The Frey Saga Book V

by Melissa Wright

  A tall woman in brown leathers and a thin green cloak stepped forward. Ruby lit a fire in her hands, raising it enough that the woman could see her face. The sentry lowered her weapon. “Are you an envoy from the North?”

  Ruby doused her flame. “Something like that.”

  Two more sentries, a wiry male and a petite female with a crown of braids, moved from behind the trees.

  “Come, then,” the first one said. “Bring the girl too.”

  Ruby frowned, glancing over her shoulder to see nothing but forest and darkness. She shrugged, and Willa dropped from the tree with far less grace than Ruby had managed.

  They walked much farther into the woods, and Willa took a long draw from her canteen before unclasping the neck of her vest and surreptitiously dousing her skin. It was warm, but Ruby kept forgetting that the fey part of her saved her from feeling overly uncomfortable. They came through the edge of trees soon, though, and in that last clearing waited a town the size of Camber.

  Houses made from limb and stone dotted the open space, their roofs thatch, doors canvas. Primitive as it was, it was more than Ruby expected. They walked not through the houses but around the edge, where small fires glowed within stone pits at scattered intervals. The people were not hiding. Their settlement was no longer a secret. The fey and the Council wanted to know where the humans were at all times. They wanted to be able to find and track both the encroachment and Isa.

  Willa’s gaze darted over the structures, past the fires. She’d not seemed to disregard Ruby’s words, but Ruby wasn’t certain the girl entirely trusted that the humans were not a danger.

  Their feet suddenly met thick grass where the dusty path of the settlement ended, the lush green a stark reminder of the contrast. Thin saplings rose in braided patterns to border the area, looking decorative by outward appearance but by purpose more of a fence. They walked through the gateway, arched overhead and latticed with vines, and saw ahead the low, wide wooden structure that was Isa’s place.

  Two sentries stood at either side of the building’s doorway, pikes in hand. A third came out of the darkness, and the party of elves around them stilled, their arms going toward their chests in some sort of salute. Ruby gave a sidelong glance at Willa, whose downturned mouth said she’d noticed it too.

  The newcomer said, “Put them in the bunker until dawn.”

  Ruby’s hand itched for her whip. She said levelly, “Need I remind you to whom you’re speaking?”

  The sentry stared back, unflinching, the flickering firelight the only movement on his face. “The order was meant as a direction to my own men. I’ve neither the capacity nor the desire to direct one of the Seven.”

  “Nor the hospitality, it seems.”

  The sentry’s eyes flashed, caught for an instant in the light. “It is not my place to offer hospitality. It is my place, however, to ensure the security of visitors until they might be seen.”

  Ruby tapped a finger against her leg. The sentry’s gaze didn’t follow it, as if he didn’t think she was a threat. The female sentry who’d brought them in explained, “She sleeps until dawn. No one is to disturb her there, per the head of Council.”

  “Thank you,” Ruby said to the woman. “We could use the rest as well.” It wasn’t true. She wanted to get to work right away, but there was something happening that Ruby did not understand, and she didn’t like being caught off guard.

  The female sentry turned without another word to the others, leading Ruby and Willa to a nearby structure built into the earth, its sides mounded with dirt. Ruby could smell the sulfur of spellcasting around it. “I’m not going in there.”

  The sentry said, “Protections have been placed on the structure. It is the only safe place on the premise.”

  Aside from Isa’s residence, Ruby thought. She leaned close to the woman and kept her voice low. “What, exactly, are you protecting us from?”

  The woman’s mouth went into a hard line.

  “That’s what I thought.” Ruby crossed her arms. “We’ll fend for ourselves unless you’re willing to offer information.”

  The woman shifted, the glance over her shoulder entirely casual by all outward appearance, and said, “Take to the trees.”

  Ruby gave one curt nod. “Call to me the moment she wakes. I’ve no time for waiting.”

