The remaining drakes attacked, again in unison—still far too many for the Godspear to counter. And yet, the spears over the man’s hand began to blur and separate, transforming into small oblong shapes, like bullets. The Godspear launched them all in a powerful volley. It was a bold move, the metal too dispersed to reform into his spears in time to use as defense. But the gambit paid off as all the drakes fell beneath the onslaught until only the Godspear remained standing. Covered in sweat and blood, he turned a circle, surveying the sea of felled drakes surrounding him, before coming to a stop in front of the Godking and raising his hand in a sign of victory.
The crowd went mad, their screams shaking the walls of the Desol. Even Eravis was clapping hard, the sound striking Corwin’s ear like it was a drum. She turned and placed a hand on her father’s arm. “What is to be his reward, Father?” she shouted over the cheers.
Magnar looked at his daughter, his face flush as if the victory below had been his. “Why, our admiration, as always.”
Eravis shook her head. “It’s not enough. Not today. I would like to gift him a kiss.”
Magnar frowned, his gaze flicking to Corwin for a second and then to Gavril.
Gavril leaned forward and said, “Her highness is as gracious as she is beautiful. It is a splendid idea.”
Eravis stiffened at the comment. Or perhaps Corwin had imagined it.
Magnar looked back at his daughter and nodded consent.
Rather than allow the Godspear to approach the king’s box to claim his prize, Eravis was escorted down to the floor by six guards while Corwin remained behind. The Godspear waited, arms hanging limply by his sides. Coming to a stop before him, Eravis motioned for the man to remove his helm. When he did, the sight of his face sent a lightning bolt of shock through Corwin.
He should’ve guessed. Should’ve known when he saw the wilder’s power. But he hadn’t dared. The idea that this man had survived, that he had been in the city this entire time, was too much to hope for. And yet here he stood.
Bonner.
His body had changed so much, leaned and hardened with corded muscles, it was difficult to believe it was him, but there was no question of it. For the first time in nearly a year, Corwin felt the oppressive loneliness flee, his heart soaring as Bonner’s gaze turned up to him, recognition in his eyes. Corwin returned the look with a single, quick nod, his heart a clenched fist in his chest. Eravis stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss square on Bonner’s mouth, the crowd cheering. Corwin wished he was down there with her. He would kiss Bonner, too, embrace him as a brother. For together, the two of them might find a way free.
Or, at the very least, they could die together trying.
7
Kate
“WHERE ARE MY SPECTACLES?” Harue said as she rummaged through the sacks strewn across the table of her workroom. “Has anyone seen them?”
Kate turned away from her post by the door. “Shhhh, you’ll wake the whole city.”
Ceasing her search, Harue looked up at Kate, a frown creasing her brow. “That’s just not possible, Kate. To wake so many would require a noise far greater than one person could possibly—”
“She’s only exaggerating, Harue,” Signe said from where she stood leaning by the door next to Kate. “And you’re already wearing them.”
“What? Oh.” Harue patted the top of her head, searching through the tangles of her black hair until she found the eyepieces set across her crown.
They’d been in the workroom for at least the past twenty minutes while the three of them packed the last of Harue’s supplies for their journey to Norgard. Tira and Wen, Harue’s young assistant, were outside, keeping an eye on the horses and doing their best to avoid suspicion. This early in the morning there were few people about, but those who were would doubtlessly wonder at their presence there with more horses than they could ride alone. News would spread quickly, Kate knew, but she could only hope they would be away from the city before anyone who mattered caught wind of it.
Then again, with Harue’s slowness and general loudness, the odds were stacked against them. Harue should’ve been ready the evening before, but instead she’d gotten distracted in her packing and had spent half the night trying to decipher some obscure text in a moldy old book she’d found buried in the city archives weeks ago but had misplaced until her packing activities uncovered it once more. It had taken all of Kate’s willpower not to lose her temper when she arrived this morning to the general—and entirely normal—state of disarray in Harue’s workroom. She’d been half tempted to leave without her, but it wasn’t an option. Even with Harue along, Kate wasn’t confident they’d be able to keep the nightdrakes at bay for the entire journey. Harue was only one magist, after all, and conjuring the amount of wardstones they needed to form the barriers each night would be a massive undertaking. Wen would be able to help some, but she was just a child and still a long way from mastering her craft. Too bad my powers don’t work at night, Kate thought. If they did, she could end any drake threat with a thought.
“Are you about ready?” Kate said, turning her gaze back to the door. She reached out with her magic, checking for at least the hundredth time that no one nearby was yet awake. With the sun only just cresting the horizon, her magic was sluggish at best. Still, she could tell that everyone nearby was asleep. Harue and Wen both resided in the magist quarters, a section of houses less than a block from the governor’s mansion. With far too few magists in the Rising, both wilders and magists alike were actively recruiting young people with signs of magist talent, a common form of spirit gift that remained dormant without training. Like it or not, magist magic was still crucial in many tasks throughout the city, including keeping the walls fortified against nightdrakes.
