Glyphbinder
Page 17
A bleary-eyed Byn poked his head from the wagon, squinting at the midday light. Trell dropped his arm as Chesa snorted and stomped. Neither of them liked this.
Kara stared at the distant fortress. “Are you certain? Do you know how Sentinels operate?”
“I don’t,” Trell said, “but letting us approach unchallenged makes no sense. I expected someone to greet us in these ruins, ideally before we emerged. Any of these old towers is an ideal place to survey an approach, yet we’ve seen no one. Doesn’t that seem odd?”
Byn hopped from the wagon and approached. “What’s going on?”
Kara glanced at him. “We’re wondering why no one at Highridge Keep has come out to say hello.”
“Ah.” Byn nodded. “I’ll have a look.” He closed his eyes and scribed Theotrix on his face in blood, granting himself the sight of a hawk. Byn opened his eyes and stared at the distant keep.
“I don’t see anyone. There are banners flying, but no one on the walls, and the drawbridge is open.” Byn shook his head and blinked off the glyph. “Could they be out fighting a battle? On patrol?” He walked to the back of the wagon and unwound Pacer’s lead.
Trell shook his head. “No commander worth his salt would let us close unchallenged, nor leave his fortress open and empty. I’m sorry, Kara, but I believe this garrison has been abandoned.”
Kara huffed. She didn’t believe it. She didn’t want to believe it, and that gave her pause. What if someone had gotten here ahead of them and killed an entire garrison of Sentinels? What if she was leading them into another trap?
Sera emerged from the wagon, eyes still puffy from crying. Kara grimaced as she thought back on her immature feud with Aryn. How badly had it hurt Sera to be caught in the middle? One more anchor of guilt weighing her down beside so many others.
Kara ground her teeth. Every decision she made turned out wrong. The Sentinels couldn’t all be dead, but they certainly weren’t here. Where could they go now? How could they survive?
How many more of them were going to die?
She remembered Halde’s talk of their world turning to the Underside. She already knew Demonkin were active in the Five Provinces. Had they raised some new horror to tear apart this keep?
Kara pushed all that aside. A leader kept her head. She didn’t feel like a leader but she was one, now, whether she liked it or not. Her friends needed her, and she couldn’t let them down. She sidestepped Charger closer to Trell’s mare.
“Sentinels don’t fall easily, Trell, but what we saw in Taven’s Hamlet — gnarls, Shifters, and mages all working together — it might be enough. There could be an entire army out here.”
Trell nodded. “None of you can eat the food we brought from Solyr. Correct?”
“Not without losing the ability to glyph. It won’t harm you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m more worried about the timing. Now, when we are desperately low on supplies, we’re presented with an empty, open garrison that no doubt contains more than enough food to get us to Tarna. A clear path and an open drawbridge.
Kara glared at the keep and huffed. So it was a trap. “Then we ride on. We hunt for food and forage for water.”
“For five people, and horses? That will be difficult, and it will slow us down. Additionally, what if the garrison is not as empty as we suppose? What if there are survivors?”
“What are you suggesting we do, Trell?”
“We take a risk either way.” He took a breath. “However, we cannot move on without inspecting this keep.”
“Fine.” Kara agreed even though the thought of entering Highridge Keep gave her chills. “Let’s get it over with.”
“You will be staying here.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“If this is a trap, it is meant for you. You can’t walk into it.”
“And you can?” Kara did her best to keep the frustration from her tone, but it was difficult. Lack of sleep and guilt over Aryn weighed on her like barnacles on a hull.
“Of all of us,” Trell said, “I have the best chance to defeat or escape anything waiting in that garrison. Or have you forgotten last night’s davenger?”
Kara looked ahead. No, she hadn’t forgotten about last night. “You don’t even know how you did that.”
“Nevertheless, we need those provisions. If there are survivors here, we cannot leave them to their fate. And we cannot have you enter that garrison without knowing what waits inside.”
