"And if it puts me to sleep?"
"I'll try to make sure that doesn't happen."
"If it does, you'll leave me here." He made it an order.
Ciara shook her head. "You wouldn't think of leaving me behind, why should I leave you?"
"Because I can fend for myself."
"You can't. Not here. You said it yourself; she'll just keep torturing you until she's had her fill." She rolled her lips shut, and looked away. "I won't let that happen. I can't."
Berk closed his eyes a moment, nostrils flaring as he inhaled. "I have a duty, Ciara. We were sent to see you safely to Nisair. What happens to us--as long as you get to Nisair, the rest doesn't matter."
An exasperated growl escaped her. "You sound just like Bolin. In both cases, you're wrong. It does matter what happens to you. There are people who care about you who don't know me from the scullery maid. Do you think they'd value my life over yours? Do you think I do?"
"They understand the life I've chosen."
"Well, I don't. And I never will." She stood to look down at him, fists on her hips. "We're both going. If you argue with me, I will put you to sleep, and drag you out of here by your hair."
The corners of his mouth twitched, and he raised a hand to cover a suspicious cough. Ciara glowered.
"All right," he said, "but promise me one thing?"
Why did it feel like she'd had this conversation recently? "And what would that be?"
"If anything goes wrong, you run. Don't worry about me. Don't look back. Just head north."
Ciara chewed at the inside of her cheek. If anything went wrong, she had a strong feeling it would go from bad to worse quickly, and not in a way Berk expected.
"I can't do that." She held up a hand to stop any further protests. "There's no time for this. Please. I need to work the spell. It's going to take a bit of doing."
You have but to call me to you, daughter, the voice slithered into her thoughts and across her nerves like a tremor through the ground. I will see you safe.
And worse just got exponentially so.
***
He'd been little more than a boy. The marauder chieftain had taken great delight in giving Berk all the details of how they'd kept him alive in that steel cage for over a sevenday, adding only enough wood to keep the fire going beneath him. When he begged for water, they poured it over his skin. When he screamed for his mother, they mocked him. She told Berk how he kept them up at night with his cries, until one of the men had his fill and stoked the fire high enough to finish him. Berk could hear the screams in his head as though he'd witnessed it himself. The boy in that cage couldn't have been much older than his brother, Cadyl.
The woman had laughed as she told the tale, and Berk had tried to kill her with his bare hands. He would have succeeded if the drug she'd put on the knife hadn't had him careening from torment to ecstasy like the surging winter winds against the mountain cliffs. One moment agony the likes of which he'd never experienced had him writhing on the ground, begging the Goddess to take him. Had him searching for a weapon to take his own life. The next, desire had him claiming Linea's body with a hunger that now made his skin crawl. And when the two overlapped it sent him on a spiral of unrelenting highs and lows before slamming him into the ground as though he'd fallen from the highest peak in the Reaches.
Berk shuddered and raked his fingers through the greasy tangle of his hair, holding his head and trying to fill it with other thoughts. But that led him to Ciara and what he'd almost done to her. Goddess's blood, he would have forced himself on her if the drug hadn't been losing its hold, and yet she'd turned right around and helped him. The whole thing twisted his guts into a knot as he waited for her to come back with clothes.
Her spell had worked. It amazed him. Magic had never been a part of his life. As often as he'd been in Nisair, he'd never spent much time around the Imperial Mages, or the Emperor for that matter. Until now, he'd only been tended by normal healers, never by a gifted one.
He started up when the tent flap opened, his muscles tensing. Ciara looked his way then quickly averted her eyes, and he snatched up one of the furs to cover himself.
"We have to hurry," she said, keeping her voice low, a breathless quality to it. "I don't know how long I can keep everyone sleeping. There are more than I thought."
She dumped Berk's tunic, britches, and boots on the floor next to him and sat down abruptly, as though her legs had given out. Berk dropped down beside her, but she waved him away.
"Just hurry."
He did the best he could. The alchemist's mix no longer tortured him, but his shoulder throbbed and his head spun. He needed Ciara's help getting his tunic on, and the movement started the wounds bleeding again.
"Leave it for now," he said when Ciara would have fussed. "We need to go."
She looked pale, her eyes hazed over, her face scrunched up as though in deep thought. When he took her by the arm to guide her out of the tent he could feel her shaking.
"You're sure you're alright?" he asked in a whisper.
She nodded and turned to the left. Toward the horses, if Berk had to guess. He stopped to get his bearings, then made for Linea's tent.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice as low as she could pitch it and still be heard.
"My weapons."
She tried to pull him back. "There's no time."
"That sword is my father's. I'll not leave it for them." He pried her fingers from his arm. "Wait for me by the horses. I won't be long. I swear."
He slipped through the hide flap of the tent and stilled, ears alert to the smallest sound. Linea had bragged how she would use his sword to gut Imperial soldiers, after him, of course. She told him he should take that as an honor. He remembered spitting on her, and swearing it would taste her blood first. It rested on a chest beside her sleeping palette unless she'd moved it. Berk skirted the interior of the tent, barely daring to breathe. As he neared the marauder's sleeping form, she rolled onto her back and moaned softly. Berk froze.
