We will heal and rest. But we won’t rest long, said Jenka.
No one cared to disagree.
Chapter Thirty
Herald had a hard time staying inconspicuous in Mainsted. He was once the most notorious of the King’s Rangers, the hard-assed master who nicked the ear of any training forester who didn’t carry his own weight. After the Dragoneers came, he was promoted to High Ranger, and since he was in Mainsted, Midwal, or Three Forks regularly, he was constantly in the public eye. Herald’s brother Swineherd raised the hogs that once graced the tables of the wealthier families of the mainland, too. Trying to hide was next to impossible, at least until Linux spelled a pair of modest monks silly and took their hooded robes.
“I feel like a ninny, you fargin’ druidoo,” Herald complained as they made their way out to a farmhouse where they thought witches might be gathering. “I ‘ent got enough arse left to keep the chill off my nards.”
The sun had just set, and the lamp Linux stole had very little fuel left in it, so even unshuttered it was as dim as could be.
“You could have worn your britches under the robe, Herald,” Linux grinned. “I have the clothes I had on under here, just in case we have to ditch these.”
Linux was clearly trying to keep from laughing at him, and that just made Herald all the grumpier. He would have worn his britches under the robe, only the robe was too short by a foot and any passerby would have seen his boots and known he wasn’t a monk. He had sandals on his feet and he didn’t like that either. The worst part of it was the fact that he didn’t have his trusty old sword. The only weapon he was carrying was a long dagger.
“Are you sure Rikky told you of this place?” The farther out of Mainsted they walked, the less confident Herald felt. He hadn’t liked the idea of trusting Linux at all, and now he was taking orders through the druid on the faith that he was communicating with the Dragoneers.
“I told you,” Linux huffed, “Zahrellion and I are communicating through an ancient druidic spell.”
“Bah,” Herald snorted. “That is what I don’t believe. That girl hates you. You betrayed every fiber of her faith in that mess with your brother.”
“She wouldn’t bother with me if her son hadn’t been taken, I assure you,” Linux conceded. “I betrayed myself, too.” Linux’s head dropped as they paced on down the dirt cart track. “I murdered a man, and then destroyed his reputation while wearing his skin. But that’s not nearly the worst of it. For King Richard, I picked through groups of innocents and chose the ones he would next torture and kill. I am not proud of these things, Herald. I am here now trying to help the Dragoneers, trying to help Zahrellion get back her son. I know there is no real redemption for me. I doubt there is anything I could do to right all that wrong, but I will live out my days serving good and hope I can find peace with myself while doing so.”
“What will they do with the boy?” Herald asked, shaking off his dislike of the druid for the time. Knowing how much Mysterian had loved Richard, and how far that vile boy had gone, chapped the good half of Herald’s arse quite badly. That wasn’t the boy he was really concerned about, though. He wanted Jericho home safe as badly as any of them.
“He is the heir to the whole kingdom, unless Richard has a son. I think the witches plan on raising him to suit their will, sort of like Mysterian and the Hazeltine were doing with Richard.”
“And Jenka, I suppose.” Herald didn’t like hearing that truth, but he knew it was so. “Mother De Swasso was a witch, just like the rest of ‘em.”
“She was.” Linux gave him a pat on the shoulder and pointed at the large farmhouse sitting off the road. “But she was really Jenka’s mother.”
Herald followed Linux’s finger. A four-square of illuminated curtains and the partial outline of an ill-seated door could be made out. There were a half-dozen horses tethered to the post beside the place, and as they eased around the building in the darkness they saw a fancy carriage and two wagon carts. The teams were being watched over by a pair of capable-looking uniformed men.
“Are they city guards or mercenaries?” Linux asked in a whisper.
“I can’t see their boots from here to tell.” Herald squinted as he tried to see them.
“Their boots?” Linux asked.
“If they’re city guards or soldiers, them boots’ll be polished. If they are sellswords, they’ll be well worn.”
“Look, there.” Linux pointed at the light thrown across the ground from a curtained window on the far side of the place. There were a few people in the room, as indicated by the silhouettes they could see moving about.
