The Storyspinner

by Becky Wallace

  Chapter 77

  Johanna

  This isn’t real. This is a nightmare. Joshua’s hands were cold, his face a white smear in the smoke-filled darkness. She felt his ribs rise and fall, his body shuddering against her legs.

  “Josh,” she whispered. She turned him over, and he cried out against the pain. “Where does it hurt?”

  She wished she hadn’t spoken when she saw the sword wound that crossed him from shoulder to hip. Oh Keepers, save him. Mother Lua, make this bleeding stop.

  “Jo?” His voice was soft; blood bubbled across his lips.

  “Shh, Josh. Don’t talk. Everything’s going to be fine.” She pulled her Storyspinner’s cloak from her satchel and covered his abdomen.

  “I wanted to be brave,” he mumbled.

  She leaned against the worst part of the wound, but his blood soaked through the layers of the cloak instantly.

  “I saw what happened today in the woods. I saw him knock you down.”

  “Hush, Joshua. Don’t try to speak.” She folded the cloak again, pressing her body weight against the gash, but it didn’t make a difference. Her hands were wet; his face was gray.

  He covered her hand on his stomach. “Michael.”

  Johanna’s eyes searched the darkness, praying all the while that she wouldn’t see another body lying somewhere in the distance.

  Joshua’s lips moved, but he didn’t make any sound. She leaned close, putting her ear against his mouth.

  “Mmmm . . . safe.” He gasped once, then all the air wheezed out of his lungs.

  “Joshua?” She knew, but didn’t want to believe. She touched his mouth, feeling for breath. Touched his chest, but felt no heartbeat. “Josh. No, no, no, no.”

  A hand closed on her arm; she shook it away. She knelt over her brother, pressing her forehead to his. Her tears pooled in the hollows below Joshua’s eyes and dripped off the sides of his face.

  “Wake up, Josh,” she whispered to his still form. “Wake up.”

  “Johanna.” The grip returned, fingers digging into both of her arms. “We have to go. Whoever did this could still be out there.”

  “Let me go. I can’t leave him like this!” She tried to shake free. “He’s my little brother. I’ve always, always protected him. I have to stay with him.”

  Rafi pulled harder, dragging her backward. “You can’t do anything for him now—”

  She turned quickly, slashing her fingernails down Rafi’s cheek. He let go for a second, enough time for her to crawl back to her brother’s side.

  Then Rafi was on her again, grabbing her forcefully, restraining her arms, hauling her backward against his chest.

  Chapter 78

  Rafi

  Rafi hated to manhandle her. Hated the way she kicked and flailed, hated the way she used her nails against him like talons, tearing at his throat, making his face bleed. He had sworn he’d never do anything to hurt her again, but he had no choice. Tossing her over his shoulder, he pinned one of her arms awkwardly around his neck and tried to stop her from kicking him in the chest and thighs.

  They had to find Breaker and ride back to the estate. He didn’t believe Dom would still be alive when he returned, but he had to give it his best shot and he couldn’t leave Johanna behind if murderers were still in the woods.

  Rafi ran as fast as he could under her weight, calling and whistling for Breaker.

  A horse whinnied and another answered. Dom’s and Alouette’s mounts had taken off through the woods toward home. Perhaps when someone saw the riderless horses, they would send soldiers out to investigate. He prayed someone was already on their way.

  Johanna finally stopped fighting, but he could feel her sobbing, head down against his back.

  He shifted positions so he could cradle her in his arms. She tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder and locked her arms around his neck.

  I failed her again.

  In that moment of inattention four shadows detached themselves from the side of the trail. They were tall, taller even than Rafi. The planes of their faces were painted golden by the flickering firelight of the still-burning wagon.

  Rafi had never seen them before and knew they weren’t there to help.

  “Put the girl down,” the man in the lead commanded. He held a sword pointed at Rafi. Two people behind him held bows at ready.

