance out. They saw no indication that a large force – even a middling force – had passed this way.” He paused. “On the other hand, Pollard no doubt knows we have
talishte
on our side. He may have found a way to move his men in small enough groups by day to evade our notice.” He leveled a glance at Blaine. “If they suspect we’re heading into the mountains, we may find that they rally to meet us.”

“Maybe Nidhud succeeded in drawing them off,” Blaine said. “Snipers might be the best Pollard can do until he can gather his forces, which means that he’s likely to attack from the rear rather than get between us and Valshoa.”

Kestel shrugged. “Let’s hope Voss and Nidhud catch up by then. Maybe if we’ve got a big enough army, Pollard won’t dare attack.”

Niklas managed a smile. “I like the thought, but I don’t see it working out that way.” He gave a wary glance toward the sky. “Let’s get moving. I want to make it to what’s left of Lord Garnoc’s manor before nightfall.”

The road now led toward forest, a large swath of pines that spilled down the slopes of the mountains. Until now, the highway had been relatively open, threading its way past farms and villages, many of which had been abandoned.

“Still think we picked the right road?” Kestel asked as they rode.

Blaine eyed the shadows of the forest as they drew closer. “As Niklas pointed out, it’s a toss-up. Ride in the open, and we can be spotted more easily, but we can also see if anyone’s coming. Take the forest road, and while we’re hidden, so is the enemy.” He sighed. “And truth be told, no matter which way we ride, there are going to be stretches of forest. Can’t get around it, this close to the mountains.”

They fell silent as the road wound closer to the forest. It was late afternoon, and the angle of the winter sun sent long shadows across the road. Beneath the pines, it was nearly impossible to see if watchers waited in the darkness. By unspoken agreement, they rode as far to the side of the highway as possible, to keep a buffer between themselves and the forest.

The unbroken line of trees seemed to make them all edgy. Niklas insisted that Blaine and his friends, along with Lowrey and Connor, ride toward the middle of the group. The sense that something was waiting to happen grew stronger the farther they rode. Perhaps it was the unrelenting gray sky, Blaine thought, or the bitingly cold wind, or just the impenetrable depths of the old forest. But he doubted he was the only one holding his breath.

The twang of arrows and the thud of crossbow bolts broke the silence. On the edge of the formation nearest the forest, four men toppled from their mounts, arrows protruding from their bodies. Horses shrieked as riders pulled them up sharply. The archers might as well have been ghosts, as the shadows beneath the trees hid them completely from view.

“Ride!” Niklas shouted. “Get out of their range!”

Bent low over their horses to present more difficult targets, the riders broke into a gallop. A hail of arrows rained down on them, striking both soldiers and their horses, but the angle made it unlikely any of the hits would be fatal. Arrows sailed past them, making the horses skittish and difficult to control.

Blaine kept his head low and urged his horse forward. He dared a glance toward the forest, but the tree line was hidden from his view by the other riders.
Pollard can’t possibly have archers the entire length of the forest
, he thought.
All his tactics have made good use of a limited force. He thought he’d catch us with our guard down, get in some lucky shots.

More men cried out as arrows struck flesh. Even if they didn’t lose many men or horses from the attack, Blaine knew that injuries were likely to slow them down, hinder their ability in a battle.
Pollard’s smart. He knows we can’t easily go after the archers in the forest, and any damage he does to us now is to his advantage if he’s anticipating a real battle later.

“We’re outriding them!” Blaine heard a man shout as they galloped down the highway. Fewer arrows whistled overhead or swished past them, and Blaine fervently hoped that they were nearing the end of the archers’ range.

Ahead of them, there was a rise in the road. They thundered up and over the summit, glad to be free from the arrows. A hedgerow lined the side of the road opposite of the forest, bushes as high as a man’s waist, running as far as the eye could see. As the last of the soldiers cleared the crest of the hill, the sound of wood striking wood rang out, echoing in the winter stillness. Blaine glimpsed something glinting in the fading sunlight. The rider next to him jerked upright in his saddle and his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Blaine saw a bit of metal protruding from the man’s chest an instant before he toppled from his horse.

