The boy with the cat ventured closer. Before he was ten paces from the stairway, the cat reared up and hissed, crying out like a baby and clawing at its cage. Jonmarc waved the boy back and three men brought the bundles of dried wood and kindling. Jonmarc and the archers covered the men as they went as far down the stairs as they dared before setting the fire. They overturned the pitcher so that the oil ran down the stairs and into the shrine, and then one of the men struck flint to steel. The bundles burst into flame, and the fire roared up, as flames followed the trail of oil deeper into the shadows. Jonmarc set his jaw, forcing down old panic that triggered at the smell of burning oil as his heart thudded wildly, wanting to be anywhere but here.
Behind them, the cat yowled like a crazed thing, hissing and spitting in terror. "Get ready," Jonmarc murmured.
From the depths of the shrine came an ear-splitting wail. A blur of flame rushed toward them up the stairs.
"Fire!" Jonmarc shouted, loosing his quarrel.
Two fiery shapes burst from the shrine entrance. Jonmarc glimpsed faces contorted in agony as the flames consumed the two men and the arrows found their mark. Forced into the sunlight, the vayash morus's outlines flared. Their skin grew translucent, as if the flames glowed beneath it, and then fire shot from their eyes and mouths, rapidly cindering the two forms, which fell in a charred heap in the snow. The smell of burned flesh woke old memories, and he fought the urge to retch. Warily, Jonmarc and the Magistrate approached, but there was no movement, and as one of the men poked at the heap with his pike, it was clear that little remained beyond charred bone. "Were they the ones we sought?" the magistrate asked.
Jonmarc nodded, feeling sick. "I recognized both from the battle. If there were others who used this site, they'll keep their distance now. Let's move on."
The Magistrate led them to another site at the edge of the forest. It was clear that long ago, a substantial home stood here, although only ruins remained. By the look of it, the home had burned. Before the group could get within fifty feet of the ruined building, the cat began to throw itself against its cage, claws reaching between the bars as if it were trying to run for its life.
Jonmarc had always prided himself on not being a superstitious man. Yet as the group approached the burned foundation, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn't just a sense of vayash moru presence, Jonmarc thought. It was a shadow that even the bright sunlight did not dispel. He remembered the last time he had felt that coldness: in the presence of the Obsidian King.
"This is an evil place," the Magistrate said. "It burned a generation ago. My grandfather told me about it. Servants disappearing. Errand boys never seen again. They say the lady of the house was mad, and that she murdered the lord and then slept beside his shriveled corpse. Some said that she wanted blood to bring him back to life, but my grandfather thought she bathed in it."
Weapons ready, the group moved warily forward, leaving the crazed cat behind in its cage. They picked their way across the fallen rocks and past the remnants of walls. At the western corner of the foundations lay what remained of a private chapel. The feeling of uneasiness was oppressive here, and Jonmarc knew they had found the right place. He looked around for an opening.
"There," the Magistrate said, pointing to a cracked marble altar. Jonmarc summoned two of the village men, and together they slid the altar a few feet across the snow-covered floor. The air that rushed up from the darkness beneath smelled of decay. "Do you want the brands?"
Jonmarc shook his head. "I'd bet this goes deeper than the last one." He smiled ruefully. "I've had the privilege to sleep in quite a few places like this with Lord Gabriel's folks, under emergency circumstances." He motioned for one of the men to hand him a torch and headed down the stairs warily, crossbow ready. As he expected, the stairs went deep. As several of the other men descended, their torches lit the small antechamber at the bottom. Six other doorways opened from the main room. Pairs of men, weapons at the ready, brandished their torches as they searched, finding only the bones of the dead. Many of the skeletons were missing their skulls, Jonmarc noted; proof that they were not the first hunters to come this way.
The sixth room had a heavy wooden door. Jonmarc approached it carefully, expecting an ambush. Here below the ground, if the vayash moru could extinguish their torches, they were vulnerable in the dark. He jerked back hard on the door, and stumbled as it gave way unexpectedly. When he thrust his torch into the room, he found a comfortably appointed sitting room, filled with furniture to suit a fashionable salon. The room was empty, save for one shape on the floor curled into a fetal position. As Jonmarc held the torch aloft and his bow at the ready, a pikeman poled the shape over.
