Rylin grunted. That was an understatement. “And if we find something else?”
“If we find something incriminating, then we owe no one an apology, and we fight to our last breath to get out and spread the truth. I’m rather thinking it will be the latter, but I’m hoping not.”
“Right.”
“But before we risk our lives in daring deeds, we should eat. I’m famished.” And with that, she took her seat and delicately lifted a slice of brown bread.
Rylin was struck by her ability to quickly shift focus. He stood and massaged his forehead. “You mentioned another errand?”
She spoke while chewing. “We’ll make a short trip to N’lahr’s tomb.”
“Should I ask why?”
“No. Eat first. You’ll feel better.”
He doubted it. The corps and the Mage Auxiliary could be filled with traitors. Or—“Are we traitors now?”
Varama swallowed. “Someone replaced Irion, then killed Asrahn and framed Kyrkenall for it when discovered. Denaven and the queen are up to something with the mages and that collection of hearthstones, something that they’re apparently willing to kill for. You’re not honestly suggesting that the liars and murderers are in the right, are you?”
“No.”
She spoke as she chewed. “We’re going to take this thread and pull on it until the carpet unravels.”
“And if we’re standing on the carpet?”
Varama swallowed and stared at him. “You’re wearing the Altenerai ring. I thought you signed on for action, and that you swore to defend the realms.”
“I did.”
“There you go. Now have a seat. It’s harder to defend the realms on an empty stomach.”
Sighing only a little, Rylin took his chair across from her and reached for a hunk of white cheese.
10
With Sword in Hand
“There doesn’t seem to be any activity in the tower’s compound,” Elenai called back softly. “But there’s a cabin near the line of trees with smoke rising from the chimney.” She turned to see Kyrkenall daubing his face with dirt just below the rise of the hill. Their shadows were stretched about as long as they would get, as the crimson sliver of sun sank to its bed beyond the tree-lined, white-capped mountains. In its wake the vast blanket of blue overhead was darkening to purple.
Kyrkenall replied quietly, “Either someone’s left the kettle on, or there are more guards stationed there. Come take a look at this while I spy up top. I think this is the sigil they were talking about.”
She slowly crawled back. Kyrkenall tapped the grass beside an object he’d apparently pulled from the dead. To regular scrutiny it was a twisted brass spiral the length of her hand, set with green gemstones. Through her inner sight it glowed with a complex magical aura, one linked by slim gold strands of mystical energy to the leather collar around the distant dead beast, still lying five good strides from the line of corpses at the base of the hill.
It was hard not to think about them even as she focused on the sigil. After she’d studied it for a time, Kyrkenall slid down beside her. “You figure it out?”
“It has a connection with the collar. I’m thinking that the beast couldn’t approach anyone with a sigil without the collar activating in some fashion.”
“Probably it would have given a jolt of pain. I bet that’s what the fence posts do, too.”
“I guess this will make it easier to deal with the next beast.”
“We probably won’t need to,” Kyrkenall replied. “They couldn’t keep many of those. It would take a lot of game to feed even one.”
“But, how do you know how large the fenced-in area was?” she pressed. “Maybe it had a hundred acres to forage.”
“You wouldn’t want to make it too large, or the thing would be miles away when unwanted company turned up. What I don’t understand is why there’s a station outside the fort. There’s plenty of space inside. The barracks there are large enough to accommodate fifty. There’s a solid stable near the south wall, so there’s surely no need to build that flimsy horse shelter I spotted beyond the cabin. They’d have to hobble the horses under guard to graze them with that ‘gralk’ wandering around. The tower compound even has a bathhouse, which is about the nicest thing out here in the winter, so you’d think they’d want to live inside.” By the end he was clearly talking to himself.
“Maybe they have so many people they needed extra room,” Elenai suggested.
