Servis had misunderstood. He had thought that Con was asking what Servis would do if Con tried to leave. Con already knew that.
Servis would have to kill him.
And that was the key to orders, wasn't it? Doing what one had to, doing what was required.
Con didn't have orders.
He had a Charge.
He touched the vials of holy water in his pocket. Sometimes doing God's work meant using every available opportunity, no matter what the result.
He had a higher calling. He had to see the King.
"It's my job to follow orders, too," Con said.
"I canna let you leave, baby Aud," Servis said.
"If you do, who'll know?" Con asked. "They're fighting above. They may not even come back this way."
"I'll know, baby Aud." Servis's voice was soft. "I'll know."
Con nodded. And there lay his answer. Even if the King already knew, even if the King sent those troops, Con wouldn't be satisfied. He wouldn't know until he saw for himself, until he followed his Charge all the way through.
All he needed was a moment, a simple moment, and he would be able to fulfill his Charge. He knew the tunnels — or at least had a map of them. And if he were quiet, he would be able to see it all through.
With his thumb and forefinger, he worked the stopper out of a vial of holy water. "Don't you believe in a higher order?" he asked. "Don't you believe that God's work takes precedence over all others?"
"Dinna play such games with me, lad," Servis said. "I canna let ye go."
"But you're a believer, Servis." Con took a small step closer. He couldn't get too close, and yet he couldn't be too far either. He had to find the right point. "The Church teaches that God leads us all, even the King. And if God leads the King, then he certainly guides the King's guards. My Charge should have more weight than your order."
Servis sighed. His hand hadn't moved from the hilt of his dagger. "I dinna have the learnin ta think a these things, baby Aud. Dinna make me. I'm a simple man and I will do simple things. Like follow orders."
"My orders are from God," Con said.
"N I only have yer word on that." Servis was growing agitated. He leaned forward. "I dinna know who gave ye the Charge or if tis false. I canna give up me orders fer yer Charge."
"But you would if you know my Charge came from the Rocaan."
"Maybe. If'n I saw the Rocaan give yer Charge to ye."
"But you didn't. You only have my word. The word of a holy man." Con's fingers tightened around the vial.
"Yer a boy."
"I'm an Aud," he said, throwing Servis's words back at him.
Servis stared at him, then slid his hand off the knife hilt.
Con's heart made a small flip. Servis was listening. "There is another way I can convince you," Con said.
Servis put his hand flat on the ground. Con's fingers tightened on the vial. This would be the moment, if he were to take one. This might be his only chance.
But he kept his hand in his pocket.
"Keep talkin, baby Aud."
"Come with me. Come into the palace and help me find the King. If at any time I put the King in danger, kill me."
"I was hopin we'd get through this without one a us killin the other," Servis said. "Na matter what ye have in yer pocket."
Con felt his face grow warm. "Just holy water," he said.
"I'm na Fey," Servis said.
"But I was hoping to surprise you."
Servis grinned. "T'would take more than water in the face ta surprise me."
Somehow Con believed it. He sighed. "Please," he said. "This Charge is my life, my future, and maybe the future of Blue Isle. We can't let it stop here, in this tunnel, with the Fey above us. We can't."
Servis grabbed the knife, and pushed himself to his feet. Con held his breath. Servis put the knife in its sheath. "T'would seem," he said, "that yer right. Tis a good compromise. I'll go with ye. Because yer right. No one'll know what happened here sides us. And we're little men in a big game. Tis better fer us ta do what we believe."
Con let out the breath he had been holding. "Thank you," he said.
"Dinna be thanking me," Servis said. "At least we're safe down here. If the Fey are winning above, goin ta the palace will get us both killed."
"That's a risk I have to take," Con said.
Servis clapped his hand on Con's shoulder. "Spoken like a fighter, baby Aud."
"No," Con said quietly, feeling the need to correct Servis, a need as strong as his desire to go to the palace. "Spoken like a holy man."
"Ah, boy, have ye ever thought that maybe they're not so different?"
"They're different," Con said. But he spoke with a surety he no longer felt. The world was changing too quickly for him.