Uri lay on his side, a shiv in his back through his heart. His body was immobile, but his eyes snapped open at the intrusion, and his gaze locked on Jonmarc.
"Hold your fire!" Jonmarc commanded. "Let's get him closer to daylight-mind that you don't dislodge that shiv."
As Jonmarc kept his crossbow trained on Uri's chest, two of the village men handed off their torches and weapons to pick up the immobilized vayash moru by the shoulders and legs, moving him gingerly with their eyes fixed on the shiv sunk hilt-deep in his back and the large stain of black ichor surrounding it. They retreated until they reached the step just below where the daylight reached. The sun was now high overhead, and after the gloom of the crypt, the forest seemed glaringly bright.
"All right, Uri. Riqua bet you'd burn without too much effort, so I want to make you a very clear offer. I'm going to keep my crossbow against your chest while my friend pulls out the shiv. These two gents are going to hold you on your feet. Any move-any move at all-and I put a bolt through your chest and they let you fall into the sun. You know I'd welcome the excuse. Blink if you understand me." Uri blinked once.
"I want to know where Malesh is. Get in my way and I won't wait for Riqua to watch you burn. Are we clear?" Uri blinked.
Slowly, the Magistrate withdrew the shiv, as Jonmarc pressed the crossbow against Uri's
chest. When the blade was out, Uri remained still, although his features lost their frozen appearance.
"Talk-but don't move."
"Malesh was here. I came to confront him. I told him the attacks must end. I was right about the blood magic. It cancels out my link to him." "Where is he?"
"I don't know. I told you. I can't read him."
"I should put this bolt through you, for what you've done," Jonmarc said quietly. None of the other men around them mattered to him just then; he and Uri might as well have been alone.
"I can be of use to you." "How?"
"I do have control over most of my brood. I can feel them. They're afraid of what Malesh's done. I can call them to fight. Or if they won't fight, I can command them to stay out of the way."
"That didn't work too well the last time." "Even we learn."
"Riqua and Gabriel are still bloodsworn."
Jonmarc saw loss in Uri's eyes. "I know. And they have exacted their price from a score of my children. I have lost enough. I will do what I can, in my own way, to end this war." Outside, the wind caught the trees and for a moment, sunlight blazed deeper into the crypt, catching Uri on the cheek. The pale skin reddened immediately and began to char, but Uri did not flinch, mindful of the bow pressed against his chest.
"If you want your revenge, then you have it sevenfold as my children die. If we are gods, then we are most vulnerable gods."
Jonmarc hesitated, his finger on the trigger of the crossbow. No one would fault me. Riqua and Gabriel are bloodsworn. I could claim their oath. After a moment, he drew a deep breath. "Turn him around," Jonmarc ordered the guards. They turned Uri so that Jonmarc and the mortal fighters had their backs to the sun, able to step into its glare. One of the villagers picked up the shiv, and Jonmarc slipped it into his belt. "I didn't make an oath with Gabriel and Riqua, so I'll do it now. Do what you can to stop Malesh. But betray my trust, and I'll not only shiv your heart, I'll saw thro
ugh your neck and tie you in the sun. Is that clear?"
"Bright as day," Uri said as Jonmarc signaled the guards to let him go. He disappeared into the shadows, and Jonmarc and the guards retreated hastily into the sunlight. "M'lord? What now?" "We continue the hunt."
They burned out six tombs before the afternoon shadows began to lengthen. The revulsion Jonmarc felt hardened into coldness, and the memories were pushed away to allow him the clarity he needed to fight. He would pay a price for that, later. They routed a dozen vayash moru, and every time, it took all of his willpower not to flinch at the smell of their burning flesh and the human
terror in their death cries. Uri had said Malesh only had at most two dozen fledges. That meant others had joined Malesh, because given the vayash moru who had fallen in battle, Malesh should be out of fighters. Jonmarc doubted very much that was the case. It was too late to ride for Wolvenskorn. Given the day's activities, Jonmarc had no desire to chance riding by himself after dark. By the time they returned to the village, bonfires circled the town square. Huddled under rough woolen blankets, the villagers slept under makeshift shelters, too afraid to spend the night in their own houses.
