"Kit, if Daeric wanted to hurt us, he would have tried already. He has something else in mind."
Kit shook her head. "Not even this place is safe. I had hoped home would be safe. After Grammie died…nowhere is safe for me. I don’t belong anywhere."
Timothy laid a hand on her shoulder. "Y-you belong w-with me."
Oh, Timmy. She laughed. She shoved the knife into its sheath and patted his hand. "As long as you don’t treat me like one of your sheep, shepherd." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I will regret this, but Timothy is right. I am not a killer.
Kit pulled up her sleeves. The cold air felt good against her skin. Red blotches covered the backs of her hands and ran almost to her elbows. She thrust her arms at Timothy. "Look at them! This is your fault, Shepherd of the Fleas. Look what your fleas have done to me."
"I can’t see them, but I tried to warn you. It’s not fleas," Timothy said."It’s sumac."
"We should get moving. I don’t like Daeric enough to stay here. Tell is cute, though," Yuzu said.
"She’s right, Timmy. If you spend more time talking me up, we will be caught."
Timothy rolled his eyes. "Lead the way then."
Yuzu trudged into the woods, and Kit followed. Timothy matched his pace to Kit’s. She glanced at him. Thanks for being you, Timmy. Although, I won’t ever tell you that. If she had been prepared to kill Trent or Tahd, she would have never met him. But I am different now. I was about to kill Gert. Her stomach felt sour. Anything to protect my woolhead. She wasn’t sure about the existence of God, not after what she’d seen from those who claimed to belong to him. But she would risk anything for the idiot who walked next to her. She felt her cheeks heat. I can’t have him know that. Not with his fragile pride. He’d make a nuisance of himself. She smiled. I never thought a kind fool like him would muddle me so much.
"It’s all your fault, sheepbrain."
"What did I do now?" Timothy asked. "Shouldn’t we be quiet, considering we are trying to get away from people who hunt Inquisitors?"
Yuzu cleared her throat.
"If Tell’s noise didn’t draw them," Kit said, "they are some distance away. Besides, I am listening." Now I am, anyway. To her ears, they cracked and crunched loud enough to be heard for miles. "You should have told me about that plant." She plucked a burr from her left ear.
"I tried. I stuffed some oats in a pocket for you before we left." Timothy whispered. His foot snapped a stick. He winced. "We can make something to help with the itch." He muttered about how much noise they were making and fumbled with a low tree branch, only to have it slap him in the face. Kit shook her head and smiled. As worthless as her shepherd was, he always tried to consider her needs. She wondered if seeing a village she barely remembered was worth all of this. All that she put Timothy through. Her smile faded. She hadn’t shared her doubts about the journey with him. After her grandmother died, even a small chance of remembering her roots seemed worth it. Not to mention it would have been an adventure.
Some adventure it turned out to be. I spent all my time being hounded. She watched Timothy tangle himself in a patch of brambles. At least I found someone who accepts me for me just as Grammie did. But what will I do after all of this? What will I do when I don’t have to run anymore?
We haven’t escaped, she thought. Not yet. Even if they left the forest, Daeric would find them. She knew that to her tail. She was finished with being hunted, with running. She was going to have to kill again, just as she did Evelyn. None of it would end if she didn’t. She was going to have to kill all of them. Maybe then she could finally show her tail to the sun without worrying.
Balwar Tren squished through the muddy snow. Fatigue gripped him after the long march. The men had grumbled about marching through the other night, but the risk of their camp being attacked by heretics was too great. At least now they had a solid palisade around them. It wasn’t a city wall, but it was better than nothing. He wished his men had been assigned swords or spears instead of halberds. Halberds were almost useless in this dense forest. The pole arms were excellent for holding city streets and breaking up riots, but here, the weapons tangled in brambles and caught on tree limbs.
Anything could lurk in these woods.
