by Krista Walsh
A disturbing theory, but it fit with what Jeff knew of the sorcerer.
“And look.” Brady ran his finger along a shiny substance on a corpse’s arm, giving it a sniff.
Jeff stuck out his tongue in disgust.
“Oil. Why would Raul use an accelerant? He could have summoned his cougar pets to strip them to the bone.”
Another valid observation.
“This reeks of human involvement. Someone else has been here.” The scholar stood up, wiping his hand on his jeans. Jeff made a mental note not to take them back home with him. “The only other question I have is where is the blood? Did you see any inside?”
Jayden shook his head. “Everything’s spotless in there. Not even a dust speck.”
“Not even any around the heap. These men were drained.”
“Just like …” Jeff started, unable to finish. Terise Taven, one woman among fourteen others, had been killed the same way, throat cut and drained of blood to fuel Raul’s magic.
Brady nodded. “It’s likely. He promised these men power. He just didn’t tell them the power was for him.”
Jayden grabbed up a fallen branch and hurled it towards the heap with a cry of rage. “It’s starting all over again! We’re running out of time.”
Brady watched him. “It isn’t over yet. The queen’s men rode out before us this morning. Could be they’ve found him by now. If not, we’ll gather our own men back at the Keep. Let’s have a look around, maybe there’s a clue as to where he’s going next.”
They split up to wander the inside and outside of the Retreat. Jeff took upstairs, poking his head into each room, pawing through every item of furniture to see if anything was left behind. He didn’t find anything of value except a few items the executives had brought with them. Watches, keys to expensive cars, wallets stuffed with cash. Jeff was tempted to swipe it all, but just because they chose the wrong side didn’t mean they deserved to be robbed. And he didn’t like the thought of being a graverobber.
What really stopped him was the wallet he found in the last guy’s room, filled with pictures of his two curly-haired children and his wife. With a slow sigh, he threw the wallet back in the drawer and stretched his arms out against the dresser. What sort of closure would that man’s family get now? What had the man told them that morning when he left for work? Likely, they would never know the truth. They’d never find any trace of him.
Anger bubbled in Jeff’s blood, directed at Raul with the power of a bone-deep hatred. These men made their choice, but Raul led the way. They had to find him, and when they did, Jeff would have a great deal of fun jabbing him with sharp pins until they decided how to kill him.
If he were planning to stay and help.
Jeff straightened up and returned downstairs just in time to hear Darcy yell, “Over here!”
Of course the knight in shining armour had to be the one to find something. It couldn’t have happened any other way.
They plodded over to the high grass where he stood, pointing down at the ground.
“Tracks,” he said. “It’s not much, but I’d guess about four horses rode out from here.”
“Four?” Jeff asked. “He killed everyone he brought with him. Who are the other three?”
“His people met him here,” Cassie spoke up. Jeff looked at her, but she avoided eye contact, focused on the tracks.
“Must be,” Brady agreed. “The ones who brought him back here.”
Jayden growled again. “We’re one step closer to failure if he’s reunited with his followers. We need to get home and send our people out.” He knelt down and moved the long grass out of the way to see the tracks more clearly. “Headed east. Where the hell are they going?”
“I don’t know,” said Darcy, “but it looks like our road follows theirs.”
“Get the horses,” Jayden ordered. “We’ll follow the path. It looks like he stayed off the road.”
Michael whistled and a few minutes later, Harold appeared over the hill, all seven horses trailing along behind him.
“What about the bodies?” Cassie asked, looking back at the pile. “We can’t just leave them here.”
Michael and Jayden exchanged a glance.
“Burn ‘em again,” Michael finally said. “We don’t got time to bury ‘em, and at least fire shows a bit more respect than leaving ‘em to rot there in the grass.”
