BRYTE'S ASCENT (Arucadi Series Book 8)

by E. Rose Sabin

  She did hear frantic, fearful gasps from Corey and was aware that she’d been hearing them since Oryon’s departure. Now she looked at the boy and saw his red face, wide, horrified eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks, hands clawing frantically at his throat.

  He wasn’t really choking to death, she knew. But he didn’t. The child was terrified, and his fear must be making the choking sensation worse.

  She had been thinking only of Stethan, but seeing Corey in such a state aroused her pity. If she could only reach the boy, she could perhaps comfort him. But the chain that held her prisoner was too short to allow her to go to him. And being as unable to speak as he was, she could not console him with words.

  She tried to hide her own fear, hoping that seeing her looking calm would calm him. But his gaze was fixed on the door through which Oryon had exited. She concentrated, willing him to turn toward her, willing his throat muscles to relax, his hands to cease scrabbling at his neck.

  His hands fell to his sides. His mouth worked; a loud scream issued from it, followed by another, and another.

  Kanra darted into the room, took in the empty space where Oryon had been, and rushed out again, shouting an alarm. She had not spared Bryte a glance.

  Bryte squirmed and banged on the wall, drawing Corey’s attention if no one else’s. He gazed at her curiously. “Can’t you do for yourself what you did for me?”

  She wasn’t sure that her efforts had freed him. Oryon had said the effect would wear off; perhaps it had.

  The man who had brought Corey in earlier returned, went to Corey, and unlocked the clasp that fastened his chain to the wall. Bryte tried to speak and found that she could, though her voice was hoarse and lacked volume.

  “Unlock me, too,” she begged. “Oryon’ll go after Stethan again. I gotta stop him.”

  The man had to have heard, but he ignored her, took up the end of Corey’s chain, and led the boy from the room.

  Left alone, Bryte could think of nothing she could do to help Stethan. Feeling abandoned, she gave in to despair. If only Lina were here, she’d know what to do.

  The guilt that had been her constant companion since she had left Lina in the clutches of Lord Inver loomed larger. Tears ran down her cheeks; sobs shook her body.

  In her desolation, she’d forgotten to listen to what was happening outside her prison room. Shouts and running feet impinged on her consciousness. A yell of “Stop him!” jolted her from her fit of crying.

  Lina wasn’t here to help, but if she were, she would not waste time feeling sorry for herself. She’d get angry, and she’d take action.

  Bryte had seen the man unlock the clasp that held Corey’s chain to the wall. He’d used a slender, almost needle-like key. It reminded her of the articles she’d pilfered from Kanra’s room to use as lock-picks. Those items were still in her pockets.

  She pulled out the barrette, opened it, and by feel alone fit one of its prongs into the keyhole. If that Power-Giver Lina and Oryon talked about is real, I need his help. It wasn’t quite a prayer, but the closest she’d ever come to one. She twisted and turned the prong, its angled end slipped into place, and the lock popped open.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Catching up the end of the chain that now dangled from the iron collar, she held it and dashed from the room.

  In the corridor Bryte heard and saw people rushing into the large room she recognized as the room in which she’d first found Stethan—and Oryon. She ran there and shoved through the startled priests and priestesses until she saw Oryon at the far end of the room, by the entrance to the sanctuary. Stethan hung limp over Oryon’s arm.

  Corey was screaming, as were some of the priestesses. The residents seemed unsure what to do. When a couple of the priestesses grabbed at Bryte’s chain, she swung it like a weapon and kept moving forward. Several of the men attempted to approach Oryon, but he waved his wand and a spurt of flame shot out, driving them back. At the same time, he shifted Stethan about, using him as a shield when a priest maneuvered to poke him with a needle-tipped shaft like the one that had been used to bring him down before. This time Oryon easily avoided it.

  The pandemonium worked in her favor; Bryte got within a good leap of Oryon before he spotted her. At the instant that he shot a spout of flame toward her, she hurled the chain at him, aiming it to avoid Stethan.

