Night Quest

by Susan Krinard

  “A pity that Flavia’s captive humans are no longer here,” he said hoarsely.

  “But you would never break your own laws by taking blood from them,” Artemis said.

  “No,” he said. “I wonder if Flavia and the others caught them again.”

  “I hope that Flavia’s stupidity in attacking you carried over to her hunting ability,” she said. “No, don’t try to explain. You asked for more than they could give, and they turned on you for it.”

  “What have I done wrong?” Kronos asked, lifting his head. “Artemis, you who know me better than anyone...how have I failed?”

  “You haven’t failed,” she said, her body aching with his regret and discouragement. “We knew this would never be easy.”

  He lay back again. “There is something you must know,” he said, “in case I can go no farther.”

  “Of course you can,” she said, alarmed by the thready sound of his voice.

  “I know something of what this Master has planned,” he said. “He is building an army.”

  “For what purpose?” Artemis asked.

  “I do not know.” Kronos coughed again. “But whatever that purpose may be, the Master will only bring harm to those you and I meant to save...the Opiri who know no other way but seeking rank through violence. And the end result will be terrible suffering for thousands of Opiri.”

  Artemis’s breath grew short.

  “What did you plan to do when you reached the Master’s camp?” she asked.

  “The Master has promised a reward to the Freebloods who bring the children and remain afterward. But, as we know, any leader can lose his followers, no matter how powerful he may seem.” His laugh emerged as a bark. “I know that with so many Freebloods together in one place, some will have become disaffected and might listen to my words of peace. I had hoped to reach out to them in secret, with my own disciples to help me. But now...”

  Artemis knew what he was going to ask, and she tried to harden her heart against him. But his despair and sorrow and hope had mingled so deeply with her own emotions that they overwhelmed the warmth and comfort she had felt with Garret.

  “You want me to carry out your plan,” she said.

  “I cannot keep up with you now, and I know you will not abandon Garret Fox. But you can still be of great help to me. Once you arrive at the encampment, I would ask you to scout for any Freebloods who have come to oppose the Master and might be willing to listen to our philosophy. I would not expect you to act on what you learn, only to wait for me until I arrive.”

  “I will be helping Garret look for his son.”

  “You are resourceful enough to carry out two tasks at once. And it may be you can learn more about the children from Freebloods who are not completely loyal to the Master.”

  His words made sense, though Artemis wondered how he could draw so many conclusions based on relatively little information. All his assumptions might be wrong.

  Still, she and Garret needed any information they could get.

  “Can any Freeblood enter this encampment?” she asked.

  “I heard that one must bring either a half-blood child or a human to add to their communal herd of blood-serfs,” he said. “There may be other ways. You will have to determine what to do when you are there.”

  “Are you certain that you can travel on your own?” she asked him.

  “I have recovered from much worse injuries.”

  “Then I’ll do as you ask, if I can,” she said. “I’ll stay with you through the day and leave at sunset.”

  Kronos nodded and dropped off into the semiconscious state that served Opiri as sleep. Artemis went in search of game and water, and then returned to watch over her old mentor. By sunset, Pericles hadn’t returned.

  He’s gone ahead with Garret, she thought. That was the only explanation that made sense. And yet she was left with that uneasy feeling she couldn’t shake.

  When she set out at last, all she could think of was being with Garret again. She only hoped that he understood why she’d gone back to Kronos, and that he would wait for her before he did anything rash in his eagerness to find Timon.

  * * *

  Garret looked down on the vast walled camp stretching across the river valley, turning to his field glasses again and again, wondering if Artemis had somehow managed to arrive ahead of him—as if he had any hope of finding her in the throng of Freebloods milling about like ants scouring the forest floor for their supper. A ridge of low hills formed a half circle around the camp, ending in the anthill—a cliff that towered over the sea of snow-dusted tents and awnings, surrounded by a royal guard of high mountains and topped with a structure out of some pre-War horror story.

  A castle. That was what it appeared to be, anyway: all dark stone, massive gates and high turrets, a perfect home for a mythical vampire.

  Or an egotistical, evil Nightsider who needed to make an impression on the thousands of Opiri who had been drawn here by the promise of reward for delivering the children. And maybe something worse yet to come.

  These ants looked very much like an army. As a human, he would stick out like a sore thumb, even with the daycoat he had stolen from a small, untended campsite on the other side of the hill.

  But he had to make his move soon, and he would much prefer to have Artemis with him when he did. He looked for her again. She had to return to Kronos, Pericles had told him. She’ll find you at the camp.

  Adjusting his pack, Garret began a careful descent down the hill. The moon was on the wane, but it was still close to full. Without it, he would have been nearly blind. His VS had disappeared from Kronos’s camp before he and Artemis had left, and all he had now was a hunting knife, an ordinary handgun...and a well-trained but very human body.

  When he was near the foot of the hill, he coated himself with a crust of snow and crawled low to the ground, pausing every minute to get his bearings. Now that he was close to the level of the valley, he could better see the scattered torches that indicated the presence of other night-blind humans. Here, they could only be serfs. Or prey, to be kept alive until they were used up.

