Once they rescued Melina, they wouldn’t need the horses. Better to elude pursuers without the noisy creatures. Yet... Kerrick studied the big russet male. Despite his size, the stallion walked with a light graceful step. And he hadn’t spooked. Not once.
The horse eyed him with intelligence. Or was that Kerrick’s imagination? Still, Kerrick wondered if he could train the horse to move silently through the forest. Once he found the aqueduct’s southern exit, he wouldn’t have much else to do. And a quiet horse would be quite handy.
“What do you say, boy? You up for a challenge?” Kerrick asked, stroking the horse’s neck.
The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Kerrick decided that was horse for yes. He also thought the horse needed a name. Huxley was the first name that popped into his head. Hux had been the stable master for Kerrick’s father and had taught Kerrick how to ride and care for horses. He’d also been one of the first to die of the plague.
“How about Hux? Do you like that name?” he asked.
Another snort and paw. Kerrick was two for two.
After he checked on the other horses, Kerrick led them to a nearby stable and sold them. The effort to leave the forest to handle the sale exhausted him, and he slept until late the next morning.
He mounted Hux, then headed southwest at a walk. Slacking the reins, Kerrick let the horse choose the path while he listened to the sounds created by Hux’s hooves on the forest floor. A rustle of leaves, a crack of a twig and a scrape as he brushed a hoof over a fallen branch. Not bad. Most people made more noise than that.
Kerrick spurred him into a trot. At this pace, the horse chose his steps with more care, creating less noise. The canter was all drumming hooves and loud crashing. Not good.
Keeping Hux did have one benefit. He’d reached the south side of the city by late afternoon. Although the trees near the city’s southern wall had been chopped down and the vines pulled from the marble, the rest of the forest had been allowed to grow right up to it. He guessed the exit would be covered with greenery.
The forest sensed the wall as a rocky barrier thwarting its efforts to expand. Kerrick stretched his awareness, but didn’t feel any holes or gaps. Guess he’d have to find it the old-fashioned way.
He urged Hux to go east, paralleling the wall. When they reached a small muddy stream, Kerrick entered it and turned the horse left. Splashing in the water, Hux raised his head as if startled, but he didn’t balk. A few steps later, Kerrick smelled a foul odor. Probably what upset Hux. It wasn’t mud that turned the water brown, but sewage and offal.
However, the stench meant they’d found the exit. And sure enough, the stream led right into the wall. Bushes and saplings covered most of the round hole, but the middle above the water remained clear.
Kerrick dismounted and examined the duct. Boot prints both coming and going marked the mud near the water. The bushes had been pruned back just enough to let a man pass without brushing against them. Someone had used this exit quite recently. Probably to go inside the city, since Kerrick didn’t sense anyone nearby.
The vegetation reached inside the duct so Kerrick led Hux away and tied him to a tree. Then he made a torch and returned. Cringing at the smell, he entered and explored the tunnel, hunching over so he didn’t hit his head.
The greenery stopped when the light from the opening faded into blackness. The pull from the forest increased with each step, but he pushed as deep as possible. He found a wagon, which confirmed his suspicions.
Smugglers were using this passage to bring in black-market goods. No surprise, considering all forms of entertainment were illegal in Chinska Mare. Kerrick imagined the smugglers earned a large profit due to the danger.
He retreated to where he’d left Hux, mulling over his discovery. The smugglers wouldn’t be happy that their secret entrance was known. The empty wagon meant no one was inside the city at the moment, or else they’d have taken the wagon to deliver the goods. Not much Kerrick could do at this point. He’d keep alert for intruders and hope the smugglers didn’t return anytime soon.
To pass the time, Kerrick trained Hux. Or rather, he tried. His father’s stable master had worked with their horses, but Kerrick hadn’t been interested in that trade. Kerrick used positive reinforcement and repetition, hoping for the best.
On the third day of his vigil, the forest pulsed with unease. Irritants had intruded, leaving the main path and heading this way. Kerrick counted five. Three men and two women. He led Hux farther away, then sought a strategic position to watch them.
Crashing through the underbrush, one of the men cursed. “I’m bringing my machete next time,” he growled.
“Good idea, Jack, and why don’t you invite a priest along, too. Save us all some time,” another man groused.
“Shut up, Sylas,” Jack said.
The smugglers each carried a barrel probably full of alcohol. Short swords hung from their belts and each had a dagger tucked on the opposite side. They aimed for the tunnel.
“Ugh. It stinks,” one of the women said. “I thought the ducts were no longer in use.”
“They ain’t, princess. This is just runoff from the streets,” Jack said.
“Smells like profit to me,” the third man said, chuckling.
Kerrick thought fast. He needed to keep the entrance clear. And, although Avry and the guys could handle five armed opponents, the smugglers might ambush them in the dark tunnels. Casualties were not an option.
He had to stop them now.
CHAPTER 13
“All? As in all 2095 of them?” I asked Melina.
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.” I didn’t even know if the two of us would make it out, let alone thousands.
“Then I’m not leaving.” She dashed away.
Stunned I stood there until a guard noticed and reminded me with two strikes of his reed that I needed to report to my tower. The sting from his weapon barely registered as I hurried back. Now what?
