Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) (31 page)

“You and me on Hux, the monkeys on Coffee and Belen on Tea. After we rescue Avry, you can ride with Belen.”

“Good to hear you have more confidence than Odd,” Belen said.

“Of course he does! He’s Weed Boy, ghost of the forest,” Quain said.

Belen sighed. Flea chuckled. Kerrick just shook his head. It would be an interesting trip.

He mounted Hux. “All right, gentlemen, here’s the plan. Wynn has a five-day head start, but they’re on foot. We’re going to cover as much ground as the horses will let us. They’ll set the pace.”

“And when we get there?” Loren asked.

“I’ll figure that out then.”

“Just like old times,” Quain said. “Lead on, weed boy.”

* * *

“...it’s the only way,” Quain said.

“And we don’t have time to make anything else work,” Loren agreed.

After three days of hard riding and little sleep, Kerrick wasn’t in the mood for the monkeys’ antics. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have a valid point.

They’d caught up to Wynn’s battalion at the Tobory border near sunset on the third day. Her soldiers had made camp and appeared to be waiting for a larger army—most likely the Skeleton King and his soldiers, traveling north from Dina—to join them. Kerrick had figured out that Wynn and Sepp must have joined forces with him. Why else would she travel south? Plus it explained how the Skeleton King had gotten the new plague virus.

When the king’s forces merged with Wynn’s in two days’ time, the chances of rescuing Avry plummeted to zero. Kerrick had only felt a few flashes of Avry’s presence in the forest. Not enough to pinpoint her location among Wynn’s soldiers and their tents.

“You need
all
of us to search for her,” Belen said.

“All right. Let me find a patrol to ambush.” Kerrick placed his palm on the ground. The living green was harder to reach with each passing day of winter.

Quain rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re talking.”

* * *

“Pee-ew. Man, that’s rank. Just my luck to get the uniform of the guy who hasn’t bathed in weeks,” Quain grumbled under his breath as he tugged at the sleeves of his stolen shirt.

Kerrick and the others had climbed into the lower tree branches and had, according to the monkeys, jackknifed a small patrol. They’d donned the patrol’s uniforms.

“Don’t call attention to yourselves,” Kerrick said. “Just take a look around and report back here in two hours. Even if you find Avry. Understand?”

Nods and one “yes, sir.”

“All right, go.”

They scattered, each taking a different section of the camp. Kerrick waited until they’d moved into position before leaving. A large cluster of tents near the southern edge of the encampment was his target. With extra guards and the most activity, it appeared to be an obvious location for a prisoner. Of course, it could also be a decoy or a trap. Which was why Kerrick chose it. He could get close without being seen at all.

Lantern light glowed inside the biggest tent. Shadows moved along the fabric as soldiers entered and exited. He crept to the back side and listened to the various voices.

“...never know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to go home...”

“...enough of this getting-into-position crap, I’m ready for action.”

“...she’s stubborn, that’s for sure.”

“But she’ll be too weak to...”

Hearing the word
stubborn,
Kerrick lifted the tent’s fabric, peering underneath. A half dozen soldiers sat around a crude wooden table, playing cards and drinking. No sign of Avry. Not letting disappointment slow him down, he moved on to the next tent. And then the third, fourth, and fifth. Nothing.

When time ran out, Kerrick returned to the rendezvous point. Frustrated and sick to his stomach, he hoped one of the others had found her.

The monkeys returned first and just by their expressions, he knew they’d struck out, too. Belen arrived next. His massive shoulders drooped and he shook his head.

After a few tense minutes, Flea joined them. His pale face held tragic news.

“No,” Kerrick whispered, meeting Flea’s gaze.

“I saw her with my own eyes, lying there...” Flea blinked back tears.

“But—”

“Her eyes were open. Even in the dim light, I knew.”

“You can’t—”

“I can, Kerrick. I’m a death magician. I know.”

“No. We’ve been wrong before. Show me.” And when Flea hesitated, he ordered, “Show me right now.”

