“How so, infinite one?” I mocked. I didn’t feel overly inclined to hear about the hopelessness of my situation.
A spasm of irritation twisted the man’s expression. “My power grows with each passing day, Lord Dura. You will not reach Treflow alive. The greatest human to live was still far less than the least of the Fayit, and I am far more than Ealdor and his kind ever thought of being. The stroke of their vengeance has twisted in—”
“It usually does,” I broke in. “You really do go on, don’t you.” I drawled. “Oh well, there is no gift of conversation.”
“You worm!” the man said. “You think to bandy words with me? I will teach you—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” I waved my hand as if his anger was nothing more than smoke on the wind. “You were going to tell me the terms of my surrender before you got distracted with your own magnificence.”
“Interrupt me again at your peril, Lord Dura,” he said. “I can use you, but I don’t need you.”
I smiled. “The terms, exalted one.”
“You will deliver the kings and queens of the north into my hands at Treflow.”
I stared at him, working to understand his request. “Your solitude has driven you mad, Atol. Instead of asking you why I would do such a thing, I think I’d rather know why you want them.”
The man Atol inhabited shrugged, glancing at the sky. “This time grows short, but as a token of my goodwill, I will tell you. There is, after all, nothing you can do with the knowledge. The kings and queens are the last holders of pure gifts. Upon my freedom, I will use them to re-create the race of the Fayit.”
“What about the talents and temperaments?” I asked. “Were you not endowed with all?”
He smiled. “The gifts, Lord Dura, are what I require, and though you did not ask why you would do such a thing, I will tell you. It is within my power to ensure Lady Gael’s life is as long as yours.”
I let my face go slack and filled my eyes with hunger, waiting until the smallest glimmer of hope showed in his eyes. Then I laughed. “So wise and such a fool,” I said, “to tempt me with a gift that would kill her love for me.”
The sky on the eastern horizon showed a hint of orange. Despite our relative safety, I hungered for dawn.
The soldier coiled and launched himself, coming for me with his arms outstretched, his hands curled into claws that strained for my throat.
Beside me, Rory blurred into motion as Bolt jumped to meet the attack in midair. Spinning and twisting, he hit the soldier with his feet, knocking him to the side, but the man was already dead. One of Rory’s daggers had found his eye, the other his heart.
I had no inclination to fall under the spell of the dead man’s stare. Turning to Rory, I bowed. “Nice throws.”
“That depends,” Bolt said, walking up to us from where he’d landed. “How close did you come to your target?”
Instead of being insulted, Rory went to the body and retrieved his weapons. “I might be a quarter of an inch off on the strike to the heart.”
Bolt nodded. “As soon as I can get you up to speed with the sword, I’ll be ready to retire.” He sighed. “Again.”
Chapter 61
“Move!” Rory blurred into motion a split-second before I heard the sound of air whistling through fletching. Bolt crashed into me, knocking me aside just before he hissed in pain. Arrows whistled through the air and hit the ground near us, too many to dodge.
“Run, you fools!” Gael’s scream came from the distance.
A score or more archers lined the hills on both sides of us. Gael fired arrows from the right, drawing and releasing so quickly her hands blurred. But there were too many targets.
“Into the woods!” Bolt yelled. With a snarl he broke the arrow sticking through his thigh and ripped it free. Rory grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the protection of the trees as he pulled his sword. He and Bolt swatted arrows from the air as they ran.
The soldiers charged, firing in volleys as they came. I stumbled, felt a door open in my mind. I tried to close it, but the memories came for me. In the space of time between heartbeats, I realized it was my own door that was opening.
“No,” I begged. “Not now.”
An arrow from their volley flew by me close enough to hear the air whistling through the fletching. I lifted my shield out of reflex and took the impact of a second arrow on it a moment later, like the blow of a fist. Twelve men copied me, mercenaries from the southern continent whose commander lay facedown in the mud. . . .
I blinked. A shaft of sunlight had cleared the hills to land on my face.
