Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1)

by Stacy Bennett

  By the time they reached the palace’s outer wall, it was full night, and Archer was starving. The open gate welcomed them, and Khoury nodded to the silent guards as they passed.

  Farther on was a secondary gate set into a tall hedgerow and beyond that squatted the palace. It wasn’t as pretty as the main gate and outlying buildings, but much more practical in a siege with thick granite walls and armored portals. Six guards flanked the entrance, alert but motionless. Surrounding the castle were gardens and fountains and more guards.

  Khoury followed the road straight to the steps of the palace. There, stableboys rushed out to hold the reins of his horse as Khoury dismounted. Archer followed suit, and the two of them approached the stair guards while Cara, Falin, and Bradan remained mounted.

  “Tell Baron Wallace that Captain Mason Khoury needs to speak with him,” Khoury said to the nearest guard.

  “Your business?”

  “A private matter but of some urgency.” Khoury’s voice had returned to the clipped aggressive tones Archer was used to.

  “He will want to speak with us,” Archer added as Khoury turned away from the guard, effectively dismissing the man.

  The guard eyed them dubiously then turned and climbed the steps.

  “We should be safe enough in here tonight,” Khoury murmured to Archer, his eyes resting on Cara.

  “Safer than the road.” Archer noted Khoury’s tension as he scanned the walls and courtyards, but his gaze always came back to Cara. “You think it will begin here?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  The guard returned, cutting off further conversation. “Baron Wallace sends greetings, Captain Khoury. Please accept his hospitality. This way.”

  Khoury gestured for Archer to get the others and began up the stairs.

  Archer returned to the group. “We stay here tonight.”

  With grateful sighs, Cara and Bradan slid wearily out of their saddles, grabbed their packs and followed Khoury up the stairs. But Falin stood frozen, her gelding’s reins in a tight fist and her eyes on the castle.

  “You coming?” Archer asked.

  “Not…tonight,” she muttered, staring past him at the massive stone walls. “Someone should stay here. Keep an eye on the horses.”

  There was no need for that, and he suspected she knew it. Still, he’d never seen her hesitate before. “Falin…”

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, her eyes daring him to contradict.

  “Until morning then.”

  She turned without a backward glance and followed the stableboys. Then, Archer hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time to catch up with Khoury near the top.

  “The Huntress?” Khoury asked.

  “Said she’s staying with the horses tonight.”

  “What?”

  Archer could only shrug, and the captain sniffed with annoyance. Then he took Cara’s elbow and led them into the palace. The guard led the four travelers to a small library off the main hall where Khoury paced. Cara, however, seemed delighted as she and Bradan browsed the leather bound treasures. Half an hour later, the doors opened to admit a slight gray-haired man Archer recognized as Wallace’s right-hand man, Malcolm Cade.

  “Captain Khoury.” Wallace’s advisor shook hands with the captain.

  “Cade, you’re looking well,” Khoury said, formally.

  Then Cade noticed Archer and smiled. “Reid! Still on this old badger’s payroll, I see.”

  “Someone has to keep him out of trouble.”

  “Indeed,” Cade said, then his eyes fell on Cara, “though I think you brought the trouble with you.” The older man slid up to her and took her hand in both of his. “Since when does Captain Khoury travel in the company of beautiful women?”

  Khoury took her hand from Cade’s and tucked it possessively into his elbow. “Lady Cara, may I introduce Baron Wallace’s chief advisor, Malcolm Cade.”

  “My…uh lord,” Cara replied with an awkward blush.

  “And Chieftain Bradan.” Khoury gestured to the Northerner.

  “Welcome,” Cade said with a smooth smile for all. “Any friend of the captain’s is a friend of ours. I hope you enjoy your stay here.”

  “So, how is Wallace these days?” Archer asked.

  “He is in good health, thank you. Iolair has its share of problems but nothing major. He’s currently indisposed but will want to see you for a late dinner. Let me show you your rooms where you can wash off the road.”

  “Excellent.” Khoury grinned and patted Cara’s hand.

  “The food here is very good,” Archer whispered to Bradan.

