Banebringer

by Carol A Park

  “That had been my plan.”

  She nodded. “Good.”

  “What about you?”

  “Assuming our frantic friend from the rubble of my inn follows my directions, Aleena will contact me here. I’ll wait to see what news she has.”

  “And then?”

  “I’m going to find my girls.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Racing Time

  Ivana sat with her back against the wall, watching Vaughn while he systematically made a pile of aether chips from his own blood. She understood, now, why he had been so upset earlier, but that didn’t mean she appreciated being accosted and accused.

  As for now, she was…relieved. She had been afraid that somehow she had become a Banebringer, despite the fact that, as far as they knew, people were never changed at times other than the sky-fire.

  And it was also a relief to know she wasn’t some sort of freak who could turn invisible for no reason. There was a logical, scientific explanation for what had happened. At least as scientific as things like that came.

  “How are you going to deal with that leg?” Vaughn asked, looking up from his task.

  “As soon as I can, I’ll leave the area and try to find a doctor.”

  “And what if it becomes a problem before then?”

  “A risk I’ll have to take.”

  “Wouldn’t it be wiser for you to leave now, instead of waiting for word from your friend?”

  “If the only consideration were my own health, then, yes.”

  He gazed at her. “How very selfish of you,” he said, and then looked back down to his pile, adding another sliver of aether.

  She gritted her teeth. She didn’t have to explain herself to him. The girls were her responsibility, she had taken them under her protection, and it was her fault they were potentially in danger. She refused to leave until she knew what had happened to them. It could be that there was nothing she could do about it at present, but once she knew, she could formulate a plan.

  “If you die from an infected wound, you won’t be doing your friends much good,” Vaughn said.

  She knew that. But her best chance at gleaning information was now, not three months from now.

  “Look—I’ll stick around another day. I can apply more salve for you. That’s your best chance.”

  She felt her stomach tighten. She wanted him gone. “No.” And she certainly wasn’t going to beg him for help.

  “If it helps, I’m doing it as much for your workers as you. It’s as much my fault they may be in danger as yours, after all.”

  “Still not necessary.”

  “Will you threaten to kill me if I stay?”

  She rolled her eyes, annoyed that her loss of control around him, yet again, had seemed to make him more determined that he was right. “You can do whatever you want,” she said. She turned her back on him and lay down on the floor. Even though she had just woken up a few hours ago, she was already exhausted. Apparently the last few days of little sleep and what seemed like endless running had finally caught up with her. “I’m going to rest. If you’re gone when I wake…good riddance.”

  Vaughn watched while she put her back to him, closing him out. He wavered. Another day wouldn’t matter to his purposes. If she really didn’t care…

  The salve would be gone soon, anyway. Then, he would have to either venture out to find more—not a good idea right now—or she would simply have to hope for the best.

  He mulled on it more as he worked, and then turned his thoughts to the remarkable discovery they had made that day, which led to considering how the Ichtaca would take the news.

  Several hours passed, and he was satisfied with the amount of aether he had managed to stock up. He had just swept all of the scraps into his pouch, when a rapping on the trapdoor startled him. Vaughn froze, listening hard. The sound didn’t occur again.

  He rose to his feet and retrieved his bow.

  “Ivana,” he whispered. She didn’t respond; presumably deep in sleep.

  He crept to the trap door, and then, after a moment of listening again, threw it open, sighting his arrow on the opening immediately.

  Nothing happened. However, he did see a tiny bundle tied to the underside of the door. He hesitated, and then removed the package and shut the trap door. For good measure, he sat down on top of it, still a little nervous about whoever had attached the package.

  He set aside his bow and turned over the bundle. It was a small leather pouch, cinched at the top with a cord. He glanced toward Ivana, wondering if he should wake her; but he decided to see what it was first. He loosened the cord and turned it over. A necklace fell into his hand—the same one he had observed her wear at the inn—accompanied by a folded piece of paper.

