Taste of Darkness (An Avry of Kazan Novel - Book 3) (21 page)

Odd knocked on the door at the appropriate time. The panel slid back. Melina grabbed my hand.

“Yeah?” a voice asked.

“The princesses are secure,” Odd said.

Oh, please.

“Who thought of that code?” the guy grumbled, but he unlocked the door.

When it swung open, Odd stepped forward. “Brother Quain thought we should be nicer to the ladies.”

“These aren’t ladies, they’re—”

Odd grabbed him by the throat. “Careful what you say.”

The women surged forward. The replacement guards had been waiting in the narrow hallway just behind the guy dangling from Odd’s fist. A cry rippled through them. While they didn’t have swords, they had their reeds and had a little more notice than their colleagues inside. However, a few swayed on their feet, staring sleepily at the strangely quiet ruckus around them. Odd must have laced their supper with my powder.

Instructing Melina to keep out of the way of the fighting, I entered the fray to zap a guard or two. During one foray, a guard hooked his arm around my neck.

“Stop, or I’ll kill her,” he cried.

No one listened to him. I touched his hand, sending waves of pain into his body. He yelped and sank to his knees, bringing me down with him. Unable to reach the sweet spot, I called for help. Melina and four women pried him off of me and held him so I could knock him out.

By that time, the others had been neutralized. I touched the remaining guards.

“Weapons?” Fydelia asked.

“We stashed a half dozen in the break room down the hall, but there are more once we get past the next barrier,” Odd said.

All good. And no sign of Jael.

Fydelia and her group followed Odd. I glanced behind at the lines of women. A few panted from the effort, a few sported cuts and bruises, and a few grinned with vicious delight while the rest appeared nervous. No one said a word. All those days praying in silence had been the perfect training.

Now armed, Fydelia signaled us to follow her and Odd. We crept along the hallway until we reached another set of locked double doors. Fydelia swept her hand out and the women behind me and Melina formed one line, pressing against the left wall.

Taking up positions to either side of the doors, Odd, Fydelia, and the five ladies with the swords waited. And waited. And waited.

I kept expecting the women to murmur with impatience and questions. Maybe because I had to bite my lip to keep from asking Odd what the heck we were—

The rasp of metal and a loud clang sounded. The doors opened and three priests entered with two guards right behind them.

“I assure you, Brothers. We’ve been holding penitents for fifty years. No one has ever escaped,” the priest in the middle said.

Odd and Fydelia jumped them, disarmed the guards, and pinned the priests to the wall with swords pointed at their chests.

“You were saying, Brother Keidan?” Quain asked, holding his hands up.

“I...” Brother Keidan stared at Fydelia in utter shock.

“Well, there’s a miracle,” Quain said. “First time Brother Wind Bag has been speechless.”

“Avry, are you going to introduce us to your friends?” Loren asked.

Fydelia glanced at me. “Avry?”

“I’ll explain later. Those two are part of my rescue team.” I introduced them to her.

The women let the monkeys free.

Loren reached under his robe and pulled out a set of my throwing knives bundled together. “Thought you might want these.” He tossed it.

I caught it in midair. “Ah, Loren, you really know how to spoil a girl.”

“I aim to please.”

“Real touching,” Odd said drily. “But we need to stay focused. And we’ll need Keidan’s robe.”

“Strip,” Fydelia ordered, poking the priest with her sword’s tip, drawing blood.

He scrambled to comply.

Odd hooked a thumb at the guards. “Avry, could you?”

I zapped them, and after Keidan stripped, I knocked him out, too. Odd handed the red robe to his man that hadn’t gotten cut. He donned it.

“You said there were more weapons?” Fydelia asked.

“Right this way.” Odd led.

We all followed him into the next hallway. Two barriers down, six more to go. They collected another dozen swords and with the three “priests” in the front, they tricked another set of doors open. A fight ensued, but I waited to use my knives. After subduing the guards, we picked up more swords. And my pack. The monkeys had stashed it with the weapons.