  Garret felt the burst of emotion before he could turn to face the Freeblood behind him.

  “Garret,” Artemis said. “I thought I’d never find you. I was afraid I—”

  He grabbed her, pulled her down and kissed her hard. She melted against him, returning the kiss even though it was foolish and dangerous.

  He didn’t give a damn.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, setting her back so he could see her shadowed face. “Pericles barely told me anything. I was afraid that Kronos—”

  “Would convince me to stay with him?” She kissed him again. “He was injured, and I had to make sure he was all right. But that’s all, Garret. I’ll never leave you again.”

  He held her close for a moment, feeling the slow beat of her heart against his chest. She flinched, and at first he thought he was holding her too tightly.

  But there was pain in her eyes, and it was not physical.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “So many emotions,” she said, clenching her teeth. “All these Freebloods together, and humans... I haven’t felt this since I left the Citadel.”

  “How can I help?”

  “I don’t...” She hesitated. “Maybe there is a way. Let me focus on your emotions. Perhaps that will allow me to block out the others.”

  “What do you want me to feel, Artemis?”

  She looked into his eyes, and he knew. He gave her all the devotion and affection he had reserved for only a few people in his life: Roxana, Timon...and Artemis. She gasped, and though—like all Opiri—she couldn’t weep, he could feel the reflection of his emotions cast back at him, filling his eyes with the tears she was unable to shed.

  For a few b
rief moments there was no barrier between them at all.

  “By the blood of the Eldest,” she whispered. “It is working.” She began to laugh, and Garret laid his hand across her mouth.

  “I’ll give you all the strength I can,” he said. “But we have to find out where the children have been taken.”

  Artemis signaled that she was in control again, and Garret removed his hand.

  “Kronos told me more about the encampment,” she said, her voice still a little breathless. “He thinks the Master is preparing an army, but we don’t know where or when he plans to strike. Freebloods can get inside the walls if they bring a half-blood child or a human.”

  “There must be two thousand here already,” Garret said. He paused to listen to the constant hum of voices from the camp. “We have to get inside the walls to find out if the children are there,” he said. “Our only plan is obvious.”

  Chapter 20

  Artemis had known that there was only one way to get inside the encampment, but still she shook her head.

  “There must be something else we can try,” she said.

  “I assume they’re holding captive humans to feed the Freebloods. They probably won’t let you keep me, so the worst that can happen is that I get thrown into a pen with the other humans. At least we’ll both be inside.” He gripped her hand. “We’ll figure something out once we’re there.”

  But Artemis knew that there was one other possibility: convert Garret into an Opir. It still left them with the problem of the “entrance fee” to the camp, and in all the time he had been with Roxana, Garret had never chosen to become like her. There must have been a powerful reason for him to reject immortality with the woman he had once loved, so Artemis could think of no earthly reason why he would do it for her. It was far too much to ask. She couldn’t even bring herself to suggest it...especially since a part of her badly wanted to make him just like her. Make sure he could never leave her, even when this quest was over.

  I love him, she thought. It was no sudden revelation but a gentle movement of a puzzle piece into its proper place. The feelings had been there for a very long time. She was no longer afraid of the words.

  But she could not force her love on him any more than she could make him love her. And though she knew he cared for her deeply and held her in great esteem, that wasn’t the same.

  If ever he came to love her, she would know it. And even if he did not, she would never regret these feelings. She would give Garret whatever he needed as long as both of them were alive.

  “I must ask you to do one thing for me,” she said. “Show me Timon.”

  His eyes caught the moonlight and glittered under his hood. “I’ve shown you what he looks like.”

  “Show me with your emotions. Perhaps, if we are anywhere near him...”

  Without hesitation, Garret closed his eyes and let her feel Timon. His image was not a physical thing with clear features and solid shape but was built entirely of Garret’s love for his son, an aura of tenderness and devotion and fierce vigilance. Guilt and fear were there, too, but she refused to let those darker feelings taint the rest.

  “I see him,” she said, her mind overflowing with memories as fragile as spring ice and as powerful as love itself.

  Garret opened his eyes. “Did it help?” he asked.

  “If we find out where the children are held,” she said, “I think I will be able to find him.” If he is still alive, she added silently, glad he couldn’t hear her thoughts.

  While she kept watch, Garret concealed his pack behind a jutting boulder, along with his knife and gun, covering each of them with handfuls of dirt and small stones. When he was done, he pulled Artemis into his arms again and kissed her, pushing his tongue between her lips, groaning deep in his chest. She opened her mouth and met him with equal passion.

  “Artemis,” he said, his lips trailing kisses over her jaw and neck, “take my blood.”

  She broke free. “Now? Are you mad?”

  “We’ve been apart for nearly two days. You need it. If you don’t feed, you’ll become too weak to fight if we have to.”