  “As long as it isn’t squirrel,” the shaman said.

  “This way.” Cade gestured for them to follow and then swooped from the room as quickly as he had entered it.

  CARA WAS AS enthralled by the inner castle as she had been by the outer gates. She let Khoury guide her as she took in every detail. Haughty portraits of Iolair’s departed rulers glared down at them while bleached stone busts stared at her from unexpected corners. She marveled at the thick carpets and jeweled tapestries, their warm colors vivid in the generosity of torches that lined the corridors. Cade led them to rooms in the eastern wing on the second floor where two doors opened off each side of a long hallway.

  In her room, a hot bath waited in front of the blazing fireplace. She hastily stripped off her worn dress and slid her tired body into the steaming tub. Luxuriating in the scented water, her thoughts drifted back to the lake, and Khoury. And she frowned. The bold temptress who’d thrown herself at the captain that night had disappeared and she’d taken the ability to contain the power with her. The next morning’s kiss had brought visions of the same lovely woman, only screaming and bloody. He’d warned her that his first love was dead, but she hadn’t bargained on the violence.

  Cara slid beneath the water to wash away the vision. At least he’d taken it well; his affection hadn’t wavered. But Cara felt his wariness.

  How could she blame him? If only she could control her power. She angrily bumped her head back against the side of the tub. From that angle, she noticed a bar of soap, a comb, and a pitcher waiting on a stool next to the tub. Scowling, Cara lathered herself head to toe with the gritty soap, scrubbing her skin until it glowed. Then she combed her thick pale locks until her arms ached and the comb held enough hair to weave a shirt. She had just noticed the soft towel warming by the mantle when someone knocked.

  Probably Khoury coming to tell me to hurry up, she thought. “Come in,” she said, but when the door opened, a mousy woman entered. Cara splashed water everywhere in her hurry to cover herself.

  The woman bowed. “I am Nadja,” she said, her eyes never leaving the floor.

  “Who?”

  “Your maid.”

  “My what?” Cara was confused.

  “I’m here to get you dressed for dinner, my lady.”

  How ridiculous, Cara thought. She didn’t need help dressing. “My clothes are right there on the floor. You can go.”

  Nadja clucked disapprovingly and grabbed the towel from the mantle. “You can’t dine with the baron in those.” She held up the warm towel, turning her eyes away as Cara stepped from the cooling water. “Baron Wallace has instructed me to dress you appropriately, my lady. If you will just accompany me to the next chamber, we will find a gown that fits.”

  Cara nodded meekly and followed her through the door, not knowing what to expect. After half an hour, Cara was dressed in a tight-bodiced gown of deep-sea blue with a gauzy over tunic of pale blue that matched her eyes and, at Cara’s insistence, small white linen gloves. Then Nadja turned her attention to Cara’s long hair, lifting it to the top of her head.

  “My lady, what happened?” Nadja’s face was ashen as she stared at Cara’s neck.

  “What?”

  “I’d swear someone cut your head off.” Nadja’s finger lightly traced Cara’s scar, which apparently completely encircled her neck.

  Cara forced a laugh. “Nothing so extre
me.” Still, her cheeks blazed with embarrassment.

  Nadja stared at her a moment longer then, as if she understood , said, “I won’t mention it again.” She scurried off to an adjoining room, returning in moments with a large necklace bibbed with tiny clusters of gold disks that covered the scar completely. Finally, Nadja braided and twisted Cara’s hair into a complicated style that left little of it below her ears.

  Cara felt naked as she followed the maid through the twisting halls, the necklace jingling slightly. They approached a pair of wooden doors that opened on silent hinges for them and Nadja stopped, motioning for Cara to enter alone.

  Timidly, Cara ventured through the doorway and heard it shut behind her as she stood with her mouth agape. The dining room was even more luxurious than the bedrooms. Fires blazed in two hearths and the stone floors were covered in thick rugs. Tapestries hung on every wall. The chairs even had cushions on them. She took a step forward, trying to take it all in at once.