  She dodged the stream of fire; it singed her hair but missed her face. Oryon flinched as he ducked the chain. The look in his eyes reminded her of the fear that had come over him at the mound.

  She lobbed the chain again. It caught him on the shoulder. He dropped Stethan. A priest dashed in and dragged the boy away. With a snarl, Oryon hurled himself at Bryte. Terrified, she forced herself to stand still. Oryon reached and grabbed hold of her, wrapping his hands around her neck. She still held the chain. She lifted it and brought the iron collar down on his head. He sagged against her. Quickly she wrapped the end of her chain around him, binding him and leaving him lying unconscious at her feet. What she had done wouldn’t hold him long when he regained consciousness, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

  The priests and priestesses encircled her. Among them was the man who had taken Corey. He still held the boy’s chain, Corey on the end of it like a leashed dog. The child was screaming; tears ran down his face.

  “Where’s Stethan?” she shouted. “Is he all right?”

  Several in the group averted their eyes. Corey turned toward her. “He’s dead,” he coughed out between sobs.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  UNEXPECTED HELP

  Dead! He couldn’t be!

  Bryte heard a voice she recognized as Kanra’s saying, “We should have believed her and let her take the boy.”

  Another voice, a man’s, said, “We’ll have to notify the Peace Officers and turn the murderer over to them.”

  “But he’s gifted,” someone objected. “Will they be able to hold him? We couldn’t.”

  “I’ll take him.” Bryte surprised herself by speaking up so boldly. “He only murdered because Lord Inver did something to him to change him.”

  “You!” Someone laughed. “Oh, no!” They went on debating the issue. Only Corey had his eyes fixed on her. He strained toward her at the end of his tether, but his keeper was standing too far back to let him reach her.

  His face was crinkled with grief, and tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. No one was doing anything to console him. Bryte never really knew Stethan, had only just learned of his existence. Corey would have been his friend; they were near the same age. Corey’s grief must be greater than hers.

  The man holding Corey’s chain tugged on it, as another man approached her and bent to pull Oryon away. Still watching Corey, she saw him mouth, “Help me!”

  She shoved at the man who had taken hold of Oryon’s hair and was pulling him by it, dragging him across the floor. The shove only made him yank harder on Oryon’s head. The pain must have partly roused Oryon; his eyelids fluttered and he murmured, “Bryte.”

  A sudden rage overtook her, born of her sorrow at being unable to save Stethan, the indifference these servants of a god were showing toward her and toward Corey, and the cruelty of Lord Inver, who had changed Oryon so and bent him to his will.

  Her fury expressed itself in a blinding burst of light that spread out from her like an exploding star. The priests and priestesses fell to their knees, shielding their eyes. The man dragging Oryon let go with a suddenness that bounced Oryon’s head against the floor. The man holding Corey’s chain dropped it. Corey remained standing, but he, too, covered his eyes. The light was blinding everyone but her.

  “Corey, come to me,” Bryte called.

  The boy moved forward hesitantly, groping his way through the blinded adults. Bryte dashed forward, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to her.

  “Can you help me carry him?” she asked, indicating Oryon, who seemed to have lapsed back into unconsciousness.

  “I—I don’t want to,” the child sa
id, sniffling and blinking.

  “I’ll help.”

  Bryte looked up and saw Kanra standing in front of her, eyes shaded against the glare still surrounding Bryte but beginning to fade.

  The young woman said, “I don’t want anyone else to die. If what you said about him is true, it may be possible to save him. But we’ll have to hurry.”

  Bryte stooped and took hold of Oryon’s shoulders, and Kanra grabbed his feet. Together they lifted and carried Oryon. Corey clutched Kanra’s robe and kept up with her.

  “This way,” Kanra said, and facing away from Bryte, led the way out from room down a hallway to a door.

  “Hurry,” Bryte urged, hearing sounds of pursuit.