Jeff, Brady, and Darcy collected up a bunch of branches and threw them around the victims of Raul’s mindgames, while Cassie added armfuls of leaves. It only took a few minutes, and when Jeff set the fire with a flint from his pack, the heap was consumed almost instantly, the branches dried out from a hot season, the body parts just as dry and withered with the lack of blood and previous charring. This time they made sure the results would be effective. Heavy black smoke billowed upwards, and the group rode away quickly to escape the smell.
They kept going until the sun sank below the horizon, and started again as soon as the early rays peeked up above it. The tracks of Raul’s passage continued on well into the second day until they reached the packed-dirt road.
“What say you?” Michael asked. “Assume he took the main road somewhere past Feldall?”
“And hope he didn’t stop in to say hello,” replied Jayden, his expression dark.
By the third day, they were tired of the road, and the supplies had started to dwindle. They kept their eyes open for something to hunt, but the closer they got to Feldall, the less choice meat they could find. With the woods destroyed, most of the wildlife had fled to greener pastures.
On the other hand, they also didn’t need to worry about any more surprise attacks from Raul’s menagerie, which made Jeff’s hunger easier to accept.
“The Queen’s Head Inn should be coming up soon,” Michael said, his stomach rumbling over his words. “If we press on a little farther tonight, we should make it before it’s too late. Have some good ale for a change.”
“Seasoned soldier like yourself?” asked Jayden. “I’d have thought you’d be used to a longer campaign.”
Michael rolled his shoulder. “Not as young as I once was. I can do it if I have to, but when opportunity presents for a good night’s rest, I take it.”
Darcy nodded. “I don’t know about you, Lady Murphy, but these tree roots are not doing me any favours.”
Cassie smiled, the most joy she’d expressed since they came across those bodies. “I don’t know how many more times I need to tell you: I’m not a Lady. Just a Miss.”
“For now, Miss Murphy.” He gave her a wink, and she giggled in a way that made Jeff’s new green-eyed demon snarl.
“A good meal and a full night’s sleep sounds great,” Brady cut in. Jeff cast him an appreciative glance.
“It’s settled then,” said Jayden. “Keep your eye out for the sign.”
“I don’t think we should stay there.”
The group went silent and swivelled around in their saddles to stare at Harold. The man appeared unperturbed by the sudden attention.
“Why not, man?” Michael asked, astounded. “After two nights on the road, wouldn’t you like to sleep without worrying the sky will fall on your head?”
“Rumours have been coming out of that area. I’m not supposed to speak of them.” Harold’s chin rose. “They were told in confidence.”
The group stopped, the riders coming back to surround him. “Don’t pull that shit with me. You expect us to turn down a good meal, it better be for a damned better reason than ‘we’ve heard things’. Spit it out.”
Harold stared for a moment. His fingers tapped against the reins, before he said, “Conspiracies. Against the crown.”
“In the Queen’s Head?” Michael spat. “I’ve known the man who runs that place for nigh on three decades. Ain’t a traitorous bone in his body.”
“That may be, Captain, but his loyalties don’t guarantee that of his patrons. The first counsellor has ears everywhere. There’s talk of someone trying to overthrow the queen.”
As the gasps circulated in the group, Harold turned even whiter than he was before. Jeff guessed that his lack of discretion would earn him a sharp tongue-lash from Basten when he returned to the palace. Still, it was better they knew.
“Maybe we should stay away then,” he suggested. “Better we not get involved at this point. Don’t we have enough going on?”
“Even if there is some talk, doesn’t mean anyone would know who we were,” said Jayden.
Brady’s eyebrow quirked. “Dressed as we are? We may as well have boards around our necks advertising our situation to the masses.”
Jayden looked down at his jeans and cursed. “I’d forgotten about that.”
Darcy shook his head. “I don’t see that it matters. We’re there for one night, we make sure to have someone stand guard so we’re not disturbed. Father’s right, the owner there is an old friend. I’m sure he could find us rooms out of the way. I think we should go for it.”
“It’s worth a try anyway,” Michael said. “We need something to eat at the very least.”
Jeff looked to Brady, and the scholar shrugged. “I’m willing to take the chance.”
