Sacrifice (Book 4) (17 page)

The sun had yet to rise as Gen walked softly down the hall toward the Chalaine’s room. Maewen had relayed to Cadaen that Amos would accompany him on his journey, Cadaen informing her in return that he would leave at first light and brook no delays. Gen wouldn’t be late and was itching to leave. The uncertainty of Mirelle’s predicament tortured him all night, and, like Cadaen, his heart told him there wasn’t a moment to lose. He quickened his steps, the old building creaking dreadfully with every footfall. When he rounded the corner to the hall where the Chalaine was quartered, Dason, groggy and a little bruised, was already looking in his direction.

“There you are!” her Protector said in an accusatory tone. “What were you doing with the Chalaine last night, and what did you do to me?”

Gen stopped. “Keep your voice down, man! People are sleeping. What the Chalaine and I discussed is none of your concern, and what I did to you was this.”

And Gen did it again, incanting the same spell. Dason collapsed face first into the wall opposite him, skidding down until he was an uncomfortable lump on the floor. Gen stepped over him and opened the Chalaine’s door quietly, entering the dark room where she still slept. The barest slivers of light from the predawn sky leaked through the shutters. The Chalaine was lying on her side, hair fanned out around her, face peaceful. As he sat on the bed, the wood squealed and she stirred.

“There you are,” she said dreamily, taking his hand and pulling him in beside her and snuggling into him. “You are awfully forward.”

“I must go,” he said.

“Not yet.”

He stroked her hair until her breathing slowed and deepened.

“I promise I’ll come to you as quickly as I can,” he whispered.

“I’ll be waiting,” she replied, still sounding as if she frolicked in a dream.

Gen leaned over and kissed her forehead and her cheek, her lips turning up in a smile.

As he stood to go, he used Trysmagic to create a thornless red rose and placed it on the bed next to her, drinking in her serene face before turning his own toward trouble. The trip, he hoped, would be short, as much because of his fear of leaving the Chalaine unprotected as for a desire to be near her again.

But he would not abandon Mirelle to torture and death. He stepped back out into the Hall and undid his spell on Dason, leaving before the man could recover. As Gen rounded the corner, Dason opened the Chalaine’s door to check on her and the Chalaine told him to go away.

Cadaen waited in the kitchen. He had put aside his Dark Guard uniform in favor of a plain shirt and woolen pants and was hastily filling his bags with provisions from the larder. Gen tipped his hat to him and started stuffing his own bags.

“I ride fast,” Cadaen said. “You get behind, I’m not slowing.”

“I understand,” Gen replied.

Their road would lead them northwest to the town of Embriss where a Portal to Tenswater would put them near the Portal that opened close to Echo Hold. Gen calculated a journey of three days to get to Echo Hold, worried they would not arrive soon enough. Gen knew enough of Athan’s drive and temper to fear him, and with his own magic and the mandates of Mikkik, he was a force to be reckoned with.

At the worst, Athan would kill Mirelle outright, though Cadaen’s brand only registered her physical discomfort for the moment. How long would Athan delay her death? Gen thought the man had enough theatricality to stage something public and brutal to act as a reminder to everyone not to cross the Church. That Athan thought Eldaloth would actually condone the actions he had taken to protect Chertanne and would likely take to punish Mirelle made Gen wonder if Athan thought of Eldaloth at all or only his own pride.

Gen and Cadaen galloped out of the manor on horses generously provided by Geoff. The morning skies were high and gray, but by midday they cleared. Gen feared that Cadaen would recognize him on closer acquaintance, but the old faithful soldier was completely absorbed in his own thoughts and the mission at hand. Gen rode behind him at a discrete distance anyway. As Cadaen promised, they rode hard, the animals laboring and frothing under the haste of their passing. This gave Gen the chance to use another trick of Mynmagic that the Millim Eri had bestowed upon him: speaking with animals. The animals expectedly had little to say, but he found he could implant simple ideas such as urgency and need. Combined with the restorative touch of Duammagic to revive the horses’ flagging energy, they crossed through the beautiful, winding hills and valleys with such speed that they arrived in Embriss just before midday, hours before they had intended.

