From the trees, he watched a naked young man jog up Ridge Road toward the inn. This man ran onto the porch and right up to the inn’s double front doors. He peered through the glass, and then he cracked the right door open and called into the common room: “Sisters! Sisters, Rude is caught in the poison oak and needs help. Our clothes were thrown into the poison oak, and I’m naked. Can I come in?”
Musical laughter rang from the inn as Dark Sister pushed open the door. “My, my,” she said with appreciation. “Do come in, but we will not help Rude.” The young man entered, and she closed the door.
The blood rider mounted and began riding in the direction the naked man had come from. He heard voices arguing down one road, and a few moments after he turned onto it, he came upon more naked men. They were attempting to fish clothing from the tangle of poison oak with some long sticks. In the middle of the patch, a bound and gagged man, also naked, squirmed and grunted.
As the blood rider dismounted, the men raised their sticks from fishing to defensive positions. Aiming his hollow staff at the entire group, the blood rider felled the men with a mild blast of clear, wavy energy. He went to each downed man, placed the staff on the man’s chest, and chanted, “Mine, mine, mine.”
One by one, the men shuddered and stood. The blood rider pointed to Rude and the clothing strung across the poison oak and said, “Fetch.” Without pausing, the men waded into the tangle and gathered the articles of clothing. Two dragged Rude free of the poison oak. “Dress,” he commanded and the witless men complied.
The blood rider cut Rude’s bounds, and the freed man scrambled away. Pulling the gag from his mouth, he pleaded, “Don’t enslave me. You need me. I know this area. Please, please, I can help you.”
The blood rider glared at Rude. “Obey me, or I will feed on you. Where is Altar Stone?”
Rude threw on pants and a jacket and pulled on his boots, keeping a fearful eye on the motionless blood rider. When he’d finished, Rude stood in a slightly crouch, ready to flee. “The Altar Stone is nearby, but it’s well-guarded,” he said, hoping this fearsome assailant couldn’t tell that Rude had never heard of the Altar Stone. “Come to my stronghold and we can prepare an attack.”
The blood rider pulled the glob from his pocket; the slow pulsing remained unchanged. The blood rider looked to Rude and studied him for a long moment. No instructions from Noster intruded. He commanded, “Lead.”
Rude gathered a horse and climbed into the saddle and heeled the animal up Mill Road toward Ridge Road.
“Follow,” said the blood rider to his conscripts, and they trudged along behind.
Fifteen
The City
Bartok sat in the garden off the speaker’s suite, looking with at the sculpted rock-and-wood seating arrangements. Now that he knew Cara, he could see these were very much like her, strong, subtle, and designed with a deft touch. He’d enjoyed the evening he spent with Cara, though she never gave him an opening to suggest anything further. After having a grand time at the festival, dancing and laughing with the people of the City, he and Cara had parted. She claimed much work was yet to be done in preparation for the masked parade and left him to return to the Glassworks. He was disappointed but relieved as well. She was a woman of strength and talent; he found himself timid in her presence. Time would take care of that. He hoped.
Nance came through the glass doors and crossed the lawn, looking worried. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.
“Sit down, Nance.” Bartok indicated a seat across from him.
Nance hesitated for a moment before sitting. Bartok poured his assistant a glass of wine before refilling his own glass and lifting it in salute. “Here is to a lucrative association, Nance.”
“Whose?”
“Ours,” Bartok said. “You and me.”
“I don't understand, sir.”
“Did any of your family survive the Dead Wind?”
“No.”
“What did you do before joining the City Troop?”
“I worked in the family bakery.”
“Is that bakery in operation now?” Bartok asked.
“Why, no, sir. I felt my duty was here.”
“Yes, you are right; your duty is here, as is mine. But if we are to be respected in the City, we must establish a strong base of holdings.”
“Why me, sir?”
“Because I trust you, Nance. I also recognize your ability to organize, take initiative, and get things done. I need you to help me put together holdings of money and property. In this confusing and sad time, there are many opportunities. And I intend that you share in the proceeds.”