He only hoped he continued to make the right choices as it did.
SIXTY-NINE
Adrian hated the heat. He hated traveling in it, and wished that he could be on his farm, in the shade, waiting for the coolness of twilight to finish his chores. At least Luke was tending things. Luke would make certain the crops were taken care of, and the house remained. If the Fey showed up, he was under instruction to give them what they wanted. Or, if he felt there were too many of them, he was to hide. Years ago, they had set up a number of hiding places on the farm, just in case.
Coulter walked ahead of Adrian and Scavenger. Coulter's chin was up, his eyes half closed. He appeared to be following a trail that Adrian couldn't see. Scavenger was breathing heavily. He wore a dozen knives and two swords, the weight nearly crushing him. He had insisted on coming, but he didn't want to face his own people again unarmed.
He probably didn't want to face them at all.
Adrian had brought his old sword out of retirement, and he also took a quiver full of arrows and the bow that Luke had made him the year before. He doubted they would do much good, but they were a start. He had some supplies as well. No sense traveling without food. They had no idea how long they would be gone.
Coulter was leading them down the road to Jahn. It made sense that Gift was going this way; his stated desire was to return to Sebastian.
The idea of fighting, any sort of fighting, terrified Adrian. In truth, he was no more a soldier than Scavenger. The last time he had gone to war to save his country. This time, he hoped he wouldn't have to fight at all.
The only one with any real power in this group was Coulter, and he still didn't know how to use most of it.
At least Luke was not involved this time. None of them felt good about leaving Luke behind, but it was his wish. He had no desire to fight the Fey again, no desire to be part of a force. He believed the Fey wouldn't even appear at the farm, and Scavenger agreed. Scavenger said the Fey were following an old fighting pattern, one that destroyed the center of power, but left the wealth of the country alone.
It made sense to Adrian even if he didn't like it. He had a bad feeling about all of this, but he said nothing. His life was going to change again. The comfortable world he had been born into was long gone. The world of his imprisonment was destroyed, and the easy world he had built afterward was gone too. He didn't know what would replace them, and he wasn't sure he would live long enough to find out.
At least Luke was home, and out of the fighting. Adrian couldn't bear it if his son got in trouble again because of Adrian's actions.
The corn was breathing in the soft wind. Adrian loved the creaks and groans of growing crops, the slight buzz of insects as they went about their business, the smell of greenery. That was his life, not this all pervading fear that started in his stomach and seemed to fill him.
Scavenger was ignoring the crops. He was scanning everything, the sides of the road, the road, the sky above it. Every few moments, he would lick his lips as if tasting the air. His squat body was in better condition than it had ever been. The work on the farm had given his arms a power that they hadn't had when he'd been in charge of the Fey dead. He was trimmer too, than he had been when Adrian met him, and h
is skin was even darker from his time in the sun. But there were new lines on his face now, and his eyes seemed to be looking for something very far away. His nervousness was like a pervasive high-pitched whistle. Adrian was trying to ignore it, but somehow that seemed to make the whistle worse.
Suddenly Scavenger stopped. He bit his lower lip until it bled. As Adrian kept going, Scavenger grabbed his arm. The grip was tight.
"Get Coulter. Now."
Adrian pulled his arm from Scavenger's grasp and ran the short distance to Coulter. "Hey," Adrian said. "Stop. Scavenger saw something."
"There's no time to stop," Coulter said.
Adrian took Coulter's arm, using a grip as firm as Scavenger's had been. "He's worried."
"He can't see anything important."
"He's been with them all his life. He might be able to see more than you."
Coulter stopped walking then. Two spots of color appeared on his pale cheeks. His eyes were dark blue, darker than they had ever been. "This better be important," he said, as if the decision to stop were Adrian's instead of Scavenger's.
Adrian said nothing as he led Coulter back to Scavenger. Scavenger stood in the middle of the road, his square head tilted toward the sky.
"What is it?" Coulter asked, the fullness of his displeasure coming through his voice.
Scavenger didn't reply. Instead, he pointed up.