“I think we can get under the sill and listen,” Herald said, wishing again he had his sword and boots on. “We’ll know if they’re witches right quickly, I’d guess.”
“All right,” Linux agreed and started moving that way.
Herald followed, while keeping an eye on the men by the carriage. He still couldn’t make out a sheen on their boots, so he was guessing they were hired blades. He had to give his attention to his footfalls, so he didn’t bother voicing his opinion. If he and Linux were discovered, they’d have to fight, no matter who the men were.
Even before they were under the sill they could hear a man droning on and on about some troops he commanded. It wasn’t until Herald and Linux were situated with their backs to the exterior wall, directly under the window, that they could actually understand what was being said, though.
“… taking control of the wall, as I just said, will be the easiest part of it.” The man spoke with confidence and authority. “I don’t think attacking the Frontier towns will be effective unless we control the wall. It’s just not—”
“You are not here to think so much, my dear,” a seductive female voice responded. “We already control Mainsted Harbor, and my girls are in Port charming the workers to our will as we speak. The Frontier’s coin comes from the goods they ship to the Nightshade and my pet king.”
Hearing that caused Herald to turn and try to peek into the room. He inched his head up and found just enough parting in the curtains to see inside. There was a table, and down its length were the remains of what must have been a healthy feast. At the head of the board, sitting in a throne-like chair, was a man wearing the uniform of a kingdom commander, and sitting in his lap was the witch Ankha Vira.
Herald immediately dropped back down beside Linux. “She’s here, druid. Get a spell ready. We have surprise on our side. You can zap her right through the window.”
“Let me see.” Linux turned and looked for himself. “We don’t know where the baby is yet.”
Herald popped up beside him, and, like two adolescent boys, they jostled for a view.
“The wall is but a symbol, my handsome man,” Ankha Vira’s hands were roaming the commander’s chest now. His eyes were half-lidded, and he looked to be deep in his cups. “What purpose does the barrier serve now?”
“None, since the Dragoneers rid the land of its vermin,” he responded.
“Mighty Garrin Fedran, Lord of the Mainland, right hand to King Jericho. How does that sound, dear?” She was practically purring into his ear.
“Much better than Commander Fedran of King Richard’s forgotten lands.”
“Then get your men in position to march through the Midwal gate. They will ride in the darkness to Three Forks and attack with the first light of day. You’ve only a few days to manage this, love. Can you do it?”
“But what of Outwal?” the commander asked as he nodded that he could.
“The men of Port will take care of the ones my girls don’t sway first.” She kissed his ear and Linux slid back down. Herald waited only a moment to join him.
“They are planning to wage war against the people of the Frontier,” said Linux. “I have to warn Zahre—”
Herald would have asked Linux what he was trying to say, but both of them were suddenly gagged. Herald tried to pull whatever had covered his mouth away from his face, but sparkling yellow ropes formed of ma
gical energy had snaked around his wrists and ankles, too. A witch stepped up out of the darkness and clucked at them. On either side of her was some sort of dog-sized insect-looking thing. Her hellish creatures had amber, glowing eyes and looked like they could rip a man to shreds in a matter of seconds.
Herald didn’t even think of trying to escape. If he’d had britches on, he’d have been worried about shitting them.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Linux said the bitch was there, but they never saw or heard where Jericho was,” Zahrellion said. Her cool was quickly evaporating. She wasn’t sure how she’d kept it together this long. Knowing Jericho was in the hands of that witch was maddening at best. Her only hope was that Ankha Vira wanted to keep him alive, not kill him. “They don’t know where they are being taken, but at least Linux can communicate with me.”
The two Dragoneers were sitting at a map table in the Midwal keep the Coven Wisteria had been using. A pair of oil lanterns hung on ensconced hooks, and the musty smell of some old brew was in the air. It was a crowded space, but no one seemed to notice. There was too much else going on.
Rikky had eaten most of the food brought to them, but Zahrellion couldn’t muster an appetite. Only after she indicated that she wasn’t going to finish off the remaining stuff did he wolf it down.