  He set aside the necklace and then opened the paper to read it.

  Sadly, he couldn’t make much of it out. He recognized the language, Xambrian, but it had been a long time since he had studied Xambrian.

  He supposed it was time to wake her; she would want to know.

  He re-folded the note and put it, along with the necklace, back in the pouch, and went to her sleeping form.

  “Ivana,” he said again, louder. When she didn’t respond, he shook her gently. She still didn’t respond, and he drew his hand back, eyes wide. He could feel the heat of her skin through her clothing. He touched her face for confirmation. She was burning with a fever.

  He shook her harder. “Ivana!”

  She finally stirred and turned over to look up at him, but her eyes weren’t focused. “Airell?”

  Vaughn sat back on his heels. Airell? As in, Airell, his oldest brother? “No. It’s Vaughn. You need to wake up.” He held up the pouch. “I think your friend contacted you.”

  She stared at him for a moment longer, and he wondered if she even understood what he was saying. “Aleena,” she whispered. She tried to sit up, but her face contorted, and she fell back and closed her eyes again.

  This was not a good sign. He pocketed the pouch and didn’t even ask to look at her leg; he simply undid the bandage, and she didn’t stir to complain.

  The wound itself didn’t look any worse—though neither did it look better—but red streaks traveled outward from it that hadn’t been there before. A sure sign of infection.

  He didn’t have any more clean rags, so he was forced to wrap it back up again. “Ivana,” he said. “You need to see a doctor. Your leg is infected.”

  She shook her head faintly.

  “Listen to me. This will kill you.”

  In response, her head lolled back to the side.

  “Ivana!” He shook her again, but she was unresponsive.

  He cursed and ran a hand through his hair. At this point, he didn’t even know if a doctor could help her. It might be too late.

  He chewed on his lower lip. She had one chance. He had to take her to a bindblood. But he knew of only one sure place to find bindbloods, and if he took Ivana there…there was no guarantee they’d heal her, and he would be risking his own freedom. But she had saved his life multiple times. He couldn’t just leave her here, knowing she would die. It was his fault she was in this mess to begin with.

  He would simply have to find her a way out.

  It was a task easier said than done. Barden’s estate was seventy-five miles from Weylyn City; if it were only himself, and he had a fast and sturdy horse, he could make it in less than three days. But he couldn’t carry her seventy-five miles, not and get there in time to help.

  So he did something he had never done before. He stole out of the safe house, and then stole two horses, tack and all.

  He managed to tie Ivana onto the back of one of the horses by forcing the animal into the house and using the table as leverage for himself. Then, he loaded up the saddlebags with their meager supplies and tied her horse to his. Painfully conscious at how exposed his activities were making them, he then set out for the Ichtaca at the fastest pace he dared.

  Vaughn arrived at Barden’s estate in t
he greyish light of pre-dawn on the fifth day. He paused at the top of the hillock that overlooked the estate house to check on Ivana once again. She was unconscious, but alive.

  Barely.

  She had drifted in and out of consciousness for three days—enough so that he could get her to drink—but hadn’t been coherent enough to hold a conversation. The past two days, she hadn’t woken at all. He didn’t know how much time she had.

  He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He had made it this far. What would happen next remained to be seen.

  If she survived, he was going to be in so much trouble.

  He removed their bag from the horse and then untied Ivana. Her unsupported weight slid off the horse and almost hit the ground before he could catch her. He lowered her to the ground and then tied the lead horse to a tree. The horses were tired as well, but he couldn’t take the time to care for them right now. He would have someone come out later to retrieve them.

  He picked Ivana up in his arms, turned both of them invisible, and staggered out of the woods and down the hill.

  He made his way around the wall until he reached a small gate at the back of the estate, hardly noticeable amidst the tangle of ivy that crawled over it. He then worked a single flake of aether out of the pouch at his waist, nearly dropping Ivana in the process, and slid it into a hole on the gate where the lock would normally be.