“They’re launching blades from catapults!” Piran shouted behind him.

“We’ve been herded, nice as you please, into a slaughter,” Verran muttered.

Just then, a new storm of arrows rained down on them, shot by archers at the tree line. All around Blaine shouts of panic rose, and the travelers reined in their horses or bolted ahead, into the deadly assault. Above the chaos, Blaine heard Niklas shouting to regain order, straining to be heard above the cries of wounded men and the panicked screams of horses.

“Damn!” A sharp fragment of metal flew past Blaine’s shoulder and opened a bloody slice. Another metal splinter sank deep into the side of the horse next to Blaine’s mount, and the horse reared and bucked.

“If we ride down the gauntlet, we’re all dead!” Piran’s voice carried above the pandemonium.

Blaine squinted toward the hedgerow. He could just make out the wooden mechanisms that were hidden behind the bushes. “They’ve got small catapults. Ride for the row!” Blaine shouted to his companions as he drew his sword. “Let’s cut a way through their line!”

The move was pure suicide. Yet as more bits of deadly metal hurtled through the air, Niklas’s soldiers were losing ground fast. Between the archers in the forest and the deadly hail of fragments from the hedgerow, the highway had become a killing field. Horses and men were down, some dead and others flailing.

They were likely to end up with their horses eviscerated and blades in their chests, Blaine knew as he struggled to bring his frightened horse under control. Yet his cry echoed down the line. Without sparing the time to think about the folly of his action, Blaine spurred his horse toward the point in the hedge that had most recently discharged its missiles, gambling that it would take a few moments to reload.

Blaine’s horse sailed over the hedge and its hooves smashed into one of the gunnery men caught by surprise beside his small catapult. Swords in both hands, Blaine slashed at the two other gunners, even as silver flashed through the air and he felt something strike his belly.

Piran cleared the hedge a moment later, then Borya and Desya, who tumbled from their saddles to land on their feet, swords a blur of motion. Connor and Illarion were next, followed by Kestel and Zaryae, with Verran and Dawe after that. More of Niklas’s soldiers followed the desperate gambit, and as they cut down the gunnery soldiers and disabled the catapults, the rest of the army stormed through behind them.

One of Blaine’s opponents fell quickly, run through before he could even draw his sword. The other man got his wits about him in time to parry Blaine’s attack.

“You’re stuck,” the gunner taunted. “You’re bleeding.”

From the pain in his side, Blaine guessed that one of the fragments had cut him badly, but he knew the gunner was waiting for an opening and he dared not look down. Instead, he roared in anger and dove forward, and his move caught the man by surprise. The gunner struggled to get his guard up, but Blaine struck with his full strength, landing a brutal blow with the sword in his right hand, followed by a thrust with the sword in his left. The gunner sank to his knees as Blaine pulled his sword back from between the man’s ribs.

“See you in Raka,” the man gasped. “You’ll be joining me soon, I think.” Hands clasped to the wound in his chest, the man swayed and then fell face-forward into the snow.

All around Blaine, soldiers poured through the breach in the hedgerow and the catapults had fallen silent, their gunners chased down by Niklas’s angry troops. Down the line, Blaine could see his friends, and over the fray, he could hear Niklas barking orders.
It worked
, he marveled.

Nearest to him, he saw Connor fighting off three of the gunners. Silhouetted against the sunset, Connor appeared to be struggling. His swordsmanship had improved, but it was not yet up to fending off three attackers at once. As the sun dipped lower, though, Connor straightened as if infused with new energy. His sword strokes grew surer and more powerful, and within a few moments he had bested his opponents in a display of skill that left Blaine completely puzzled.

As the adrenaline faded, Blaine felt the pain in his belly and it forced him to his knees. He pushed back his cloak to see a rapidly spreading stain. The world around him began to swim, even as he heard Piran shouting his name. He managed a response but felt himself topple to the ground as footsteps pounded in his direction. Overhead, the last light of day was fading with the sun.