“It was in the crypt,” Loren said, gesturing. “We just managed to get it here after you pulled your little surprise on us.”

“You’re the best.” I blew him a kiss.

“Hey, what about me?” Quain asked.

“You’re second best, as always,” Loren said.

Quain drew breath to argue.

“Not the time for this, gentlemen,” Odd said.

Managing to get past two more barriers, we ran into bigger trouble at the sixth set of locked doors. We no longer had the element of surprise. No one answered our knocks. Shouts and screams echoed as guards arrived from other entrances, pinning us in.

A handful of armed women rushed to get between the guards and the unarmed penitents, forming two lines of defense on both sides of us. From here on out, we’d have to keep these lines so the others behind us could escape without harm. Quain yanked his lock picks from his pocket and knelt by the door.

Just as he popped the lock, it burst open, knocking him back. The guards who pushed through spotted the red robes and paused for a moment in confusion. It was all Odd and Fydelia needed. They pounced. More defenders waited on the other side of the doors and, even though a few of them moved as if drugged, it was a struggle to fight our way into the next hallway.

The number of guards increased as we broke through the seventh barrier. But the women would not be stopped. Determined, driven, and fierce, they filled the narrow space, sweeping away the opposition like raging flood waters.

Keeping Melina close, I stayed right behind Odd and the monkeys. The last set of doors led to the outside. And blocking our path to freedom were a dozen priests. Alert and prepared for battle with a long swords in each hand, they waited for us.

I wiped sweat from my face. Tired from using my powers, I blinked at the final obstacle, calculating our odds. I tucked Melina behind me. At least Jael wasn’t among them.

“Oh, hell, no,” Fydelia said. “They’re not stopping us.” She raised her bloody sword into the air. “For the girls!”

Repeated and shouted over and over, the cry rippled along the women. Time to get out of the way. I flattened my body against the wall, pushing Melina with my arm to do the same.

The women surged forward, intent on their targets. Steel clanged on steel, guttural growls mixed with higher-pitched shouts as they engaged in a fierce battle. No chance for me to dash and zap. This melee was primal. A desperate fight for survival. And their sheer numbers gave the women the advantage.

Odd and the monkeys stood in the thick of things. I gripped Melina’s hand, unable to tear my gaze away as an ache grew in my chest. Stabbed and sliced, women either stumbled back or collapsed in a heap. Others dragged them from harm then took their place.

Palming one of my knives, I aimed with care. Unexpected in the midst of the fight, my blade pierced a shoulder. The wounded priest lost his momentum and Quain pressed his advantage. With one quick strike, he buried his sword into his opponent’s stomach.

A queasy slush coated my throat. While I hadn’t made the killing blow, my actions had resulted in the man’s death. As a healer, it violated my purpose in life. As a penitent, it was a necessary evil.

Keeping the image of two thousand women on their knees in my mind, I aimed again. Odd and the monkeys battled their way to the doors with an impressive amount of skill. While Quain worked on the locks, the others protected him. I threw my remaining knives, helping them.

It seemed Quain moved in slow motion. Unable to just stand there any longer, I joined those assisting the casualties. Melina followed. More than a dozen had been injured. Blood splattered their robes, matted their hair, and dripped from cuts. I checked each one. A couple had already died. And a few would soon—their injuries fatal. And one young lady teetered on the borderline. The slight woman had been stabbed in the ribs and had a punctured lung. I could assume her injuries. But should I?

I glanced at Melina. She ripped strips of cloth from the bottom of her robe, making bandages. Mom would be proud.

A loud bang then a crack sounded. The fighters flinched, but when the fresh air swept in, erasing the odors of sweat and blood, it recharged the penitents. They doubled their efforts and the remaining warriors fell.

“Quick, this way,” Loren ordered.

They streamed out into the dark street with Quain in the lead. For each wounded lady, two friends supported her. Careful of her ribs, I pulled the borderline patient over my shoulder. Small and thin, she weighed almost nothing.

By the time I reached the street, Flea and Ives had joined Quain. The women pooled around them, drawing unwanted attention. I caught up to them.

