"Nice work," Berel grinned and high-fived Bel Erland.
"Now to tend to their other needs," I said, squaring my shoulders. I was surrounded by Lafe, Yanzi, Terrett, Kaldill, Bel Erland and Berel, with Bleek coming behind us, blades strapped to his back, his eyes watchful for any attack as we made our way toward the gathering, increasingly noisy crowd.
* * *
Puntia
"Tell me what you saw," Barstle demanded. He spoke via comp-vid with Reede Xilva, an ally in Der'Vek.
Nearby, Vardil and Deris listened in. They'd positioned themselves so they wouldn't be seen behind Barstle while he communicated with one of the younger Xilva sons.
"I was afraid to get close; I went to check on the fields," Xilva sputtered. "They were covered by the filth that ran from Der'Vek. I wanted to kill them, but didn't have a suitable weapon with me. I was turning to go when something happened."
"What was that?" Barstle, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, asked.
"I recorded images for you. You can see for yourself," Reede said. "You must tell me what to do—food and tents for the refugees dropped from the sky. Perhaps weapons were included in the drop; I cannot say. Is someone arming the commons against us?"
* * *
Terrett
"The drop was recorded," Sal said, flopping onto a chair at the kitchen table. "It's only a matter of time before Cardino learns we were there."
"You think he'll try to kill those people?" Quin asked.
"I think the one who recorded us may have been planning that before he saw us. He's a coward—he was a long way off when I scented him. Probably with a high-powered weapon so he could shoot from a safe distance and brag about his kills later."
"Is that why you got us out of there so fast?" Berel asked.
"It is. I'm sorry you didn't get to heal anyone," Sal held up a hand to hold Quin off. "I think we need to relocate that camp. Who has ideas—we need to make a plan."
* * *
Puntia
"You tell that Xilva filth that I have plans for some of those bodies," Vardil hissed in Barstle's face. "They're not for target practice, do you hear me? Go. Tell your friends to round them up immediately; I have testing kits. Those who meet my requirements I will keep. The others you may destroy in any way you see fit."
"But what about the food drop? Doesn't that concern you?"
"That is insignificant to me. It merely means that those I want won't die before I get to them." Vardil gripped Barstle's collar and pulled his face to his. Barstle's feet almost left the floor—Vardil in his newest incarnation was much taller and stronger than Barstle.
"But what if it's the same ones from Mundia?"
"We have people in Der'Vek, waiting for you to tell them to collect what is mine. You think those fools in Mundia can get to them faster than that?"
"No, Lord Cayetes."
"Good. Scurry. Tell that Xilva ass to move quickly. I want those bodies transported away by tomorrow."
* * *
"At least he's not looking at us," Barstle's valet whispered after Barstle ended the communication with Reede Xilva.
"What is he looking for?" Barstle whispered back.
"I overheard someone saying the proper blood type, but that sounds strange."
"Hmmph. I think he's as crazy as a lunar sloth-bear."
"Then he's a dangerous lunar sloth-bear," the valet muttered. "Has there been any other information from Mundia?"
"Messages aren't getting through," Barstle shook his head. "I know some of my spies have to be alive, still, but like the barrier keeping the drones out, I can't get any information to them."
"I'm concerned by the fact that Cayetes' warlock can't penetrate it, either."
"That only means they have a more powerful warlock. Easy enough to buy if you have sufficient funds."
"Perhaps we should buy one, then," the valet suggested.
"Take this," Barstle shoved a comp-vid into his valet's hands. "Go to the site. Offer whatever it takes to bring a fifth-level warlock to Vic'Law."
"Me?"
"Yes. Go. Do it now, while I let Cayetes know that Reede and his brothers are rounding up the commons from Der'Vek."
* * *
Bel Erland
"Grampa?" He'd appeared inside my suite shortly after dinner, giving me a smile and a hug before I could even say his name.
"Don't worry, I'm not checking up on you," Grampa Erland informed me. "Your father and I found something just released on one of the criminal networks."