  “You can’t have her.” Rafi clutched her tighter, his heart hammering against his ribs. Could he take on four? They all wore boiled-leather armor and handled their weapons like soldiers. There was no way. No way he could defend her and survive, but maybe he could give her time to run.

  “Johanna,” he said, his lips against her brow. “Run. Run to the Milners’ house. Run for help.”

  She stiffened in his arms. Her gray eyes searched his as he set her on her feet.

  “I don’t think so.” She whirled in his arms, a dagger flying free of her sleeve and out of her hands instantly. It caught the closest soldier in the shoulder, and he grunted in surprise.

  She flipped another dagger into the air, catching it lightly in her palm.

  “This is for my brothers.” She sprinted toward the surprised group, holding the dagger like a sword.

  Rafi drew his own weapon and waded into the fray. He’d barely raised it to block the first blow when something hit him in the head.

  The trail rushed toward him. He saw dirt. Then he saw nothing.

  Chapter 79

  Leão

  “What happened here?” Leão asked as he surveyed the scene. The fire from the Performer’s wagon was spreading to the trees. He raised a hand and sent a burst of wind to blow it out. It didn’t stop the wagon from smoldering, but at least the entire forest wouldn’t go up in flames.

  He’d used the same power, a thick rope of air, to knock out both the boy and the girl. They’d fallen almost on top of each other. Her head rested against his back as if she’d been using it as a pillow.

  “Ambush, obviously,” Tex said, as he held a swath of linen against Jacaré’s shoulder. “At least six mounted men, and there’s something about the way that fire is burning. Doesn’t feel natural.”

  “Six mounted men who may be on their way back when they realize they didn’t get the girl.” Jacaré’s tone was harsh. “Pira, get the horses. See if you can find an extra to carry the princess. We’ll travel faster if we don’t have to ride double.”

  Leão started forward, his hand held toward Jacaré’s wounded shoulder. “Do you want me to heal that?”

  “No. Check the camp for survivors, not that I expect there will be any. Then see if you can determine which way the attackers fled or who sent them.” He let Tex wrap a strip of cloth around the wound. “Leave things as they lie. The boy won’t remember much of this in the morning, and we don’t want to give anyone a reason to come after us.”

  “You don’t think they’ll chase us when they realize she’s missing?” Leão asked as he hurried toward the camp.

  “We’ll cover our tracks and make sure the attackers’ are clear. They’ll have no reason to follow us.”

  Leão jogged into the smoke-filled camp, avoiding the body of a man pincushioned with arrows, assessing the scene as he went. The windows on the still-standing wagon had shattered, and the door had been barricaded shut before the fire had been lit. Someone had died in that blaze.

  If only they’d arrived a half hour sooner.

  They’d pushed the horses to lameness and to foaming, and even with healing they’d ridden four mounts to death. It had been an awful thing, to feel the animals give up their will to live. Without the horse’s own energy to assist in recovery, Leão could do nothing for them.

  The replacements they stole—there hadn’t even been enough time to pay for them—wouldn’t last much longer if they kept up the pace.

  And neither will I.

  Th
e weariness had sunk into Leão’s bones, making every part of him ache like he’d been trampled in a stampede. The constant riding, the lack of sleep, the drain on his essência wasn’t at all what he’d expected when he’d agreed to follow Jacaré over the wall. None of his training had prepared him for what he’d seen and done.

  He followed the footprints, past the second wagon and into the trees beyond. He heard a whimper. It was a quiet sound, easy for him to have ignored if the tracks hadn’t led directly to it.

  Two bodies lay side by side beneath a mango tree, and stationed between them was a crying child. His face smeared with ash and dirt, his eyes swollen from the smoke. He sat with arms locked around his knees, rocking back and forth.

  “Boy,” Leão said, holding out his hands, showing that he was unharmed. “I’m here to help.”

