“But Dacey...” Blaine protested. “It won’t be safe getting to the hall, an’ you ain’t gonna be able to do any ducking.”
For a moment, he said nothing; he was quiet when he did speak. “You can leave me here, and there ain’t a thing I can do about it. But iff’n those flatlanders manage to follow the trail you made getting here, I’ll be waiting for ’em, pretty as you please. Or you can move me to a safer place, an’ if you don’t duck right, no one’ll know where I am — including me. That’d suit the Annekteh just fine.”
Blaine didn’t answer with anything more than her sigh. “Then you ought to get some sleep,” she said. “Burl’ll be coming back with the pack, and I’ll rig a shelter from the tarp. Be some food, too, I reckon — beans an’ bacon, mostly.”
“A stomach as empty as mine ain’t apt to be picky.” For the moment he was Dacey as she knew him best — laconic, seeming like he knew his world better than anybody.
“How’d they do it?” she asked then, unable to contain a horrified curiosity. “Does it hurt?”
Dacey turned his head away. “No,” he said, “it don’t hurt. It’s their magic. They wanted answers, and didn’t get none. I reckon they thought it was a way to hobble me.”
“Maybe it won’t last,” Blaine offered hopefully. “Plains magic ain’t too strong hereabouts.”
He said nothing.
“I won’t have you giving up, Dacey Childers,” Blaine said, suddenly fierce. “We’re gonna lick those Annekteh tomorrow, an’ everything will be just fine. Including you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dacey said, but she was glad to hear a little fire beneath his teasing meekness. Still Dacey, despite it all.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 18
Blaine huddled close to Dacey as they tried to stay under the greased tarp and out of the gentle but steady rain, but she felt like she might as well be alone. He slept soundly, exhausted, while her mind bounded from thought to thought like the hounds on a scent. Fear, mostly. Different kinds of fears — of death, of being Taken, of watching others Taken...of killing them. That she wasn’t planned to play that role in the rebellion didn’t keep her from fearing it.
And in the end, she feared what would happen after the fight. What would happen to her life. One way or the other.
She shifted to curl up more tightly over her knees. They had found the thick angled remains of a fallen poplar and used the space between the stump and the tilted trunk for their shelter, and now Dacey sat against the trunk, holding the canvas closed against the rain with his body. The small shelter stayed stuffy and too humidly warm; risking the rain, Blaine pulled up an edge of the canvas and stuck her nose out for the fresh, damp air. She was thankful for the rain even if it didn’t stop by morning, for she could easily imagine the boys moving around the hills at will while the heavier men slipped and slid around the slopes.
A big, cold drop rolled off the tarp and splashed onto her nose, and she pulled her face back inside.
Beside her, Dacey stirred, gave a slight start.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
“It’s all right.” He tugged at his jacket, pulling the front open in the warmth they had created. “It’s just I...keep expecting to see things when I open my eyes. Foolishness.”
She didn’t say anything, still too lost in her own mind to come up with any words that seemed right.
“Blaine?”
“Just been thinking,” Blaine said. “’Bout what you said oncet. That things would never be the same. Seems to me that there’s some changes would do me good...but those’re the ones I’ll never see. I found the Annekteh looking for those changes...climbing around the hills, running away from being skinny and from ending up like my mommy. Now I don’t reckon any of that’s got me anywhere — no matter how tomorrow turns out, I’ll end up the same way — married off, tied to a big family, everyone saying I’m not quite right. We’re lucky, we’ll free Shadow Hollers tomorrow...but not me.”
“You have been thinking some,” Dacey responded in surprise — then in silence. “Surely it ain’t all like that,” he said after a while. “Surely there’s some good to look for. Living’s hard work no matter how you come at it.”
“I know,” Blaine said quietly. “But it’s easier to take when you got a choice how you’re going to go about it.”
“Don’t you?” Dacey asked. “Really?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“You can take care of yourself, by yourself — if you really want to — and I think you know it.”
She frowned at him, knowing he couldn’t see it. “Maybe I do know that. Now. But that don’t mean I’m strong enough to make the choice.”