  Her light flared again, bathing her in brilliant light, keeping the pursuers blinded, unable to approach her. This phenomenon must be another power gift, but it could vanish as suddenly as it had come. It seemed fueled by her anger, and she fed that anger with images of Stethan’s needless death. If the Servants of Mibor had helped her, she could have—

  “I can’t see to get this door open,” Kanra said.

  “Let me.” Bryte lowered Oryon to the floor and pushed the priestess aside. “Is there a key?”

  Kanra pressed a key into her hand. Bryte dismissed the suspicion that Kanra’s offer to help and having the key to this door were too convenient. Not blinded by the light that emanated from her and was blinding the others, Bryte fit the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open onto a night bright with stars.

  She could see the stars because her light was again fading—had faded. Their only chance to escape was to abandon Oryon, grab Corey’s hand, and run.

  What would Lina do?

  Lina would never abandon Oryon as Bryte had abandoned Lina. She had to act for Lina now.

  She heard the confused murmur of the pursuing priests and priestesses behind the door. “Stop!” she shouted. “Stop in the name of the Power-Giver.” She didn’t know where the words came from.

  Again light blazed around her. “Go back inside,” she commanded. “Go back or be blinded.”

  Shielding their eyes, the priests and priestesses of Mibor backed through the doorway. She’d won a reprieve.

  Not a long reprieve. The light display had weakened her power, and the murmurs behind the door told her that several of the priests were determined to come after them despite the threat of blindness.

  Someone opened the door a crack.

  She sent a flare of light toward it. To Kanra she said, “Do you know a quick way away from here?”

  Kanra shook her head.

  The boy Corey spoke up. “We’re not far from the tier wall. There’s a place where vines hang all the way down to the tier below. Me and, uh, my friend—we used to climb down them for fun. There’re sheds underneath them with tin roofs that slope so they’re easy to slide off of.”

  “We could climb down,” Bryte said, ignoring the pain that came with the surety that he’d almost said me and Stethan, “but how could we get Oryon down?”

  “Don’t know why you want to bring him, after what he did,” Corey said crossly. “Let them have him.”

  “No, we can’t,” Bryte insisted. “But let’s go there. We’ll see what can be done.”

  Corey led the way, and Bryte and Kanra again took up Oryon, trussed in his chains. The boy led them to a gate in the wall that surrounded the temple compound. Fortunately the latch was on the inside and could be opened without a key. They passed through onto a lane that led past fenced residences. Bryte was impressed with how quietly the boy moved. He’d wound the heavy chain that hung from his collar around his arm, and no one but Bryte could have heard the soft clink of one link hitting another. Even in the darkness, Corey led them confidently to a gap between fences into and through a garden to another gate, and through that onto a carriageway, across that to a low stone fence, this time without a gate.

  They laid Oryon down. Bryte needed to catch her breath; she also had to think.

  “Kanra, do you have the key to Corey’s collar?” she asked, and got the negative response she’d expected.

  “We’ll have to find a way to unlock it. We’ll need the chain for Oryon. When he wakes up, one won’t be enough. I’m not sure two will be, but we’ll have to go with what we have.”

  Oryon groaned. Their conversation might be waking him. Cautioning silence, Bryte dug into her pockets for the barrette she’d stolen earlier and went to work on the lock, more by feel than sight. She felt Corey shaking and knew he feared Oryon. His trembling increased her nervousness and made the task harder. Kanra’s whispered, “Hurry!” didn’t help.

  Finally, she heard the lock click. The collar snapped open. She took it from Corey’s neck and snapped it around Oryon’s, though she recalled how easily he had opened it once before.

  The chain was long enough that she could loop it around his upper body and bind his arms to his side. She and Kanra bound the second chain tightly around his legs.

  “Climb over the fence,” she told Corey.

  He scrambled up and over. She and Kanra lifted Oryon, to the top of the stone fence, and Kanra held him there while Bryte climbed over. Bryte held Oryon steady while Kanra mounted the fence and jumped down beside her.

  The two of them pulled Oryon down and took up their burden. Alarmingly, Oryon groaned again and stirred. “How much farther to the edge and those vines?” Bryte asked.