By Vessa and Esthrane, don’t let me come so close and die here
, he thought.
I hadn’t expected to survive the ritual, but don’t let me die now, when I haven’t even made the attempt.
He heard Piran’s shout and Illarion’s worried voice, but before he could respond, the darkness closed in around him.

B
laine. Blaine, I know you can hear me. Fix your attention on my voice. Follow my voice.
 

The voice was familiar, but Blaine could not place it. Darkness engulfed him. He wondered if he still lay where he had fallen, in the snow near the hedgerow. He was so very cold.

Follow my voice, Blaine.
The man’s voice was firm, welcoming, irresistible in its compulsion. It was difficult to move, almost impossible to overcome inertia, but the voice gave him no choice. In the darkness, Blaine had no sense of up or down, of left or right, but the voice called, and he moved. Direction didn’t seem to matter. He focused on the sound of the voice, and as it grew stronger, he knew he was getting closer.

Gradually the darkness dissipated, clearing like smoke. Blaine found himself in a darkened room, lying on a pallet, with Penhallow leaning over him, a worried expression on his face.

“He’s with us once more,” Penhallow murmured, but the concern was clear in his eyes.

“Where are we?” Blaine asked, finding it unusually hard to form the words.

“You’re in Sondermoor, Lord Garnoc’s manor,” Penhallow replied. “Or, I should say, what’s left of it.”

Blaine swallowed hard. His mouth was dry, and his whole body felt sluggish. “I got hit,” he murmured, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into the pallet.

“One of the blades caught you in the belly,” Penhallow said quietly. “You lost a lot of blood.”

Penhallow’s voice felt like honey, warm and thick. Tired as he was, Blaine could not turn his attention away. “It was a bad wound,” Penhallow continued. “By the time Niklas got you to Sondermoor, you were dying. You were beyond his healer’s abilities.”

“Am I turned?” Blaine managed. He thought he might feel horrified at the possibility, but caught in the magnetism of Penhallow’s voice, he could feel nothing except warmth.

“No. But in order to heal you, I had to make a bargain, of sorts,” Penhallow replied.

“What kind of bargain?” Blaine struggled to open his eyes. He met Penhallow’s gaze and belatedly remembered that
talishte
could bind a mortal’s will with their stare.

“To mend such a severe wound, I needed to create a bond between us. Not so strong a bond as turning you, but enough to make my power accessible to you.”

“The
kruvgaldur
,” Blaine replied, finding it difficult to think clearly. “Like Connor.”

“There was no choice, if you were going to live,” Penhallow said.

Distantly it occurred to Blaine that he should feel angry at having such a permanent decision made for him, but he lacked the energy to feel anything at all except relief. “What did you do?” Even to his own ears, his words sounded slurred.

“I drank your blood, then used the bond it created to reinforce my ability to heal you with saliva and my own blood,” Penhallow replied.

“I’m bound to you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Penhallow said. The timbre of his voice was comforting, reassuring. “The bond creates an obligation for me as well. You are fully under my protection.”

“Can you read my mind?”

Penhallow chuckled. “Not the way you may think. Your memories are clearest during the actual blood-taking. The bond grows stronger with repetition. Over time we can communicate, with limitations, even over distance. Geir or Connor have mentioned this, I believe?”

“Yes.” Blaine was quiet for a moment. “How long —”

“Only a matter of a few candlemarks have passed since you were injured,” Penhallow finished for him. “It was Connor who summoned me, although I was already on my way.” He chuckled. “Lady Kestel was quite forceful about insisting I heal you. I will lend you my strength, and with rest, you should be ready to ride tomorrow.”

Still alive, with a chance of actually reaching Valshoa in time, Blaine thought.
An acceptable trade.

Penhallow laid a hand on his shoulder. “Your friends are safe and undamaged,” Penhallow said, answering the unasked question. “Niklas’s battle healer has his hands full with all the men who are injured, but most are in no danger. We’re in the lower levels of the old manor, as safe a place as to be found. Now sleep. I’ll make sure someone sits with you. And if you need my help, I will know.”