Balwar walked among the men as they filed into one of the many empty barracks. On his right walked Lieutenant Dalton. On Balwar’s left stalked Captain Tredere. The captain watched the soldiers file past with a grimace. Balwar’s men outnumbered the threadbare garrison Tredere commanded by a wide margin. The Captain’s red-and-gray-streaked hair stuck out from under a cap that covered him to his ears. He wore a faded and stained brown shirt with matching trousers. He looked far different from the polished commanders Balwar spoke with at the Vatican. Despite the march, Dalton’s dirty uniform looked resplendent next to the captain.
"My reports are uncertain about how many heretics we face. Do you have any numbers, Captain?" Balwar clenched his jaw to keep from yawning. Dalton scratched his graying beard.
Tredere gazed at Balwar and then at Dalton. The captain’s wind-burned forehead furrowed.
Balwar suppressed a sigh. These military men are all so touchy about rank, Balwar thought. But then I guess we are too. He produced a piece of paper from his robes. "I was ordered to act as an advisor. Command of the men transfers to you, Captain." Until otherwise, anyway.
The man frowned at the paper but didn’t bother to take it. "Sending an Inquisitor shows the See’s opinion of my command."
Dalton yawned hard enough to crack his jaw.
The captain’s blue eyes locked on to the lieutenant. Dalton shrugged and met the man’s gaze.
"You may retire," Tredere said.
Dalton sagged. "Thanks, sir. I feared much longer I’d have to have someone carry me." He grinned. "My wife had to do that once. She needed only one arm too."
Tredere raised an eyebrow.
Dalton straightened and snapped a salute. "Oh yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He turned on a heel and marched away.
Tredere began to walk. "We will need to work on discipline."
Balwar tucked the vellum back into his robes. He forced himself to ignore the open space. Cities are much better than this. His breath misted in the cold air. A thin layer of trampled snow blanketed the space between the wooden barracks. "The Vatican is concerned about who these heretics are." Balwar tucked his hands into his robes. "There have been too many of late."
"Like Tahd Valador?" The captain paused and placed his hand behind his back.
Balwar cleared his throat. "Yes, well. That was internal business."
"Surprised I’ve heard of the Hunter’s corruption out here? We may be on the edges of the world, but we are not completely cut off. We’ve heard about Luther and the Protestant heretics." Tredere tilted his head. "And you think our problem involves them."
"Maybe. We don’t—"
"It involves demons, Inquisitor Tren."
"Men are the worst demons now."
Tredere nodded. "So I know, but do you know the history of this place?"
"All Inquisitors do. So you think this is the work of demons and not Protestants." Balwar touched the steel comfort of the pistols strapped to his forearms.
Tredere angled toward the hewn log barracks with a stone foundation. "Are the Protestants cruel men? Are they as focused on rooting out heretics as we are?"
"Some. Some are mistaken men who need to return to the Mother Church." Balwar frowned. "How could heretics root themselves out?"
Tredere stroked his chin. "So they don’t hunt demons. Foxes, wolves, and the like?"
Balwar shook his head. "Why do you ask?"
The captain paused before the building’s door. "We have to know our enemy. Demon or man." The man scanned the trees beyond the low palisade that circled the camp. "This is their ground. Not ours—whatever the Church says. Forgive me. I don’t mean to blaspheme. I am just an old soldier. The boys also know the stories, Inquisitor. The way these heretics would strike us makes them t
hink of those stories. Kill and disappear. The heretics always know where to hit us."
"So they use only small groups to attack. The forest acts like a city." Balwar stroked his crucifix. "We need to look where they are not. Do you have maps?"
Balwar followed the captain to his cabin. The building sat a little away from the barracks. It was a smaller but a little less roughhewn than the rest of the camp. The plumed soldiers flanking the entrance held their halberds at the same angle. They resembled breathing statues.
The interior of the cabin, despite being sparse, was disarrayed. Maps scattered across the table that dominated the room. Lanterns rested among the jumble. A simple cot stood off to the side. A small stone hearth on the opposite wall gave a little warmth. The captain crossed to the table, yanked a map from the pile, and unrolled it.
"Show me where the scouts were attacked," Balwar said.
The captain muttered something and jabbed a finger into the vellum. "Here."
"What areas did the scouts cover?" Balwar asked.
The captain emptied a leather bag on the map. Pebbles scattered. The man arranged them around the location of the camp. Balwar studied the map and stroked his chin. He noted how the captain fingered the dagger at his waist.