"If it's Quin's wanted poster, I already know about that," I said.
"Nah—your gran and I already talked to Caylon about that. No, this is something new, and from somebody who sounds desperate. We need to find out how desperate, and exactly who they are."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Here." Grampa has a certain flourish when he Pulls anything into his hand. Gran calls it his voilà gesture. The comp-vid he held bore an advertisement for an incredible amount of money—for a fifth-level warlock. "We've traced the sending to Vic'Law," Grampa added. "Usually the sending is blocked, but it looks as if the sender either didn't know what he was doing or was interrupted before he could block it."
"You know," I tapped a finger on my chin, "somebody recently pinged my shield around Mundia, but they didn't have enough power to get through it. You think they're looking to get past my shield to see what we're up to?"
"That makes sense," Grampa Erland agreed. "I can't figure out why they seem so desperate, though."
"What are you thinking of doing?" I asked.
"Corolan has offered to go undercover," Grampa said. "So he can report back to your father and me."
"But," I said.
"He's fifth level," Grampa held up a hand. "We're concerned that Cayetes may be putting pressure on his allies here, and placing Corolan in the mix will give us information."
"But what if Uncle Cory is walking into a trap?" I said.
"What if that's what you're doing?"
"You have a recall spell on me, don't you?" I accused.
"Just as I'll have one on Corolan, if he gets the job. You get hurt, you'll be pulled away. Simple as that."
Bel! I heard Sal's mental shout. The refugee camp is under attack!
* * *
Quin
People were running. Some were screaming. A few were dead.
That memory of the attack will remain with me always. I'd saved the people of Vogeffa II from a similar fate.
This attack began before I was aware of it.
Armored hovercars flew overhead, attempting to herd the refugee population, while their occupants fired weapons at the running crowd. I wanted to weep—several small ones had been trampled in the rush to get away.
Farther away, armed men forced captured refugees into a hovervan.
Berel stopped beside me, pulled the pistol Queen Lissa had given him from his jacket and fired at the hovercar I'd seen shooting at the running crowd.
"No," I shouted, before realizing that he and Bel Erland had planned the maneuver. Berel shot the vehicle; it exploded, the loud boom bouncing across the fields. Bel Erland then placed a shield, keeping the exploding bits and resulting fire from raining down on the people below.
Somehow, too, Bel made the thing disappear.
"I have us shielded, except for the weapon," Bel shouted over the noise. "Fire away."
The explosion of the second hovercar sent the attackers into a frenzy, however. The kidnappers loading victims into the hovervan pulled hostages away from the vehicle and hid behind them.
Other hovercars began shooting indiscriminately.
Time stopped for a moment as once again, I did what I hated doing. This time, it was so much worse. If Kaldill, Sal and Caylon hadn't come, and if Terrett hadn't held me up while I did it, more would have died.
Drivers died at the controls of hovercars.
Those using hostages as shields dropped behind their victims.
Every vehicle nosedived
toward the ground—Kaldill, Caylon and Sal took over, collecting them with power and tossing them toward the sea.
When my knees buckled as the last attacker died, Terrett held me up. I discovered I was weeping.
No time for tears, beloved, Terrett whispered in my mind. There are children to heal.
* * *
Terrett
The refugee camp was moved to an open space near the river in Mundia. The dead were left behind—they were beyond our help.
Quin wept for some of those she'd killed.
Not all.
Kaldill told me that Reede Xilva had forced the teenage children of his servants to drive the vehicles and shoot at the refugees, after threatening them with the lives of their parents.
Dead was dead. Quin couldn't bring them back. She'd had no choice; they'd have continued to shoot otherwise.
Bleek and I followed her now, as she went from cluster to cluster of refugees, healing the ones who'd been hurt. Kaldill and the others were clearing a factory to house the crowd, although only half of what had originally been in the camp had arrived in Mundia.