  The child didn’t listen, bolting to his feet and climbing the tree as fast as a monkey with a panther on its tail. Even Leão, with all his speed, wasn’t quick enough to catch the boy before he disappeared into the branches.

  “Come down. I can help you.”

  There was no response beyond panicked breathing and the rustle of the wind through the trees.

  What horrors the child must have seen. It was no wonder he was frightened.

  Stooping, Leão checked the pulse of the two bodies on the ground. The smaller was already cold; the blood pooled around it was too much for anyone to have survived. The second body was still warm and . . .

  Leão pressed his hand against the chest, feeling a faint heartbeat. It was weak, fading under his touch. It was an impulsive decision, more instinct than thought. He’d been trained to take life, but also to save it whenever possible. And with this boy, it was still possible.

  His essência sought out the wounds, binding the horrible injuries, knitting flesh and organ and tendon back to its original form. His arms started to vibrate, the muscles shaking beneath his skin; his back spasmed violently with the effort to stay upright.

  Completely drained, on the verge of blackout, Leão felt the chest rise and fall.

  Thank the Light.

  As he staggered to his feet, leaving the child in the tree and the bodies on the ground, Leão knew that despite his personal weakness he’d done the right thing.

  “Anything?” Jacaré asked, already mounted. A lead rope had been tied between his horse and a large stallion. The girl lay limply over the animal’s neck, her wrists tied together to keep her mounted.

  “They went north,” Leão managed to say without panting.

  “Then we’ll head west for a while before breaking north on the main road,” Tex said, turning his horse onto a narrow trail that led into the brush.

  “Can we overtake them?” Pira asked as she tossed Leão his reins. “We may be able to learn who they are and why they’ve been—”

  “We don’t need to know anything else.” Jacaré followed the path Tex was taking. “Our only duty now is getting her to the wall.”

  Leão missed the stirrup the first time he lifted his leg. Had it always been so far from the ground? He managed to pull himself up on the second attempt.

  If Pira noticed, she didn’t say anything, sticking close behind the girl they’d searched for for so long.

  With one last look, Leão peered into the darkness, wondering about the boys and hoping they would make it through the night.

  Chapter 80

  Rafi

  A hard slap brought Rafi back to consciousness. He blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision, and pushed his palms to his ringing ears. An image appeared—a face streaked black like a demon from the lowest hell, its eyes swollen to narrow slits.

  Rafi took a deep breath in surprise and choked on the smoke in the air.

  Smoke.

  He stood up too quickly and the world spun. Rafi staggered a few steps before regaining his balance and felt a small hand press against his side, as if to steady him.

  “Michael.”

  The memory rushed back. Joshua dead, Dom close to it. The sword in his hand. Johanna with her dagger. He searched the ground frantically, expecting her to be nearby.

  “Where is she?” Rafi dropped to his knees in front of the boy, holding his small shoulders tightly. “Where did they take her?”

  Michael’s mouth opened, but the only sound that came out was a sob.

  Rafi’s stomach plummeted into his boots. “Is she hurt?” He was terrified to ask any other question.

  “Don’t know,” the boy whispered, his voice rasping. His lips trembled, his body shook. “They took her away.”

  Oh Mother Lua. Rafi’s mind worked in reverse; soldiers appearing on the trail, Joshua and Dom under the tree, Alouette dead outside the camp. He’d been hurrying, praying that Dom would live long enough for help to arrive.

  The sky was still dark, but dawn brightened the horizon with shades of purple and magenta. Too much time had passed, but maybe by some miracle his brother lived.

  Rafi swung Michael into his arms, feeling the boy’s salty tears sting the gashes Johanna had inflicted on his neck.

  The fires in the wagons had burned out. The first had collapsed completely, its axle resting on the ground. The second’s roof had fallen in, and smoke still poured around the cracked and splintered door. The bright paint had melted, leaving streaks of red and blue that dripped down the wagon’s walls like tears.

  “Lord Rafi,” Michael whispered. “I think someone’s coming.”