Blaine started to protest, but exhaustion washed over him, and between it and the compulsion in Penhallow’s voice, he sank into sleep before he could say another word.

“You’re looking better,” Connor said as Blaine opened his eyes sometime later. “Glad you’re still with us.”

Blaine drew a deep breath. He felt a dull pain in his side, but he had a vague memory of it being much sharper not long ago. For a moment, he felt completely disoriented. Then he remembered the conversation with Penhallow, the battle, and his near brush with death.

“Thank you,” he said raggedly. “Penhallow said you called him to me.”

Connor chuckled nervously. “At the time, I wasn’t sure whether you’d thank me or not when you woke up, but I didn’t think Kestel and Niklas intended to leave me any option, regardless.” He sobered. “And if you hate me for it, I’ll understand – although I still think it was the right thing to do. Your Edgeland mates took turns sitting with you. Kestel wouldn’t leave your side until she knew you were going to live.” He shuddered. “I didn’t fancy facing her if you didn’t.”

“What… is it like?” Blaine asked.

Connor took his meaning immediately. “The
kruvgaldur
? Takes a little getting used to. Most of the time I don’t think about it now. Being with Penhallow all the time makes it stronger.”

Connor paused. “It still makes me nervous when he takes blood, but he’s as kind as possible. I mean, someone can only be so gentle about it.” Another pause. “I had to get used to the idea that I might not have any real privacy, any secrets. Not that I had much to be private about. It was the thought, really, of not being alone in my own mind that took a bit to adjust to.”

He sighed. “Penhallow says he only wants certain information, that he doesn’t go rooting around to see what he can find. I believe him – after all, I don’t think about anything that’s all that exciting.” Connor met Blaine’s gaze. “I don’t think you have to worry. Whether you ever offer up your blood to him is up to you – unless you nearly get yourself killed again.”

“Does he control you?” Blaine managed to meet Connor’s gaze and found a mix of emotions swirling in the young man’s eyes.

“Penhallow? I don’t think so.” He gave a nervous laugh. “If he could, I wouldn’t have gotten banged up quite so badly in a few of the fights. He certainly doesn’t control Traher Voss.”

“I saw you fighting at the hedge,” Blaine pressed. “You gained a lot of skill in a very short time.”

Connor looked away. “Oh. That wasn’t Penhallow. It was the Wraith Lord. He can take over my actions when he possesses me.” He looked down, anywhere except at Blaine. “He’s saved my life by taking me over, fighting through me.”

“By possessing you?”

Connor nodded with an uncomfortable expression on his face. “Yes.” He paused. “So far, he’s been honorable and departed when it would harm me, or when the situation that required his presence was over.” He paused. “There’s something else you need to know. The Wraith Lord was one of the original Lords of the Blood. Before Mirdalur.”

Blaine lay still for a moment, letting that bit of information sink in. “So I’m not the last Lord of the Blood,” he said finally.

Connor shook his head. “Yes, and no. The Wraith Lord is the essence… maybe the soul… of one of the original Lords. But you are the last
living
Lord of the Blood, and from everything Treven’s found in Quintrel’s books, that’s what really counts. The magic is in the blood – your blood.”

“Will the
kruvgaldur
change anything?” Blaine asked.

Connor shrugged. “You and Penhallow are connected. Beyond that, I don’t know how it will work for you. I thought about that when I asked for Penhallow’s help, but if you were dead, there’d be no working the ritual at all.”

“Has the Wraith Lord told you anything – about bringing back the magic, or Valshoa?”

Connor gave a grim smile. “When you’re feeling better, he’s requested a meeting with you and Nidhud.”

Blaine looked at him skeptically. “He waits until I nearly die?”

“He needed to observe you. He wanted to come to his own conclusions about your motives, to assure himself that you were not aligned with Reese.”

Blaine sighed. “Here’s hoping he’s got some ideas on what to do when we get there – assuming we find it. We may have come all this way for nothing.”

“He believes in Valshoa. So does Nidhud.”