The dragons had fed and were now resting. They would be ready to fly at a moment’s notice. Crystal was only resting so that she could better manifest her anger later. If she’d had her way, they would be glacializing the peninsula one building at a time until Prince Jericho was safe. Zah wasn’t sure why she wasn’t as eager, but her reservations were fading. The witches wouldn’t hurt the baby physically, not if they intended to use him, or ransom him, but they could do terrible mental damage.
Zahrellion had Keepers riding all over the mainland to round up men willing to help them. Before holing into his Kingston palace, King Richard had proclaimed quite clearly to all that Zahrellion commanded nothing on his side of the wall. This made it hard to gather support, and even harder to get information. Luckily, the Frontier was ripe with resources, and Jericho’s coffers were full. Her men had to use coins to buy whatever information they could. No one, however, knew where baby Jericho had been taken. That meant Zahrellion couldn’t act with any measure of confidence.
The best map of the Frontier, unrolled over the sectional maps, was old and didn’t have any of the sprouting, smaller villages marked on it. It wasn’t helping. All it did was serve to remind Zah how far away her son could be by now. She didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t get him back. First she’d lost Jenka, then Aikira, and now her son. It was all too much to take.
“I need to get Herald before something happens to him,” Rikky said. “I have a bad feeling about it. I’d bet my last copper that Jericho is there somewhere. Linux said it himself. The witches hold the harbor, and whoever holds the harbor holds the city. It is the safest place for them to keep him.”
“Rikky, these are witches, not sensible people.” The harsh snap of Zahrellion’s voice made Rikky blanch, and she quickly softened her tone. She’d already caused Aikira to run off with her unrestrained mouth.
Oh, how she wanted her best friend back.
Rikky was dearest to her, but he wasn’t a girl and couldn’t understand much. She’d taken for granted Aikira’s kindness and abused her position, if only subtly, but that was enough. She’d been wrong, and she didn’t dare hurt another friend, especially brave little Rikky who would willingly lay down his life for her.
“You are probably right, but they could have—most likely do have—another place of gathering. No one can so much as say when and where they started. They’ve more numbers than I could imagine.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Rikky said. “When I was seeing Rosalia in Farwal, she commented once on how sad all the fatherless children must be. A whole bunch of kingdom men died fighting Gravelbone and his hordes, then that other thing nearly destroyed the Outlands. There are hundreds and hundreds of wives and mothers left without.”
“A roof and warm food would have brought most of them right into the fold,” Zahrellion agreed. “None of this speculation is helping us find him, though, Rikky!”
“I know.” Rikky reached over and gave her a sincere hug. “I have to go get Herald, Zah. If Jericho is there, I will bring him back to you.”
“I’m going with you.” She hugged him back. “I have a feeling you are right. Jericho will most likely be wherever they are taking Herald and Linux.”
“That’s the Zahrellion I know,” said Rikky. “Let’s go get your son.”
***
Even bound by magical ropes and bouncing along beside Herald in a cart, Linux felt a bit more at ease with his life than he had before Rikky spotted him in the streets of Mainsted. He wasn’t a bad person, didn’t ever intend to be one. In fact, he could argue that if it weren’t for him, the Dragoneers would have never been.
Linux was the one who helped Zahrellion find the other Dragoneers and warn King Blanchard of Gravelbone’s attack. He had done many things that could, in his mind, justify killing Rolph. The man’s life hadn’t been wasted at all. But Linux was also the one who’d chosen the people Richard tortured and killed. He hadn’t had much choice, but he could have fled sooner than he did. Knowing what Richard was about gave him another chance at redemption.
Zahrellion had to know about the boy’s sick atrocities. Something had to be done. To him, this witchy mess was just an obstacle to overcome. He’d seen Zahrellion angry. He had been her mentor and had trained and taught her to use the Dour. He didn’t think these witches understood what they were dealing with. He didn’t think the upstart coven had half a chance, at least until they got where they were going. Then something happened that changed his perception completely.