Could everyone escape? They vastly outnumbered the guards, but all the guards inside here only had keys to the towers. We couldn’t get far without the rest of the keys. And the guards on the other side wouldn’t open them for us. Unless Odd could steal all the keys?
I trudged up to the sixth level. Stretching my legs, back, and neck muscles, I concentrated on the problem. I understood why Melina wanted to rescue them all—my stomach soured at the idea of leaving them behind—but...
Fydelia joined me. “Did you talk to Melina?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Didn’t go as you expected, did it?”
I met her gaze. And she accused me of being too smart for my own good. No sense lying to her. “No.”
She nodded.
Taking a chance, I asked, “Has anyone ever escaped?”
If she was surprised by the change in topic, she didn’t show it. “Nope.”
“Has anyone tried?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
“The guards can’t be seduced or bribed or tricked—it’s been tried dozens of times. And the last time there was a riot, guards from the outer perimeters flooded the prayer room brandishing swords. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Were you here?”
“It was right before I arrived, so I got an up-close look at the consequences.” She shuddered.
So much for overpowering the guards. “Has anyone been forgiven and released?” I asked.
“Nope.”
No surprise. A thud sounded from above.
Fydelia gnawed on her lower lip. “If we had weapons, it’d be a different story.” She gave me a pointed look.
Many of these women had been soldiers in Estrid’s holy army. If they kept their skills sharp... Another muted thump. “You’re still training, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“All of you?”
“Yep.”
“Just in case?”
“We’ve been here a long time. And you never know when the opportunity will a
rise. And I’m thinking you’re that opportunity, Irina.”
Gee, no pressure. “I don’t—”
“Weapons and opportunity, Irina. We’ll do the rest.” She left.
If only it were that easy. I spent the rest of the night mulling it over. Aside from the wood from the bunk beds, we had no other materials to make weapons. The metal spoons we used during meals could be of use. Except the guards would notice if a couple thousand spoons went missing.
Eventually, I drifted to sleep.
“My, my, what a pickle you’re in, my dear,” Tohon said. He lounged next to me on a huge canopy bed, wearing only his black silk pajama pants. “Trying to save the world, again?”
“I thought I banished you,” I grumbled.
“You thought wrong.” He patted the space next to him, inviting me closer.
“Not even in your dreams, Tohon.”
He tsked. “Nasty. Kerrick’s influence, no doubt. That man really needs to die. He’s been...so close.” Tohon sighed. “At least he’s not here to disturb us, my dear.”
I ignored him.
He laughed. “And you left poor Ryne to deal with all the nasties to save one girl.”
“We’re going to rescue them all,” I shot back.
“Now who’s being overconfident?” He linked his hands together and rested them on his chest. “You might as well just stay here, my dear. It’ll be safer.”
Unable to resist, I asked, “Why?”
“The Skeleton King wants to taste you, Cellina wants to tear you apart, and Ryne wants to chain you to the infirmary. Here they just want you to pray.”
“I don’t believe in the creator.”
“Then pray to me, my dear.”
* * *
When I woke the next morning, no brilliant ideas had struck me while I slept. However, if desperate, I could point Melina out to Odd and have him take her to the crypt on a trumped-up infraction. If I could find her. But that plan felt wrong. Maybe Odd would have an idea.
I lingered behind at breakfast, letting the others file out. Odd signaled me and this one I knew. All set?
I shook my head. He scowled.
When the room emptied, he fisted the collar of my robe and pushed me against the wall. “What’s going on?” His voice hissed in my ear.
“Change of plans.”
“Time’s short. She’s close.”
Only one she—Estrid. I told him what I hoped to do. “We can’t leave them.”
“You. Are. Insane.”
“They’ve been training. We just need weapons.”
“You need to reconnect with reality. It’s impossible.”
“Use the sleeping powder I gave you on the guards.” I knew that container I swiped would come in handy.
“It won’t take them all out.”
“Better than none. We have to try.”
He groaned. “When?”
“After supper before we’re locked up for the night.”
“Give me a couple days.”
“Do we have a couple days?”
“It’ll be tight. I’ll signal you at breakfast when we’re set. Make sure the women are ready.”
“I will.”
* * *
As I knelt and stared at the stained-glass ceiling, I planned how we’d incapacitate the tower guards. An all-out riot wouldn’t work—too noisy. Better to have small units striking at the same time. Half-forgotten memories of conversations between Ryne and his officers flared to life. Ryne had stressed the three key elements in a successful attack were surprise, speed, and intensity.
A familiar female voice startled me from my planning. Oh, no. I snuck a quick glance in the direction of the commanding tone. Jael. She walked with two priests. What was she doing here?
“Yes, I’m very excited the High Priestess is returning,” Jael said not sounding excited at all. “And I want to make sure all is well for my mother-in-law’s arrival.”
Murmurs of assurance from the priests. The desire to hide pulsed in my chest, but I remained in position to keep from attracting attention.
“Are all the penitents healthy?” Jael asked.
“Yes, General,” one of the priests said.
