Sal and Styn crowded behind him.
He nodded and placed the vial carefully into a small pouch on his belt.
“No, you cannot leave until after breakfast.”
Micca closed his mouth as she snatched the question from him before he was able to ask it.
“You were lucky last night, but if you try to leave as you came, they will definitely find you.”
The others stepped inside the cottage.
“Have you seen them?” Sal asked.
“Oh, yes. But they did not see me.” Mala grinned, a devious look in her eyes.
“Where are they?”
She turned to stir the contents of the pot. The scent of fruit and porridge filled the room. “Scattered through the pass in small groups. I believe they plan to start making trouble on the caravans and anyone else they find there.”
She slowly shook her head, as if thinking the whole idea foolish.
Not long after, she scooped hot porridge into shallow wooden bowls and passed them around. “Eat up, it’ll give you energy. Unless you still think I’m out to poison you?”
Styn’s cheeks colored, he having eyed the unusual Lander fare with misgivings. He set to eating like the others. Mala chuckled to herself.
By the time they were done, the sky had started to lighten. Torren pulled out the money he’d brought for the antidote. Mala gestured for him to put it on a shelf, as if it held little importance to her.
Micca moved to stand before her. “I gave you my word and I will keep it. You shall have what else we promised as soon as Aen is made well.”
Mala smiled. “I am not worried. I know you will.”
Drifting outside, Torren and Sal soon got the horses hitched. Sal and Styn climbed into the back; Micca settled up front. Torren held the reins to hold the horses steady, knowing what would come next.
Once they were set, Mala released the branch hiding the clearing from view to open up the way for them. She grabbed Torren’s arm as he made to climb up onto the wagon.
“Fix what must be fixed.” Quicker than he thought possible, she reached up and caressed his cheek. “Make the Vassals whole.”
Confused, but trying not to show it, he climbed on up. Mala’s sharp gaze followed them as they set off.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Shadows still clung to the sides of the road but were clearing by the moment. Though they could see, Torren still couldn’t allow the horses to move at any great speed due to the rough road. Mala’s last words still rang through his mind, making him feel uneasy. What had she meant by “Vassals?”
Micca sat forward, only too eager to be gone. “It’s almost over. Once we get the antidote back to her…”
Torren nodded, hoping it would be as easy as that. But even if they saved Larana, there would still be the matter of finding out who’d done this, and the continuing problem of the Black Lords.
Keeping the ex-priestess’s warning in mind, he searched for signs of trouble. Something flashed up ahead in the trees, catching his attention. They were almost to the place where he thought he’d seen the strange glint of light when he realized the canopy above them wasn’t made totally of leaves.
His stomach knotted painfully as he realized he’d seen something resembling this before. “Sal!”
Dropping the reins, he shoved Micca off the side of the wagon as a faint twanging sounded from above. He leapt from his seat as something crashed down over them.
Rolling as he hit the ground, he avoided most of the net as it enveloped the wagon. The horses whinnied and stamped in panic but couldn’t run. He grimaced as he got to his feet, one of the weights attached to the net having hit him on the thigh.
A twig snapped off to the side; and Torren instantly dropped into a half-crouch, pulling out his sword as he turned. Anger overrode fear as he spotted a man in dark leather. They were trying to do it to him again. This time they wouldn’t find his group so obliging.
A snarl on his face, he dove at the mercenary, slashing at his legs. The man backpedaled, obviously taken aback at the ferocity of his attack.
“Marin!” The mercenary stumbled and fell.
Torren didn’t hesitate. He slashed down at the man’s arm, cutting through the tendons. His second thrust ended the mercenary’s screams as he drove the sharp blade into the man’s throat. For his father!
A cry of pain spun his attention back toward the wagon. Yanking his blade from the corpse, he hurried to look for the others. He spotted Micca bobbing in the air close to the back of the wagon, a thin trail of blood running down his arm.
“Bastards.” Fury infusing him to the core, Torren hobbled toward his companion as Micca dived down at the man standing there.
“Get away from them.” Micca avoided the mercenary’s sword as it swung toward him, quickly moving back up out of range.
“Come on down and make me.” The mercenary flashed an obscene gesture with his free hand while he slapped at the netting with his blade to keep Sal and Styn from getting out of the wagon. “Ster, get on over here!”
Torren realized the mercenary assumed the previous cry had been his. Soon, he would show him his error.
“Let me out of here, you coward. I’ll give you the entertainment you’re looking for.” Sal returned the rude gesture twofold.
“You will now die.”
The mercenary half-turned, seeing Torren for the first time. The cruel amusement on his features flushed away as he met Torren’s murderous gaze. Micca made another dive at him; the man slashed at him again to keep him back. Then, after a last glance between them, the mercenary abruptly turned tail and ran.
Torren started after him, sending shooting pains through his thigh as he abused it further, but was unable to keep his target from getting away. Gritting his teeth, he bent down and in one fluid move removed the knife in his boot. He threw, aiming for the unarmored head.
The handle, instead of the blade, smacked into the back of the mercenary’s skull and sent him sprawling. Torren was on him before he could recover, thirsty for blood. He brought his blade up to finish the man, but at the last instant turned the blade and pummeled him on the head with the hilt instead.