“Thank you, sir!” Nance was smiling now. “I know I have what it takes. May I assume that these ventures should remain discrete, like that of the work crew?”
“That is so.”
“But, sir, what was that about my family bakery?”
“Well, Nance, I want you to find people who have baking knowledge, or who are willing to learn, and teach them to be bakers. Teach enough people to set up three shops. When they’re ready, we’ll place them in prime locations around the City.”
Nance nodded, taking the idea in. “I know those locations, sir, and I’ll have them secured right away.”
“We will make a profit right off. There are few bakeries open yet.”
Nance fingered his chin in thought. “Bakeries aren’t the only shops the City needs. I'll look into it.”
“What about the master public works crew I asked you to locate?” the captain continued, “Have you set them up as a private company or companies, with me, us, as hidden owners? We can contract the repair of the City road and pipe systems to these companies.”
Nance nodded. “I have a few details to work out, but it’s coming together.”
“Good.” Bartok stood, and Nance followed suit. “There’s one more thing. On the way to Ronzal's last night, I noticed several abandoned estates. Maybe you should look into those as well.”
“Yes, sir,” Nance said, and he grinned. “By the Trickster, sir, I’m looking forward to this.”
Bottom
Boh returned to the family villa spent and worried. She splashed water on her face; the drops mixed with her tears. People told her they’d seen Iris taken prisoner by Noster’s solders. Boh had tried to ride after her mother, but the girl was stopped at the city gate by Noster’s thugs. No one was allowed past. Boh searched for her mother among those killed in the attack just in case the witnesses were wrong, but she had not found her mother among the dead. This was some consolation, but the situation was dire. She changed her clothes and sent word for her cousin Rah. He was well versed in the martial aspect of Blood Magic and might have an idea about how to save Mistress Iris.
When Rah arrived, Boh told him what she knew of Iris’s capture and how she herself had been stopped when she’d tried to leave Bottom.
Rah had seen some of the problem already. “The road to the Butte is active with Noster’s forces,” he said. “There’s no chance of getting to the Butte.” He had, however, explored the northwest end of the Butte and had, on the Butte’s cliff face, seen what looked like a cave that might go through to Noster’s lair. “The swamp is difficult,” he said. “And getting to the cave would be a tricky climb. Until I’m able to scale that wall and investigate the opening, we won’t know if it is truly an entrance.”
“But at least there’s hope,” Boh said. “Tomorrow we can investigate further.”
Rah was reluctant to say what else he knew, but finally he decided to speak. “I overheard some of Noster’s guards at the gate laughing about the fate of the prisoners,” he said. He paused. “They are to be food for Noster,” he said, finally. “Noster feeds by sucking the life force from his victims.”
Boh shuddered. “We must not let that happen,” she said. “We have to save Iris and everyone else who was taken by Noster. How can we stop him?”
“I do not know,” Rah said, shaking his head. “I do know a resistance movement
is coming together. People are angry about the occupation forces. They’re afraid. I think many wish to oppose Noster in any way they can. I hope we are able to rescue Mistress Iris and the prisoners, but if we cannot, at least we will continue to fight.”
“Thank you, Rah. We leave for the Butte at sunrise. Now, we should rest.”
The Butte
Frustrated, Noster paced across the throne room. He hadn’t been able to make contact with either of the blood riders. He could feel through the Altar Stone that both globs had started to pulse, indicating they were near the targets. Near, but not on, their targets.
Noster placed his hands on the Altar Stone and sent a command to respond to him. Nothing was received from the blood riders. He would have no warning before the globs were placed on the Altar Stones. Noster would have to stand vigil so that he wouldn’t miss the moments of concussion. If he was to have power enough to control his future blood riders, he needed to subvert the two Altar Stones to his own vibration. His conquest of the City depended upon his owning this additional power.
Annoyance and impatience gnawed at his temper. “Bring food!” he shouted and stomped to the stone throne and sat down heavily.