  Weighing the risk of discovery against her hunger, Artemis nodded. “We must be quick,” she said.

  Euphoria flooded through her at the first taste of his blood. She felt her emotions pour into Garret, a sharing not of pain but of ecstasy, belonging and wholeness that needed only one simple act to complete. He tipped his head back and gasped as she drank, and his sudden arousal triggered her own. She shifted to lock her thighs around his waist. He arched up, his body hard and insistent.

  This was how the world was meant to be, she thought. This was life, and she never wanted it to end.

  But neither one of them was stupid enough to give in, no matter how urgent their desire. The path they needed to follow now lay through the encampment and hundreds of hostile Freebloods. To Timon.

  Garret released her, though his hands lingered on her waist. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  “I have no way to bind you,” she said.

  “I know how to behave like a human among undomesticated Nightsiders,” Garret said, taking the sting out of his words by brushing a bothersome strand of her hair out of her eyes. “Don’t give yourself away, whatever you do.”

  “Only if you promise to do the same.”

  Taking care to make certain that no one else was observing them, Artemis rose first. A group of Freebloods passed by, arguing hotly, completely unaware of her or the human at her feet. Once they had moved out of sight, Artemis motioned for Garret to rise and pushed him ahead of her. He glanced over his shoulder, and she saw his entire body change. His expression became worn and defeated, his body slumped. Only his mind told her that he was the Garret she knew.

  The stockade was built of tree trunks stripped from the forest covering the surrounding hills. Perched on the barren cliff at the opposite end of the valley stood the mysterious castle, its silhouette marked with high, pointed turrets, crenellated walls and an imposing bulk that suggested unassailable strength. During the era when Artemis had been born, such monstrosities had been the creations of writers who told tales of haunted strongholds and mad villains.

  This castle, like the ones in the novels, had been built to symbolize power...and evoke fear.

  As she and Garret approached the wall of the camp, they found themselves among packs of Freebloods crowded outside, forced to intermingle as they jockeyed for position. Artemis noticed that some of the Opiri approaching the stockade were half-blood adults—not prisoners like the children, but walking freely among the full-blooded Opiri. She concentrated on blocking the seething clamor of the thousands of contradictory emotions that radiated from the vast encampment.

  She took firm hold of Garret’s collar and made straight for the gate, a crudely wrought, lopsided affair made of the same rough-hewn logs as the walls.

  There were five Freebloods manning the gate, along with a single Darketan, who appeared human but smelled Opir. She didn’t let the gatekeepers see so much as a flicker of doubt on her face.

  “I have brought a human,” she said. “Let me in.”

  The Freebloods glanced at each other with obvious amusement. “Where is the rest of your pack?” the Darketan demanded.

  “I need no pack to be of use to the Master,” she said.

  “Give the human to us,” the Darketan said.

  Artemis looked him up and down. “I take no orders from a Darketan.”

  “Give him up and we’ll let you in,” the tallest Freeblood said.

  Garret stiffened, muscles tensing in preparation for a very one-sided fight.

  “I will give him to the one in charge of the humans inside and to no one else,” Artemis said quickly.

  A low muttering started up behind her, restless Freebloods who doubtless hadn’t drunk much
human blood in recent days. “Silence!” the Darketan shouted.

  Amazingly enough, the Freebloods quieted. The gate creaked open behind the sentries. They turned in angry surprise as a pair of female Opiri walked out, unaware that they had interrupted an increasingly hostile dispute.

  Several things happened at once. Two of the sentinels tried to close the gate, one of the females shouted in protest, and Garret charged through the gap between the door and the wall.

  Artemis sprinted after him, barreling past the gatekeepers before they could react. There was another crowd of Opiri just inside the gate, possibly drawn by the scent of human blood. Some of them were already running along a central lane between rows of tents and canopies, giving Artemis a good idea of which way Garret had gone.

  While Artemis had never been as strong as some Opiri, she was very fast. She hurtled by the pursuers, lashing out at them with arms and feet as she passed. She opened her mind to Garret, willing him to let her know where he was.

  She found him quickly enough, alerted only a few seconds before by his mental cry of warning. Three Opiri were dragging him into a tent halfway across the camp. He was resisting, buying time to urge her to stay away.

  Artemis went directly to the tent and stepped inside. Seven Freebloods were crowded into the space, and she recognized them at once.

  Most of Kronos’s former followers seemed surprised to see her; Flavia and one other were openly hostile, while one looked shame-faced, as if he realized that she knew what he and the others had done to Kronos.

  “Let him go,” Artemis snapped, gesturing to Garret.

  To her astonishment, the ones holding Garret released him. He straightened his daycoat with a sharp jerk and came to stand beside Artemis.

  “It seems we’ve found old friends,” he said with a curl of his lip.

  “You betrayed Kronos,” Artemis said to the Freebloods.

  “It was Flavia’s idea,” one of the Freebloods—Mikohn—said to Artemis in a hurried burst of speech. “She thought Kronos was weak. She attacked him.”