The man’s body went limp. Torren tried not to think about whether he was doing the right thing or not.
Sal cut through the trees, his naked blade before him. “Torren!”
“Over here.” He rose shakily to his feet, his thigh throbbing. The bruise wouldn’t be better for all this exertion.
“Is he dead?” Sal looked at the body on the ground.
“No. Figured he might have some stories to tell us.”
Sal grinned. “Yes, this fellow might become very popular back at the city.” He knelt, checking the large bumps on the mercenary’s head. “That’ll smart later. Serves him right.”
His grin grew. Sheathing his sword, he grabbed the unconscious man and lifted him up over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Won’t be safe to linger around here.”
“Right. No telling how much more trouble they’ll decide to make for us.” Torren felt tired, his fury gone. He hobbled behind Sal back to the wagon, where they found Styn bandaging Micca’s arm.
“How bad is it?” Sal asked.
“It’s just a nick,” Micca told them, looking embarrassed. “He caught me by surprise.”
“We’re damn lucky they missed us last night.” Sal dumped the mercenary on the ground and, with Styn’s help, lifted the net enough to slip inside the wagon to retrieve some rope. “I don’t think things would have gone this well.”
“Let’s not give them an opportunity to try it again, then,” Torren said as he helped Sal tie up their guest. “Styn, if you’re willing, I want you to fly a little ahead and make sure there are no more overhead surprises waiting for us.”
Styn nodded. “Of course.”
As soon as they finished trussing up their prisoner and stowing him securely inside, Sal, Styn and Micca worked to remove the netting from the wagon while Torren tried calming the hors
es as best he could. Their eyes rolled and sweat covered their coats—Larana’s uncanny skill with animals would have been very useful here.
By the time the nets were removed, the horses calmed and they had taken a small rest after the heavy labor, a large part of the morning had passed. Sal gave Styn his sword before the Flyer lifted into the air to scout ahead, where he discovered three more nets but no one manning them. As soon as they reached the main road and the area where the trees thinned, he returned to the wagon, and Torren set the horses to as fast a pace as they could handle.
The group donned their disguises again. All eyes were busy as they followed the Grand Highway south.
The fires at the border town were no longer smoldering, but the reek of decaying flesh was worse than before. Soldiers clotted the streets, cleaning up the main road and piling bodies onto a pyre at the edge of town.
Though Torren expected to be stopped and detained, a captain waved them on without questions. Mar obviously had gotten their message through, at least to the closest of the military stations.
They made good time, once again rotating the horses at rest stops. They traveled all day and through the night; Caeldanage came into view late in the following afternoon.
Other wagons and horses were lined up on the road waiting to get into the city as each was checked thoroughly before being allowed inside. Micca impatiently stared at the line of farmers and merchants before them, occasionally glancing back the way they’d come as if still expecting pursuit.
Torren felt less at ease about what they might encounter inside the city, before they could make their way to the embassy. The city had contained members of the Black Lords before.
“Torren, give me the vial. I will take it to her now.” Micca turned to him, his face tight. “Every minute we sit here will only give our enemies more time to try something else.”
Torren stared at him, thinking himself a fool for not having thought of doing that earlier. “Do it. I’ll find Dom Rux and fill him in as soon as we can get inside the city.” He removed the vial from his pouch and handed it over as Micca removed his cloak. “Just a few drops, don’t forget.”
Micca accepted the vial as if it were more fragile than it seemed and tucked it away. “I won’t.”
Torren realized that Micca’s taking the antidote to Larana wouldn’t only speed her recovery but would save him from awkward goodbyes. Still, a part of him was saddened at not being able to see Larana smile one last time.
Micca’s eyes met his. “I will get this to her, I swear it.” He suddenly grinned. “I will thank El for the rest of my days you were here to help us through this.”
Without further ado, he stood up on the seat, spread out his wings and took flight. Torren watched him as he headed upward in the direction of the floating island. His attention was drawn back to the city gates, however, as the astonished shouts of those before them brought a number of soldiers in their direction.
“That’s done it.” Sal walked up to the front of the wagon and climbed onto the bench beside Torren. “I take it Micca could wait no more?”
He nodded, keeping his eye on the approaching soldiers.
“This could be awkward.”
He agreed but still didn’t regret his decision.
Neither man made any aggressive moves as the wagon was quietly surrounded. A burly captain stared them up and down.
“The Flyer we just saw, was he with you?” His tone left little doubt he already knew the answer.
Torren removed his hat, revealing his light-colored hair. “We need an escort into the city. If possible, it should take us all the way to the Chosen’s embassy.”
The captain raised a brow. “I have orders to do just that for a lot fitting your description.”
“Well, then, man,” Sal proclaimed, “what are you waiting for?”
Blinking twice, the captain turned away and commanded his men to clear the way for their wagon. Grinning, Sal poked Torren in the side.
“If I’d known this is what it’d get us, I would have sent Micca flying a might sooner.”