Two guards entered dragging a bound and gagged woman between them. Noster leaped from the throne and grabbed the woman from the guards. He ripped the gag from her mouth and she screamed. He covered her mouth with his, stifling the scream, sucking the life energy from her. Finished, he cast the body to the stone floor. “More,” he commanded. The men dragged the body away. At least he would be at full strength when the globs concussed.
Woodside Mill
Harp and Shell were finishing the dinner dishes; Mark arranged kindling and cordwood in the fireplace. Matt reclined in one of the upholstered chairs and rested his wounded leg on a hassock. Bell and the twins sat at the table reading. Grandfather Lute came through the door and announced, “The forge is put up for the night.” He hung his coat on the rack and sat in the chair next to Matt. “No more avoiding, Bell,” Grandfather Lute said. “Come and tell us how you saved my life.”
“Yeah, come on, Bell, tell us,” the twins said in unison.
Bell moved to the hearth and sat looking at the growing crackling fire. Ever since the question she’d ducked at the noon meal, she had been mulling over what had happened. “I knew when Rude raised the knife,” she said, speaking slowly, “that the distance from me to him was too far to run. But somehow that didn’t matter. My wish… ah, my need… desire… I don’t know, whatever it was, it propelled me to Grandfather. The One Wave changed the normal vibrations and shot me through.” She raised her palms in an open query and shrugged. “I don’t know what happened.”
Grandfather Lute sat forward in his chair. “Intention,” he said. “Your intention was strong and clear, and when it is, you seem to have great ability to interact with the One Wave. The One Wave gave you what you intended. How effective any of us are at manipulating the One Wave must depend on how much natural talent we have and how strong our intention is.”
“That must be part of how healing melodies work,” Harp said.
“Yes,” added Shell, “that along with the vibrations of the notes.”
“But, Bell, what did you feel like?” Book asked. “Did it hurt?”
“No,” Bell said. “It didn’t hurt me; it hurt Rude.” She gave a laugh. “I felt like a canoe suddenly shooting down a rapid, whoosh!”
“Whoosh?” questioned Page.
“Well, maybe not whoosh, exactly. There wasn’t any sound.”
“Anything else?” Grandfather Lute asked.
Bell nodded. “My body felt porous, as if it had no substance. In a way I felt merged with the One Wave, which is different than opening to the One Wave. It was as if my entire make-up was nothing but the One Wave. It was a wonderful and strange feeling. Now I have a question: did Rude set fire to the hay shed?”
“Yes,” Grandfather Lute said. “I believe when we arrived for our staff training and set up near the stable doors, Rude and his thugs were trapped inside with the coach. They set the hay to burn as a diversion to get us away from the front of the stable. Fortunately, the horses balking at the harsh treatment gave us time to stop them from stealing the coach.”
“Speaking of Rude,” Mark said, “I went to the gate to see what had become of them. I saw a strange rider lead Rude and the rest up Mill Road. Something was odd, Rude was on horseback but the others followed behind on foot, and they looked like they were sleep-walking or dazed.”
“I’m afraid we haven’t seen the last of Rude,” Grandfather Lute said. “Our sword and staff training has become more important than impressing Big Red. I would like to train in the evening as well as the morning.”
Everyone agreed.
Tanan Shrine
It was a happy group that gathered at Tanan Shrine, and no one was happier than Jana, who was sitting next to her much-missed fellow scout. “I’m so happy you survived the Dead Wind,” Jana told Big Red. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. I was afraid I was the only scout left.”
“And I am very pleased to see you,” Big said. “I was afraid you hadn’t survived. I almost didn’t survive Wind Point Plateau. Thanks to Bill and Slim, I’m here to help. So, now, what about this rider we have to deal with?”
“Yes, Olive,” Jana said, turning to the girl. “Tell us everything you noticed about this rider.”