“There’s that,” he admitted. “It ain’t a small thing. Tell you, though — climbing around the hills may not get you anywhere in the long run, but I sure am pleased you were at it when they had me the first time.”
Blue — his timing impeccable — stuck his damp and doggy-smelling head in the shelter, shoving his nose beneath a spot of tarp Blaine was sure she had weighted down. “Sometimes,” she said, trying to push him back out again, “Sometimes I got doubts about that. I surely never reckoned on him when I got you free.”
But Dacey just laughed.
“It’s a long piece till morning,” Blaine said, trying to sound cross. “Get some sleep.”
~~~~~
Blaine flew. She must be flying; she was way up in the air, looking down at the hill beside the meeting hall. Branches obscured her vision, scratched her face, became frustrating obstacles. She needed to see, to help the boys below her.
Young and determined, they fought a desperate battle against the plainsmen — who seemed to be rallying. Those plainsmen filled her vision; somehow she couldn’t force herself to focus on the boys. No, the plainsmen only, first this one and then that, just regular men. Or not quite regular — they were warriors, blooded men. Against boys.
She despaired, and her chest ached fiercely with tears she seemed unable to shed. No, I don’t want to look at them, she cried as loudly as she could, if only inside her head. But she couldn’t stop herself — and then suddenly she didn’t want to stop herself. Suddenly she needed to see.
For a purple finger of mist came up and touched one of them, and just that fast, he was surrounded by a hazy aura of purple. Not purple, exactly — no, the dark, bruised blackish color of the clouds she’d seen so long ago.
One after another, faces flashed before her, a dizzying array of enemies. All touched by the Annekteh magic. Taken.
Wait, that was no enemy! That was Jason! Jason, wreathed in bruised purple. And that man — she knew him, too! Suddenly familiar faces mixed freely with the ones she didn’t know, tainted visages that forced their way to her mind even when she tried to close her eyes.
Her world jostled. Rocked.
They’d seen her, flying above them. And they had the magic to fly up and get her.
They were coming up to get her.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 19
Gone! Dacey Childers, gone!
The guard, dead.
Of all Nekfehr knew — along with the fact that his nameless vessel secretly cheered the prisoner’s escape — foremost was that Dacey Childers — blinded, locked behind a wall of his own making — had not made it out of this barn on his own.
One of the mules was missing; there would be tracks, tracks even he could follow. Nekfehr recalled the howling, on a ridge not far from here.
The women and children were already schedule to arrive, and shortly. Let them stay here, and wait. When Nekfehr returned with Dacey Childers, they would watch him die. And then they would feel the depth of cold, relentless Annekteh wrath, until Dacey Childers’ accomplices came forth.
And after that...there were reinforcements on the way — plains people long accustomed to Annekteh demands, long broken. It didn’t really matter how many of the rebellious mountain folk survived to welcome them.
~~~~~
>
When Blaine threw the tarp away from her head, she found a dull grey world, a pre-dawn coated with fog and drifting patches of mist. The dogs were curled up together in one damp pile beneath the fallen tree, although Mage had somehow insinuated himself into the shelter and was pillowing Dacey’s head. Dacey’s bruised face was worn; the Annekteh had left new marks, but not many. Only inside.
His closed eyes looked utterly normal.
She hated to wake him, but...traveling along the brushy bottom with a sightless man was going to take longer than the quick trip she’d been planning.
Dacey roused instantly at her soft touch on his shoulder; he sat, blinking hard.
“All right?” she asked.
“I reckon,” he said, and then stretched just like it was any other morning in their lives.
“I’ll be right back, an’ then we got to get gone,” Blaine told him, climbing to her feet and searching for the closest discreet bush — she didn’t care if he couldn’t see. She gave him time to attend to his own needs, too.
When she returned he had the canvas folded and tucked into the pack she’d brought with her. He was making to sling it over his shoulders, and she quickly put a hand on it. “No,” she said. “I’ll take it. You lose your balance with this thing and you’re gonna fall twice as hard. Leastways I can see what I’m tripping over, so I won’t have no excuse when I fall. Which I’ll do,” she added under her breath.