Kyrkenall shook his head. “I did some training out here, remember? Even if they crammed the existing barracks, there’s plenty of room within the stone wall to add buildings. Besides, I can’t see any sign the base has hosted anyone recently, let alone a full regiment. That flag is in rags.”
“We could visit the cabin to learn more. If we take some people alive.” She had labored to sound circumspect, but Kyrkenall picked up on her tone.
“Is that a criticism, Squire? I don’t recall you offering any terms.”
She blurted out the question that had been tearing at her. “Why didn’t you? Couldn’t you have captured the last two? Or one?” If they had more information now they wouldn’t be huddled in the cold deciding how to best fling themselves into uncertain disaster.
For a long moment he offered nothing but an unblinking stare. “What do you think this is?” he asked finally. Apparently he didn’t expect an answer, for he went on. “We were surrounded, and they were going to kill us.”
“Not all of them wanted to.”
“The one in charge did. Look, maybe they would have, and maybe not. And maybe they would have taken us prisoner and done who knows what with us. I had one chance, and I took it. Do you understand?”
“I guess so.” She frowned, unsatisfied.
“I don’t think you do.” He raised his voice for emphasis. “This isn’t the training field. If someone scores on us it’s not with a blunt instrument. Whoever put these people out here murdered Asrahn, so you can bet they won’t think twice about the two of us. Maybe some of the guards were hesitating, but they weren’t in charge. Don’t count on kindness. Especially when your life’s at stake. Now do you understand?”
She nodded slowly, struggling to halt the flood of emotion as she realized what was really upsetting her. Need she have killed that woman? In the heat of combat it hadn’t occurred to try to wound her or ask her to yield. She realized with a sinking certainty that she was childishly blaming Kyrkenall not because he killed the soldiers, but because he failed to keep her from her own actions. She took a slow trembling breath. She was a soldier. Her choices were consequential and she was responsible for them.
If anything, he appeared more exasperated than ever. “What’s wrong now?”
She felt her throat constrict but managed to sound fairly normal when she spoke. “Nothing.” She held off admitting that this had been the first time she’d killed someone.
He gave her a searching look, but said only, “Good. Let’s see that cabin.”
Kyrkenall had already recovered some of his own arrows, and apparently searched through the equipment of the dead, found the most suitable shafts, and fitted them into his newly full quiver. He led the way into the dark landscape.
Elenai set aside her sentiments and focused through her ring, watching for life forces that might creep up on them through the waist-high grass. Kyrkenall’s horse, Lyria, quietly brought up the rear, obedient as a well-trained hound, stopping when he stopped, moving forward when he signaled. It put her in mind of poor Aron. Someday, he too might have responded so well.
They saw nothing more dangerous than a few small bats flying out for nighttime feeding, and before too long they arrived at the wooden stockade that surrounded the cabin and its companion buildings. She’d had little doubt the longer structure was a stable, and she had even less once the horses within whinnied at the scent of Lyria, who snorted her own response.
Kyrkenall cursed softly, and with a running jump set hands to the head-high stockade wall and vaulted o
ver.
“Kyrkenall?” Elenai called quietly. He didn’t answer. Grumbling a little to herself, she followed him. By the time she had climbed over he was already at the closed door on the narrow cabin porch. Before she reached it, he’d burst inside with naked blade.
After a short moment, he leaned out to wave her in and they searched together, finding a half dozen beds and chests and a few personal belongings, a dining table and cooking area. There had been six dead guards and there were six beds here, so it looked as though they’d met up with everyone. In back was an outhouse, and a long, slant-roof shed where they found eight curious horses and a pair of goats.
While Elenai let Lyria into the stockade, Kyrkenall lit a sturdy lantern he’d found inside the barracks and studied a large wooden wheeled structure behind the cabin. It was a catapult just over eight feet high. Leads in front suggested it was to be hauled by horses.
“Why do you think they needed a siege engine?” she asked.