Flea led them to a small unremarkable tent among a group of them. No guard stood at the entrance and not much activity surrounded the area. Kerrick told the others to wait in the woods. Not caring if anyone heard him, Kerrick headed straight to the tent and flung open the flaps.

Moonlight illuminated Avry’s prone form. She stared at the ceiling with dead eyes. Agony sliced through him. Flea was right.

CHAPTER 19

The expression on Kerrick’s face as he stared at me matched Flea’s. In his mind, a lifeless body combined with unseeing eyes equaled dead girl. But I was far from dead—just disconnected from my body due to the Death Lily toxin. Although thrilled that nothing had happened to him during his mission to Mom’s, I willed him closer.

Come on, Kerrick! You of all people should know better.

He stepped toward me. Too slow. Come on! My frustration built as he took his sweet time to kneel beside me. Kerrick reached to close my eyes.

The instant he touched my skin, I flowed into him.
I’m not dead,
I said in his mind.

He jerked back, breaking contact. I popped out, returning to an intangible cloud above my head.

Come on, figure it out. I urged. Time wasn’t a luxury.

The deep lines of grief around his eyes eased as realization sparked. Kerrick cupped my cheek. “Avry?”

Yes. Get out of here. It’s a trap!

Not without you.
He scooped me into his arms and stood. My body blended in with the surroundings, matching him. But we’d lost our skin contact and I hovered again. Not good.

The tent flaps snapped, boots shuffled on the dirt and a bright lantern light flooded the room, casting our shadows onto the ground and the back wall of the tent. Kerrick turned to face the four soldiers who had entered.

“Now,” a voice ordered.

Two soldiers heaved a thick rope net over us. Kerrick staggered with the extra weight and before he could recover, the men rushed him, knocking us to the ground. The struggle lasted mere minutes. Useless and a dead weight, my body hindered Kerrick’s movements just as effectively as the net. They took his sword and then all four men sat on him, pinning him down. Just what I had hoped to avoid.

“All clear,” the same voice called.

The tent flaps parted and Wynn strode in with two more soldiers. “Let’s see who we caught in our Baby Face trap.” She peered at the net in confusion.

“They’re camouflaged,” a soldier said.

“Baby Face, have you learned a new trick?” Wynn asked, even though she knew I couldn’t answer. “No. That’s not a healing power, but a... Kerrick! You lived. Come on and show yourself.”

I waited for him to use his forest magic, imagining the place filling with vines, but nothing happened. Instead, Kerrick dropped the camouflage. Did he have a plan?

“I can’t believe it,” Wynn said, moving closer. “You survived the toxin. Are you a healer now?”

Kerrick refused to answer her.

She pulled a dart from her pocket and held it up. “This is Avry’s next dose, but I’m more than willing to try an experiment. If you’re a healer, you’ll live, if not...” Wynn shrugged.

“I’m not a healer,” Kerrick said in a strained voice.

“Then how did you live?”

“Avry sucked all the toxin out.”

“I’m not sure I believe that. Let’s try anyway.” Wynn bent down to prick Kerrick.

I screamed without sound.

“Wynn, stop,” Sepp said as he entered the tent.

“But don’t you—”

“Yes, I want him dead, but the Skeleton King wants to do the honors. Seems he caused some trouble in Mengels. I’m to freeze him until we rendezvous with our king.” Sepp’s voice sneered over those last words.

Not much love there. Interesting.

Wynn stepped away from Kerrick.

While everyone’s attention had been focused on Sepp and Wynn, Kerrick had tugged at my shirt, exposing my back. He touched my skin and we connected.

Did I hear that right? Are Sepp and Wynn working for the Skeleton King?
Kerrick asked.

Yes.

That’s just great.
His tone implied otherwise.

Why aren’t you using your magic?
I asked.

It’s winter. Too cold.

What does—

How much longer will you be...detached?

No idea. Sorry.

No, Avry, I’m sorry for not getting back—

Hush. You came to rescue me.

Some rescue.

Sepp approached.

Love you with all my heart, Avry.

And I love you, but don’t you dare give up or I’ll be mad at you!