“I wish I did,” Blaine said tiredly. “Despite the maps, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then you won’t have long to wait,” Connor replied. Blaine heard him push back his chair and stand. “One more thing,” he said. “The
talishte
scouts have spotted magic storms. They’re still a distance away, and their direction is always uncertain, but it’s possible they could head this way.”

“Just what we need. One more complication,” Blaine murmured.

“Thought you’d want the warning. The only thing worse than being hit by one is not knowing it’s coming.”

“Thank you,” Blaine murmured.

“Just save the magic, huh? That’s all the thanks I need.”

Blaine awoke sometime later to find that the pillar candle on the floor beside his pallet had burned down from its previous height, and he wondered how long he had been out.

“You slept for a couple of candlemarks,” Kestel answered his unspoken question. “Verran came down to check on you, and he brought food for both of us.”

She nodded toward a loaf of bread, a wineskin, a length of dried sausage, and a hunk of cheese that lay on a kerchief nearby. “Candlelight dinner. Romantic,” she said, but the humor in her voice did not match the concern in her eyes.

“This almost-dying shit is getting old,” Blaine muttered. “Bad enough in Velant, but I thought I’d gotten past those days.”

“Not much fun for the rest of us, either.”

Blaine sighed and reached out to take her hand. “Sorry.”

“You’re alive. That’s all that matters.” Kestel’s voice was brisk, but her eyes told another story. She bent down to kiss him, and he drew her close. “I’m glad you accepted Penhallow’s help.” She paused. “Are you angry with us for asking him?”

Blaine grimaced. “I didn’t have much choice.”

“There’s always a choice.” Kestel paused. “If it makes you feel better, I knew Penhallow’s reputation from court. Even people who didn’t like
talishte
allowed that Penhallow was a man of honor. I took a risk and trusted him. It was better than losing you.” Abruptly, she forced a smile and changed topics. “Eat your dinner. You’ll feel better.”

With a grunt, Blaine managed to sit up without her assistance. He winced at a sharp pain in his side, then realized it felt more like a pulled muscle than a nearly fatal injury.
Not too bad, considering.

He leaned back against the stone wall and reached out to rip apart the bread. He offered some to Kestel, but she shook her head.

“No thanks. While you were sleeping, I ate. What’s left is for you.” She nodded toward a small cup Blaine had not noticed. “That’s an elixir from Niklas’s healer. Said it would help with the pain and promised that by morning, you’ll feel good enough to ride.”

Blaine ate his dinner and washed it down with wine. “Any word about Pollard’s troops?”

Kestel shook her head. “After you went down and the sun set, Penhallow’s men – and Nidhud’s Knights – showed up, although by that time, our folks had taken quite a toll on Pollard’s troops. Your crazy maneuver worked – except for the part where you almost died.”

Blaine shrugged. “No plan is perfect.” He paused. “How about Voss? We could use some reinforcements.”

“Not yet, although Penhallow believes he’ll be here before you work the ritual.”

“Nothing like cutting it close.”

Kestel sighed. “Speaking of which – I’m to tell you that Nidhud, Niklas, Lowrey, Penhallow, and Connor will be down to see you after eleventh bells. Piran and I would like to stay as well, and Zaryae asked to come along. It’ll make for a tight fit in here.” She smiled, and Blaine could see her concern. “After what you’ve been through, I figured we could be your ears and memory, in case you’re not quite back to being yourself.”

Blaine squeezed her hand. “I’d appreciate that.” Food and wine fortified him, but the battle had taken its toll. Despite the elixir and Penhallow’s healing, Blaine felt exhausted and laid back down on his pallet.

“Go ahead. Sleep,” Kestel urged. “One of us will be here. We’ll wake you before it’s time for the meeting.”

Blaine thought of several responses, but sleep took him before he could say anything more.

When Blaine next woke, he was surprised to find that the ache in his belly was almost gone, and he felt much improved. Enough so that he insisted on sitting up to greet his visitors, who extended so much concern over his recovery that he was actually happy to get down to the business of mapping out the next day’s ride.