by Claire Frank
Trying not to lean on Stoker as he provided him more energy, Daro wondered if he would be able to stay on his feet for even one more catapult. Stoker stumbled to the bucket, nearly crashing into the wood beam. When he’d heated the rock, he shuffled out of the way, swaying on his feet as he stood next to Daro while the other men sent the stone sailing.
For a brief moment the din seemed to quiet, and Daro wondered if his hearing had dulled. Then a cheer rose from the top of the wall. He looked up to see soldiers holding their weapons aloft, shouting down at their fellows on the ground. The sky glowed in the east, heralding the coming of dawn, and Daro realized the volley had stopped. His shoulders slumped with fatigue and relief washed over him. Cecily made her way to him, looking as tired as he felt, her face pallid. Messengers ran, relaying the order to halt the attack. The Attalonians were on the retreat.
Daro put his arm around his wife and breathed out a sigh of relief. For the moment, it was over.
46. PRISONER
Cecily lurked around the corner of a tent, watching Nora and the other two Lyceum Wielders. She kept to the shadows, peeking around the edge of the thick canvas, careful to keep out of sight. The three Wielders seemed to disappear whenever she wanted to speak with them about the search for the Arcstone. She had a feeling they had found something and had been hiding it from her, although she didn’t think they had found the stone itself. So she’d followed them, trailing them around the camp and waiting to see if she could determine what they had been doing.
With the two major attacks on the stronghold and the subsequent chaos, Cecily had not made much progress in her search, even though the enemy had been quiet for the last several days. The lack of cooperation from the Wielders the Paragon had sent with her didn’t help. She had searched various places in the stronghold where the Arcstone might be hidden, and Merrick said he had no sense that the stone had been moved, although he’d emphasized that he didn’t trust his ability to track it.
Numerous Wielders in the camp had complained of feeling strange, or having odd glitches in their abilities. Daro had mentioned it more than once, as had Merrick and Shale. Cecily herself had felt sudden bouts of weakness wash over her, only for them to pass before she could be certain what had happened. She’d also had strange surges of power where her Reach had felt out of control, lashing out farther or faster than she’d intended before she was able to gain control again. She was certain it was the influence of the Arcstone and the knowledge increased her doubt that she should send the stone back to the Paragon.
Owen and Semnal followed Nora as she walked toward the east end of the stronghold. Cecily crept along, keeping them in her sight without trailing too closely, although the fading light as the sun set helped give her cover. None of them had her Awareness ability, so she felt fairly certain she could follow them without being noticed, but they had proven adept at hiding their activities and she didn’t want to risk alerting them to her presence.
They entered the stronghold, and Cecily used her Awareness to track them as they ducked through another doorway inside. Cecily had explored the structure as much as she could when she wasn’t with Daro, and this area hadn’t seemed to contain anything other than a few empty storage rooms the last she’d checked. With a glance behind her to make sure no one followed, she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her.
The hallway plunged into darkness as the door shut, but the lack of lamps suited her. She could sense enough of her surroundings with her Awareness, and felt the movement of the other Wielders as they continued around a bend. Letting the layout of the corridor settle in her mind, she stole through the darkened passage on quiet feet.
The other Wielders stopped, and Cecily paused as they opened a door and entered another room, closing the door behind them. She could sense a fourth figure inside and, as she focused her Awareness, the images sharpened. The person was prone on the floor, arms and legs bound together. They had a prisoner.
Cecily clenched her fists in irritation. They had told her nothing of holding someone, even when she’d pressed them for information about what they had been doing. Keeping her footfalls silent, she crept to the door and leaned her ear against it to listen. Although she could hear Nora’s voice, the words were too soft and the sound was too muffled to make out what was being said.
She hesitated for a moment, considering. If they had found someone with information about the stone, there was no reason for them to hide it from her—yet here they were, hiding a bound prisoner in an unused section of the stronghold.
Holding her hand over the latch, she used a slice of Pressure to click the lock, then pushed the door open.
All eyes swung to her as she stepped in the room.
“What’s going on?” Cecily asked, placing her foot in front of the door so it couldn’t close completely. She didn’t trust any of them and didn’t want obstructions in her path if she needed to make a quick exit.
“It’s none of your concern,” Nora said, crossing her arms.
The man on the floor was dressed in a dirty Halthian uniform. His face was filthy, his jaw covered with a scruffy beard, and he blinked in the light of Owen’s lamp.
“Who is he?” Cecily asked, as she searched her memory for any reports of a missing soldier. Although with the recent fighting, it would be easy for a man to disappear and be assumed killed in action.
Nora took a step forward and lowered her voice. “He shot the arrow across the chasm. We’ve been handling it.”
Cecily’s eyes widened. That had been weeks ago. “How long have you held him? You told me he got away.”
Nora gave her a look that was infuriatingly condescending. “We didn’t want you to concern yourself with the messier details of our task.”
“The messier details?” Cecily said. “You took a prisoner and lied to me about it.”
“As I said, we’ve been handling it,” Nora said.