  When they were again alone, Ruby led Willa into the thin trees that bordered the settlement. She felt for any sense of spellcasting, for any warnings of danger within the copse, and then chose a low-branched, sturdy tree, urging Willa to climb as high as possible while she went for supplies. It was only a moment before Ruby was caught again by the sentries, so she requested a bit of canvas and rope. She returned to the trees, climbing high to secure the girl into a makeshift hammock for the night. “Rest,” Ruby told her.

  The girl didn’t look as if she could actually sleep, not in that strange place and so near humans, but she climbed carefully into the hammock anyway. Ruby waited beside her, watching the movement of the sentries and the shadows of the fire through a break in the trees. She would have to discover what she could during the night, because Junnie had left enough sentries behind that there would be no covert actions in the light of day.

  Veil had assured Ruby that no fey would follow them in, so if the settlement had a reason to set protections, something else was in play. She checked on the girl one final time—she was too still to be sleeping, but her eyes were closed and her breathing steady—and leapt onto a nearby limb. She made her way through the tangle of forest toward the settlement, close enough that she could hear the crackle of fire over the chirp of crickets. He had to have been there somewhere. Pitt would not isolate himself in the barren lands for long. She swung herself onto another branch, moved closer, and peered over the settlement’s rooftops. A wind picked up, blowing the scent of smoke and the earthiness of the humans toward her. The clouds parted, lighting the scene with the soft silver light of the moon.

  There must have been twenty sentries patrolling the settlement, which meant there would be two additional shifts of patrols during the daylight hours, plus those sentries who roamed the woods and boundaries. Junnie had sent new reinforcements, but it seemed not all of her initial group of guards had gone back home. Ruby waited for the sentries to pass, but they were smart enough not to take their routes in an obvious pattern. Only a few repeated their movements, while the rest scattered and wandered and watched where they might. She climbed down slowly, hiding behind the trunk of the narrow tree for a moment before creeping closer to the nearest structure.

  She reached out, brushing a hand over the timbers that made up its walls, pressing her fingertips between them to climb onto the roof’s edge. She might have been small, but Ruby wouldn’t risk climbing the thatch. It appeared to be sturdy, but she couldn’t know if it had truly been made by elven hands. She waited for another sentry to pass then shifted to drop into the opening that made a doorway. Her boots were silent on the packed earth, her eyes not taking long to adjust to the lack of light.

  Three cots lined the outer wall of a single open space, with two humans in each and a small child at the foot of one. There were pots and containers on a low, wide table and a few garments draped over a peg in the wall. Oil lanterns sat on a stone tablet by the doorway, their wicks blackened and the metal cold. The room smelled of onion and musk. Two basins and a pitcher rested on the floor beneath the table. A pair of stools, one draped with leatherwork and needle, centered the room. The child stirred, flopping a leg free of its bedding before settling again. Its chubby little fingers curled into the fur of a pelt.

  She knew there would be a garden nearby and livestock. And despite the dirt surrounding the settlement, the humans seemed relatively clean, so there had to be a good water source.

  Pitt would not have stayed near the running water. She peered out the canvas doorway and scanned the seemingly endless array of structures. If her information was correct, Isa was at the settlement of humans nearest the border. Beyond there
would be countless more settlements containing an unmanageable number of humans. Junnie’s sentries were guarding the border and Isa, but the others were merely being held back from the fey by Isa’s command—by her talent to slip into their minds.

  Ruby suspected that Isa and her men would have created some sort of order, that the humans under Isa’s watch would be told how to direct the others, and word would spread. The salute she’d seen between the sentries suggested something more military than she might have felt comfortable with, but she was unfamiliar with how the humans responded to being managed by magical beings.

  She waited for a break in the sentries before darting back into the trees. She took a quick glance at the girl’s hammock then moved again, following the settlement to the edge of the woods. From there, she could see dark, flat, tilled earth and beside it, patches of green in broken rows. A garden—she could smell it. Ruby leapt to the ground, running toward the plots of land only to freeze suddenly when she recognized a dark shape as that of a child kneeling before the soil.