Kara wanted to hit Trell then, for a moment, and even the thought shamed her. She didn’t like the way he was treating her, like she was some helpless child than needed to be protected. Yet was he, really? Or was he simply calling out a tactical reality?
Their hunter sought her. That was their reality now and it changed things, for everyone. Kara wondered if this is how rulers like Prince Beren felt on battlefields. Helpless. Useless. Forced to watch as soldiers died for them while they hid safely behind the lines. Because if they fell, every last sacrifice would mean nothing.
Trell, Byn, Sera, Jair — all of them were risking their lives to protect her. Aryn had lost his. It didn’t matter that she could protect herself. Trell knew that. He was simply reminding her that if she entered Highridge Keep she would put them all at risk, and for what? To prove she wasn’t afraid? To mend an ego bruised by constantly being outmaneuvered by her hunter?
“All right,” Kara said. Clenching her reins as she did so. “But you’re not going in alone.” She beckoned to Byn, even though everything inside her wanted to keep him safe. “We need provisions. They might be in that garrison. Can Rannos sniff them out?”
Byn glanced at Sera as she watched them, arms crossed. She had just lost someone she cared about, and now Kara was sending another man she loved into danger. Sera nodded to them.
“Yeah,” Byn said, rubbing the back of his head. “Rannos can sniff them out.”
“Then take Trell and your horses. See if provisions or survivors remain in Highridge Keep, and be careful. If anything threatens, if you even think you might be in danger, ride to Highridge Pass.”
Jair dropped from the wagon and settled on the ground, cross-legged. “While they search the garrison, I’ll look for any dead, Sentinels or otherwise. If people were killed here and their souls remain, I may be able to find out what happened.”
“Do it,” Kara said, “and hurry.” She turned her eyes on Trell. “No unnecessary risks. Flee to Highridge Pass. Remember.”
Byn climbed into Pacer’s saddle and he and Trell set off, riding at an easy but steady pace for Highridge Keep. Kara watched them go and bit her lip. She wanted to scream after them.
“Hey,” Sera said quietly. She stood beside Kara’s horse now.
Kara glanced down at her. “What?”
“You’re doing great.” Sera squeezed her leg. “You’re doing what you have to, and I don’t blame you for anything.”
“Sera—“
“I said I don’t blame you,” Sera repeated, staring up at her. “Neither would Aryn. There’s only one woman to blame here, and if we see her again, we’ll stop her. For good.”
Kara sighed heavily and watched Trell and Byn ride into Five knew what. “I just hope it’s that easy.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK HUNTS US, TRELL?” Byn asked, once they had ridden a good distance from the wagon. He missed Sera already, but couldn’t let that distract him.
Trell shrugged. “A Tellvan battlemage. Kara said so herself."
“I know what Kara said, and I know what Sera saw. But I want to know what you think, as a Tellvan soldier.”
“You mean what I think about slaughtering civilians?”
Byn sagged and stared ahead. “I’m sorry about what I said at Taven’s Hamlet. I shouldn’t have gone after you like I did.”
“You don’t know me, Byn,” Trell said, after a moment of silence. “I don’t even know me. To be honest, when we first saw that Tellvan banner … I was afraid you might be right.”
“I appreciate the confidence.”
“But I don’t think this mage is Tellvan. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Oh?”
“During the All Province War, the Tellvan were our strongest allies. Even after the High Protector disintegrated Metla Tassau they worked with us, traded with us.”
“A looming threat can do much for peace,” Trell said. “So long as it looms. Stop here.”
Byn listened, stopping Pacer by the open drawbridge. Trell dropped off Chesa and Byn did the same, seeing the logic. No need to risk the horses throwing a leg on muddy cobblestones or getting panicked by a demon. Better to leave them here, safe.
A moat surrounded the garrision, brown, stagnant water. The dark chains linked to the bridge were well kept. No Sentinels showed themselves, and no one challenged them.
Byn closed his eyes and brushed Pacer’s nose. He felt the nervousness in his horse. He stroked Pacer’s flanks and clucked his tongue, softly, until Pacer relaxed. He moved to Chesa and repeated his comforting routine.