Their satisfaction at an early arrival was immediately crushed. A column of people stretched out of the town, a mismatched array of the young and old, rich and poor. The poor carried bags, while others rode in simple farm carts laden with their equipage. The rich leaned out of carriages to see how far back they were from the city gates. The Eldephaere—not Rhugothian soldiers—patrolled the line, keeping order.

What are they doing in Rhugoth?
he wondered.

“Excuse me,” Cadaen asked a plump man with similarly sized wife and children, “is there a festival?”

“No, my good man!” he answered brightly. “We all make for the Portal and Tenswater! We travel to see Echo Hold and the place where the last battle was fought!”

Cadaen swore. “It will take hours to get to the Portal!”

“Here, yes,” the merchant replied. “In Tenswater they say it can take a couple of days. Are you well, friend?”

Cadaen didn’t answer, angry face staring at the line as if deciding whether or not to kill them all. “I cannot delay!”

“We’ve all got to wait our turn!” the merchant said, voice more subdued as Cadaen’s emotion rose. “The Guild doesn’t play favorites.”

“We’ll see about that!”

Cadaen rode off at a fair clip toward the town, mood souring as they entered within the gates and found Embriss a chaotic, packed mess of Rhugothians trying to reach the Portal or make money off of those who did. Gen thought the town had probably been pleasant once, but the reek of smoke and beer and sweat and garbage, combined with the constant roar of street hawkers and crying children, turned Embriss into something like the Damned Quarter, only with nicer buildings.

The long line of travelers disappeared into the wide, arched entry of a tall domed building in the middle of town, the blue glow of the Portal illuminating the faces of those relieved to at least be close. Those selling drink and food were doubly thick along the line, and Cadaen’s face took on a determined expression that Gen figured meant that violence was about to ensue.

“Cadaen!” Gen yelled to pull him out of his dark scheming.

He turned toward Gen, face really considering him for the first time. Gen eased his horse closer so they could talk above the din.

“Before you start threatening people, let me see if I can pay someone to take their place at the front,” he said.

“Do you have money?” he asked. “I have none.”

“I think I’ve got enough. Wait here.”

They dismounted, and Gen scanned the line for a likely prospect for his scheme. An impoverished farmer and his dirty brood seemed just the sort he needed. Gen approached and doffed his hat.

“Good day, sir,” he said.

“Don’t want nothin’,” the farmer replied curtly.

“I’m not selling. I’m buying. I’ll give you three gold pieces for your place in line.”

Suspicious, disbelieving eyes regarded him, measuring him up. “You ain’t got it.”

Gen reached inside his jacket and formed the money in his hand using Trysmagic, extending it outward for the farmer to examine. “Think what you could do with it! Shoes, food, tools. A nice bonnet for the missus.”

The farmer extended his hand and Gen pulled the money back.

“Gotta see if it’s real!”

Gen took a piece and handed it to him. The farmer bit into the soft metal to test it and then examined it by closing one eye and squinting at it with the other.

“Deal.”

Gen motioned Cadaen over, and, after relinquishing the money, they found themselves twelfth in line behind an old farm cart crawling with cats and children.

“You got enough to do the same in Tenswater?” asked a considerably more relaxed Cadaen.

“It’ll cost more, I’m sure,” Gen answered. “But I’m pretty good at persuading people when I wish. Oh no.”

Looking down the line, Gen caught the farmer and his family chatting with a brace of Eldephaere and pointing in their direction. Cadaen followed his gaze and shook his head at the Church soldiers.

“Creepy little emasculated buggers!”

“Be calm or they’ll get nervous,” Gen counseled. “Just let me do the talking.”