“I’m still figuring that out.” He had remained oddly quiet throughout their investigation, communicating almost entirely by hand signals except when he’d ordered her to bring in Lyria and when he’d told her not to put his horse with the others.
He stretched up to examine the bucket. The arm was stored in the up position, standard practice so that there wasn’t constant tension on the throwing support.
“So,” she guessed, “there’s something in the tower compound, behind the walls. Maybe it’s another gralk. The guards were its keepers. They hunted for game, then launched a carcass in to feed the thing from time to time. Whatever it is.” Though her voice was level, the thought of some unknown beast lurking inside that enclosure was far more alarming than the prospect the place was stuffed with soldiers.
His look to her was sharp, and he cursed, then smiled. “Damn. You’re right. Why else would they erect these lousy buildings instead of using the good ones next to the tower? Why else would they have a bloodstained catapult?”
She was glad he agreed.
“How are you at sensing things through the hearthstone?”
“What do you mean?”
“Kalandra could stretch out her senses with a hearthstone and sort of feel ahead a bit.”
“Like what we do with the Altenerai rings?”
“Exactly. Rialla was really good at it, too.”
Of course she was.
He continued enthusiastically. “Try to reach into the fortress. If you sense anything really strange, pull back.”
“Strange?”
“Any kind of strange. But I guess we’ve been seeing a lot of that, haven’t we?”
She nodded, already thinking of the possible dangers. One of the first lessons taught all those with magical gifts was to be careful looking around too long in the inner world, for there were entities out there that hungered for unprotected souls.
Though she thought herself prepared to touch the hearthstone once more, it was as much of a shock as the first time, and so pleasurable that she couldn’t suppress a smile. Once she had the hearthstone’s threads wrapped about her life force, she extended filaments of will toward the fortress wall. It rushed closer, faster than anticipated, while she worked to keep part of herself rooted to her body. Too late she remembered that when you projected you were supposed to sit, or even lie down, lest you injure yourself while your attention was elsewhere.
When her awareness reached the wall, she could have spent hours studying the pitted stones in detail, for the moonlit contrasts of shape and shade presented beautifully to her hearthstone-enhanced sight. But she pressed through them, sensing the outlines of the long roofed stables Kyrkenall had described against the south of the fortress, and the row of dark, wooden buildings to the tower’s west. Mostly, though, her mind was drawn to the whirling energies beyond the north wall, the sudden drop to chaotic void that apparently justified placing all the adjacent fortifications to address it. Kyrkenall had not mentioned how spectacular was the multihued view!
As if on cue, she heard his voice. He sounded very far away. “Do you feel anything?”
“Wait a moment,” she said. Her speech sent shock waves along the tendrils of intent she used to explore her surroundings. She’d have to watch that. She knew she’d made her presence more noticeable in the magical spectrum, even if she’d produced no audible sound there.
Try as she might, she felt no life-forms of any interest anywhere near the tower or its outbuildings. There were rodents and insects in abundance.
She tried whispering to Kyrkenall. “There’s nothing—”
And she fell silent, because something was racing from the west end of the compound, a large undulating form shot through with matrices that were both intact, as you’d find in an ordinary animal, and changeable, as with something from the Shifting Lands. It seemed to know exactly where her threads of intent were, for it closed upon one; she had the fleeting impression of a longish reptilian thing with too many legs and a many-toothed maw lunging for her.
She recoiled, blinded by pain, and before she was entirely sure what had happened she found herself blinking rapidly and being supported by Kyrkenall. She appeared to have slumped, for he tightly gripped her upper arms.
“—ser me,” he was saying, his voice agitated. “Are you all right?”
She relaxed her mental hold upon the hearthstone, adjusted her footing so she stood upright, and felt herself redden as he let go of her shoulders.
“What did you see?”
The pain was clearing but lingered between her eyes. “Something strange,” she croaked dryly.
“Funny. How about some details?”