“Kreppa,” Rory snarled as he dragged me along by my arm. “Have you forgotten how to run?”
Arrows hit the dirt around us. Twenty paces away from the meager protection of the trees, Bolt fell behind, favoring his leg. The rain of shafts had thinned but hadn’t stopped. Broadheads tore chunks of bark from the trees.
“Stay here and hold them off as long as you can,” Bolt told Rory. Pain put a crease across his brow and his voice rasped with each step. “Then fall back to camp. I’ll be waiting.”
“No—” But I never got any further. A blow I never saw coming took me across the chin and the world spun.
“I don’t have time for arguments, Dura,” Bolt said. Despite the limp and the blood running down his leg, he hauled me along like an undersized sack of turnips. When we got to camp, he shoved me toward the largest tree. “Get behind it and stay there until they’re all dead.”
He hobbled to his belongings and gathered the short bow and quiver. Marking his path with curses and blood, he hid behind the tree next to me.
Moments later Rory came crashing through the brush, pursued by a flight of arrows. Twice, I saw him turn and twist in midair, dodging shafts I could barely see, swatting at them with the flat of his hand to send them falling to the ground. A moment later, a dozen soldiers broke into the small clearing. Bolt moved out from behind the trunk of his tree and loosed six arrows within the space of a heartbeat. Six soldiers fell.
He nocked again, holding three more between the fingers of his draw hand, but he never fired. The rest of the soldiers toppled forward, shot from behind. Gael came charging into the clearing with her sword drawn. Her eyes blazed darker than I’d ever seen them, searching.
“Are you insane?” she screamed. Her gaze swept across the three of us. “You didn’t think to put someone on the heights to watch for a trap?”
“Rory checked,” Bolt said. “There weren’t any.”
“And how long does it take to move men into position?” she snarled. “The three of you would be dead if I hadn’t climbed the hillside.”
“The sun was coming up,” I said. “Their vaults should have been closed.”
She lifted her hands as if she wanted to throttle me. “Of course,” she snapped. “They were counting on you to think that. Every one of those men kept shooting at you after the sun rose. Don’t you think an ordinary man can kill you? Idiot. A man doesn’t have to have a vault to be evil.”
The world tilted under my feet. “We’re not safe anywhere.”
Gael drew breath, but I waved her off. “Yell at me later,” I said. “We have to tend to Bolt and get out of here. They saw us before the sun rose. If we’re not a long way away by the time the sun sets, they’ll track us down again.”
“How?” Rory asked.
“It’s what Laewan did at Bas-solas, except stronger. Cesla sees through the eyes of his servants when their vaults are open. He’s throwing a net around the entire area. We have to move.”
Bolt limped over, a thick stream of blood covering the bottom half of his left leg. “I’m going to need help with this.” His eyes took on an unfocused look.
“Oh, Aer,” Gael breathed. “You’re bleeding to death.”
“I sure hope not,” Bolt said, his face white. Then his eyes rolled up and he fell forward.
Rory darted over to catch him and lay him gently on the ground. “He’s heavy.”
I’d watched men bleed out before, but I’d also seen battlefield surgeons save those they got to quickly enough. I pulled my dagger and slit his breeches, exposing the wound. Already the flow pulsed more weakly. Turning him, I pointed to the inside of his thigh. “Press here,” I told Gael. Then I remembered she was gifted. “Don’t press so hard that you crush the artery or we’ll lose him anyway.” I turned to Rory. “Build a fire and heat the end of your sword until it glows.”
“It’ll ruin the temper,” he said.
“A dagger won’t work,” I said. “It will just make the wound bigger. The arrow hit an artery. We have to cauterize his leg.”
Rory nodded. “I don’t really like swords anyway.” He darted away, gathering tinder and branches. Blood leaked out of the wound, but Gael had applied enough pressure to stop most of the bleeding. Either that, or Bolt was already close to dying. Mirren, Erendella, and Herregina came through the brush from wherever they’d been hiding.
“We saw the attack,” Erendella said. “They came after you, Lord Dura.”