“What are you doing?” Trell asked.
“Steadying their minds.” Byn brushed off his hands. “Pacer here is more nervous than Chesa, but even she is wary and tense. They don’t like this garrison. It feels wrong.”
“You can tell all that with one touch on their nose?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a Beastruler if I couldn’t.” Byn thumped Pacer’s side, and his gelding snorted. “Let’s go.”
Trell’s hand touched the grip of his sword, a habit that seemed instinctive, and then he stepped onto the drawbridge. His boots thumped on solid wood, new and strong. Nothing creaked.
Byn followed. “Anyway, Trell, it wasn’t just the threat of Metla Tassau that kept Tellvan with us. Even after the war, they fought hard against the Demonkin. They sent hundreds of mages and soldiers out hunting and many died, badly. They despise demon glyphs. They’d never use them, and would murder anyone who did.”
Trell shrugged as they approached a high stone arch with an open porticullus. “Whoever hunts us may not be in their right mind. I doubt they are working at the behest of the Seven Sheiks.”
“So why hunt Kara? What do they want with her?”
“All we know is we must keep her from them, no matter the cost. The fate of Aryn Locke proves that more than ever.”
“Yeah.” Byn felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. “Aryn didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
Byn still didn’t know how to think about a man who would throw himself into eternal torture to save Sera’s life. It made him feel smaller, somehow, like he had failed Sera in some way he could never fix. Like he didn’t deserve her anymore.
He had always planned to return to Boon and become a veterinarian after graduating Solyr. Sera would join him, marry him, and heal Boon's sick or injured. They would raise their children beside the sea, help Kara tend Ona, fish and sail—
“Byn?” Trell asked. “Anything?”
Byn realized they now stood on mud and cobblestones. “Right.” They had entered the keep. This was why he was here, after all.
Byn examined Highridge Keep’s inner courtyard. Light gray bricks formed massive walls, and the windows in the outer wall were as dark within as they had been without. Mournful wind whistled over the walls and its iron pikes. Nothing else stirred.
Byn sliced his finger and scribed Rannos on his forehead. It felt like his nostrils grew three sizes. The smell of rotting flesh hit so hard it dropped him to his knees, choking and gagging.
“What’s wrong?” Trell asked. A touch worried.
“Sorry.” Byn tried not to cough. The smell was coming from the main door of the inner keep, from behind it. Bodies rotting away.
Byn unscribed Rannos. He couldn’t think with the stench. When he finished, he stood and took a deep breath.
“I think I know what happened to the Sentinels.”
A SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH caught Kara’s attention, forcing her eyes from Highridge Keep. Jair stood, eyes wide and a clear, deep blue. Kara gasped as she remembered what that meant.
The soul determined the color of one’s eyes. Her own soul had changed when she made her first glyph, turning her eyes orange, but a Soulmage’s eye color changed to that of whatever soul inhabited their body. The soul now inside Jair had blue eyes.
“You shouldn’t have come here.” The voice that came from Jair’s throat was low, female, and not his. “They turned our own Sentinels against us.”
“That’s incredible,” Sera said. “You found a Sentinel spirit?”
Kara dropped off her horse and approached Jair. Soulmages could speak with spirits, true, but they could also call upon them when needed, taking the spirit’s mind and skills as their own. With a strong enough spirit inside them, a Soulmage could become a skilled swordsman or a talented singer or anyone else dead.
“Who are you?” Kara asked. “Tell me your name.” From what she remembered, it was best to be direct with the dead.
Jair swallowed, eyes flitting side to side. “I’m … Lyra.”
“I’m Kara Tanner, and I lead this dyn. We’ve come from the Magic Academy of Solyr, and we need your help. What happened here? How did this garrison fall?”
“They weren’t gnarls.” Jair’s fists clenched as his blue eyes flitted side to side. “We thought they were a rogue tribe, and we met them in the field. They were better fighters than we had ever seen. We killed them and they killed us.”
