Authors: Kristen Britain

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #fantasy, #Epic

Blackveil (78 page)

BOOK: Blackveil

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Silence reigned when Grant’s outburst ended. Silhouettes dispersed until there was only the one she identified as Grant.

“What?” he shouted. “Can’t handle the truth?”

Ard murmured to him.

“Leave me alone,” Grant said. “If they can’t face me, what’re they gonna do when they reach their precious grove and find it gone?”

Karigan sighed. Grant’s tone had sounded irrational to her, but he’d made some good points. At least they finally knew exactly what the Eletians wanted in Blackveil: to rescue their people who had been peacefully Sleeping at the time of Mornhavon’s invasion.

She could not help but agree with Grant that the wisest course was to retreat from the forest, but nothing, she knew, would sway the Eletians from their task. She only hoped they were prepared for the worst when they reached Castle Argenthyne, whatever the worst might entail.

LYNX’S COUP

K
arigan did not reawaken until sometime in the gray of morning when she perceived someone in the tent with her. She opened crusty eyes to discover Graelalea kneeling beside her and peering beneath the blanket at her leg.

“The leeches appear sated,” Graelalea said. “They have detached from your leg.”

The leeches! Karigan had forgotten about them, and thought it just fine she had. She rotated her foot and shifted her leg, grimacing as pain burned through her flesh.

Graelalea gazed sideways at her. “How does it feel?”

“Very sore.”

The Eletian nodded. “I am not surprised. I shall spread some evaleoren on your wounds and that should ease some of the pain. I’d make a poultice, but Hana carried our herbs.” Anything Hana had carried was gone with her. Graelalea produced a pot of the salve and spread it gently on Karigan’s leg. Immediately it calmed the pain. “Only time will tell if the work of the leeches proves efficacious. I fear, however, we haven’t the time to allow you the rest you require.”

Karigan nodded, barely withholding a sigh. She’d like nothing more than to sleep and keep off her leg, but there could be no waiting around in Blackveil, and of course she did not wish to appear weak.

“So we are going on to Castle Argenthyne,” Karigan said, feeling a strange thrill despite the circumstances, to be journeying toward a place that had, for most of her life, existed only as a fairy tale.

“The tiendan and I will resume our journey to the castle,” Graelalea said. “Your Grant and the others have been debating whether to continue with us, or to turn back.”

Grant had already acknowledged that trying to return without the Eletians to guide them was likely suicidal. Yet it did not make sense to be leading poor, blind Yates to Castle Argenthyne, or, for that matter, her with her hurt leg and unreliable visions. And they had found out the truth of what the Eletians sought in Argenthyne: the Sleepers. Had they achieved what the king asked of them, or would he want them to press on?

“We recovered your pack from your campsite,” Graelalea said. “I shall pass it in to you, but first I’d like you to take a sip of this.” She produced the cordial and Karigan eagerly took the flask to her lips. “One sip only,” Graelalea reminded her.

Karigan reluctantly returned the flask, licking her lips to ensure she didn’t miss a single drop. Graelalea crawled out of the tent, then reappeared in the opening and pushed in the pack Karigan had believed long lost.

“When you are ready,” the Eletian said, “come out and see if you wish to try some food.”

At the mention of food, Karigan’s stomach gurgled and she realized she was famished, quite a change from when she’d felt so unwell only a day ago. Was it the effect of the cordial? The leeches? She only hoped it was not temporary.

She dug through her pack looking for a change of clothes. The contents were none the worse for wear—not even damp, which was miraculous. Maybe the Eletians possessed drying magic, and a part of her did not doubt it. She was grateful to have her own supplies and her own clothes to change into. Her old pants were shredded beyond repair. She did not think even meticulous Ty would be able to mend them.

She crawled from the tent and unsteadily rose to her feet. Placing weight on her leg sent hornets buzzing in it and she winced. She steadied herself and looked around at the campsite. Lhean fletched an arrow beside the fire and gave her what looked like a genuinely friendly smile. Grant sat hunched before the fire, pushing coals around with a stick and muttering to himself. His appearance was haggard and stubble failed to conceal the hollows beneath his cheekbones. He was much diminished, looked unwell, and appeared unaware of her.

Ard paused searching through his pack for something and gave her a hard, penetrating gaze. As if remembering himself, he schooled his expression to something softer, but for some reason he didn’t look happy to see her. “Well, look who’s up and about.” He smiled, but his joviality rang false in her ears. Then again, she wasn’t herself and maybe wasn’t perceiving things right.

“Karigan?” It was Yates, also sitting by the fire, gazing in her general direction.

“Hello,” she said, and limped over to him, taking his hand.

“You all right?” he asked.

“I’ll live.”

Ard dropped his whetting stone and swore. He bent over to retrieve it and said nothing more.

Ghosting in the background was Ealdaen, probably on watch. He spared her a glance, but it was brief and indecipherable. She did not see Solan or Telagioth, but perhaps they were in the Eletian tent, or guarding another side of the perimeter.