  She heard the whisper of a drawn bow, echoed by three more.

  15

  Frey

  “You have got to be kidding,” I said.

  Chevelle’s mouth was a hard line. He wasn’t kidding.

  He had reported another incident, which made one too many to be mere chance. I stood, sword still in hand, and he gestured for Kieran to bring in the next three clan leaders. Two were covered in blood, the last wearing a fur mantle that had clearly been singed. “What is it?” I asked flatly.

  The clan leader—who I’d only just realized had not been announced—in the burned mantle said, “Rogues attacked our stock, drove our horses into imp territory, and set fire to our stores.” I waited for more information because the complaint was never the end of the story. At my silence, he added, “When we tracked them back to their camp to demand recompense, they denied the accusations and attacked our men.”

  “What quarrel would they have with you?” Chevelle asked.

  The clan leader opened his mouth to respond but fell silent.

  “None,” Chevelle answered for him, “and yet you were able to track them back to their camp.”

  The clan leader shifted, evidently not clear on what my Second was implying.

  “This is the fifth attack in so many hours,” Chevelle told them. “Gather a summit. Send word when you have it set.”

  The man nodded, backing away with the others.

  Chevelle looked at me, his expression flat. “I’ll send word to Anvil to attend their summit. Rhys and Rider can accompany me to meet with the rogues.”

  “It’s nearly sunup,” I told him. “Surely, it can wait until dawn.”

  The twist at the edge of his lips reminded me that we’d fielded half a dozen reports of incidents since late afternoon, and it didn’t seem as if it was going to slow down. I sighed. “All right. I’ll go with you to tell them. I want to see if they’ve made progress before they’re called away.”

  We walked the dim corridors, nearly empty of staff and guards, toward the study. Ena had tried to serve us dinner hours before, but she’d given up, resigned to accepting our refusal. I was too exhausted to eat after the day we’d had, in any case. Chevelle’s hand brushed my back as a reminder to turn not toward our rooms but the study.

  We passed through the arched stone doorway to find Rhys and Rider still working, despite it being well into the night. It often felt as if I was the only one who required regular sleep to stay focused, which was apparently a product of my human heritage. Based on the shifting stack of ledgers, it seemed they had made progress. They both made to stand, but I waved them off. “What have you found?”

  A large map was spread over the table between them, two stone sculptures shaped into hawks holding down its edges. “Studying the lay of the land,” Rhys answered. He gestured toward the ice lands, much of them uncharted on our own maps, and ran a finger toward the fey forest and its outer boundaries. “Looking for some connection to the waterways or mountains.”

  “You think the base magic runs that far?”

  Rider shook his head. “No, but something deeper might.”

  Rhys slid a manuscript toward us, its cover showing clear evidence that it was ancient. “There are legends in our lands not so dissimilar from your own.”

  Chevelle leaned forward to take the manuscript. He held it carefully, examining the cover. “Where did you find this?”

  “We’ve been given access to the vault and Asher’s personal rooms.”

  “Have you seen it before?” I asked.

  Chevelle’s gaze met mine. “No.”

  “But there’s something unusual about it?”

  He held the book forward, showing me the design. I took it, sitting numbly in a chair, unable even to trace the etching with a fingertip.

  The cover was oiled leather, held in place by metal studs. Carved into its center stood a pair of crudely outlined figures, neither clearly male nor female. Around them were lines of symbols, and above them, a pair of wolves.

  I stared up at Chevelle then looked to Rhys and Rider.

  “It is an uncredited account,” Rider explained. “We’ve no idea who is responsible for it or how much has in fact been proven true.”

  “And yet…”

  “And yet,” Rider answered, “there appears to be some correlation to what has happened to Finn and Keaton and what holds the boundaries between lands.”