Olive took a breath to calm herself. Being with Scout Jana, whom the girl admired and hoped to be like, had made her nervous. After another breath she said, “The rider is big, maybe not as big as Bill or as tall as Slim, but big and rock-like. He did not sit his horse like a skilled rider.” Olive closed her eyes as she tried to remember. “Somehow, he wasn’t like a real man. His eyes, they were dead eyes. That scared me the most. He asked for the Tanan Shrine. My father sent him by way of Wind Point so I’d be able ride Ridge Road and warn you.”
“Anything else about the rider himself?” Jana prompted.
“He had an odd looking staff; maybe it was metal instead of wood.” Olive shook her head. “He is very creepy and frightening. There is no mistaking him for anything but dangerous. If he was coming straight to the shrine, he should be here by now, but there’s been no sign has there? That makes me worry.”
“From the way he sounds,” Big Red said, “I don’t think he was among my attackers. It seems like Bill and Slim pulled me out of there before this rider could have arrived.”
Olive nodded. “Yes. But where is he?” She shuddered and looked nervously out the shrine’s open panel.
Master Akien patted Olive’s shoulder and poured her more tea. “You have done well,” he told the girl. “You acted in spite of your fear. I hope you will join our new Scout School.”
“Thank you, Master,” Olive said with a smile, “I have always wanted to be a scout, and my parents support the idea.”
“We’ll start training at the new moon,” Master Akien said. “I hope that isn’t too soon for you, but time is of the essence. The scouts were depleted by the Dead Wind, and the taint I feel on the One Wave can only mean danger.”
Her wounded thigh having grown stiff, Big Red struggled to her feet. She pointed to her blade. “Hand me my sword, Jana. We need to watch for this rider lest he take us by surprise. I’ll go out and have a look around.”
“You’re right.” Jana said, taking up her staff. “But I will go. You can’t even bear your weight on that wounded leg.”
Big Red began to protest, but Jana stopped her: “If you give me trouble, I’ll have Bill sit on you.”
Big Red harrumphed and sat back down, and Bill looked embarrassed.
“Take Olive with you,” Master Akien told Jana. “She has her bow, and you’ll do better with partner.”
“Slim and I will have a look as well,” Bill said, standing and stretching his massive body. “Seems like a nice time for a stroll.”
“Olive and I will start down the east side of the shrine; you two
head west,” Jana said.
Once outside, Jana scanned the terrain around the shrine. “Do you know how to open to the One Wave?” she asked Olive.
“I’m not sure; my father has taught the family to quiet our minds and tune into the waves of the environment,”
“Yes,” Jana said, pleased. “That is opening to the One Wave. As scouts we use this technique for many things and tuning into the environment is a good way to tell if anything is out of balance. We’re able to identify intruders or disturbances. So, let’s open to the One Wave.”
Olive allowed her thoughts to stop and her awareness to blend with what she now knew to call the One Wave. She had always experienced a feeling of peace in this exercise, but now there was the added excitement of sharing a task with Scout Jana.
Jana headed left, along the side and toward the front of the shrine. The sun had set, and twilight was sliding toward dark. The tang of the sea was evident, and the last of the day birds flew past to roost.
A momentary taint on the vibration of the One Wave jangled the harmony of the environment. As one, Jana and Olive turned to the tree line of the small wood that ran south along the trail to Ridge Road.
“What do you perceive, Olive?”
“Whatever caused the… ah,” Olive struggled to name what had happened. “Stink? Only it wasn’t a smell. A disturbance,” she tried. “I can’t tell where it’s gone.” She scanned the woods again. “But I sense some people hiding in the trees that grow closest to the front of the shrine. I’d guess the disturbance came from there.”
“You have talent with the One Wave, Olive. We hope all of our scout recruits have this kind of skill, and you just passed the test with ease.”
Olive was pleased. “Do we go investigate?”
“There are eight or nine hiding in the trees,” Jana said. “We don’t know the source or location of the taint. And, although we have high ground, we are only two.” Jana paused before continuing her recitation of the facts. “Bill and Slim are coming around to meet us, doubling our strength. What would you suggest?”
The Dead Wind Page 16