  “Welcome,” Cade’s voice boomed against the stones, making Cara jump. She hadn’t noticed the men at the long table in the center of the room. Cade stood to one side. Bradan and Archer were seated, the younger man with his feet up on another chair. Archer grinned and lifted his flagon to her in salute. Across from them was Khoury staring at her, his ale frozen halfway to the table. Then he pushed his chair back and stood up, clumsily sloshing the ale on his hand.

  “Cara, you look…beautiful.” A hungry look crept into his eyes as his gaze swept over her.

  “Thank you,” she said, blushing.

  He put down his drink and offered her the chair next to him. Before she could take her seat, however, a side door opened. Archer jumped to his feet and Bradan rose. Even Cade stood straighter as a well-dressed man with a hurried frown strode into the room.

  “Hello all,” he crowed. Cara had expected him to be old like Cade, but he was younger than Khoury, with tousled caramel hair and roguish eyes full of mischief.

  “Baron.” Khoury bowed his head. Archer, Bradan, and Cade bowed as well. Cara simply stared, drawing the baron’s attention. His mouth quirked at her appraisal.

  “Mason, you didn’t tell me you were bringing friends.” The baron’s eyes never left Cara. She felt exposed in the low-cut dress.

  “I believe I neglected to tell you we were visiting at all, Your Highness.” The title fell easily from his lips, but Cara heard amusement in his voice.

  “Indeed.” Wallace chuckled.

  He looked over at Archer. “Reid, good to see you. I hear the giants have been causing trouble up your way again.”

  “You are well-informed as always,” Archer said.

  “Your family is faring well, I hope?”

  “Well enough,” Archer murmured, looking at Bradan.

  Khoury cleared his throat. “Wallace, this is the Chieftain of Archer’s Clan, Bradan O’Mara.”

  “My lord,” Wallace said, “well met. My sympathies for your troubles.”

  “The Spirits smile on you, Baron Wallace.” Bradan’s deep voice rumbled with formality. “Your concern is appreciated.”

  “What brings you so far from home?”

  “A request, Baron. However, I think it best the captain tell you the tale,” Bradan said.

  “The giant attack is related to why we’re here,” Khoury said.

  “As usual, you get right to business, Mason. But I, for one, am famished so we’ll eat first and then you can tell me what favor you think I owe you,” the baron said loftily. “And besides, you’re being rude, Captain. You’ve neglected to introduce me to your lady.” The baron came around to stand next to Cara who found his brashness strangely charming.

  “This is Lady Cara. Cara, Baron Jacob Wallace of Iolair.”

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Charmed.” Wallace took her hand and placed a light kiss across her knuckles. He met her eyes with a predatory look, then flashed a quick smile and moved to the head of the table. “Now, let’s eat.” No sooner had he plopped heavily into his chair than servants entered through a door set behind a long tapestry. They brought steaming platters of food and not even the abundance of the Bear Clan could match the baron’s table. It was all she could do not to gorge herself as the conversation turned to small talk, primarily led by Cade.

  When the baron pushed his own plate away and settled back in his chair with a frothy ale in hand, the other men did likewise, and servants appeared to clear the plates.

  “So Khoury,” the baron began, “I hope you realize that waging war against giants is not in Iolair’s best interests.”

  Khoury cleared his throat and smiled. “That’s not at all why we’ve come, Wallace.”

  “It isn’t?” Confusion blossomed on Wallace’s face. His courtly manner faltered, making him seem younger still.

  “No.” Khoury looked down into his ale in thought. “Rumor has it you’ve a Far Isles sorcerer in your court.”

  The baron stopped mid sip and put his pint down. He wiped his mouth and regarded Khoury with wary eyes. “Rumors are dodgy things.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Perhaps.”

  Cara thought it was much like a sparring match without swords. But Khoury was losing patience.

  “Come on, Jake,” he said roughly. “I realize you like to keep your secrets, but you can trust me.”

  Wallace paused and glanced at Cade, then said, “I admit I owe you much, Khoury. And you and yours have always been faithful. But what do I know of your visitors?”

  Archer snorted and leaned toward Khoury, rolling his eyes. “Do you believe this, Captain? Give the man a nice house and suddenly he’s as suspicious as a Barakani lord.”

