Shattering the Ley (44 page)

Her heart lurched in her chest.

She drew back, knew her face had hardened, had turned bitter.

Marcus’ eyes darkened. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What happened with the other two, the man and the girl?”

She scanned Marcus’ confused face, then grunted and stood, searched the area, stepping away from the boy’s body, the dog following at her heels. The body of the other man lay crumpled at the edge of the street. The smooth surface of the building behind had cracked, splinters of stone jutting out at odd angles where it had been touched by the distortion. Parts of the street were the same, as if the stone cobbles were mud churned up by the passage of too many carts. Except in one spot, where the man had shielded the girl from the distortion.

Kara halted over the location, stared down at the untouched stone of the street.

“Kara. What’s wrong?” Marcus’ voice was hard, demanding, angry that she’d shut him out. But it didn’t affect her. She’d grown used to it in the last few months they’d been together, had inured herself to it.

She glanced up, caught his gaze before turning to scan the surrounding faces in the crowd, most horrified by the blood staining the street, eyes sad with sympathy, others weeping openly. A few were watching her with accusatory scowls, as if they knew she hadn’t allowed Marcus to help her, knew she hadn’t done everything possible to save the man and the boy. She didn’t see the other man or the girl anywhere. She swallowed down the hard stone that had settled at the base of her throat.

“I didn’t free them,” Kara said roughly.

“What?”

“I said I didn’t free them! I didn’t have time. I managed to free myself, the woman, and the dog. No one else. But I did see him move. Both of them, the man and girl.”

Marcus’ brow furrowed. “Then perhaps they weren’t caught in the distortion.”

“No. You can see where they were crouched.” She motioned to the only section of the street that didn’t look as if it were churned mud. “They were inside it. It surrounded them. It had enfolded them completely.”

“How is that possible?”

Kara shrugged, her gaze glancing off of the dead boy and away sharply. She didn’t want Marcus’ help, even though he hadn’t yet mentioned that she’d blocked him. Her stomach threatened to roil and she felt herself beginning to tremble. Reaction to the effort it had taken to repair what she had of the distortion. “I don’t see him or the girl anywhere in the crowd. They must have fled as soon as they were free.” She thought again about the odd look the man had given her while still trapped, the fear followed by hatred and defiance.

Not what she would expect from someone caught in a distortion with a Wielder, with someone who could possibly save him. In fact, nearly the opposite.

Her knees suddenly felt weak. A wave of dizziness swept through her and the next thing she knew, Marcus was holding her upright by the arm, cursing, and she didn’t have the strength to pull away.

“We’d better get you back to the node,” he said, his voice sounding rough but distant. She heard the sudden thundering of boots, the harsh shouts of soldiers. “The city watch has arrived. We’ll let them sort this out.”

And then he was leading her away, a path opening up through the crowd before them.

Shit, shit, shit!

Allan moved as soon as he felt the hideous pressure of the distortion retreat, scooping up Morrell into his arms even as the scent of blood slammed into his senses. He heard Morrell cry out, knew she’d seen the distortion rip the boy and the man to shreds. He buried her face in his shoulder and lurched toward the crowd that had gathered at the edge of the distortion. The shocked and horrified faces didn’t part before him, so he plowed into them with a low growl of anger and frustration, heard someone yell as they were thrown to the ground, and then he broke through the back into the mostly empty street.

He ran, his heart thundering in his chest, pounding in his ears. Morrell shuddered against him, her arms wrapped around his neck, clutching him tight as she sobbed, nearly choking him. He hefted her weight as he reached the first corner, grunting with the effort, risking a glance behind as he slowed to turn.

No one pursued them. Not anyone from the crowd, not the Wielder. He didn’t even hear shouts for the Dogs.

He frowned, some of the tension dissipating from his shoulders.

He’d seen the Wielder’s eyes narrow, seen the look of confusion cross her face. She’d recognized him. He knew it. After twelve years of avoiding detection coming to Erenthrall, he’d finally been discovered.

He heard the thunder of boot-clad feet and ducked behind the corner of the nearest building as the city watch charged toward the crowd. Back pressed against smooth stone, he listened to the shouts as he calmed his breathing. Morrell hung in his arms like a lead weight, so when she began to squirm, he set her down on the ground and knelt in front of her, smoothing out her ruffled hair and wiping the tears from her face.

“You’re fine, Poppet.”

He watched her try to pull herself together, the struggle to act like an adult fighting the twelve-year-old child still inside her. “But the boy . . . the lights . . . the blood . . .” Her rough breathing began to hitch, tears threatening again as her face twisted into a tangle of horror and fear.

“I know, I know.” Allan hugged her close, kissed her forehead. “But you’re fine, the lights can’t hurt you now. They’re gone.” On the street around the corner, the city watch began shouting orders to disperse the crowd. It didn’t sound like they were searching for anyone, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

He looked Morrell in the eye. “We need to get out of here. Can you walk on your own, or do you want me to carry you?”

She searched his face, some of the fear ebbing away, her mouth setting into a determined line as she gathered herself and forced the horror back. “What was the light?”

“It’s called a distortion. They happen here in the city sometimes. It’s one of the reasons I took you away to the Hollow, and why I never brought you to the city with me before.”

A high-pitched whistle pierced the shouting on the streets and Allan jerked upright, one hand falling to his daughter’s shoulder.