General, eh? With Estrid and her officers trapped and then frozen in stasis, I’d bet no message of Jael’s deceit had been sent to Chinska Mare. So this was where Jael’s been hiding. Smart, very smart. But now that Estrid was returning... What did that mean for Jael?
“Are they fed and bathed regularly?” Jael asked.
“Yes, General.”
“And this is where they pray all day?”
“From sunup to sundown.”
“I want to see their sleeping quarters, and then I’ll take a look at your schedules and the books.”
“Of course, General. Right this way.”
Their footsteps faded and I bit my lip. Jael’s presence complicated things. Big-time. Her powers could ruin all my plans. Or could it? She had told me she could only affect a dozen people at a time with her air magic. She would increase the danger, but we couldn’t stop now.
For the first time since I’d been in the monastery, the day flew by. After we returned to our towers, I explained everything to Fydelia. Her smile grew as I talked.
“No guarantee that this is going to work,” I said. “And now we have General Jael to worry about.”
“We’ll make it work,” she said. “I already have teams in each tower.”
“You do?”
“I told you, we’ve been training for a long time. And we’ll keep the attacks quiet.”
“You won’t have weapons until Sergeant Odd shows up with his men.”
“Not a problem. All the tower guards have are their reeds. I just could never figure out how to get past the next barrier without weapons.”
“I want to be a part of tower ten’s strike team,” I said.
She studied me. “Do you know hand-to-hand combat?”
“I have the hand-to-hand thing down. Don’t worry, I can hold my own.”
Fydelia didn’t appear to be convinced. I told her about my powers.
And for the first time since I’d known her, Fydelia looked rattled. “You’re that healer who helped Melina?”
“Yep.”
“You came to rescue her again?”
“Yep.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Apparently. But I promised her mother,” I fessed up. “Melina wouldn’t cooperate with my original plan, and she had an excellent reason. We can’t leave all of you.”
“Thank the creator.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? After all, the creator is the reason you’re in here. Plus you might want to wait to see how all this ends up first.”
“Have faith.”
I laughed. We continued to discuss the details. “How will you let the other towers know when to attack?” I asked.
“During prayers.” She grinned. “We’re packed in so close that there’s lots of communication going on then. The guards can’t watch all of us at the same time. Give me your hand.”
Curious I held out my right hand. She turned it so my palm faced up. Then she traced a pattern on my palm with her finger nail. “We signal hand to hand. I can do this without looking.”
“What did it mean?”
“It’s time.”
After lights out, I lay on the hard wood of my bunk, marveling at the turn in events. If we rescued them all, that would be a big blow to Estrid. But I kept a tight grip on my emotions. Too many unknowns, and too many things had to go right, which Tohon gleefully pointed out in my dreams every night.
I’d relax later when we rendezvoused with Kerrick. Perhaps we’d celebrate with a private party—just the two of us in a cozy hollow. My body warmed at the thought. I missed him.
Cold, harsh reality intruded in the morning. Roused by the guards, we filed out, ate breakfast, visited the privy, and knelt for prayers. Neither Odd nor any of his men was among the guards. Unease swirled. I spent the
day listing all the things that could go wrong—a very long list.
The next morning, I spotted one of Odd’s men with the guards. He ignored me, which meant I’d have to endure yet another day on my knees, staring at the ceiling. I searched my memories, recalling just how many locked doors we’d crossed on our way in. My gaze drifted to the levels framing the window. Remembering the monastery had resembled a wedding cake, I guessed each frame was a floor. I counted eight floors. The towers had seven levels, which fit with what I’d seen. The top of the towers didn’t reach the highest tier.
Interesting. There were also eight sets of doors on the way to freedom. That meant we were on the ground floor and in the dead center of the square building.
When we returned to our towers, I realized Fydelia had been right. After seven days on my knees, I didn’t feel quite so stiff and sore and I had healing powers. How long would it have taken my body to adjust without my magic? My opinion of these women increased.
* * *
On my eighth day of penitence, Odd signaled me during breakfast. Thank the Flea! At this point, I craved action. Any action other than staring at a window. Now I understood why some women had gone insane.
I caught Fydelia’s attention and raised my eyebrows. She kept her face neutral, but a spark flared behind her eyes. Game on.
Last time, last time, last time. I chanted the words in my mind to keep from screaming out loud. Reviewing the attack plan only lasted so long—it was imprinted in my brain at this point. I sneaked a few glances at the guards, earning a couple of whacks. Of the forty-eight inside the center area, only Odd and two of his men were on our side. That left forty-five.
I scanned for Jael, as well. She hadn’t returned since I’d last seen her, but she had to be up to something. After an eternity, the sun set. Needing my strength, I shoveled the wet paste into my mouth. At this point, even Quain’s squirrel soup would taste divine. Not that I’d tell him.
I joined the line heading to our tower with Fydelia and the ladies who had been chosen to carry out the attack. With my heart climbing up my throat, I followed the team.
The four guards of tower ten checked off penitents as the women showed them their bracelets. “...number four-three-seven. Number two-nine-one. Number six-zero-four. Number one-five-nine-five. Number— Oof!”
Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) Page 20