His pulse hammered in his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut at the torrent of emotion that sound slammed through him. It called up visions sure to haunt his nightmares.
"Here and now," he whispered. "Here and now."
A soft snore escaped Linea, and pushed Berk back into action. His questing hands found the sword where she had left it. They shook as he slid the blade from its leather scabbard with a soft scrape, then steadied as he poised the steel over the marauder's chest, above the black hole of her heart. By the Emperor's own edict, marauders were to be executed upon capture. This woman's treatment of him paled in comparison to the horrors she'd inflected on others, and would continue to inflict if he allowed her to live. He'd taken life before. Each time justified, and each time had sickened him, but none had been as deserving as this.
A breeze whispered through the tent. A quick intake of breath gave Ciara away. She said nothing, just grabbed Berk's arm and dragged him outside. She released him as soon as they cleared the tent, and kept walking toward the horses, her gait unsteady.
"Ciara."
She held up a hand but didn't look at him. "I can't hold this much longer."
Two horses stood ready and waiting, the rest had been untied and left to wander so none would call for their herd mates after they'd left. It took Ciara two tries to get into the saddle, and if Berk hadn't stayed next to her she would have toppled off the other side. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and Ciara's feeble protest, he hauled himself up behind her. He reached around with his good arm and settled her in his lap.
"I won't do anything," he said when she tensed, anger and frustration at himself making his voice hard.
"Make better time with two horses." She murmured it, even as she leaned back.
Berk clenched his teeth. "Not if I have to keep stopping to put you back in the saddle." He twisted, pushing his chest forward to get her to shift to the other side, and caught her in the crook of his arm. "Sleep if you need to. I won't let y
ou fall off."
Goddess willing he wouldn't fall off either.
"Can't sleep yet. Need to tend the spell."
"How long will it hold?"
"Till morning, I hope. But the farther we go, the weaker it'll get. I'm very tired."
"Then we better put some leagues behind us."
She turned to center herself firmly in front of him. Berk squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat or two, trying to avert a reaction he would have been happier blaming on the drug. He glanced skyward to get his bearings and nudged the horse into a canter. Goddess willing they'd find the road, or the rest of escort, before the marauders found them again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Donovan watched the sunrise from the balcony outside his study. Though dealing with marauders had felt somewhat like drinking from a chamber pot, they had served him well. Their mage had managed to enrage a simple storm enough to mask their attack. The priestess had sent one of her pets to occupy the General, and though Donovan would have preferred him to be killed, at least the marauders had succeeded in their part. They had his daughter. By nightfall she would once again be in his hands.
It occurred to Donovan that with all the power soon to be at his disposal, there would be no one who could stand against him. Certainly not the General. As much as the man's death would have removed a chief annoyance, the thought of breaking him and keeping him alive had a morbid appeal. There were occasions when he could understand the crone's attraction to her pets.
It would take time, though. Donovan needed to exercise care and patience. He used to have more of the latter. Like his carefully ordered and maintained power, his ability to take things slowly had been mauled by the battle with the crone, and his joining with her. He still needed to gain more control of the crone's power. Binding the priestess hadn't brought him near the relief her physical touch did. Not yet, anyhow.
"You owe me a new creature."
Ah, think of evil and the wind brings it. "I owe you nothing, priestess."
She moved into his line of vision, her hips swinging seductively. She wore the look of a hungry predator. "It's just a little thing I want."
Donovan dropped his gaze to look down his nose at her. "He would destroy you."
Her violet gaze sparkled with mayhem. "I brought him to his knees."
"You caught him off guard and once more did not press your advantage. He will not give you that opportunity again."
She made a purring noise in her throat and turned away from him. Lifting her arms above her head and intertwining her fingers she stretched until her bones popped. "We shall see."
"No, you shall not." Donovan did not turn when his servant, Colm, came up behind him, quietly clearing his throat. "Are preparations finished?"
"Yes, my lord. The vanguard shall be leaving momentarily. Your horses are waiting in the yard."
Teeva stilled in her stretch. "You're going somewhere?"
"We are going. Yes."
She dropped her arms and turned. "Where?"
"On a fox hunt, priestess, and you are my hound."
She bristled at that. "How does the old woman's power sit with you these days?"
"Of what concern is that to you?"
She shrugged. "Only looking out for your well-being, Lord. Is it wise to stray from here when you remain so unsettled?"
"Something makes you believe that is the case?"
Again the shrug. The gesture annoyed him, especially when accompanied by feigned nonchalance. "Your success is my success. I do not care to fail."
"You have known nothing but failure your entire life," he said. "It would behoove you to focus your energy and concern on not repeating past mistakes. Do not think to play me against the General, Priestess. It will not go well for you. Your magic is a delicious delight, as is your body. I shall not miss either should I feel I am being betrayed."
***
"There." Sully pointed down the hill.
The first rays of the sun were just peaking above the horizon, sliding through a scattering of clouds. It had rained again over night and though no one wanted to, Bolin had called a halt near midnight. They all needed sleep, and the horses definitely needed a break. Even Sully couldn't track in the rain and dark. Bolin had Nialyne slip something into the tea she brewed for them and gave it to the Lieutenant, or he wouldn't have taken any rest. Even with that, all of them were up before dawn. Now they lay, stretched out on their stomachs in the still-wet grass, looking down at the marauder camp in the shallow valley below.