“Have you?” Cecily said, crossing her arms. “What has he told you?”
“Nothing,” Owen said. Nora glared at him.
Cecily looked down at the man. He had shot the arrow across the chasm? She and Daro had nearly been killed because of him. “I will question him.”
Nora’s eye twitched and she crossed her arms. “He isn’t your prisoner.”
“You never should have kept him here without telling me,” Cecily said. “I don’t know what the Paragon told you, but he tasked me with finding the artifact. Right now, the three of you are going to walk out that door and leave me to question him. You can take it up with the Paragon when we get back to Halthas, if you want.” She kept her eyes locked on Nora’s.
“You can’t order us around,” Semnal said.
“I think the Paragon would disagree,” Cecily said. “Besides, I just did. Out.”
Cecily stood with her arms loose at her sides. She didn’t want to force them out physically, but she would if she had to. Owen was already inching for the door and Semnal’s eyes darted from Cecily to Nora.
After a lengthy pause, Nora said, “The Paragon will hear about this.”
Cecily stared at Nora without answering. Nora scrunched her nose and pursed her lips before turning and storming out of the cell, the other two Wielders at her heels. The door slammed behind them and Cecily waited as the three marched down the corridor to the stairway.
When she was certain they’d gone, she crouched down in front of the bound man and pulled the gag from his mouth. “Who are you?”
He worked his jaw and licked his lips, blinking heavily a few times. “I’m not telling you anything.”
Cecily sighed. Weren’t soldiers taught anything about surviving an interrogation? It was already obvious he was hiding something. “Just tell me your name.”
The prisoner turned his face to look up at the ceiling. Cecily looked him over. Other than some bruising on his forehead, he didn’t have any obvious wounds. Although his uniform was dirty, it fit properly and he didn’t speak with an accent. He was definitely Halthian.<
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“It’s probably a good thing they caught you,” Cecily said. “Conspiring with the enemy is treason. I doubt you’d still be alive otherwise.” The man kept his gaze on the ceiling, his mouth closed in a tight line. “What did you tell them?”
“Nothing.”
“There’s really no reason to keep quiet,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter, I’m dead either way,” he said. “If you or those others don’t kill me, the general will.”
“If it doesn’t matter, tell me your name.”
The prisoner closed his mouth and kept his eyes on the ceiling. Cecily held her face still as a wave of frustration ran through her. She thought about the arrows sticking out of Daro when he came running back to her.
“You want to keep quiet? I can help with that.” She wound a tendril of Wielding energy around his throat and applied Pressure, just enough that he’d feel the tension. His bound hands flew up to his neck and he turned to face her.
“What are you doing?” he said, his voice already strained.
Cecily squeezed a bit tighter, but kept her voice monotone. “What’s your name?”
The prisoner shook his head as his eyes widened.
“It’s a very simple question. Your name.” She squeezed tighter.
His face reddened and his mouth dropped open as he struggled for air. Cecily watched as he choked. He’d almost gotten Daro killed.
“Ethan,” he said, croaking out the word.
Cecily let go and he gulped in a rush of air. “That wasn’t so difficult. Now, why did you shoot an arrow across the chasm?”
Ethan coughed and shook his head. “No. They’ll find me and they’ll kill me.”
Cecily leaned in close and spoke, her voice soft. “How do you know I won’t kill you first?” Squeezing his throat again, she pressed against his windpipe, cutting off his air instantly. His eyes went wide and his mouth gaped as he thrashed around on the ground, clutching at his throat. Angry as she was, she wouldn’t actually kill him … but things would go faster if he didn’t know that.
A surge of panic burst through her, making her heart race. Something was wrong with Daro.
Letting go of her hold on the prisoner, she stood and threw open the door. The muffled sound of shouting drifted in from outside, barely audible through the thick walls, and the sense of alarm coming through her bond with Daro increased.
“I’ll be back for you,” she said as Ethan rolled to his side, coughing. Hurrying out the door, she ran down the corridor and out into the camp.
Thick smoke rose from several places in the encampment, and men and women raced around, some fighting fires and others moving with no obvious direction. The sun had set and the glow of the fires cast odd shadows. Cecily looked up, but didn’t see any arrows or other projectiles falling and no horn blast signaled the call to arms. It didn’t appear that they were under attack from across the chasm, yet the encampment was filled with chaos as several fires raged.
Running through the turmoil along the base of the stronghold, Cecily wondered where Daro could be. A man ran past, nearly smacking into her, and she pressed herself against the stone wall to avoid colliding with him. Looking around for any of her companions, the only face she recognized was Pathius.
“What’s happening?” she asked as she ran to meet him. Although he wasn’t her first choice for someone to consult, everyone else seemed to be darting in all directions, and she had seen Daro with him earlier that day.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But there are too many fires for this to be an accident.”
“Did something come over the wall?”
Pathius shook his head. “No.”
Cecily’s heart raced. She already knew at least one Halthian had betrayed them, sending a message across the chasm to the Attalonians. Were his co-conspirators trying to free him, staging a distraction to mask their actions? Or was this something more sinister?