"How long can you do that before you've burned all the wood for the winter?" Jonmarc asked as they rode back.
"Not long." The Magistrate sighed. "As you put it, what's the choice? Be murdered now or die of cold later?"
"Not much of a choice at all, is it?" For any of us.
Late that night, Jonmarc sat near one of the bonfires, his cloak drawn around him. There was no pretending that he was going to get any sleep. Not after today. Not after the dreams. With Malesh still at large, he didn't dare take the edge off his fighting skills, although he longed for a brandy to blunt the memories that were more difficult than usual to push away. Eleven years, and you still want to throw up when you smell burning meat. Would they still consider you the Lady's Champion if they knew that the bottom drops out of your stomach every time you hear a gallows door spring open?
He pushed away the mocking voice in his head, and it pushed back. Maybe you really have found your true home in Dark Haven. Everyone you care about dies. Easier to handle if they're already dead when you meet them.
But that wasn't really true. The casualties among the vyrkin and Gabriel's vayash moru were mourned just as deeply by the undead as they would have been by the living. Dead was one thing; destroyed, Jonmarc had come to understand, was entirely different. Worse, the Magistrate's words rang in his ears. It's up to Her when She claims what belongs to Her, he'd said of Jonmarc making Istra's Bargain. The thought of living chilled him much more than any dread of death. Dark Haven without Carina would be unbearable. There had been many years when every night was a battle with himself over whether or not to see dawn. Guiding Tris and the others to safety last year had stopped that. He'd hoped that with Carina in his life, that battle was won-permanently. Now, those dark thoughts returned. But what he'd seen of
the restless dead in his year with Tris made him less certain that death actually ended pain. And while Tris could make his passage to the Lady, Jonmarc was not at all sure he was in any hurry to find out which Aspect would come for him. So much for suicide. "I thought I'd find you here."
Jonmarc looked up to see the Magistrate. The older man was smoking a pipe, and the sweet smell of the leaves was a wisp of normalcy amid chaos. "Was anyone looking?"
The Magistrate shrugged and took a seat next to him. "I wanted to thank you. I know what it cost you to do what you did today." He met Jonmarc's eyes, and Jonmarc knew that, with the Magistrate's truth sensing, the older man really did know.
"Had to be done."
"You're not going to sleep?"
Jonmarc shrugged ill-humoredly, knowing the other could guess his reasons.
"I imagine that asking for a mind-healer's help is out of the question."
"They aren't something I come upon every day. I'm used to it by now." Carina had hoped to become a mind-healer someday. Someday.
"I suppose you'll leave in the morning?"
Jonmarc nodded. "Gabriel's waiting for me at Wolvenskorn. We think Malesh may make his next move at the Lady's Temple. It's as good a place as any to make our stand."
The Magistrate looked at him for a moment in silence, and the far-away look in his eyes made a chill run down Jonmarc's back that had nothing to do with the bitter wind. "Shadows and fire," the Magistrate murmured. "And an arrow without a bow. Your place is between the living and the dead."
"Come away from the window, Carina."
Reluctantly, Carina turned away from the window at Taru's prodding. Beyond Dark Haven's courtyard, the night was too black to see anything except the stars. "I can't help hoping that I'll glance out and see Jonmarc and the others returning safely."
"You have the scout's report. At least we know something of what's going on."
Carina sighed and moved toward the fire. As if she needed further evidence that she balanced between living and undead, the fire did not warm her, just as the noxious mixture
of blood and milk that kept her alive never seemed to sate her hunger. "We know that the village at Caliggan Crossroads was destroyed. We think there was a battle there, but we didn't find any vayash moru remains. And the scout said everything was at least a day old. Not much to go on."
"I've sent Kolin to Wolvenskorn. If Gabriel's headquartered there, we may know more soon," Riqua said.
"I know it's too early for your messengers to reach Tris, but the waiting is awful." Carina's voice was quiet. "I'm getting weaker."