  Cade bristled with the insult. “Iolair is in a very precarious position, gentlemen.”

  Wallace held up a hand to silence his advisor. “It’s okay, Cade.” He leaned toward Archer. “Not suspicious, Reid, just cautious. You’d be surprised how much simpler battles are compared to intrigue.”

  “You finally understand why I’m only a captain,” Khoury said. “As for our companions, the lady and the chieftain are part of this. What we really need is information. From your sorcerer.”

  “Ah,” the baron said, shaking his head vigorously. “Then the answer must be no. Do you know how hard it is to keep a Far Islander? They value anonymity above gold, if you can believe that. If they think you’re hiring them out to friends, they scurry back to their little mountain island never to be heard from again. I’m sorry, Khoury, but I can’t afford to let you scare mine away.”

  Khoury met his gaze evenly. “Then I don’t believe you’ll be able to help us after all. That’s really too bad because I liked working with you.”

  “Wait. What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Khoury said dismissively.

  “Yeah,” Archer chimed in. “You don’t want to get involved and the less you know the better.”

  Were Khoury and Archer deliberately trying to offend the baron? Cara wondered.

  She leaned in close to Khoury. “What are you doing?” she hissed. She thought her problems with Sidonius would end in Iolair. But if the baron didn’t help them, she would have to keep running.

  “We move on to our next best guess.” Khoury looked disappointed.

  “What?” Cara squeaked. “Where?”

  Khoury thought for a long moment. “Barakan is the most likely next choice, right Archer? It’s south of here but not too far.”

  “They’re always willing to trade,” Archer added.

  The baron leaned forward, visibly agitated. “The Captain Khoury I know would never deal with Barakan,” he hissed.

  “You leave me no choice,” Khoury said.

  “You’re bluffing, Khoury,” Wallace asserted. “I know you hate those—what did you call them—ill-gotten venomous backstabbers? Nothing could have changed that. Do you think me so easily played?”

  “I do hate Barakan, more than anything. But my sources tell me they have a Far Islander.” The mercenary shr
ugged. “If they have what I need and you’re not willing to help me then I will go there.” Khoury dabbed his napkin on his lips as if he were finished and ready to leave. Cara began to feel a little sick.

  “Wait,” Wallace said as Khoury pushed his chair back with a loud screech. “I wouldn’t want to see our working relationship suffer. You said you only need information.”

  “That’s right,” Khoury replied.

  “Perhaps if you tell me what it is you want to know, I’ll ask my sorcerer for you.”

  Khoury paused as if thinking hard, then he looked over at Archer. “I think that’ll work, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know, Khoury.” Archer frowned. “Perhaps we should just try Barakan. I wouldn’t want Wallace to lose his sorcerer because of Lady Cara.”

  “Lady Cara?” He turned to her. “What does she have to do with giants?”

  Flustered, she shrank under the weight of the baron’s scrutiny. She felt panic rise as her mind churned with Sidonius’s pursuit and what might lay to the south.

  “We’ve recently come from the Black Keep,” Khoury said into the silence. “Have you heard of it?”

  “There are rumors,” the baron said.

  “Before her rescue, Lady Cara was a prisoner there. Held by the lord of that Keep, a sorcerer called Sidonius.”

  Wait, she thought. I rescued you.

  “So who hired you to find her?” The baron settled back in his chair, sipping his ale. It was clear that Khoury’s uncharacteristic grandstanding didn’t impress him.

  “No one,” Khoury admitted.

  “Then how did you know she needed rescuing?” Cade asked with a sardonic look. Cara smiled.

  “Actually,” Archer interjected with humor, directing his comments to the baron. “Embarrassing as it is, Cara rescued us.”

  At that, the baron put down his drink and broke out laughing.

  “She rescued you?” The baron laughed heartily. “Mason Khoury saved by a woman! I’m sorry, old man, but I find that amusing.”

  Cara felt the urge to chuckle herself but one look at Khoury’s displeased expression prevented her from joining the baron. Bradan, however, had no such compassion and laughed along with the young nobleman and Archer.