“I suppose so.” Harue sighed, examining the bookshelf in the far corner of the room with longing. “It’s a shame I can’t take the Atreyum Chronicles or the Elevia Scrolls. I might need them if—”
“There’s no room.” Signe crossed to the table, her limp barely noticeable for once, and started fastening one of the sacks closed. More than any of them she was impatient to leave. Although less than a week had passed since they received the doll, it seemed like an eternity. Raith’s messenger had left days ago, but it was far to early for any news. Anything could’ve happened to Dal and they wouldn’t know it. How Kate wished her magic was strong enough to span the continent, allowing her to reach Dal’s thoughts even from so far away.
Turning to the table, Kate picked up one of the remaining books, examining the title. “Do you really need this, Harue? The Diary of Melchor the Mad?”
“Are you joking?” Harue tilted her head in genuine puzzlement.
Rolling her eyes, Kate shoved the book into one of the sacks before pulling it closed. She slung it over her shoulder and reached for the next. “Come on, then. Let’s get these down to the horses.”
Signe eyed the sacks with a look of disdain. “This will slow us down. Harue, can we please leave some behind? We must stay ahead of any riders the council might send after us.”
Seeing the look of horror spreading across Harue’s face at the suggestion, Kate quickly intervened. “Raith won’t do that. He won’t want it to get out that you’ve left the city.”
Signe scowled. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“I am, though.”
Somehow they managed to carry all the sacks between the three of them, although Kate’s steps wavered as she descended the stairs with the massive weight of books across her shoulders. She felt sorry for the two packhorses they were bringing with them to be faced with such a burden.
As they walked, she kept her magic at the ready, listening for any unexpected company. Although no one would be overly concerned to see Harue or Kate, nearly everyone would be alarmed to see Signe out and about in the city unescorted. Kate was prepared to use her sway to keep them from reacting, but she would prefer not to if she could avoid it.
It seemed luck was with them this day as they made
it to Tira and Wen without incident.
Tira grinned at the sight of them. “You look like a herd of pack mules.”
“I feel like one,” Kate replied, groaning at the effort it took to hoist one of the sacks over the packhorse’s back. The little bay mare turned to pin her ears at Kate as she set it down. Kate frowned at the horse. “Don’t make that face at me. It’s not my fault.”
Tira snorted in amusement but made no further comment as she took a bag from Signe and placed it with a little more care over the other horse’s back, the effort easier for the taller woman. Wen scurried forward to help Harue, even though half of the sacks weighed more than she did. The dark-haired, willowy girl moved like a mouse, quick and quiet and always with an air of fearfulness, as if a cat waited around every corner.
Once done loading the horses, Kate double-checked Nightbringer’s saddle and bridle before mounting. A nervous flutter rose in her stomach as they set out, a thousand questions and doubts skidding through her mind. Sensing her unease, Night crow-hopped and tossed his head, unhappy to only be walking. With an effort Kate forced herself to relax.
Again, good fortune remained with them as they made their way to the city gates without running into anyone who cared enough to take note of them. Once at the gates though, the watchman on guard called for them to halt, and his fellows moved across the path, blocking their way.
Kate sighed. She knew all these soldiers. Several she’d fought beside in battle, while two others were newly promoted cadets. But before she could allow herself to question her actions, she reached out with her sway and gently coaxed them to step aside. All of them went easily, except for Jessalyn, the youngest of the group and one of the cadets Kate had been particularly fond of, appreciating her feisty spirit and sharp wit, with an equally sharp mind behind it. But even Jessalyn’s resistance wasn’t enough against her magic. Kate could only hope they wouldn’t be punished too severely if it was discovered they escaped the city on their watch.
The moment the path was clear, Kate urged Nightbringer into a trot and hurried through the gate, the others trailing close behind. She kept the pace quick but steady as they headed down the eastern road toward Marared. The cornfields along both sides of the road remained barren, no sign of sprouts yet. Still the earthists insisted the harvest would be decent, so long as the armistice remained, allowing them to spend their time coaxing the crops along instead of fighting. If they were right, there would be enough for winter, Kate hoped. She wondered if she’d be back by then. The idea that she might not didn’t bother her as much as she would’ve thought. Not with the people she cared about most riding beside her now. She might’ve fought and bled for the city she was leaving behind, but it didn’t feel like home. No place did. Not without Corwin. Her hand rose up to touch her tattoo, and a flutter once again went through her belly. He wasn’t in Norgard, she knew, but the ghost of him waited there just the same.
They rode hard for the first four hours. Although neither Harue nor Wen were used to much riding, Kate refused to slow down until they were a fair distance from the city. Then finally, after the tenth request for a gentler pace from Harue, she conceded.
“That was remarkably easy,” Tira noted as she reined her horse next to Kate’s. She sounded disappointed.
Kate glanced over her shoulder, checking on the others. Harue and Wen seemed all right so far, although both bore uncomfortable grimaces. For once, she didn’t have to worry about Signe. Astride a horse, she became her old self, fierce and unbroken. Unburdened. Like Tira, Signe wore dual swords on her back and a revolver on her hip, her blond hair pulled back into a severe braid.
Kate looked ahead again. “They might send someone after us yet.”
Tira snorted. “Raith wouldn’t be so foolish. Not when he knows you can turn them back with a single thought.”