"No movement," Sully commented.
"And no horses?" Garek asked.
Bolin nudged his shoulder, and pointed toward the far side of the camp where several loose horses grazed. "Not like marauders to tie a sloppy line."
"Too much celebrating last night, maybe." Garek's tone held an edge, and Sully gave him a hard look past Bolin.
"Something's not right here," Bolin said. A tingle spread across his chest from where the pendant rested. He rolled and motioned Nialyne over. "Can you feel that?"
She knelt down beside him. Her face twisted into a mask of concentration. She frowned and started to shake her head then, "Wait. Yes. But it's very faint. Some kind of...is it a healing spell? Calming..." Her eyes widened. "She put them all to sleep?"
"They're not here," Bolin said.
Garek grabbed Bolin's arm as he started to his feet. "You know that for a fact?"
"Do you honestly think I'd risk their lives on speculation?"
"Maybe I could get a little closer, and take a better look?" Sully offered.
Bolin held his temper just barely, and pinned Garek with a look. The Commander shifted, then shook his head. "No need, Sul."
"Where would Berk head?"
"The road and Broadhead," Garek answered without any hesitation.
Bolin turned to Sully. "You think you can get down there and string those horses?"
"Me, and one of the boys."
"Do it," he said. "Get as many as you can but don't take any risks. If you see any movement in that camp, leave. Understood?"
"Aye, General."
"Take Sal," Garek interjected. "Send Duff over with Berk's crossbow."
Sully nodded and scrambled down the embankment. Moments later, Duff replaced him, a bolt already loaded in the crossbow. Garek signaled him to take up a flank. "Keep a sharp eye, Duff. If you see anyone down there about to sound the alarm, put a bolt through them."
The man's Adam's apple bobbed, but he moved off to position himself behind a tree.
Bolin touched Nialyne's arm.
"Mount up," he told her. "If anything happens, set spur to flank and don't look back. Head northeast and keep going until you find the road. We'll catch up."
Whatever thoughts ran through her head at that moment, she kept to herself. Bolin watched her until he knew his orders were being followed, then shifted his attention back toward the camp.
"I didn't mean to suggest you'd leave a man behind," Garek said quietly, his attention on the two men moving like shadows through the trees. They made a wide circle around the camp to where the marauder's horses were grazing.
"Really?" Bolin said, trying not to sound like a peevish woman. "Because that's exactly what it sounded like to me."
"You know I've got no faith in what I can't see or touch. It may be like breathing to you, but to me it's like drowning."
Bolin shifted, reached beneath his ribs, pulled a pine cone out, and tossed it away. "Next time you decide to question me, do it in private."
"Now I'm offended," Garek said. "You're assuming there'll be a next time."
"I would be concerned if there weren't."
"They've made it 'round."
Bolin peered through the trees. The sun had cleared the horizon, and the morning cavalcade of birdsong filled the air as the forest began to wake up around them. The tingling against Bolin's skin faded to nothing. Sully and Salek made short work of gathering the horses. Bolin lost sight of them more than once as they skirted behind the tent
s.
A shrill, warbling whistle, repeated twice, flitted to their ears.
"They're set," Garek said, and waved to Duff, who shouldered the crossbow and headed for their own horses.
As Bolin started off the rise, a shout ripped his attention back to the camp. A naked woman stumbled from one of the tents and looked around, then lurched toward another tent. One look inside and she raised the alarm, laying a savage kick into the ribs of the guard sleeping on its doorstep. She must have caught sight of the departing horses then because she sprinted off in that direction, yelling as she went, and throwing random kicks at anyone she found in between as she tried to rouse them.
Bolin didn't wait to see more. He scrambled down the bank and vaulted onto Sandeen, signaling Garek to take the lead. He paused next to Nialyne. "Stay close to Garek."
She nodded and rode up to put herself between Garek and Duff.
They angled away from the camp, swinging northeast to intercept Sully and Salek. Shouting followed them for quite a while, echoing under the trees. The marauders wouldn't let lack of horses stop them. They'd look for retaliation even if they had to do it on foot.
Garek spotted Sully through the trees and reined in. The Lieutenant had a string of six horses, including the one he straddled bareback. Salek had another four.
"Couldn't get them all," Sully said, his disappointment obvious. "One of the guards was starting to come to. We tried to scatter the rest. It'll be a bit before they can manage to regroup."
"And then they'll be hard on us, like starving dogs on a bone," Garek said.
"I caught some tracks," Sully said. "One horse weighted enough I'd say it was carrying two riders. Heading northeast at a good clip."
"How far ahead of us?" Bolin asked.
Sully rubbed his jaw. "Wasn't raining when they lit out, but the ground was still plenty soft. Puts it a bit before dawn."
"Berk will make for the Southrun straight as he can," Garek said. "Knows he can make better time on the road. And if the garrison at Broadhead's been having any marauder problems they'll like as not have patrols out."
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