Dacey hesitated only a moment before releasing the pack. “You can shed it once we reach the river,” he said. “It’ll be easy to find there.”
Blaine pushed her arms through the straps and shrugged to settle the burden. It wasn’t that heavy, but it had been made for Dacey, and it hung down to bump against her bottom. She sighed. No complaints about it, not today — she couldn’t have him insisting to carry it.
Gingerly, she took Dacey’s hand. “Ready?”
“You take me into anything on purpose and I’ll see you regret it,” he warned her lightly, then surprised her with a slight squeeze of his hand. “Go ahead.”
Blaine did do her best to caution him of the sudden drops and the rocks in his way, and in fact when one of them fell it was her, watching so hard for him that she forgot to place her own feet with care. The ridge quickly dropped away, narrowing into a point only a few feet wide that dropped down and merged into the wide river bottom. The trees shrunk in size and number, and soon Blaine was leading them through a winding maze of low-crowned sumac with only an occasional willow or sycamore.
At one of the bigger sycamores she stopped and secured the pack, wedging it firmly into the low crotch of the tree. She passed a sleeve across her forehead to wipe away sweat that would never dry in this humid morning air, then turned to Dacey.
“It’s not far, now,” she told him. It came out like a warning rather than a reassurance. “We ought to run into those boys any time.”
“Take it slow, then,” he said. “I want you to see them first. I want you to see anyone before they see us. Step by step, Blaine. We got the time.”
She wasn’t sure they did. She took the advice to heart anyway, and their progress slowed. Twice Dacey had to stop to take a stern voice to Mage, who couldn’t seem to help growling. Chase and Whimsy stayed at the pack — or, at least if they left it to roam, they had accepted it as home. Blue had simply refused to stay — or rather, he had waited until Blaine and Dacey had gone some distance, and then showed up at their heels, his ears low but his face determined — and the leash chewed through. Mage’s mood infected him and he walked along on his toes, his hackles slightly raised, as he looked for something at which to growl.
The sun’s token appearance had faded behind the clouds before Blaine tightened her grip on Dacey’s hand, bringing him to a stop. The barely audible sounds of the meeting hall drifted to ear as the women and children gathered there, and Blaine crouched, tugging Dacey down with her.
“We’re behind the biggest sycamore you’ll ever see,” she said, putting his hand on it so he could appreciate the girth of the tree. “Three others are supposed to meet us here. I hope they don’t take too long about it.”
“I was about to say the same of you,” said a relieved voice from behind the curve of the tree.
“Blaine,” Dacey said reproachfully.
“Twenty-seven men can link hands around this tree,” Blaine said, unperturbed, “and I can’t see through it to know when someone’s on the other side. Besides, it’s Burl.” Burl and two others, all of whom came quietly around the circumference of the sycamore to join them.
“Dacey,” Burl said, both a welcome and a question.
“He wouldn’t stay,” Blaine said. “I guess...I don’t blame him none.”
Burl gave Dacey an even look. His doubt showed clearly, even before the one-shouldered shrug he gave Blaine. But Dacey was there, and there was little to say about it now. Instead he briefed Blaine. “They been strange about the dead guard, Blaine,” he said, ignoring Dacey’s start — Blaine had deliberately left out the details of his rescue. “They ain’t made no big fuss about it, ain’t even questioned the women — just letting ’em gather, like they were told yesterday. The leader has took off by himself, up the hill. Ain’t never seen that happen before.”
“Up the hill?” Dacey said. “The same hill you drug me up last night?”
Blaine’s throat went dry. Big ol’ mule feet making tracks, and she’d wanted to leave him there, alone.
Burl cleared his throat. “I take your meaning, Dacey. Guess I’m right glad to see you, at that.” He looked off at the hill a moment. “Estus has took his crew to warn the men what we’re up to, and Trey ought to start a fuss up the hill any minute. Most of the plainsmen are chewing their tongues outside the hall, but they’ll get a move on right quick, if things go as we reckon they will.”