The two Church soldiers regarded them warily, and Gen figured they couldn’t miss Cadaen’s impressive physique and the sword strapped to his horse. And, while Gen’s outfit didn’t scream
soldier
, a trained eye would no doubt pick out the posture and musculature of a man familiar with a fight. The soldiers, both of them tall and thin, wore the conical helmets and blue cloaks of their order, hands on the hilts of their swords.

“It is illegal to buy a place in line,” one of the soldiers said. “You’ll need to head to the rear of the line or depart the town entirely.”

Gen decided to see just how much of a hassle the two were willing to go through to pursue justice for a petty crime.

“We didn’t buy a place in line,” Gen said, acting offended.

“The farmer says you did,” the Eldephaere returned.

“I did no such thing,” Gen lied.

“He showed me the gold you paid him,” the Eldephaere retorted. “No farmer would have that much gold!”

“Do either of us look like someone who would have that much gold?”

The soldier opened his mouth and shut it. A point won.

He took another tack. “And I don’t remember seeing you at this point of the line, either.”

Gen shrugged. “I can hardly be responsible for what you remember. But look, the farmer there can clear up this entire matter. Just go fetch him, and we’ll have this resolved in no time.”

The farmer was fifty yards away, and they were now seventh in line, nearly to the opening of the Portal building. The guard, a little flustered, finally managed to gather enough sense to do what Gen feared he would.

“Well, we’ll just ask the people behind you, then!”

The person directly behind them was an old, bureaucratic-looking fellow who just wanted to be left alone. Gen caught his eye.

“Excuse me sir,” the guard said, voice exuding confidence now that he had finally found the trump card. “Have these two men been in front of you the whole time?”

Gen created a gold piece and flashed it at the man surreptitiously. The fellow’s eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” he said. “The whole time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positively.”

The guards looked back at Gen and he folded his arms. “There. What further evidence do you need? If you hurry, you might catch that farmer. . .”

The two guards scowled and left, grumbling under their breath. Gen waited until they disappeared into the crowd before flipping the gold piece to their benefactor. “Thank you, sir.”

The Portal enclosure had no windows save for a circular opening in the very top. The brilliant blue of the shimmering Portal provided ample illumination, the Portal Mage sitting cross-legged on a decorative rug in meditative concentration to keep the Portal open for long periods of time. Another man in the robes of Portal Guild sat at a table, recording the names of everyone who passed through in a ledger, and two Eldephaere were at attention on the edges of the Portal. Gen and Cadaen both lied about their names and their purpose, but if there were any suspicions, the frantic, busy pace of the day kept anyone from acting on them.

They led the horses through the Portal, emerging into a dry, warm day in Tenswater.

“Unbelievable,” Cadaen said, stunned by what he saw.

While Embriss teemed with people, Tenswater choked on them. The press of traffic along the streets almost prevented movement. Eldephaere walked among the throng in large numbers, trying to keep the irritated crowd from brawling and stampeding. As it was, shoves and curses abounded. As in Embriss, merchants took advantage of the influx of patrons by accosting passers-by and inflating their prices, and every inn or tavern seemed fit to burst. Some people encamped in alleys and parks, and from what Gen could overhear, the entire mass of humanity was bound for Echo Hold.

While they had expected a single column making for the Portal entry, instead the ebb and flow of the crowd went in every direction. After some inquiries they found that the Church had instituted a system to control the numbers making for the Portal. Every pilgrim had a mark stained on the back of his hand, a different mark for each day. The current mark was for four days out.

“Can we forge them?” Cadaen asked.

“I made some discreet inquiries,” Gen answered. “They apparently have a way to separate the fakes when you get to the Portal. No one knows exactly how they do it.”

“We’ve got to try. I am not waiting four days.”

“Agreed. As you may have heard, I have some talent with Duammagic. I may be able to use it to aid us here, but first we need to get a look at what we need to mimic.”