Jayden clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “So it’s decided then?”
All gazes shifted back to Harold, whose morose expression deepened. “I gave you my warning. If you choose not to heed it, the fault is on your shoulders. I choose to sleep in the stables where I can get away quickly if it comes to it.”
“Man sure does spend a lot of time with his horse,” Jayden noted under his breath as he rode back to the front of the line. Jeff snickered under his breath and guided Allegria after his friend.
Decision made, Michael led them a few hours longer to a small two-storey cottage at a crossroads. Straight would take them on to Feldall, left to the ruins of Cordelay.
They waited outside while Michael went to inquire after some rooms, and he came out a few minutes later with a grin. “Easier than expected. Seems they’ve hit a bit of a quiet patch. Got us a couple of rooms, and the innkeep promises a hearty venison stew, fresh made today.”
Inside, the common room was almost empty, only two tables occupied by rough-looking travel-worn men. They hardly paid the newcomers any mind as the group spread out around the large bench table.
After they devoured their meals, Cassie excused herself to go to bed, her eyelids too heavy to stay open even as she shuffled up the stairs.
“So we reach the Keep by tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” Michael said as the third round of ale made its way around the group. “Any plans from there?”
“See if my sister’s heard anything while we were gone. We should ask around here, as well. Maybe some of them have heard if Raul’s been sighted in the area.”
Darcy glanced over at one table where the men were playing a game of cards. “I’m on it. Could use a good gamble.” He grabbed up his tankard and rose to his feet with only the slightest waver. Plodding over to the card players, he asked if they could use a third. One of the men kicked out a chair, and Darcy was in.
“At this point we can only hope for news,” said Jayden.
Brady agreed. “If Raul makes up his mind to disappear until he’s ready, we might stand no chance of finding him. We would have missed him last time too if Jeff hadn’t given away he was to be the villain of the story.”
Jeff took a deep swallow of alcohol. “Wish I could be more help this time around. At the moment, though, I think all I’m good for is to crash into a bed not made of rocks.”
“That sounds like a mighty good plan,” said Michael. “I think I’ll do the same.”
He dropped a hand under Jeff’s elbow and helped him to his feet. “C’mon, lad, let’s get you up those stairs.”
The room swam in Jeff’s vision and he leaned heavily on Michael’s arm as they went up. At the top of the stairs, Michael pushed him into a room and he faceplanted onto the bed. He didn’t even bother to kick off his shoes before he pulled the comforter half over him and fluffed his pillow under his cheek.
The darkness of the room met the darkness of his mind as fatigue washed over him. His limbs floated with sleepiness and alcohol, and he burrowed deeper into the warmth of the rough mattress.
Until the edge of a cold blade touched his throat.
Chapter Ten
Jeff felt pressure on his throat, but the pain didn’t come right away. Heart hammering against his ribs, he froze against the sheets, his muscles weak and heavy with booze and exhaustion. A dark shadow beside him heaved itself onto his back to keep him still, and the force of its landing pressed the air out of Jeff’s lungs. He tried to scream, but with his face pressed into the mattress, only a muffled sound came out.
He wriggled to dislodge the shadow, refusing to give his attacker free access to his neck. The knife dug in, but the edge had turned aside, the flat of the blade now warm on his skin.
Panic danced as spots in his eyes. The shadow was strong, and he couldn’t clear his thoughts enough to fight back.
Fingers grabbed for his hair, jerking back his head. The other hand twisted the edge of the blade back into place. Jeff managed to let out one scream before the edge stroked his throat.
The feel of the blade slicing through his skin gave him the shot of adrenaline he needed, and he fought against the weight on his back.
A giggle in his ear. Female.
The blade returned and pressed harder, this swipe going for the kill. He couldn’t give her the chance. With the will to survive stronger than his lack of skill, Jeff flailed beneath her, rocked back and forth to knock her off balance and get his knees up underneath him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut in case her blade struck home in the struggle. Her hands moved around his neck to keep hold, but Jeff bucked her off, turning his body limb by limb until she straddled him.