  Sure enough hoofbeats pounded up the trail. Rafi set Michael down. “Where did you hide?”

  “Over there.” He pointed toward the tree that stood guard over the place where Joshua and Dom had fallen.

  “Go. Climb it and be silent.”

  The boy ran, his breath wheezing through burned lungs.

  Rafi darted into the underbrush on the side of the trail and found a fallen tree. It afforded him a clear view of the road and of the mounted specter that rode into camp.

  “Stop here!” Dom shouted to the stream of men who followed him, some in DeSilva livery and some in Inimigo’s. His shirt was filthy and bloodstained, and he held his left arm pressed against his side as he dismounted. “We don’t want to ride over any trail they left.”

  Snout stood next to Dom, offering him a supporting hand, which was ignored. Raul, the weaponsmaster, drew both of his swords as if expecting an attack any moment.

  “Search the forest to either side of the trail. There may have been a chance—” Dom stopped and cleared his throat. “They might have been able to make it into the woods.”

  The soldiers followed his command, but Snout stuck close to Dom’s side.

  “Can you tell me, my lord, where you were when you heard the first shout?” Snout asked, his voice gentle.

  Dom’s face blanked; his eyes were haunted. “Alouette was in the lead with Michael behind him.”

  Rafi stood up, drawing a startled gasp from the nearest soldier.

  For a moment the brothers stared at each other, as if expecting the other to dissolve with the smoke.

  “I thought you were dead,” Rafi said quietly as he stepped onto the trail.

  “I’m fairly certain I was.” Dom fingered a tear in his shirt, the edges crusted and stiff with blood. “When I didn’t see you out here, I could only assume . . .” He couldn’t manage another word and the brothers embraced, pounding each other on the backs and swallowing tears.

  “Did any of the others go with you? Did you see anyone on the trail?” Rafi hoped that Johanna would appear from among the searchers.

  “No one.” They followed Snout into the camp, being careful to step where he stepped. “Alouette and Michael entered the clearing and then I heard a scream. Michael tumbled off the back of the horse, and I rode forward, unsure what had happened. Right into a trap.” He looked at the wagons and shook his head. “I’ve never seen som
ething burn so quickly. They went up in flames the instant I crossed into the clearing. Michael ran between the wagons, and I rode after him, hoping I could make it through to the other side. But arrows were flying, and Nudger spooked.”

  He covered his mouth with a fist and shook his head. “Joshua fell off and darted for the trees, but two men stepped out from behind the wagons. They cut him down. Blessed Keepers, he was just a boy.”

  Dom filled in the rest of the details, how he tried to protect Joshua, but there were too many men. They pulled him from his saddle and stabbed him through the chest.

  He pulled his shirt aside, showing Rafi the raw, puckered scar. “I felt myself dying,” he whispered, pressing his hand over the spot. “I felt the world fading away, and then there was so much heat. Like my blood was boiling in my veins. I thought perhaps I was on fire . . . or maybe the fire cauterized the wound.”

  “That man fixed you,” a gruff little voice said from a tree. Michael swung down from the branches. “He made you better, but he didn’t save Mama or Thomas or Joshua, and he took Johanna away.”

  Chapter 81

  Johanna

  Johanna regained consciousness one sense at a time. She heard the clop of hooves first, then she felt the pain. Her hands tingled from being tied together around a horse’s neck, and her back ached like she’d been in that position for a long time. A bruise was forming on her chest from the constant friction of the saddle horn.

  She opened her eyes, taking in the forest that pressed close, the sun rising behind her, and the family of bugios racing through the treetops. The monkeys swung hand, foot, and tail, keeping pace easily with the trotting horses, howling their displeasure at having humans in their territory.

  I’m still in Santiago, she realized. The ground hadn’t turned marshy or hilly yet, and the forest was thick. And I’m riding Breaker. Tears welled in her eyes, knowing that Rafi wouldn’t have let the animal go willingly.