I nodded without looking up. I was busy cutting strips from my cloak to make a bandage. “Yes. Cesla had a message he wanted to deliver.”
My answer didn’t seem to calm her much. Considering that we had left a member of the Vigil and two queens unprotected in the midst of a battle, I wasn’t feeling too calm myself. But they’d stayed hidden and were unharmed—thank Aer.
Erendella continued, clearly none too happy. “Those weren’t the men we saw before.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “This was a whole new batch.”
She darted glances at the hills, the woods, the horizon. “We can’t stay here,” she said. Panic threaded its way through her voice. She spoke as if she couldn’t get enough air.
“No one’s arguing with that,” I said. “But I have a situation with my guard here that you may have noticed requires my attention.”
“They could come for us any moment,” Erendella said. “We have to leave now.”
Gael turned from her contemplation of Bolt’s bleeding to give Erendella a cold stare. “Save your breath, Your Majesty. He won’t leave anyone behind. You can take comfort from the fact that this particular philosophy includes you.”
“I’m a queen, and he needs me,” Erendella said. “The guard has fulfilled his duty nobly. Would you dishonor his sacrifice by having us all die?”
“Stop,” Herregina said. “This is unbecoming of you, sister. The guard is our companion and responsibility, not a resource or commodity to be used up and cast aside.”
I nodded my thanks to Cynestol’s new ruler. “If you want to leave here, Your Majesty, help Rory with the fire. The arrow went all the way through Bolt’s leg, and I’m going to have to cauterize both sides of the wound. We’ll have to heat it twice.” I looked at Mirren. “Have you ever delved a healer?” When she shook her head, I tried a different tack. “Do you know what bation trees look like?”
Her brow furrowed and her eyes darted from side to side without seeing. “Is that a small tree with light bark and teardrop-shaped leaves?”
I exhaled. “That’s the one. If you can find any, bring the leaves.”
Herregina came and knelt by my side. “What can I do?”
“Do you have any training as a healer?”
She shook her head. “No more than any other noble of Aille.”
I sighed as I tore another strip from my cloak. “I was hoping you could tell me how to do this. I’ve seen it done any number of times, but a little instruction would be helpful.”
Bolt stirred. “Robin?” A string of nonsense syllables followed that I couldn’t make out.
“That’s probably not good,” I said.
“Who’s Robin?” Herregina asked.
“His dead son.”
Herregina’s face paled. “Is he talking to him?”
“Probably,” I said. “Let me know if Robin answers. It would settle a question I’ve had for some time now.” I saw Rory and Erendella coming back from the fire. Herregina was all of thirteen and probably wouldn’t care for what was about to happen. “Check Bolt’s saddlebags and pack. He might have healing supplies in them.”
I held out my hand, and Rory handed me the sword. Even through the hilt I could feel the heat that had blackened the last third of the blade. “Hold him.” Rory pushed down on Bolt’s hips, and to her credit, Erendella sat on his uninjured leg to keep him from thrashing.
I didn’t know if Bolt could hear me, but I leaned forward to speak to him anyway. “Hold still. I’ve got to cauterize your leg.”
Blood boiled and steamed around the wound and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. At the first touch, Bolt screamed, pounding his arms against the ground, but nothing below his chest moved. I pressed the flat of the blade against the side of the wound toward his heart and held it there until the sound of quenching metal faded.
Then I handed it back to Rory. “Again.”
Bolt groaned and beat the ground with his fists. “Aer have mercy,” Rory said. “Isn’t that enough?”
“I don’t know,” I growled back. “I’m not a healer. Now go heat the sword!”
Gael never flinched. She kept the pressure on the upper part of Bolt’s leg, doing her best to keep him still.
“After I finish I want you to ease off the pressure,” I said. “Do it as slowly as you can—I don’t care how long it takes. I’ll check for bleeding.”
“Erendella’s right,” Gael said. “We can’t stay here. How is he going to be able to ride?”