"If our relay is working, this will be the second night. Your letter should reach Tris tomorrow night. We can hold the working the next day."
"Assuming the messenger is able to get through. Assuming that Tris isn't so thick in the midst of battle that he can't do the working." Assuming I'm still alive by the time the letter reaches him.
Whatever Riqua might have responded was cut short as the door opened and Kolin stepped into the room. "M'ladies," he said with a perfunctory bow. One look at his appearance elicited a gasp. Kolin's straw-blond hair was singed on one side, and his cloak and left sleeve were burned. A seeping burn was healing on his face, and his hands and cheek showed new, deep scratches that were just beginning to fade.
"What happened?" Carina asked, taking his hand in hers out of reflex before remembering that she couldn't heal.
Kolin's blue eyes showed more fear than Carina had ever seen in a vayash moru's gaze. "I'm late coming from Wolvenskorn," he apologized, with a gesture toward his disheveled appearance. At second glance, Carina could see that his pants were torn and wet with snow. "Looks like Jonmarc wasn't able to keep word about Westormere from getting out. There've been two more attacks since then-you've heard about the Caliggan Crossroads. Malesh hit a third village yesterday, but Jonmarc and Gabriel were waiting for him. He got away, but they were able to save most of the villagers." "Most," Carina repeated quietly. "How many is most?"
Kolin met her eyes. "Gabriel said it was bad." He looked back to the others. "Jonmarc stayed behind in the village today, hoping to find Malesh's day crypts and run him down. Gabriel didn't know how that went, and Jonmarc isn't due back in Wolvenskorn until tomorrow."
"Burning day crypts," Riqua whispered. "Sweet Istra. It's come to that."
"Gabriel and Laisren didn't like it, but they had to agree it was one way to contain Malesh. Oh, and Uri's gone missing." "There's a surprise."
"So Jonmarc's alive-at least, he was yesterday?" Carina asked. Kolin kissed the back of her hand before releasing it. "Yes, m'lady. Gabriel said that Jonmarc hoped if he led the villagers to where Malesh's brood slept by day that they might stop other villagers from harming innocent vayash moru." He grimaced. "Unfortunately, that part didn't work so well. He's not the only one to realize that we're not fond of fire." "You were attacked?" Lisette exclaimed.
Kolin nodded. "I wasn't being careful. But Lady True! It's been so long since we had to worry, here of all places. I stopped hidi
ng from mortals a century ago." He glanced down at his scratched hands and burned clothing. "I'm out of practice." "Tell me what happened." Although Riqua's voice was steady, Carina could hear the controlled anger beneath her words.
"I left Wolvenskorn and I was riding back. There didn't seem to be a need for quicker travel," he said with a glance toward Riqua. "When I rounded a bend in the road, I could sense mortals in the forest ahead. I figured them for brigands-and desperate ones, to be about by night in these times. Brigands they were, but not seeking human prey. The next thing I knew, a ring of fire sprang up around me, and burning arrows were shooting from every side. They'd placed hay bales soaked in oil just beyond the trees on either side, and then sealed front and back when they lit the torch."
The burn on his face was nearly healed, and the scratches on his hands were fading. But Carina knew by Kolin's eyes that the memories would take much longer to go away. "They were amateurs, thank the Lady. I lost my horse to them, but I was above their arrow range before they knew it. Without knowing how many there were, I didn't fancy a fight. Even so, I'm worse for the wear."
"Have you checked on the others?" Riqua's anger was clear in her voice. Kolin nodded. "Our places are empty. From what Gabriel's said, all of our brood who aren't here guarding Dark Haven are with him, at Wolvenskorn. That's the real news. Malesh isn't acting alone, and it's not only his own fledges. Either Uri lied or Malesh really was able to keep him out of his thoughts. Gabriel says that there were vayash moru older than Malesh in the battle at the Caliggan Crossroads. That means he's not only drawing in vayash moru from Uri's brood, but some of Astasia's as well-and maybe from Rafe's, too." "Damn. Then the war has begun."
Dark Lady_s Chosen cotn-4 Page 13