Strange that I feel threatened by the man, Balwar thought. They were allies. No. He was just on edge. Cities were better than these forests. Anything could happen out here.
Balwar tried to think of the map as a series of streets. Streets that wound every which way. The pebbles seemed to form a pattern.
"Where were the most recent attacks?’
Tredere touched three pebbles. "Here, here, and here. This is the most recent." The man’s hand returned to his dagger.
"No pattern." Balwar resisted the urge to flick one of his pistols into his hand. Threat radiated from the captain. Balwar frowned. Could it be because the Vatican sent me? Commanders were touchy about their authority. Likely because I am an Inquisitor. I will have to watch him. There is always more danger from allies than enemies. He gazed at the pebbles scattering the map. Instinct told Balwar something was wrong. Something was missing. Three areas on the map were free of the variegated stones: the areas labeled as Belafonte, the camp, and one other area.
"Send scouts here." Balwar tapped the third empty area.
Tredere’s eye twitched.
"Is there something wrong, Captain?"
"Nothing, Father," Tredere said. The muscle in his jaw flexed. "I will send a small, fast group today."
"Send fifteen men. I want no surprises," Balwar said.
The captain’s hand gripped the dagger’s hilt. "Who is the advisor, and who is the commander?" His voice iced the cabin’s air.
Balwar held the man’s gaze. We are on the same side. I have to remember that. He forced himself to look away. Guillermo always said I was overly proud. "You’re right. Forgive me. I grow angry with how heretics slander the Church."
"I will send three. Your advice is appreciated, Inquisitor Tren. Dismissed."
Balwar clenched his fists beneath his robes. He turned and stalked from the cabin. His jaw clenched. Foolish military men. He stalked across the cold field.
"You look like you want to chew rocks, Balwar. They are softer than our rations, at least." Lieutenant Dalton joined Balwar. "Taste better too. So you had a run-in with the captain, eh?"
"Disobeying his orders already?" Balwar had come to like the man from Fairhaven in the short weeks they had traveled together.
Dalton yawned. "The fellows here are beaten down. They don’t even want to stir up trouble."
"I think they’ve seen enough trouble. Besides, I am an Inquisitor."
"Bah, you are not the bad sort. I thought all of you were once, but you are not at all like that one Inquisitor I met. Besides, the boys need to have a little fun or else they’ve won already." Dalton waved his hand at the palisade.
"We are going to have to watch the captain and his men. He threatened me."
Dalton whistled. "The man has a pair to do that to one of your kind."
"I thought you just said I wasn’t the bad sort."
"Any idea why?"
"You know soldiers better than I do. Your kind is touchy."
"True there. Makes the pranks more fun, though." Dalton’s expression turned serious. "I will watch the captain and his men. My guess is his men will run at the first sign of trouble until I stiffen their backs. They remind me of a friend of mine, the whole lot of them. I won’t have them endangering our boys. Some of them owe me money." He gestured at Balwar’s crucifix. "Your papers and rank let you take command. Why not do it?"
Balwar shook his head. "I’m not a soldier. I don’t know the first thing about command."
"You think I do?"
"I just want to get this mission done so we can go home."
Dalton clapped him on the back. "Now that’s what I want to hear. Have a ladylove waiting too, eh?"
"I’m a Jesuit. I took a vow of celibacy."
Dalton winked. "I’m sure she wants to see you too. You don’t have to worry. I won’t tell anyone the Inquisitor is a regular man under that robe. Seems to me God wanted every man to find a good woman. Just takes us time to find her and to stop being boneheaded about it when we do." He smiled. "Let’s be sure we get our boneheads home to our ladies."
Chapter 3
Timothy slumped on an oak, wishing his legs would stop cramping. For three days they’d trudged through the forest, stopping for rest only when legs refused to work. Kit had insisted they keep moving. She had kept them roughly parallel to the road and just out of sight.
Kit swayed next to him. Her exposed ears drooped. Exhaustion left dark bags under her eyes, and her lips cracked from the cold.