The wagon came to a jostling halt and the blanket that had been covering them was thrown off. Herald’s robe had ridden up his body, and he was as exposed as he was angry at the way they were being treated. They were forced to sit up, hands behind their backs, feet dangling from the rear of the wagon as if it were a bench.
They were near an open barn. Torches were staked into the earth on either side of them, but their wavering orange illumination revealed very little. They could have been anywhere, but Linux could smell the brine and knew they were near the sea. One of the men there used the tip of his sword to get Herald’s robe back over his knees, but a high-pitched wail resounded and everyone fled the scene as if death himself was coming.
There were a few moments of ruffling and then the decided thump of something large stepping near.
“Linux, you disappoint me,” said a voice that froze Linux’s heart.
It was King Richard striding into the light. The Nightshade was rising up behind him menacingly, its cherry eyes showing its restrained eagerness to strike if ordered to do so.
“You disappoint me, you fargin’ rotten excuse for a shit sack!” The vehemence with which Herald spoke was as surprising as finding Richard mixed up in all this madness. “Mysterian loved you, raised you to be good, and you broke her heart.”
“Mysterian is dead, old man!” Richard shot back. “She was no different than any other witch. You would kill Ankha for taking my nephew from his mother, yet you loved that old whore after she took Jenka from his.”
King Richard looked every bit the dark, nasty ruler he’d become, with dull black armor and a wicked-looking jagged-edged blade. His eyes were a shade blacker than the deep circles under them, and his complexion was pale. He spat between them and then stepped up so he could look Herald in the eye. “Out of respect for your reputation and years of service to my father, I will not prolong your death.” With that, he backhanded Linux off of the wagon and walked away.
Linux watched helplessly as the Nightshade snaked its sinuous neck down and snapped Herald into its jaws.
Herald struggled, but the magical binds holding him wouldn’t let him break free. He didn’t make a sound as h
e was crushed, chewed, and swallowed in one sloppy gulp.
Linux couldn’t keep from vomiting, but emptying his stomach wasn’t so much caused by the gore of an old friend’s terrible death. It was more because vile King Richard had spoken the truth of it.
He, Mysterian, and Vax Noffa had decided the fate of Richard and Jenka and a hundred others with no concern for who it hurt. Now someone else was trying to do the same thing with another prince.
Half-expecting the Nightshade to eat him next, he did one of the hardest things he had ever done. Through the druidic link he’d established with Zahrellion, he told her of Herald’s fate and Richard’s involvement. It was all he could do, for he still didn’t know where he was, much less where the baby had been taken.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zahrellion knew she couldn’t catch Rikky now. Not only was it so dark and cloudy that they couldn’t see more than a few hundred yards ahead of them, but Silva was far too fast for Crystal to keep pace with. They were speeding in a blind rage toward Mainsted. Zahrellion had been following them, pleading with them to stand down and think before rushing in, but once she’d told Rikky of Herald’s death, the boy’s eyes narrowed and he became something that frightened her.
She’d never seen the expression, but Jenka had, and he’d tried to explain it to her once while they made small talk from their pillows. Jenka had said that once Rikky decided he was going to kill Gravelbone, he became something else.
“Not actually something else?” she’d asked.
“No, my love. He just stops being aloof little Rikky and becomes a force of determination not to be reckoned with. Sort of like when he first lost his leg. He had a peg leg fitted while it was all still raw and tender.”
Rikky was like that now, and no matter how hard Zahrellion pleaded with him in the ethereal, he refused to respond. She doubted he was even listening to her anymore. Silva wasn’t responding, either, not even to Crystal, which had never happened before. Zahrellion wasn’t sure if he’d heard that Ankha Vira and her witches weren’t who killed Herald. She didn’t get to finish telling him the whole of what Linux had told her. She wasn’t sure if he understood that this meant war had been declared against them, and she was going to have to return to Three Forks and rally what people and troops she could muster to fight. All she could hope was that he didn’t run off and get himself or Jericho killed.
The Emerald Rider (Book Four of the Dragoneer Saga) Page 12