  The gate swung open, and he continued inside. He shoved it shut with his hip and winced at the metallic click it made as it locked behind him. The sentries would know he—or some moonblood, anyway—was here now, but he had unlocked the gate properly, so they had no reason to suspect he was bringing an unauthorized guest.

  That was why he was careful to maintain his invisibility as he crossed the yard and entered the groundskeeper’s shed. From there, he traveled down a set of stairs and arrived at a heavy metal door. Again, he pushed a sliver of aether into a hole, and there was a click as it unlocked. He opened it…

  And was met with half a dozen guards on the other side.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Ichtaca

  Vaughn grimaced and let go of his invisibility. Great. Just great.

  He recognized all of the men standing at the bottom of the stairway, of course. A couple exchanged looks as he revealed himself, but one pushed his way forward and folded his arms across his large and muscular chest—which he puffed out to an even greater size.

  “I hope, for both your sakes, that she’s Gifted,” he said, nodding toward the burden in Vaughn’s arms.

  Vaughn rolled his eyes. “Perth,” he said by way of greeting. “I think you’re hoping the opposite.”

  Perth flashed him a smile, but it wasn’t friendly.

  One of the other guards pushed Perth out of the way—Hueil, one of those who organized guard and sentry duty. They didn’t give themselves rank or unit, as if they were some sort of fighting force. They weren’t nearly cohesive enough for that.

  Hueil didn’t smile at him, but neither was his expression unfriendly. “Vaughn,” he said with a nod. “Yaotel didn’t tell us to expect you.” He looked toward Ivana, and his meaning was clear enough. Yaotel didn’t warn them Vaughn was bringing someone with him.

  “That’s because he doesn’t know.” Vaughn shifted Ivana in his arms. She was heavier than she looked. All that hard-packed muscle, no doubt. “Look. I know I’m in trouble and all that, but can we discuss this later? This woman is in critical condition. I’m hoping Linette or one of the others can help her. It’s why I brought her here.”

  Hueil nodded toward another guard, who turned and took the stairs two by two. When the man had disappeared, Hueil turned back to Vaughn. “Hate to agree with Perth, Vaughn, but I hope she’s some Gifted you rescued.”

  It wouldn’t be the first time. Vaughn had brought his share of Banebringers to the Ichtaca over the years. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case this time.

  Vaughn crouched down on his knees and settled Ivana on the floor without answering Hueil. Her lack of gifting would be obvious soon enough. He placed a finger to her throat—more to reassure himself, since he had no doubt she was still alive. Her skin was burning so hot he had felt it through her clothing as he had carried her.

  Sure enough, her pulse, though weaker than he would have liked, was present.

  He had risked a lot by coming here, and not only for himself. Linette might heal her, only to have Yaotel order her executed. If it wasn’t too late anyway. Even bindbloods, with their remarkable healing abilities, had their limits.

  The ragtag group of guards watched him silently, but no one else moved. They weren’t going to let him in without approval. Individualistic they may be, but none of them were lax when it came to the protection of their group from outsiders.

  He tapped his foot impatiently, until he heard the sharp rap of footsteps from beyond the guards. “Get out of my way,” Linette barked. The guards moved obediently aside, letting her through.

  The older woman barely spared a glance for Vaughn. Instead, she knelt immediately by Ivana’s side.

  Vaughn was surprised to feel his stomach starting to twist in knots as she examined Ivana. Why was he so worried? If she died, she died. He would feel guilty for a while, for bringing her into it, but it wouldn’t be the first innocent—if Ivana could be called innocent—to die because of him.

  But his internal monologue didn’t convince his stomach. “What do you think, Linette?” he asked finally, unable to bear the silence any longer.

  Linette shook her head, stray white hairs wafting back and forth with the motion, and Vaughn’s stomach dropped. “She’s bad off,” she said. “Leg’s infected pretty bad, and it’s obviously spread.”