Who said anything about giving up?
“Even with the Skeleton King’s help, you’ll never outsmart Tohon, Sepp,” Kerrick said.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. I’m following orders.”

“The Skeleton King has probably already worked out a deal with Tohon. And I’m sure it involves turning you, Wynn, and Avry over to him.”

“Your scare tactics won’t work.” Sepp gestured. “Separate them. The king doesn’t want her frozen.”

The guards stood, yanked the net off Kerrick and tossed me aside. They yanked him to his feet and held him tight.

“When I give the signal, release him,” Sepp instructed the guards. “Otherwise, you’ll be frozen, too.”

And then the best sound in the world cut through the tension. Ripping fabric followed by widening gaps of moonlight. The tent filled with people and a flurry of action.

Familiar voices shouted and barked orders.

Quain, “Don’t let the bastard touch you.”

Kerrick, “Use the net!”

Loren, “I’ll take the two on the left.”

Flea, “Hold him still.”

Quain, “Finish this. Reinforcements are coming.”

And the most wonderful voice of all, Belen, “He’s mine. You take care of the short guy.”

Loren, “Watch out!”

Kerrick, “Flea, don’t—”

Wynn, “That’s quite enough.”

Everyone stopped and turned. Wynn held Flea in front of her like a shield. She held the dart filled with Death Lily toxin close to his neck. “No one moves or I’ll kill him,” Wynn said.

Did Kerrick remember the toxin couldn’t hurt Flea?

Kerrick said. “Go ahead.”

Yes! But everyone else yelled, “No!”

Kerrick recovered his weapon and tightened his grip on the hilt. Flea put his hand on Wynn’s arm.

Wynn’s brow creased. “You’re willing to sacrifice this boy?”

“I’m not a boy,” Flea said. “I’m a death magician who is about to neutralize you.” He froze her in a magical stasis.

Flea had learned how to use his power. Yay Flea!

Sepp grabbed Loren, but before he could issue an ultimatum, Kerrick shouted, “Down.”

Loren sat, sliding right from Sepp’s grasp. Kerrick swung his sword and the sharp edge of the dadao sliced right through Sepp’s neck, decapitating him. Blood splashed and then pooled on the floor.

And finally, the Death Lily toxin wore off and I slammed back into my body. All the aches and pains in my limbs sprang to life. The skin around my wrists burned as the rope bit deeper. I groaned.

Belen rushed over and untied me. Then threw me over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Flea supported Kerrick and the monkeys held swords at the ready. The reason for the tension and their fighting stances stood beyond the shredded fabric of the tent. Hundreds of soldiers surrounded us.

“What’s the plan?” Quain asked.

“Attack the weakest section and create a gap,” Loren suggested.

“Surrender,” I said. “We’re outnumbered. Besides, Sepp and Wynn are gone. Wynn and Sepp’s troops won’t kill us until the Skeleton King arrives. We’ll have a couple days to escape.”

No response.

I tried again. “If we attack, we’ll be injured or killed. We’re all together and we’re all alive. Let’s stay that way for a while. Please?”

Belen chuckled. “No one is presumed dead.”

The others looked to Kerrick. He just about swayed on his feet. “She has a point. I doubt we’ll be allowed to stay together, so if you get a chance to escape, take it and find Ryne. Don’t try to free the rest of us. Otherwise, sit tight.”

Of course, no one would leave anyone behind. And their expressions said as much.

Belen lowered me to the ground. I hugged him close. “It’s so good to see you. I missed you so much!”

He squeezed me back. “Let’s hope we survive this so we can catch up.”

I laughed at his comment—let’s live so we can chat.

“Put your weapons down and come out of the tent with your hands on your head,” a male voice ordered.

“And so it begins,” Quain said, laying his sword on the ground.

I slid my shoulder under Kerrick’s arm, helping Flea.

Kerrick kissed me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Who, me?” I batted my eyelashes at him.

He ignored me. “No giving your word to help them if they let us go. Or anything similar to that. Promise?”

Drat. He knew me so well. I didn’t answer.