“A gnarl tribe was here? How many?”
“They weren’t gnarls,” Lyra repeated. “Don’t you see? They were our own patrol. Sentinels. We saw a lie and murdered them.”
Kara cursed low. “Shifters.” They had cloaked the returning Sentinels in illusion, making them appear as gnarls. Each side had been certain the other was the enemy.
Jair fell to one knee, blue eyes wide. “When we were done … when we had finished killing each other … the lies went away. They showed us our dead. I put my sword through my own father. Garen Kost. I watched him die and now I can’t find him.”
Kara saw no evidence of any battle. “But, Lyra … the battle took place out here, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Then … where are the bodies?”
Lyra gave no answer.
“Drown me, Lyra, where are all the bodies?”
Sera gripped Jair’s shoulder and pushed down. “That’s enough. Push her out. Her fear is toxic, and your heart is beating faster than a rabbit’s. She’s hurting you.”
Jair ripped Sera’s arm off his shoulder and backed away, hands raised. “No, please. I don’t want to go with you. Please!”
The earth rumbled beneath Kara’s boots and she stumbled, catching herself against Charger’s firm side. Stomper and Tack, the packhorses pulling Jair’s wagon, bobbed their heads and stomped their feet. Jair trembled and shook his head, violently.
“What’s happening?” Sera shouted. “An earthquake?”
It couldn’t be an earthquake. Earthquakes didn’t happen out here. Kara had only read about one in the Ranarok, and that had been summoned by Torn. Was this her hunter? Was he powerful enough to shake the ground? Was he going to attack them again?
A saw mill howl rose above the rumble of the earth, and a chill took Kara’s bones. Lyra’s final, desperate plea made sense. The harvenger had found them.
“Up in the wagon, now!” Kara shouted.
A skeleton hand burst from the earth and grabbed Sera’s ankle. Sera shrieked as it pulled her down. More hands snatched at her clothes, her arms, her hair. Charger whinnied and stomped.
Kara split the skin of her index finger with her sharpened thumbnail and glyphed a single Finger of Heat. She tossed it into the arm bon
es and blew them apart. “Get up! Get out of there!”
Kara blasted another hand that went for Sera’s legs, and another after that. Sera tore off the hands snatching at her cloak, shrieking and flailing. She clambered into the back of the wagon.
“Jair!” Kara shouted. “Move!”
Jair didn’t. His eyes were dark once more but remained wide, unfocused. Kara grabbed him and dragged him, boot heels sliding on dirt, toward the wagon. A skeletal hand clutched her foot.
Kara stomped it and screamed. Whole skeletons were now wriggling free of the hard packed earth, bones animated through will she did not understand. The dead were rising, and she must remember why.
Jair moaned and broke away from her, finding his feet. He sprinted to the wagon. He clambered up the side like a startled cat and snapped the reins. The wagon team took off at once.
Kara scrambled into Charger’s saddle. Wheels rumbled as the wagon rolled, and Kara spurred Charger after it. Trell and Byn must have heard the howl and would be leaving Highridge Keep, riding to meet them at the pass. She had to trust them to do that. She had to protect those with her now — Sera. Jair. The horses.
Jair was whipping the wagon team so hard Kara feared the reins might snap. She supposed it was better than letting the harvenger eat them, but she was surprised at his ferocity. Both horses snorted and flinched at the unexpected assault.
Highridge Pass moved to their left. Jair was driving the wagon away from it. As Kara’s eyes swept the distant rise, she finally picked out a stark black form against the blue sky.
It stood with arms outstretched. It looked massive. It had once been Aryn Locke, and now Jair was driving the wagon right for it.
“Jair!” Kara tapped her heels on Charger’s flanks. “Stop!”
Jair, the wagon, and Sera picked up speed, barreling up the ridge. Charger caught up and rode beside them. Did Jair hope to run that harvenger down like the davenger? What was he thinking?
“Stop!” Kara shouted. “Stop the wagon!” The clamor of frothing horses and rumbling wagon wheels all but drowned her out.