  She looked up at Vaughn, and he nodded in confirmation. “She was attacked by a bloodwolf. I did what I could, but…”

  Linette stood up. “Move her to the infirmary,” she said. “If there’s hope for her, we’ll need the others.”

  “Secure room?” Hueil asked.

  Linette shook her head and held up the blood-soaked rag that had passed for a bandage over the past day—what remained of his formal tunic.

  Perth grinned, while some of the others exchanged glances again.

  Vaughn ignored them, taking some measure of relief in the fact that Linette hadn’t given up Ivana for lost.

  He bent to gather Ivana in his arms again, but Linette stopped him and motioned to two of the other men. “Not you,” she said.

  “But—”

  Linette gave him a hard look, and Ivana was taken from his arms. “Yaotel wants to speak with you, right away.” She wrinkled her nose. “Fortunately for all of us, he’s about to moderate a meeting, so you might have time to take a bath first.” She cast Vaughn one more look before following the men carrying Ivana up the stairs, and it was more sympathetic this time. “I’ll send word as soon as we know,” she said.

  Vaughn went immediately to his rooms to take the aforementioned bath. He didn’t mind. He was filthy, and he stank so badly of sweat and sewage he was certain that was how they knew he was coming—assuming no one had noticed the doors opening on their own, of course.

  It also gave him time to think. Yaotel could be anywhere from mildly annoyed to furious with him, depending on his mood. Either way, it would likely mean Vaughn would be assigned some unpleasant or tedious task for the next few months, like scrubbing pots or cleaning out the washrooms. Or, if Yaotel were feeling particularly irritable, he might send him on some fool’s errand, chasing the most dangerous of what would likely be dead-end leads for the archivists.

  When he had cleaned himself up satisfactorily and changed into a fresh set of clothes, he set out toward Yaotel’s office.

  Huiel soon fell in beside him. “Yaotel’s still in the meeting,” he said.

  “What’s this meeting?” Vaughn asked, turning his steps instead toward the meeting chamber.

  Huiel took too long to respond.

  “Perth is at it again, isn’t he?” Vaughn i
nferred.

  Huiel’s lips pressed together. “It’s not just Perth, Vaughn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Huiel shrugged. “If you’re going there, you’ll see.”

  Vaughn didn’t press further. When they reached the meeting chamber, Vaughn and Huiel slipped into the room. It was a medium-sized, circular room, with tables arranged in a half-circle to face the other side. The room itself would hold about half of the Banebringers who lived regularly in the compound. Yaotel usually used it for meetings with researchers or other groups he needed to receive information from or give information to all together. As many as could had tried to cram themselves in, and Vaughn and Huiel had to stuff themselves in the back.

  Huiel’s words became clear to him almost immediately.

  Perth was down front, facing Yaotel. “…much longer can you expect us to sit around on our asses?” he was saying. “For all your and Barton’s political wrangling, the Anti-Sedationists are still a minority opinion. Meanwhile, the Conclave grows more powerful.” He glanced around the room. “We could stop them, Yaotel. You know we could.”

  There were an awful lot of nods and murmurs of agreement.

  Vaughn clenched his fist. Apparently Perth had gained support since had been gone. Perth had been clamoring for Yaotel to start using the Ichtaca for more than research and political maneuvering for as long as Vaughn could remember. Always, Yaotel had resisted, and always before, there had been enough who agreed with him to silence Perth and his comrades.

  Vaughn glanced toward Huiel, but the other man’s expression was blank.

  “All right,” Yaotel snapped, holding up one hand. The frustration in his voice didn’t bode well for Vaughn’s upcoming personal meeting with him. It also didn’t bode well for the direction of the Ichtaca. Surely Yaotel wasn’t actually considering…?

  “I’ll make this compromise. While I won’t sanction any actions at present, I will allow official combat research and training.”