Xilva had gotten away with several hovervans filled with refugees before our arrival.
News had come, too, that Barstle Cardino was redirecting food and supply deliveries to Puntia—from the warehouses that provided for the commons on Vic'Law. We'd intercepted the ships delivering to the criminal element; their answer was to steal from the commons.
It was likely that the same was happening in Der'Vek.
Quin moved as if she were caught in a dream—a nightmare from which she couldn't escape.
Bleek felt helpless—as did I. All we could do was keep Quin moving. We had no talent for healing and little for comforting the sick or wounded. There'd been no time to turn her wings white this time; she walked through narrow lanes to get to the next ones needing her help, black wings trailing in the snow behind her.
We're ready to move them, came from Sal.
Good. Quin is exhausted and ready to drop, Bleek responded before I'd had time to form a coherent thought to do so.
* * *
Bel Erland
Shim arrived with nearly fifty at his back. I learned quickly that these were the medical personnel who could come—those not currently on duty at the poorly equipped med-center of Mundia.
Their assistance inside the cleared-out factory freed Quin to treat the worst of the lot. I was grateful there were only three of those left.
"What do you suppose they'll do with the people they captured?" I asked Terrett.
Add to their army? You think they're desperate?
"They had children driving those hovercars," I said. "And older ones shooting weapons at the refugees. That seems desperate to me."
"If Cayetes were here, I'd have a guess as to what the people were for, but your explanation is better," Bleek said.
"If they pull troops from the commons, it will extend the war," Sal joined our conversation. "This is fucked from beginning to end."
"And the commons not in the army will be left to starve. That's motivation to join one faction or another," Berel observed.
"We need a better medical facility and medical supplies," Caylon walked up beside me. "Want to help?"
* * *
Quin
When the last one who needed my help was healed, I only wanted to collapse in a heap where I stood.
Bleek, who'd followed me while I worked, hauled me over a shoulder before nodding to Terrett. Someone transported us back to the mansion, but I was asleep when we arrived and didn't care who it was.
* * *
Karathia
Brenten Arden
"I don't think this is a good idea, Corolan. Not for you, anyway."
"I told him that," Wylend, my father and former King of Karathia, agreed. Five years earlier, we'd settled in Wylend's former summer palace, with permission from Rylend, my grandson and current Karathian King.
We sat at breakfast in the kitchen while two servants cooked and served our morning meal. As a former king, Wylend had advantages many others didn't, including enough wealth to afford servants.
"Why?" Corolan's eyes settled on me from across the small table.
"I have a bad feeling about this, that's why."
"I've already said I'd go," he began.
"I'll go instead," I said. "I still hold power. You know that. Besides, I doubt there's anyone who would recognize me. You, on the other hand," I shook my head.
"You're concerned about any rogue warlocks employed on Vic'Law, aren't you?" Wylend said. His butter knife scraped across toast as he considered what I'd offered.
"Yes. Too many of them can recognize the warlock who once stood at King Wylend's elbow," I said. "Stay here and protect Wylend. I'll go. This sort of thing used to be my work, you know."
"Very well," Corolan sighed before looking away.
I felt the danger in the assignment—he didn't. Something was terribly wrong, here, and he likely wasn't prepared to handle it.
"I'll leave tomorrow," I nodded to Wylend, who gave the slightest of nods in return.
* * *
Puntia
Xilva was a coward. Barstle was beginning to see that. Reede had stood on a high vantage point, recording the debacle on a comp-vid while armed children drove hovercars and fired upon panicked refugees.
He'd told Reede to keep them alive; that's what Cayetes' instructions were.
Now, not only were many dead, but more than half had escaped. Barstle sat uncomfortably in front of Vardil Cayetes, whose eyes were hard, his mouth drawn in a scathing frown.
"This is how your underlings follow orders?" Vardil demanded after watching the beginning of the carnage.
"I recorded my instructions to him—you have that evidence," Barstle defended himself, his voice trembling.