“Good to see you up,” Lynx said, but he did not look particularly happy.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He held up his tobacco pouch and sighed mournfully. “My leaf has gone bad. Moldy. And I’d been using it sparingly to make it last.”

Karigan was just glad
she
was not the source of his misery.

“Come sit with us,” he said, and he helped her over to a seat by the fire. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Yes.”

He fetched her a spoon and a cup of gruel from a pot on the fire. Normally the stuff was not very palatable, but this morning—afternoon?—it tasted like a feast.

“Must be doing better if you’ve an appetite,” Lynx observed.

She nodded and was permitted seconds. She knew enough to take it slowly, and sipped at intervals at the tea Lynx handed her. It had the tang of Blackveil, for they were down to collecting drinking water from the rain that fell through the leaves of the forest.

Her companions remained quiet. Yates tapped his toe to some unheard music. No one asked her about her adventures while separated from the group. Yates must have filled them in. Still, the tension was palpable. Grant hadn’t moved one bit, transfixed by the campfire.

Graelalea emerged from her tent and stood before them, hands on her hips. Ealdaen drifted closer, and Solan and Telagioth appeared from the woods.

“The day grows old,” she announced. “It is time to push on. The question is, will
you
be coming with us?” This she directed at Grant.

Finally he moved, gazing up at her with eyes shadowed by dark rings. Although it was not especially warm, sweat glided down the sides of his face.

“Ask him.” He nodded in Lynx’s direction. “He seems to think he’s in charge.”

Whoa!
Karigan thought. Graelalea had mentioned there was a debate, not a coup. She could not imagine quiet, taciturn Lynx deciding to take charge. She glanced at Yates, who wore a tight smile on his face. She’d have to ask him later what had happened.

“I have assumed command of the Sacoridian contingent of this expedition,” Lynx confirmed. “Second in command is Karigan G’ladheon.”

Karigan almost dropped her mug of tea. Second in command? Another surprise, though it made sense. If Grant was out of favor, then certainly he wouldn’t be second, and Yates could not see, and Ard was not military or in the king’s service. That left her.

“What is your decision, then, Rider Lynx?” Graelalea asked.

“We will continue with you to Castle Argenthyne as our king would wish.”

Graelalea nodded as if there had been nothing to it.

Karigan breathed a sigh of relief just to have a decision one way or the other.

“Suicide,” Grant muttered. “You’re gonna find ruins and death. You should forget those Sleepers.”

“We cannot,” Ealdaen said. “I cannot, and I will not. I was one of those who left them behind.”

His words hung in the air, letting them all absorb what he’d said and what it meant.

“So you were there when . . .” Karigan began.

“Yes,” he replied. His silvery eyes had taken on the aspect of cold pewter. “Yes, I was there when Mornhavon attacked. I led the retreat. I abandoned the Sleepers and . . . and the lady.” He abruptly turned away.

Laurelyn, he’d meant. The Queen of Argenthyne.

“We must break camp and make use of what light we have left to us,” Graelalea said.

Karigan wanted to help, but Lynx ordered her to rest while she could. Because Yates could offer little help, he sat with her and quietly filled her in on the so-called debate they’d had about the mission.

“The man’s not himself,” Yates said of Grant. “He’s becoming unhinged. He was planning to march back to the wall even though he didn’t know the way. He keeps going on about nythlings, too.”

“Nythlings?”

“We have no idea,” Yates said, shrugging. “Lynx says Grant’s also been favoring one of his arms like it hurts him.”

Karigan stole a glance at Grant wrestling with one of the tents and it was true—he was not using his right arm much.

“Anyway,” Yates continued, “Lynx argued that our mission was not complete until we saw Castle Argenthyne and the grove of the Sleepers. Like he said just now, the king would want as much information as we could gather. Grant said the king could go to the five hells.”

Karigan raised an eyebrow. That was not acceptable behavior for one in the service of the king and in command of a mission.

“That’s when Lynx announced he was taking command,” Yates said. And then he proudly added, “I seconded him. I want to go home as much as anybody, but I know my duty. Plus, I wasn’t about to follow Grant, not the way he is now.”

“What about Ard?”

“He preferred turning back,” Yates replied. “He argued for it, but he wasn’t about to go with just Grant and not the rest of us.”

“I guess I didn’t get a vote,” Karigan said.

“I think we know which way you’d choose. But once Lynx became commander, it’s his order to keep going, anyway.”

So they knew which way she’d choose, did they? Her sense of duty had become predictable, but they might be surprised by how all too willing she’d be to turn around. Even if Grant was becoming, as Yates said, unhinged, his reasons for heading home were sound enough.

And yet, Lynx was right to continue, for they hadn’t completed the mission. She shook her head. The mad man among them wanted to take the common sense course and return home, and the sane man wanted to take the insane route.

Such was the way of it in Blackveil, where everything was turned upside down.

HER COUSIN UNMASKED