“You’re going to have to hold him in front of you,” I told her. Besides Rory, Gael was the only one of us strong enough to keep Bolt mounted and still enough to keep his wound from opening.
She nodded. “I understand. You know what this attack means?”
I nodded, irritation making it more of a jerk. I’d been trying very hard not to think about that very thing. “It means we can’t afford to let anyone see us,” I said. “And it still might not be enough to get us to Treflow.”
Erendella’s head came up at my bleak assessment. “What do you mean?”
“Those men kept attacking us even after sunrise,” I said. “That means that even in their right minds, they’ve given their allegiance to Cesla.” I pulled a deep breath and tried to focus on the task at hand. “This is why I never ask how things can get worse.”
Rory returned carrying the heated sword with Herregina in tow. She cradled a few potions in her arms. “I recognize paverin sap, but I don’t know what any of the rest of these are,” she said. “I brought them all, just in case.”
I took the sword from Rory. “Brace yourself, Bolt, I’m going to cauterize the other half of the wound.” He didn’t respond. I stepped over his leg and knelt by the outside of his thigh, worried about going too deep with the sword. What if I disturbed what I’d already done? I shook my head and focused on the memory of the battlefield surgeon and how he’d done it.
The hissing sound of hot metal against flesh filled the air again. Bolt dug at the ground with his hands as his uninjured leg convulsed. I pulled the sword slowly out of the wound, and he relaxed, unconscious but gasping. I looked at Gael and nodded, but inside my guts twisted into knots. If that hadn’t sealed the artery, I didn’t know what else to try.
So slowly that I could hardly see her moving, Gael eased the pressure on the inside of his leg, allowing blood to flow back in. I checked both sides of the wound. Aside from a bit of seepage, it stayed clear. I loosed a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, but fear still took most of the air from my voice.
I smiled weakly at Gael. “Herregina has medicine from Bolt’s pack. See if there’s anything in there that stops bleeding.”
She went through the bottles and vials, not nearly as many as Bronwyn or Toria had carried. “No, just paverin sap and chiccor extract.”
“No surprise there,” I said. “Alright, let’s get the paverin into him. Hopefully, his gift will keep him from dying on us.”
> Mirren returned, carrying a double handful of bation leaves. “Thank Aer,” I said. “If these work as well on people as they do on dogs, it’ll keep the wound from fouling.” I pointed. “Pack the leaves on both sides of his leg while I wrap it.”
Thirty minutes later we were mounted. Gael rode with Bolt cradled in her arms like an oversized child.
Chapter 62
Toria glanced back at the wagons following her. In another day, they would make Treflow with the men and weapons she’d managed to beg or borrow from each outpost they’d encountered along the outer cordon. Fifty men and women slept in the wagons, their eyes shielded against the light of day.
“If Rymark has withdrawn to Treflow, why did he order the outer cordon to remain?” Fess asked.
“Cesla has his forces pinned,” she said. It had taken her two days of musing on the orders Warena had received to come to a firm conclusion. “The kings and queens of the north are coming as quickly as they can along the outer cordon,” she said. “In order to buy the monarchs safe passage south, he has to keep the cordon in place. If he doesn’t, he puts them at risk.”
“But why keep them there?” Fess asked. “Once Regent Cailin and Prince Brod have passed south of each outpost, those soldiers could withdraw and accompany them to Treflow.”
“Such a move would pinpoint their location,” Toria said. “Cesla would be able to concentrate an attack and kill or capture them. The kings and queens must move quickly, but quietly.”
Her apprentice fell silent, musing. When he spoke again, his voice held concern that mirrored hers. “If Cesla knows Rymark has fallen back to Treflow, he can concentrate his entire force on an attack there before Rymark can pull reinforcements from the perimeter. What are the odds the king will win, Lady Deel?”
“The specifics of the mathematicum are beyond me, Fess,” she said, hoping he would be satisfied.
“I don’t really understand the mathematicum myself,” he said. “Can Rymark win?”
“Yes.”
“If you were a betting man, Toria Deel, where would you place your wager?”
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