In the dim light, her face remained only shadow, but the knife reflected the firelight. He reached up to grab her wrists—so tiny in his large hands for one so strong—as the knife came down towards him.
He saw a flash of teeth as she pulled her lip back in a sneer.
Trying to find leverage on the bed to shove her off, he shifted his focus from the blade for a single moment, but it was long enough for her to angle it so it brushed his cheek, swiping from cheekbone to jaw.
It felt like fire, and he cried out. He scrambled his feet against the sheets and was just about to try to roll them both off the bed when he heard a dull whump and a grunt. The blade nicked his ear as it fell, and her weight on top of him went slack, her head falling onto his chest. He gasped for breath, felt the blood ooze from the gash in his cheek and the slice on his throat.
Using what strength he had left in his shaking arms, he pushed the unconscious woman off and heard her land with a thump on the floor. Air flooded back into Jeff’s lungs, and he sat up, sucking in deep breaths. His saviour tore a strip off his sheet and pressed it against Jeff’s throat to stop the bleeding. Jeff blinked hard and opened his eyes to take in the form of the man in front of him.
Familiar even in the darkness.
Harold?
“I saw someone sneak in the back door of the Inn, so I thought I should follow. Sorry it took me so long to find her.”
“Thanks … for … trying,” Jeff wheezed.
Harold went to the bedside table and lit a couple of candles, lighting the room enough for Jeff to see the blood on his bed. His stomach turned, and he bent his head down to focus on staying conscious.
“Sit over here. I’ll take a look.” Harold pulled a chair closer to the candles. Jeff shuffled into it and dropped down when his legs could no longer carry him.
Harold pulled away the cloth and grimaced, causing Jeff’s shoulders to tense. The man noticed and shook his head. “It doesn’t look nice. Neither does your cheek. But it’s not too bad. Wait here. I have an injury kit in my pack.”
Jeff rolled his eyes down to the woman on the floor, her breathing obvious in the candlelight. Not dead, then.
�
�I’ll try and get one of the soldiers to bind her. If they’re sober enough.”
Harold gave the cloth back to Jeff, and Jeff kept his eyes glued to the assassin, expecting every moment that she’d jump up and try to finish the job.
Although he had no idea what job it was she was trying to finish. Had she been sent by Raul? Part of this mystery conspiracy?
She lay on her side, dressed head to foot in what used to be black, but had faded over time to a worn grey. The leather ankle boots were scuffed and dusty; her tunic was torn, showing another layer underneath. He caught a glimpse of a knife sheath in one boot, three on her belt, and could only imagine what bulk she was trying to hide with the extra shirt.
From here she looked young, early twenties, if that. Her skin was weathered and tanned, but far from a healthy glow. A long hooked nose stood out against the softer features on her face and created an intimidating image even while unconscious. Her black hair, chopped short around her ears, was as dusty as her clothing, plastered against her skull with grease.
Nope, he had never seen her before.
Michael appeared in the doorway. “Mercy, boy, I send you to bed and you almost get killed. You have this kinda luck all the time?”
“Yes,” Jeff managed to say, cringing against the pain of flexing muscles in his cheek.
Cassie appeared behind Michael and rushed into the room, stepping over the woman. “My god! Jeff, are you okay?”
She knelt by his chair and slid her fingers into his. He wanted to say he’d never felt better than he did at that moment, but shock had set in and he could do nothing but clench his teeth to keep them from chattering.
“Who is she?” she asked, watching as Michael used his boot to push the woman onto her back.
As the shadows shifted on her face, Jeff had a brief moment of recognition, but before he could place her, it flittered away. He shook his head in reply to Cassie’s question.
She rested her forehead against his and ran her fingers lightly over his hair.
“Better question is, what’d you want to do with her now?” Michael asked, staring down with his arms crossed. “’Spose we should turn her over to the Glenbury authorities, let them try to figure out who she is.”