“Promise or I go out there swinging my sword,” he threatened.

I huffed. “Oh, all right.”

* * *

After we were frisked for weapons and our hands manacled—mine in front, thank the Flea—the soldiers escorted us to separate tents as Kerrick had predicted. Two armed guards remained inside with me, blocking the exit. Exhausted and famished, I sprawled on the floor until a young soldier brought me a bowl of food with a spoon.

“Sorry,” he said, dipping his head. “Major Wynn wouldn’t let us feed you before.”

“That’s okay, you’re feeding me now.” I held my hands out.

He hesitated, staring at my fingers. “Uh...”

I dropped my arms. “Just put it on the ground.”

A quick smile. The soldier placed it by his feet, then shuffled back near the guards. I pounced on the bowl, shoveling the warm gritty mash into my mouth even though the short chain hampered my range of motion. The mash tasted horrible, but my stomach didn’t care.

He waited while I ate. When I slowed, I asked him about my friends.

“Oh, they’re all...cooperating.” He sounded surprised. “We fed them, too, but the one guy passed out soon after you all were captured and hasn’t woken since. Did he sustain a head injury?”

Sustain?
Perhaps there was more to this kid than I’d assumed. “Well, there was that big rescue attempt.” And Kerrick had been at the very end of his strength. But I didn’t want to let him know about Kerrick’s magic.

“Rescue attempt? Are you sure you don’t mean assassination plot?”

I studied him, seeking signs of hostility or duplicity. “Sepp’s death was pure serendipity, a bright spot in an otherwise failed rescue.”

“Oh.”

“Who’s in charge now?”

“Of the battalion?”

“Yes.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Horace.”

“Until the Skeleton King arrives?”

“Yes.”

Lovely. At least Sepp was gone. That was worth...well...pretty much everything as far as I was concerned.

“When will he be here?”

“That’s classified.”

“I should check on the unconscious man, just in case,” I said.

“That would be the LC’s decision.”

When I finished eating, I placed the bowl on the ground and scooted away. The young soldier gestured to the guards. “If you give them any trouble, they have orders to put gloves on you and secure your wrists behind your back.”

Good to know. “Will they read me a bedtime story?”

“No,” the guard on the left said.

The soldier scooped up my bowl and dashed off. Probably to report back to his commanding officer.

I didn’t get my bedtime story, but a woman delivered my bedroll and blanket. Other than that, not much happened. The next day on a trip to the privies, I noticed a fair amount of activity and soldiers buzzing about the camp.

Despite searching, I didn’t spot my friends or Kerrick. I considered tricking my guards and zapping them, Instead, I decided to make my escape in the middle of the night.

Of course, I imagined Kerrick and the others had already escaped with ease. They were probably all standing around the horses wondering what was taking me so long.

Early that afternoon, four female soldiers arrived to escort me to the bathing area. I had a meeting with, I guessed, the lieutenant colonel. They provided me with a clean uniform, but made me promise not to attack them if they unlocked the cuffs so I could wash myself.

For a bath, I’d have promised almost anything. Kerrick would understand. And this wasn’t a perfect opportunity for me to bolt, so I wasn’t breaking my promise to him. After washing in a nearby stream—the cold air and water ensured I didn’t linger—and changing, my skin tingled and I reveled in being clean.

With the manacles on, my wrists hadn’t healed all the way and the still raw flesh stung from the soap.

Unfortunately, the ladies recuffed my wrists.

“Orders,” one woman said when I grunted in pain.

They led me to a big, olive-colored tent near the southern edge of the camp. Guards ringed the outside of the structure. It appeared Horace was worried about an assassin cutting through the fabric. Smart. The two soldiers on either side of the entrance pulled the flaps back as we approached.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior. A thick center post held up the roof. Cots lined up along the left side and a table and chairs occupied the right. A handful of men and women sat around the table with a few standing behind them.

One of my ladies pushed me farther inside.

The man at the head of the table rose and I stopped. He wore armor crafted from bones. A crown of rib bones adorned his head.

The Skeleton King.