Coulter followed the point. So did Adrian.
The sky was so blue, it looked as if it had been dyed by one of the Fey's Domestics. The wispy clouds from earlier were gone. The sun was directly overhead, and the slight heat shimmer that warm days sometimes had made parts of the air appear as if they were underwater.
Adrian didn't see anything. The sky looked the same all around him.
"What is it?" Coulter asked. "A Shadowlands?"
"I don't think so," Scavenger said.
"What? What do you see?" Adrian asked.
"Follow my finger," Scavenger said. "And you'll see a teeny tiny light blinking."
A light, in this sunlight? Adrian didn't think so. But he crouched, and followed the angle of Scavenger's finger. Then he saw it. A flash, like a sword in sunlight, only smaller. Much smaller. It disappeared, and then repeated, like a little warning sign.
He squinted, but couldn't see it any clearer. No wonder Coulter had thought it the entrance to a Shadowlands. It looked like one, only much smaller. Adrian still remembered the flashing lights against the darkness from the night he lost his own freedom, the night his life changed.
Shadowlands' lights flickered like this, but they formed a circle. This was a single light, so bright that it flashed in the daylight.
"What is it?" he asked.
Scavenger raised a hand and shielded his eyes. "A Wisp, I think."
"Why would a Wisp just float in the middle of nowhere? It makes no sense — "
"Shhh," Adrian said. Coulter sometimes treated Scavenger as the Fey would, with no respect at all. That training, that magick was the only thing that made a being worthwhile, went in early and stuck. Coulter never treated Adrian with disrespect, but at times, Adrian even felt the contempt. Full and rich and strong.
"He sees something, doesn't he?" Adrian said to Scavenger.
Scavenger nodded. "That's my guess."
Coulter finally understood. "Gift?" he said, his voice tinged with panic.
Adrian tightened his grip on Coulter's arm. "Either the Wisp is standing guard, waiting for more Fey to come, or the Wisp is standing guard, watching for Islanders."
"Either way, we're in trouble," Scavenger said softly.
"No," Coulter said. "Gift's in trouble." He swallowed, wrenched his arm free, and sat down. Adrian frowned at him. What an odd thing to do in the middle of a crisis.
"Give me a moment," Coulter said.
He tilted his head back and squinted, as he had been doing the night before Gift arrived. Suddenly Adrian understood. He was looking for the lines, the ones he had shown them before. He was seeing where the magick was.
"There's only one right now," he said. "And Gift. But there was another Wisp not long ago."
"He went for reinforcements," Scavenger said.
"That's my guess," Coulter said. He glanced at Adrian. "They want Gift."
"I know," Adrian said.
"They can't have him. It will hurt us all."
"I know that too," Adrian said.
Coulter's thin lips pursed. "Then forgive me," he said and turned back toward the tiny light.
Before Adrian could ask what Coulter meant, a beam of light shot from Coulter's body. It was bright yellow, almost blinding in its intensity. Adrian had seen the boy shoot light before. He had been wrapped inside that light when they escaped Shadowlands. But he had never seen Coulter just aim light outward.
The beam looked rigid and tangible, like a pole leading from Coulter's body into the sky. The beam zoomed forward, ever increasing in length until it hit the blinking light. Adrian thought he heard a faint sound, like a scream, and then a puff of black smoke floated toward the sun.
Coulter's light disappeared.
Coulter buried his face in his hands.
"There's no time for remorse," Scavenger said. He put his hands under Coulter's arms and tried to lift him. The sight would have been comical — the short square Fey trying to lift an Islander twice his size — if it weren't for Scavenger's panic.
The panic was infectious. This time the Fey wouldn't capture them. This time, they would kill the three men, no questions asked. Adrian wasn't certain if Coulter had the power to fight off an army of Fey.
"He's right," Adrian said. "Get up. We have to get to Gift first."
That reached Coulter. He pushed himself to his feet, staggered a moment, then stepped forward. Scavenger got out of his way, and Adrian stepped in where Scavenger had been. Adrian took one of Coulter's elbows. Coulter's face was raw. He had never used his powers like this. He had always used them to help, not to kill.