In the end it seemed Tira was right. They rode the rest of the day at varying speeds without seeing so much as a speck of dust on the road behind them. Although the fields around Farhold had been barren, this stretch of land was in the full bloom of spring, the hills swathed in glistening everweeps and the trees boasting vibrant green leaves that swayed in the gentle breezes.
With dusk approaching, they finally stopped at an abandoned campsite along the road. Before the war, the site had been kept stocked with firewood and supplies for travelers, all provided by the royal crown. This close to Farhold though, it was no longer maintained.
They made camp, Harue setting up the wardstone barrier with relative ease, albeit slowly, as she took the time to explain everything she did to Wen. The little girl listened with an intent expression, licking her lips in concentration and with her eyebrows drawn together so closely that they resembled a pair of butterfly wings perched over her nose.
Once she’d seen to the horses, Kate took up the watch, sitting atop a rocky hillock just inside the barrier’s edge, her gaze fixed to the west on Farhold. Just in case she’d been wrong about what Raith would do. She knew him, yes, trusted him, but she didn’t believe in relying on trust these days.
Her instinct proved true when she spotted a lone figure riding up the road toward them. The grim gray of twilight hung in the air like a bad promise, and in the distance, the nightdrakes were already howling. With her magic waning along with the light, Kate couldn’t quite reach the person from so far, but even still she knew who it was and made no effort to challenge him as he approached.
Raith dismounted just inside the barrier and tethered his horse before facing her. “Hello, Kate.”
She inclined her head, wary and tense. And also a little ashamed at her defiance. Remember Dal, she told herself. “You’ve come a long way for no reason,” she said.
Raith shrugged and sat down beside her, drawing his knees to his chest. “What if I only wanted to say good-bye?”
Taken off guard, Kate drew a slow breath, realizing how foolish she was. Of course he wasn’t angry. Raith had a remarkable capacity for empathy and understanding. That, along with his even temper, was what made him such a good leader.
On an exhale she said, “I’m sorry to defy you like this, but I had no choice.”
Raith waited a few moments before answering, the silence an uncomfortable weight. “I know that’s how you feel, and I understand. I only wish I could change your mind. Breaking the accords could throw our entire city into peril.”
“If any harm comes to Dal in Norgard, the accords will already have been broken,” Kate countered.
Raith nodded thoughtfully, but his expression remained grim. “Even if you’re right, I fear there’s nothing but trouble waiting for you in Norgard.”
“I can take care of myself. I always have.”
“Do you have a magestone diamond?”
In answer, she reached for one of the two leather cords about her neck, pulling free the one that held the diamond, its glittering surface bearing faint marks from the spell woven into it, one designed to hide the use of wilder magic from magist detector stones. She showed it to him.
“Good. Make sure you wear it at all times. King Edwin might have halted the Inquisition, but I doubt he’ll be inclined to remember that if his magists find you.”
“I know.” Edwin would kill her given half the chance. The last time she’d seen him he’d come close to doing just that. He’d only been high prince then, but that didn’t stop Kate from putting him and all of his men to sleep with her magic in order to escape. Once, she and Edwin had been friends, of a sort, but fate had turned them enemies. He hated wilders with a passion that bordered on madness, blaming them all for the death of his mother, and it was no secret that the war ending in an armistice instead of the Rising’s defeat infuriated him.
She slid the stone back beneath her tunic, adjusting it so it lay comfortably next to the other necklace, this one a crystal vial filled with blood. Like the diamond, it gave her protection, but not the kind she would need against the magists of Norgard. The magic in her father’s blood trapped in the vial would protect her fro
m someone with the gift of sway. Rendborne and Vikas both had worn such a talisman. Kate had taken this one from Vikas after she killed her. Rendborne wore his still, she assumed.
Kate turned a sidelong gaze onto Raith. “Are you really not going to try and change my mind?”
“Would there be any point?” Raith looked over his shoulder at the others in the camp. Tira and Signe had noticed him, of course, and probably Wen as well, but not Harue. She was already nose-deep in that awful diary of Melchor the Mad she’d brought.
“No. Making sure Dal is safe is too important.” Raith’s lips and nose twitched as if he were holding back a scathing reply, and Kate’s temper sparked at the sight of it, that feeling of being a little girl defying her parents coming over her again—and getting the best of her, it seemed. “If you’ve something to say, out with it, then.”
Again, Raith waited several moments before answering, tact his weapon of choice. “Has it occurred to you that Dal might not be the target at all, but Signe? That threatening Dal may draw her out, as it seems it has?”
Kate’s stomach clenched. No, it hadn’t occurred to her, but it made an awful kind of sense now that she thought about it. Signe was far more important to the Rising and to its enemies than Dal was. Kate remembered Signe’s reaction to the doll, the way she’d known it was going to ignite before Kate touched it. And there was her response afterward as well, the way she’d been agitated, preoccupied, impatient. For as long as Kate had known her, she never acted this way. Even under torture she’d remained calm and controlled, certain that she would win in the end. Not so now.
Kate bit her lip, worries bubbling up in her mind. “Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. I can’t make Signe turn back.”
Shadow & Flame Page 10