It didn’t take long before they were through the city gate. With an escort on either side, they hurried along the streets, heads turning at the unusual sight. By the time they reached the embassy, they were surrounded by even more guards—these with the livery of the emperor. They made way for Styn, Sal, and Torren as they got off the wagon to go through the gate. Within were even more guards, these belonging to both the emperor and the Chosen. Torren and the others were immediately shown inside.
“You’re here!” Rux rushed forward as they came in. He gave heartfelt hugs to each in turn, including, much to everyone’s surprise, Sal. In his common room, a large table had been set, papers strewn across it and several large chairs placed around it. From one of them, the governor gave them a brief wave. Von Duren rose from another, his face impassive, and Mar from a third, his tired expression brightening at the sight of his brother and the others.
Rux did a visual inventory, marking Torren’s slight limp and the absence of the last member of their party. “Where’s Micca?”
“He’s gone on ahead to deliver the potion.” Torren glanced at the two Landers in the back, wondering if they’d been told any more than before.
“That’s wonderful news.” Rux’s wings flexed with excitement. “As you can see, the intelligence you sent back was received.” He signaled for them to come further into the room.
“A contingent was sent before sunrise to the border town to reinforce those already there from the outpost.” Von Duren half-nodded as they came closer. “More men will be leaving presently to secure the pass. We’re now currently discussing strategy on how the Chosen might intercede with Galt on our behalf to explain what has been happening. This could have all gone horribly wrong if not for your message. Some didn’t want to believe it as it was.”
“Your men will need to be careful in the pass,” Torren advised him, ignoring the credit he was being given. “Though the Black Lords look to be spread thin, they’ve set traps in the trees and possibly concocted other impediments. We arrived late, so they missed us till morning, but any kind of large force won’t be able to slip by.”
Von Duren took the information in stride. “We’ve obviously underestimated this group for some time. It won’t happen again.”
The doors to the room were thrown open. As they all turned around to stare, seven armed Chosen strode into the room.
“There he is!”
Before anyone could ask what was going on, six of the guards surrounded Torren and jostled him away from Rux toward the wall. He didn’t resist, as puzzled as all the rest.
“Stop this at once!” The ambassador’s face was livid. “What is the meaning of this?”
The seventh guard, dressed in golden armor, stepped forward and gave Rux a half-bow. “I apologize for the abrupt interruption, Dom Rux, but we feared for your safety.”
The ambassador exchanged confused glances with Torren as the leader cast dubious glances at the rest of his guests.
“Explain yourself.”
The golden-armored Flyer removed a rolled parchment from a concealed pouch. “Orders have been issued by the council for this person’s capture.”
He extended the writ; and though Rux took it, he made no move to read it.
“Capture? Torren? What are you talking about?” His incredulity was palpable. “Lar’s son is a hero to our people.”
Torren frowned, suddenly sure they’d been somehow outmaneuvered. The Flyer’s next words only served to confirm his suspicions. One of the guards’ spears jabbed painfully against his side.
“This man is not a hero. He’s committed the gravest sin that could be committed against our people. He ended the life of one of our own.”
Shocked stares passed all around, though Von Duren, the governor and Sal were still puzzled.
“That is a vile accusation.” Rux glared at the armed men. “Who has he supposedly killed?”
The Flye
r looked away. “It is not for me to say, only to do. My orders are explicit. He is to be apprehended and brought to the council for judgment.” He glanced over toward his men. “Secure him.”
The guards pressed closer to Torren as one of them lowered his weapon and quickly divested him of his. As soon as he was done, two others grabbed Torren and twisted him around, roughly shoving him against the wall and seizing his hands to tie them behind his back. He grunted in discomfort but did nothing to resist them.
“Enough.” Sal stepped forward, the sound of metal sliding out of leather loud in the room. “I don’t care why you’re doing this, but I’m not standing by while you feathered fools mistreat my friend.”
Several of the guards turned to face the Lander.
“Sal, don’t.” Torren could only see him out of the corner of his eye, saw him stop at his command. “It’ll only make things worse.”
Though his friend meant well, Torren didn’t want to become the reason for a Lander/Chosen war, not after all he’d been through to stop one.
Sal didn’t back down. He glared at the guards, who returned the look and took firmer grips on their weapons.
“Your friend is right, listen to him.” Von Duren had his eyes on the armed men, his face taut.
Rux stepped over to Sal, placing his hand on the Lander’s tense shoulder.
“This man is correct, and it is to our shame he has to point it out to us.” His gaze scathed across the guards and focused on their leader. “Whether the charge brought against the son of Lar is true or not is irrelevant just now. Torren is and has always been a Chosen, and you will treat him with respect, not like some animal.”
The commander met Rux’s stern gaze but eventually looked away, his wings folded back. “My apologies, Dom Rux. It should be as you say.”
The guards backed a step away from Torren, releasing him.
“You will have to remain bound. My orders were explicit on that account.” His voice gave no hint he was sorry for this. “We will extend you every courtesy as long as you do not resist.”
Torren turned around and nodded.
“Commander, I will be coming with you,” Rux said. “A grievous error has been committed here, and it will be cleared.”
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