  “Not far,” Corey answered. “We’re almost there.”

  He led off again, and Kanra and Bryte followed as quickly as they could. When Corey stopped and beckoned, Bryte knew he’d reached the retaining wall, though no wall was visible through the thick overgrowth of what had to be the vines Corey had told them about. She hoped he was right that it would hold their weight.

  Corey grabbed a handful of the growth and swung out over the edge. Bryte peered over, fearing to glimpse a crumpled body below. But the boy had found hand- and footholds and was climbing downward with practiced ease.

  She and Kanra could follow, but how were they to get Oryon down a distance equal to a two-story house?

  “We’ll have to link the chains and lower him down,” Kanra said.

  “They won’t be long enough.”

  “No, but they’ll get him about halfway. We can drop him from there. A fall of that distance isn’t likely to kill him. And after what he’s done, there’s no need to be gentle with him, is there?”

  Seeing no alternative, she agreed to Kanra’s plan.

  It meant unbinding him so that they could fasten the two chains together. Bryte was very afraid that he would regain consciousness and escape while she struggled to open the lock on the collar, but although he moaned and twitched, he did not wake. She fastened the collar through the links of the second chain, then wrapped one end of the linked chains around his chest beneath his arms. They dropped him over the edge and gradually let the chain out until they reached the end. It took both of them to hold it and keep it from slipping from their grasp.

  “Ready?” Bryte whispered. “Let go.”

  Too late she remembered the tin roof Corey had said was below. Oryon struck it, and so did the chains, making a terrible din. A dog barked, alerting other dogs, which took up the alarm. Voices sounded behind them and rose up from below. They’d advised everyone of their presence.

  “Get down there,” Kanra said. “I’ll try to hold off the temple servants.”

  “What’ll they do to you?” Bryte asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. I’ll join you later if I can.”

  No time to argue. Bryte grabbed hold of the vines and swung over the edge. Corey was right; the climb down was easy, or would have been had it not been for her haste. Her foot caught in a tangle of vines, and in jerking it free, she pulled loose the very vine she was clinging to. Fortunately, she had almost reached the roof, so her fall caused her no hurt, but it did add to the clatter.

  She slid to the edge of the roof, braced herself, and jumped to the ground. Corey
was waiting, to Bryte’s relief. She wouldn’t have blamed the boy if he’d run away.

  “I think the fall knocked him out again,” he said, giving a contemptuous nod toward a dark form sprawled on the ground.

  Bryte knelt beside Oryon. He was still alive. More than that she could not tell in the dark. “Let’s get those chains on him again,” she said.

  Too late. The barking grew closer and Bryte heard heavy footsteps approaching along with the softer patter of a dog’s feet. “We gotta hide the chains,” she said, grabbing up the one she was holding and stuffing it behind the shed. Not questioning, Corey did the same. They pulled vines over the place to conceal it before a figure emerged out of the darkness—a big, burly man who held a lantern in one hand while the other held the leash of an angry mastiff straining to break loose and attack the interlopers. “What’s goin’ on here?” the man demanded.

  Bryte stepped forward into the circle of light spreading out from the lantern. “Oh, please, sir, don’t be angry.” She used her “little girl voice” and hoped Corey would play along with her story. “I know we shouldn’t have been climbing on the vines, but, well, we did, and Corey fell, and then I fell too when I tried to catch him, and … and …” She broke into loud sobs, then choked out the words, “This man tried to help us, and now he’s hurt.”

  The man drew closer. The dog snarled and lunged toward Oryon. Hackles raised, teeth bared, he strained at the end of his leash.

  Corey screamed and backed far from the dog. “Don’t let the dog hurt us, please,” he shouted.

  Bryte heard the pursuing Servants of Mibor on the tier directly above them, discussing whether to abandon dignity and climb down the vines or take the longer route down to the fourth tier to apprehend them. Some at least would choose to try the vines, unless Kanra could persuade them otherwise. Bryte hoped the priestess would not be punished for helping them get this far.