“Are we being attacked from within?” she asked.
As Pathius started to reply, Stoker appeared from behind them. “Do we know what’s happening?”
“Not yet,” Pathius said. “I count four fires. That can’t be accidental.”
Stoker’s eyes widened. “There were Attalonians in the Halthian countryside. When they attacked our caravan, they set fire to some of the wagons as a distraction when they took Shale.”
Cecily swung her gaze around to Stoker. “Do you think we’re being attacked by Attalon? From the north side?”
“Not by an army, but they tried to take Shale once, probably because he’s a strong Wielder. They could be trying again,” Stoker said.
“Daro,” Cecily said under her breath as she looked out over the dark camp, and a spike of panic jolted through her.
Darting through the crowded spaces between the tents, Cecily looked for Daro, wishing she had his Imaran senses. Pathius and Stoker followed close behind.
As they moved toward the edge of camp, the wind picked up. Dashal. Pathius veered left, motioning for Cecily to follow. She almost stopped in her tracks as a thought burst into her mind.
Is Pathius behind this?
Shouts and a clang of metal spurred her on. She decided she’d rather have Pathius near, where she could watch him, although a chill ran through her at the thought of him turning on them.
A horn blast rang out over the camp, signaling an incoming attack. They halted and turned toward the stronghold. Soldiers ran to their positions or raced toward the burning tents. A commander nearby relayed orders, calling his men to form up.
A surge of panic raced through Cecily, and she realized the feeling wasn’t her own. The spike of alarm was coming from Daro.
Acting on instinct rather than reason, she raced for the edge of camp, darting through the people swarming in the other direction as another horn blast sounded. She turned past one of the wooden outbuildings and her foot caught on something laying across her path. Stumbling forward, she caught herself before she fell, but when she looked down she realized what had tripped her: A sword. Daro’s sword.
Oh gods, no.
A sense of hysteria rose inside her and she was filled with a burst of power, pulsing through their bond. “Something’s wrong with Daro.”
She continued running, making her way to the perimeter, and through the darkness she saw the vague outline of a large cart pulled by horses, heading away from the stronghold. Several people rode atop it and it had something dragging along behind.
Lashing out with her Reach, she struck the driver, knocking him from atop the wagon. The men appeared to be wearing Halthian uniforms, but she didn’t care. As she ran closer, she knocked another man from his seat. Something thrashed in a net made of chain behind the wagon, and she could see another wagon racing away, farther up the road.
“We have to stop the wagons,” she called out as she got closer, and hurled her Reach like a whip, coiling it around the back legs of one of the horses. Stopping, she planted her feet and pulled, heaving with all her strength. The horse’s back side lifted as its front legs collapsed, and the wagon pulled wildly to one side. Pathius stopped next to her and reached out with his hands. A wave of cold air blew Cecily’s hair back from her face as both horses collapsed and a sheen of ice raced across the surface of the wagon.
The last man collapsed under Pathius’s assault and Cecily ran to the net, already sure of what she would find inside. Daro was wound up among the metal strands, a gash in his forehead bleeding freely down his face. His feet were tangled in some sort of cord, and he had black bracers clamped over his forearms, with another cord binding his wrists together. He looked up at her, wild-eyed, as she tried to pull the net off of him.
“Wait,” Pathius said and grabbed the net from her. “Hold still,” he said to Daro. The chain stiffened under his grasp as frost raced out from his hands, coating the surface of the net.
One of the men from the wagon started to rise, and Cecily slammed his head with her Reach, tagging him across the temple and knocking him
out cold. Pathius cracked the chain, breaking it like a dry stick. The frozen metal snapped, and they separated the coils enough to get Daro out.
Cecily could feel his limbs trembling as she helped pull him from the tangle. Pathius unbound his ankles while Cecily pulled the cord from around his wrists. The black bracers were stuck tight, and Daro clenched his teeth in pain as Cecily tried to remove them.
“Get them off,” he said, his voice full of panic. “Get them off now!”
His eyes were wide and the sense of terror leaking through their bond made Cecily’s hands shake. “I can’t. They won’t move.”
Pathius gripped Daro’s arms, and ragged lines of frost spread over the black metal. Daro’s chest heaved as he stared down at his wrists. Cecily watched, dimly aware of the sounds of battle at the stronghold behind her, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Sucking in a breath, Daro winced as the frozen bracers turned gray with ice. Pathius let go and Daro crouched, smashing his forearms onto the ground. One bracer cracked and he slammed his arms down again. The icy metal broke and Cecily reached out, ripping them the rest of the way off.
His forearms were smeared with blood, but the sense of panic Cecily felt from him died down immediately. Holding his wrists up, he shook his head. “I’m okay.”
Stoker ran back down the road. “I stopped one of the wagons, but they didn’t have anyone in it. There was another farther on. It was going too fast for me to catch it.”
Daro’s head swung to look down the road. “We have to find out who they took.”