So far they hadn’t seen Daeric or the Vatican’s soldiers. Timothy hoped the soldiers would keep Daeric too busy to search for them. What can they hope to accomplish? There are only a few of them against the entire Church. They have to know that the Church will just keep sending more soldiers and Inquisitors.
He massaged his calf and listened to the large, wet snowflakes fall around them. A knot in his shoulder ached from the weight of his knapsack. Kit had managed to shove the entire wagon into it.
Beside him, Yuzu sat in the snow. Her head bobbed as she dozed.
Kit turned and took a few steps. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. "Let’s go."
Yuzu shook her head and groaned.
"I agree with Yuzu. We have to stop to rest," Timothy said.
"Oh, I thought we were still walking." Kit brushed snow from her hair. "My mistake." Her ears twitched.
"We can’t keep going. The little sleep we are getting isn’t enough. What will we do if Daeric is waiting at Belafonte, and we are ready to fall over?"
Yuzu yawned and blinked sleepily. "He’s right, Sis." She rubbed her arms under her wolf pelt. "So cold."
Kit scratched under her sleeves. "What choice do we have? I am not even sure if we are going the right way."
"You shouldn’t scratch." Timothy straightened and shifted the infernal knapsack.
"Someone should have told me about that plant sooner."
"That someone did. A certain someone wouldn’t listen."
Kit muttered something.
"And what lesson did you learn?" Timothy asked.
Kit grimaced. "I should listen to my husband more."
"What was that? I couldn’t hear you." Timothy cupped an ear and leaned toward her.
Kit froze, and her ears stood on end. Timothy’s smile withered, and his heart lurched.
"Did they find us?" Yuzu whispered. She stood up, trying to look everywhere at once.
Kit shook her head. Her ears flicked west and then north. Timothy held his breath and tried to listen for any hint. He swallowed. Yuzu stumbled to her feet and pull the wolf pelt tight.
"We have to move. We are too close to the road," Kit whispered. "Quietly." She moved in a half crouch deeper into the woods. Timothy felt his headache thump i
n time with his heart as he followed. Yuzu skulked on his heels.
Kit weaved through the undergrowth, picking paths around fallen branches. The rustle of leaves muffled by snow made Timothy grit his teeth. Yuzu brushed against him. The forest floor angled upward, and Kit led them on a deer trail. Timothy saw several prints in the snow. Those look fresh. Maybe that is what Kit heard. If there are deer nearby, Daeric can’t be—
A rock slipped from under his boot. Timothy landed hard on his shoulder—hard enough to break the cord binding the heavy lantern to his pack. The lantern rolled and clanked on rocks buried under the snow. The metallic peal echoed through the frigid silence.
Yuzu stared down the hill with wide eyes. Kit stalked down the slope. She offered Timothy her hand.
"Kit, I’m—" He heard it then. Snapping twigs and rustling leaves coming toward them from below. Fast.
"I don’t know what I ever did to that lantern." Kit hoisted Timothy to his feet. "They know where we are. Move it!"
Kit shoved him up the slope. Once back on the deer trail, Kit set a faster pace. His shoulder ached, and exhaustion dragged his legs. Kit has to be more tired than I am. She’s been on constant alert since we fled. Yuzu labored behind him. They worked their way up and around the hill. Timothy couldn’t hear anything beyond his breathing. Kit remained intent on the path forward, and her ears darted to and fro. Timothy glanced behind.
Yuzu was gone.
He grabbed Kit’s cloak and pulled her short. She twisted. "What?"
"Yuzu….gone." He closed his eyes against his burning lungs and thumping heart.
"She’s been nothing but trouble." She turned back to the trail and hesitated. "We have to keep going." She took a step forward, but Timothy held on.
"Kit."
She whirled. "That girl is more annoying than that fool lantern. I—"
"We can’t leave her. I won’t leave her."
"What’s she to you, Timmy? Is there something I don’t know?"
"She’s your adopted sister, Kit."
"I didn’t adopt her. She adopted me."
"Does it matter? She knows what you are. Did she run or yell when she saw your ears? No. She accepted you, same as I did."
Memory Hunted Page 6