  The wolves had been present the whole of my life—since before my mother had been destroyed and I’d been bound—but their story was only legend. The wolves themselves could not tell it, so what remained were tales passed down from those who had witnessed their transformation, men who had long since passed into nothing. “You think this is connected?”

  Rhys laid down the parchment he’d been holding. “If it isn’t, it’s a step at least in the right direction. Inside that manuscript is the only written record of their… transmutation. And in that same manuscript, the methods by which the fey can be controlled.”

  Rhys looked up, and I turned to see Kieran at the doorway. He did not look as if he expected to be well received. I bit back a growl. “More rogues?”

  “Yes,” he answered. “This time, closer to Camber.”

  I felt Chevelle straighten beside me, his attention drawn from the manuscript. Anvil and his men were near Camber, so surely the rogues would not be so brazen or foolish.

  Kieran’s gaze left us as he glanced down the corridor, and then he stepped aside, still standing at attention. After a moment, Grey entered the room, slightly pale and with a bit of sway to his step. Chevelle met him halfway across the space, taking him by the arm to steady him. “What is it?”

  “I…” Grey started, putting a hand to his temple. “I must have fallen asleep.” He shook his head, apparently clearing whatever he’d been thinking, and said, more urgently, “Ruby. Has anyone seen Ruby?”

  The room went silent, with not a single affirmation or move.

  Grey looked sick. “She hasn’t been in. Not even to minister to my wounds.”

  All eyes fell to me at the sound of my chair sliding across the stone floor. I stood, waiting for the news I did not want to hear. “How long?”

  “I’m—it’s a little fuzzy, but late afternoon?”

  It was nearly dawn.

  Chevelle snapped my name, and I tamped back the rage that swam through the room. My magic was still too volatile, and I could not let it move freely. I had to remember to hold my temper in its place.

  “When did you sleep?”

  Grey shook his head, immediately understanding the accusation. “She didn’t drug me. If I was—” His words fell off, because of course he’d been drugged. He hesitated and seemed to taste his tongue. “It was the fey.”

  Early afternoon. Drugged by the fey. “They’ve had too much time. She’s already there.”

  We’d been played the fool because we’d fallen for the distraction, the false battles between the rogue
s and clans set up by fey.

  I wondered what we would do. We would certainly chase after her again, despite what it had cost us the last time.

  But Keane was gone, the fates’ dance over. So it was something else—Veil or worse.

  “Pitt,” Grey said.

  “She would have never found him,” Chevelle replied.

  “That wouldn’t stop her from trying.” Grey ran a hand over his face, and Rider stood to bring the man water.

  “How would they have gotten into your rooms? Ruby has protected you more severely than any—” Rider’s words fell off as he realized the truth of what he’d said, as he understood his own accusation.

  Ruby was in on it.

  Ruby had not been taken by the fey. She’d gone willingly.

  16

  Ruby

  Ruby stood stock-still, waiting for the release of their arrows. But the girl put up a hand, not bothering to turn from her task. “Let her be,” she said, pressing her nimble into the soil of her garden again.

  Ruby glanced at the sentries, letting her disapproval at being threatened as an envoy of the Lord of the North show, though she couldn’t be certain precisely how much longer that ruse might stand. She moved toward the girl, and Isa lit the lantern beside her. It cast light over her small hands, which were covered in dark, fertile soil. She frowned up at Ruby. “I can’t get these to grow.”

  Ruby leaned down to examine the plants, their roots dark and wilting. “Not a species that would do well here, I’m afraid.”

  Two more lanterns lit behind her, and Ruby realized they’d been lit not by the girl but by her guard—so she’d been in the dark before, apparently hiding what she’d been doing. Her petite face rose to show Ruby her expression, a frown that said she’d been raised by people who could make anything grow anywhere. Ruby looked for the sentries, but they were moving away at some unseen signal that the girl was safe or no longer wanted them to hover.