"Did you see the entire recording?" Vardil went on.
"No, Lord Cayetes. I brought it to you immediately, when I received it."
"Then look at this," Vardil shoved the comp-vid across his desk. Barstle barely caught it in his hands before it fell over the edge.
Barstle's breath caught at the frozen image. Cayetes had caught the perfect one and enlarged it for Barstle's benefit.
There, on the dark, frozen ground of the drakus seed field stood three people who shouldn't be there. One was a woman with black wings. Barstle recognized her easily enough. The two men who stood beside her, Barstle didn't recognize. Vardil's fury was evident; Barstle prepared himself for the worst.
* * *
Terrett
I was in the room when the call came. Caylon still carried the comp-vid he'd taken from one of Barstle Cardino's moles in Mundia, hoping that Cardino would contact us again, leaving us clues as to his location.
Barstle placed the communication, but two stood behind him as he spoke with Caylon. Get Quin, Caylon's voice hissed in my mind.
I shouted her name mentally as I rushed out of the library; if she weren't awake yet, she needed to be. I understood that Caylon wanted to know who stood behind Barstle.
* * *
Bel Erland
It took a while to get Quin to the library, as she was asleep when the communication was placed. Caylon did his best to keep Barstle Cardino talking, but it wasn't long enough. Cardino made threats.
Said he had images of BlackWing and two others, from the refugee camp. He demanded to know whether we had any dealings with, in his words, that filthy winged pirate. Then attempted to soothe Caylon's anger by offering one-hundred-million Alliance credits for her and the people she'd stolen from Vic'Law.
"I don't deal with criminals," Caylon snapped. "You, or any other," he added.
"Yet you've stolen Mundia from me," Barstle hissed.
"I've stolen nothing. Mundians run Mundia, now, instead of that filth Drood Juffa."
"You're fighting with them?" Barstle was unconvinced.
"I understand that this is a foreign concept to you," Caylon responded. "Nevertheless, it's true."
/>
"I'll pay for you to drop your warlock's shield around Mundia," Barstle turned to wheedling. "I'll give the entire city to you if you'll only let me in."
"You only—or the army at your back?" Caylon asked. I knew that look he offered Barstle Cardino—Sal, who stood beside me, nodded. Caylon would kill Cardino the moment he was close enough.
"You are a dead man," one of the men at Barstle's back pointed at Caylon. "Come out of that bubble you've built for yourself and face me."
That's when the screen went dark—the communication was terminated. Terrett and Quin arrived moments later—too late for her to identify anyone.
Chapter 16
Quin
"We tried to trace and record the communication, but something blocked it on their end," Caylon growled.
"Probably a warlock," Bel Erland replied. "I can do it—it doesn't take much. And no, I didn't recognize either of those men behind Cardino. If he had a Sirenali nearby, the warlock's spell could be amplified, preventing the powerful from tracing it."
"Could have been anybody, but the one making threats—Cardino should have shut him up or refused to let him speak," Sal said.
My brain was still addled from the day before, and I'd been wakened long before I wanted to be. Morosely, I nursed a cup of hot tea and closed my eyes against the plate of food set in front of me—my stomach wasn't ready for food, yet.
Milk, Terrett set a glass in front of me. Better than tea, he added.
He was right; the milk was good—I drank all of it in very little time.
* * *
Puntia
Brenten Arden
"Master Cardino is engaged elsewhere, Sir Warlock," Phorr, Barstle Cardino's valet, claimed. He'd asked me to meet him in a barn on the outskirts of the Cardino estate—not the usual venue for the arrival of a powerful warlock.
The moment I saw Phorr, I could see he was desperate—for himself and his employer.
"Payment?" I demanded. It was the question any warlock working on the wrong side of the law would ask.
I didn't give a rat's testicles about payment. Something had bothered me for a very long time about what was going on. The obsession I held was kicking in, when I least wanted it to.
BlackWing: First Ordinance, Book 3 Page 22