“It’s a monster all right. Probably from the Shifting Lands.” She blinked a few times. “It’s about the length of a horse, maybe a little longer, with a tail like a lizard, except it has too many legs. And,” she added, “it knew I was there. It deliberately attacked.” She pressed her temple as everything settled.
He appraised her with concern, but said only, “It must not be able to climb, or the walls wouldn’t keep it in.”
That seemed a fairly safe assessment. She discovered her hand quavered a little as she put it to the top of her waterskin, and hoped Kyrkenall didn’t notice. She held tight to the stopper until she had calmed herself, then uncorked the cap and drank long and deep.
“There’s a walkway that runs all along the fortress battlement,” Kyrkenall mused. “At least there used to be. They probably took out the stairs to keep the beast in. We could get fairly close to the tower that way, but we’ll still be a good fifty feet off. And you can bet that the tower door’s locked.”
“Why don’t we heave a carcass over, to keep it distracted?” she asked.
He seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head. “Better to just climb to the walkway and shoot it to death. Also easier. You don’t want to have to cut up the gralk or your horse, then drag the pieces back here and load them in the catapult basket, do you?”
Now that he mentioned it, no.
“The complicated way’s usually not the best.” He grinned. “I guess Denaven and his lot never counted on someone figuring it out ahead of time and killing whatever they’ve locked in there at a distance. Shows a lack of foresight.” He started back for the cabin. “I’m going to need some rope.”
By the time they’d walked to the fortress wall, the stars wheeled in the heavens and the moon was a high golden crescent. Kyrkenall tied a rope to a wicked looking metal hook he’d found in the stables near some hay bales. He grinned mirthlessly at her as he worked the knot. “‘Had I such wings, to you I’d fly each night.’”
Elenai recognized the words. They were from the courtship scene of doomed Iratahn to his lover Donahlia, after he had climbed her garden wall and pointed to an owl. She answered as Donahlia had done. “‘Had we them both, the moon should light our way as we soared forth to seek the shining stars.’”
His grin broadened into a real smile. “Ho ho! So my squire’s seen a play or two
?”
“‘They are numbers beyond knowing, my queen.’” This time she quoted not Selana, but Pendrahn. “My father runs a playhouse,” Elenai explained. “I grew up around the theater.”
“And here you struck me as such a fine upstanding person.” He finished the knot. “You like Selana?”
“Yes, but I prefer Pendrahn.”
“He’s not without his charm. I prefer the beauty of her language, though.”
Selana was old fashioned, but she didn’t tell him that.
Kyrkenall hefted the hook and line around three or four times, presumably gauging its weight. “They sure went to a lot of trouble to keep Irion hidden, didn’t they? Makes you wonder if there’re some other secrets within.”
“Like what?”
“Well, if this was a play, we’d find a manifesto of their plans and the map to their secret installation, wouldn’t we?”
“Or magic armor.”
“I wouldn’t mind some magic armor,” Kyrkenall said. “Let’s be on with it. If we stay low, we should be hidden between the stable roof and the walkway as we get up there.”
“How are we going to get through the tower door?” she asked.
“You’ll have to blast it with magics. You can do that, can’t you?”
“I’ve never done it before.”
“It’s been a whole week of firsts for you then, hasn’t it? I’ve faith in you.”
“You must think this magic stuff is easy,” she said.
“On the contrary. I just think you’re good.”
The unexpected compliment surprised a smile out of her, one that left a warm glow. It didn’t keep her from thinking ahead, though. “Are you sure you’ll be able to kill it from the walkway?”
His answer was supremely confident. “I don’t see why not. You think this thing is going to be harder to hit than the gralk?”
“I just think it might be more dangerous. It’s on the inside, even closer to the tower they want to protect.”
“Excellent point, but I’ll be closer to it than I was the gralk, and shooting from a vantage point. I should be able to pick out a vital area.” He handed her the lantern. “Here. You should hold onto the hearthstone, too.”
For the Killing of Kings Page 18