"It was a woman," he said. "She had been with Rugad for years. She was a Wisp, and she was worried she wasn't up to the task of guarding a Black Prince."
"She wasn't," Scavenger said. "She should have sensed you a long ways off. Now let's move."
He led the way, a short warrior wearing too many weapons. Adrian propelled Coulter forward. What he didn't tell Coulter was that there would probably be a lot of bodies before this was over. This death would only be Coulter's first.
The road turned slightly, and dipped down into a field. At the bottom of the dip, Gift sat, his head in his hands. His posture was similar to what Coulter's had been only moments before. Leen knelt beside him, her hands fluttering around him, as if she didn't know what to do.
Coulter was in no shape to take charge of this, and Gift wouldn't listen to Scavenger. It was up to Adrian.
He let go of Coulter's arm and stopped in front of Leen. She had to look up at him.
"What happened?" he asked, afraid that the Fey had already been here, that they had cast some sort of spell that he had never heard about.
"He's had a Vision," Scavenger said. "Wipe off the drool, boy. It doesn't become you."
Gift raised his left hand and wiped the side of his mouth.
"Several Visions," Leen said. "They scared him."
"Several?" Scavenger sounded surprised, and even a little frightened.
"It doesn't matter," Adrian said, not caring about the details of Fey magick at the moment. "You had a Wisp above you, guarding you. The Fey know where you are. We have to get you out of here."
Leen and Gift both looked up. Adrian did too. The puff of smoke was dissipating. It looked like a small black cloud against the clear blue sky.
"You killed it?" Gift said to Coulter.
Coulter's eyes were red. His mouth trembled. "I had no choice."
"Seems like you have no choice a lot lately. Are you sure that was one of the Black King's Wisps? Or was it my father?"
Adrian was about to speak, but Coulter drew himself tog
ether. "It was a woman named Cinder," he said and for a moment, his voice didn't shake. "Wind is dead. You know that. And your stepmother too. Don't blame me for what happened to them."
"How are you so certain? Were you Linked with them too?"
"One touch with your great-grandfather was more than enough, Gift," Coulter said. "You may not understand how much of a threat he is, but I do."
"If you really did understand," Scavenger said, "you'd be leaving now."
"That's right." Adrian finally took the opportunity to jump in. "We have to get you hidden, Gift. They know where you are."
"Please," Leen said. She clearly knew she was no match for the Black King's soldiers.
Gift looked at all of them, met their gazes, and didn't back down. "I'm going to the palace."
"That's suicide," Coulter said. "Sebastian is probably long gone."
"If he is, that's your fault," Gift said.
Adrian physically stepped between them. He crouched beside Gift, deciding to treat him as a boy who had lost everything instead of a man with more power than Adrian would ever have.
"Gift," he said. "We can argue this after we get you out of here. But they'll be back any moment. They left the Wisp to guard you and track you. They will know where you are — "
"He's not worth arguing over," Scavenger said. He shoved his way in, grabbed Gift by the hair, and pulled his head back. Then he put a knife to his throat.
Leen pulled her own knife.
Adrian reached forward.
"Stop," Scavenger said. "Another move from anyone, including you, Mr. Magick, and I'll slice this boy's throat."
"You wouldn't," Coulter said.
"I would," Scavenger said with such calmness that fear came into Coulter's face. "The Black King is here for his great-grandchildren. What'll he do when he gets them? He'll make them into him. Although Gift and his sister will be better than the Black King because they have more power. Only they don't know how to use it yet. I can solve this once and for all. I can kill this boy. And if I can get to the girl, I'll take away the Black King's reason for being here."
"But it won't stop anything, it won't change anything," Adrian said, trying to keep the panic he felt from creeping into his voice. It had been his mistake to bring Scavenger along. He knew the little Red Cap was impulsive and possibly crazy. He knew it, and yet he always thought that even though Scavenger had committed murder once, he would never do so again. Not with the provocation gone. "The Black King will still be here. He'll still have Blue Isle."
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