It was about to happen. It hit her suddenly, deep inside. She leaned back against the dry, flakey bark of the sycamore, releasing Dacey so he couldn’t feel the sudden clamminess of her hands. Blue whined.
“You’ve faced ’em before, Blaine,” Dacey said, knowing her too well.
“Not when I knew what I was doing,” Blaine said ruefully.
“Just pretend they’re bears,” Burl offered — and then, checking to see that his friends weren’t looking, held out his hand so she could see it shaking.
“So Trey’s got the boys on the attack,” Dacey said, oblivious to the unspoken byplay.
“Yep. The plan was to catch the two guards on patrol and make sure one of them got away.” Burl moved out from behind the tree, exposing himself in order to get a good look at the meeting hall. Close behind him, Blaine discovered for herself that between this tree and the building there was only clear pasture; at the moment it held three mules and a pony. Not much cover to her mind, but no one even looked their way.
A single lone man lurched down the hill and into the hall yard. Even from this distance Blaine could see the blood streaming down his arm.
It had started.
They’re doing it. The boys are really doing it. Unexpected pride overwhelmed the fear for a moment.
A very short moment.
The other two boys — Burl’s companions, Blaine didn’t even know their names — joined them in the open, flattening themselves on the ground to watch the sudden swarm of activity. The tension Blaine felt showed in every line of their bodies, and no one said a word as the plainsmen and Annekteh-Took quickly armed and gathered themselves. Behind the tree, Dacey remained, crouched by Mage and stroking the softly snarling animal. When the noise from the Annekteh mobilization died down, he stood. “How did they leave it?”
“Only two on guard,” Burl said shortly. He returned to the cover of the tree — and Blaine with him — to string up his short, powerful hunting bow. “One of ’em’s hurt — betcha he’s got one of Trey’s arrow’s sticking out of that arm.” He tested the string with satisfaction, easing it back to a resting position with no apparent effort.
“They shu
t the hall doors,” reported one of the boys. “Everyone’s inside, an’ the men ain’t paying no attention to anything but that tore-up arm.”
“We can take ’em out from the pasture fence,” the other youngster said. “Burl can shoot that far easy, an’ I can likely make it — so I’ll aim for the hurt one. Iff’n I miss, you can get ’im with your second shot — you think, Burl?”
“Yeah,” Burl said slowly, looking back around the tree to confirm his team’s assessment. Both the younger boys, their faces pale and their fingers clenched too tightly around their bows, eased out toward the pasture. “But there ain’t no use in taking chances, so you wait till they’re both down before you go ahead, Blaine.” He looked back at Blaine, who quit twisting her fingers and stuck her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t start again.
“No,” Dacey said. “That hall’s got to be warded quick. Unless those men got bows at ready now, we’ll go to the pasture behind you, an’ Blaine’ll take me up to the hall as soon as you start in.”
“You can’t defend yourselves,” Burl protested.
“They’ll be too busy with you to care. The hall’s got to be warded or none of this is any good.”
“C’mon, then,” Burl said abruptly, following the curve of the tree behind the smaller boys. Blaine took Dacey’s hand, walking him around the tree and then guiding him down to his stomach and elbows in emulation of Burl. They moved along so closely together she could guide Dacey with their touching elbows; occasionally she stopped to shove aside a rock or stick directly in his path. Mage trotted ahead, taking Blue with him.
Slow. They were so slow. She was so certain they’d be caught.
Blaine nearly dizzied herself, watching the ground before Dacey and the hall and the boys in front of her all at the same time. By the time she reached the boys at pasture fence, Burl had already risen to a bold stance, his hand still in position behind the bow as his arrow buried itself in his target — the uninjured plainsman.
The man had just enough time for an amazed look down at the arrow in his chest before he toppled. That was all Blaine cared to see, and she pulled Dacey up, placing both his hands on the top of the split-rail fence as she negotiated it herself. Another glance at the enemy showed that the smaller boys’ arrows had fallen short — and that the man’s attention had riveted on the two closest intruders.
Seer's Blood Page 26