Morrell clutched his hand. “What is it, Dad?”

“The Dogs have arrived.”

Allan watched grimly as the crowd began to scatter, leaving the ignored city watch and the sliced-up bodies behind. He didn’t see the Wielder at all, but the Dogs thronged the scene, seizing control, closing in on the head of the watch and hiding the bodies and everyone else from view. Their rough leather armor mixed with bracers and armbands made the black uniforms of the watch look pristine. He scanned the Dogs’ faces, looking for anyone who might recognize him, anyone familiar. But they were all too young to have known him when he was a Dog.

And then he saw Hagger. The elder Dog looked even more grizzled and vicious than Allan remembered as he ordered the younger Dogs around, shoving those in the crowd moving too slowly for him, kicking one to the ground. He snarled, his face lined with old anger, old hatred, then spat to one side, his gaze sweeping across the scene, searching.

Allan pulled back behind the corner, hand gripping the pommel of his short sword so hard the knuckles were white. He pried his fingers loose and glanced down toward Morrell, saw her watching the Dogs curiously. When she looked up at him, he could see her thinking. The shock from seeing the boy’s body and the blood had faded, although he could still see it haunting the corners of her eyes. She’d have nightmares tonight. He needed to distract her, before the memory of the boy’s death returned, before she began asking questions, such as why the distortion hadn’t touched them. It had to be a consequence of his nullification of the ley, but he hadn’t known that when he’d ducked to protect her. Before fleeing to the Hollow, he’d canceled out the ley’s power within a radius of ten feet. Experimenting in the years since, he knew his power had grown. He’d caused ley globes to flicker as far as twenty-five feet away.

The distortion had gotten much closer than that. But then his impression was that the distortion was also much more powerful than a ley globe or heating stone.

“Let’s go. We missed the meeting with the blacksmith, but we can still look for the cloth Tobias wanted for his daughters. Remember? You promised to pick out something special for them.”

She nodded, still thoughtful.

As they turned away from the corner, heading down the second street, the Dogs and the area of the distortion out of sight, Allan’s hand dropped back to the pommel of his blade.

He’d have to be more careful in the next few days. He had to assume that Hagger would question the Wielder, that she’d report what she’d seen, that the Dogs would know he was here now, that they’d be looking for him. Which meant he’d have to cut the trip to Erenthrall short. Time to reevaluate the supplies needed for the Hollow, gather only what was absolutely necessary for the winter in order for the community to survive.

And then get the hells out before Hagger and the Dogs caught up to him.

“Move it! Nothing to see here! Get out of the way so us Dogs can do our job!”

Hagger emphasized the last word with a hard kick in the ass to one of the slower-moving oglers in the crowd. The man toppled over and hit the stone hard, scraping up the side of his face. Smiling tightly as the man scrambled away, he surveyed the scene, taking in the remains of the bodies left behind with a grimace, then scanning the crowd. Some of the Dogs had captured a few of those who’d gathered and were questioning them, but the rest appeared to be scattering reasonably fast. He grunted to himself in satisfaction, eyeing their retreating backs.

His eye caught an odd movement at the nearest intersection and he instantly focused in on a girl peering around the corner of the building. Dressed in a white shirt open at the collar and rugged pants, she watched the scene with a tight frown, then turned and looked up toward someone Hagger couldn’t see. A man’s hand reached out and drew her out of sight by the shoulder.

Hagger frowned, something in the girl’s face somehow familiar. He didn’t know any girls her age, not that he could recall, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling he knew her.

And then he caught a snippet of the conversation nearest to him.

“—there was a man caught in it. It didn’t look like the Wielders had freed him, but they must have because as soon as the distortion collapsed, he snatched up the girl and plowed into the crowd.”

Hagger spun toward the sound of the woman’s voice. At least forty years old, hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head, she was plain of face, dressed like any other citizen of Erenthrall, although her hands were callused from hard labor. She held herself confidently, and didn’t appear afraid of the Dog who was questioning her.

She caught him watching her as she said, “The rest of them never had a chance, poor bastards. The distortion was so big! I was surprised the Wielders managed to save anyone at all.”

Hagger moved toward her, noticed that she didn’t flinch or back away, her gaze holding his almost defiantly. “You said there was a man caught in the distortion? But he wasn’t affected by it?”

“Yes.”

He scanned those they’d kept behind for questioning. “Is he still here?”

The woman looked as well, finally shaking her head. “No. As I said, he grabbed the girl and ran.”

Uneasiness slid through Hagger’s gut and he rolled his shoulders.

He turned to Ricar, the Dog who’d been interviewing the woman. “Have any of the Dogs reported in yet? Was anyone following the two Wielders at the time the distortion formed?”

Ricar shrugged. “Not yet.”

He hadn’t thought so. They didn’t have enough Dogs to cover all of the Wielders, no matter how adamant Daedallen and the Baron were that one of them was a traitor. No one had caught their attention yet, not from the Stone District.

But still . . . something bothered him.

He growled in irritation. First the girl, now this—

The girl.

His eyes widened and he turned on the woman, so sharply that she gasped, then hardened as if angered by her own reaction. “You said he grabbed a girl. Young? Around . . .” he counted the years, surprised at how long it had been, “. . . twelve years old?”