“What are you waiting for?” I demanded.

“We’re trying to figure out another route through the tunnels,” Ives said. “With this many people, the one we lit will draw too much attention.”

“Stick with your original route. Staying hidden is no longer a priority.”

“We should make sure they all escape,” Quain said.

“They need to follow the lanterns. We set them this afternoon,” Flea said.

“Ives and Flea, take point,” I ordered. “Keep Melina with you. Odd, you and the monkeys stay with Fydelia and her team to ensure we assist as many women as possible.”

Melina protested, but I cut her off. “Go with Flea. I’ll catch up.”

“What about...?” She gestured to the injured girl.

“I’ve got her. Now go.”

They took off at a run and the women followed. I moved slower. But I encouraged those streaming past me to keep going. Turning left, we traveled through an alley for a couple blocks before entering the underground aqueducts. I gagged on the rotten smell. The splashing sound of hundreds of pairs of bare feet in the cold wet muck echoed throughout the stone tunnel. The noise alone would call every guard and priest down on us. The lanterns were spaced far enough apart to create little pockets of darkness, but close enough that those pockets only happened in straightaways.

Eventually, I was the last in line. Or so I thought. Footsteps splashed behind me, and I turned to ask for help as the girl had grown too heavy for me. And just when I’d thought we’d avoided Jael, there she stood, wearing a penitent’s robe and holding a sword. Her fury pressed on me like a wet blanket. Or was that her magic? This wasn’t going to end well.

“Side tunnel, now,” Jael ordered, indicating a left branch.

I headed into the tunnel, walking until the light dimmed.

“Keep going,” Jael said.

I pushed deeper into the darkness until ordered to stop.

“Put the girl down.”

Setting the girl on the ground, I knelt next to her. Her breath rasped in painful gulps. There was just enough light to see fresh blood had soaked her robe.

I turned to Jael. “I need to heal her.”

“No you don’t.” Jael stepped closer. “You need to stop interfering, to stop ruining all my plans. To just stop!”

“How did I—”

“These women were mine.
I
planned to rescue them and use them for my new army and you...you...” She sputtered with rage. “You. Need. To. Stop.”

I braced for Jael to suck my breath from my lungs or use the air to smash me against the stone walls. But she ran straight at me. I jerked in surprise right before the blade of her sword pierced my chest just below my right breast.

Pain exploded as my ribs broke. Air whooshed from my right lung. After she yanked the blade out, I collapsed to my knees, sucking in air laced with tiny needles. Fire burned around my heart. I keeled over on my left side.

Jael leaned over me. “That should stop you.”

And this time, I agreed with her.

KERRICK

Kerrick had to keep the smugglers from entering the
aqueducts. Concentrating, he encouraged the bushes to thicken around the five
smugglers’ legs, impeding their forward motion so the vines had time to wind
around their ankles. Because it was the middle of autumn, he needed to use his
magic to spur the sluggish vegetation.

“What the...” Jack swore.

“The vines!” Princess dropped her barrel and yanked her sword
out.

Kerrick increased his efforts, hoping to trap them before they
could cut the vines.

“Just calm down,” Sylas said.

But his companions ignored him. Dumping the barrels, they
thrashed and swung their swords.

“Death Lily,” the third man cried out. “Has to be—”

“Not possible,” Sylas said.

“You lying sack of— Eep.” A vine twisted around the other
lady’s sword arm.

They fought and struggled, but the vines soon ensnared them.
While they accused and blamed each other for their predicament, Kerrick leaned
against a tree, panting from the exertion.

What now?

He listed his options. One—keep them immobilized until Avry
arrived. It’d work for a day, maybe two, but after that it would be cruel.

Two—the forest could transport them away from the entrance and
then release them. But what would stop them from returning with more armed men
and cutting a path? Nothing.

Three—scare them away. How? Every citizen of Ozero Realm was
terrified of the priests and acolytes. Perhaps he could... No. If they’d been
caught by priests they’d be arrested, not warned off. What about a rival gang?
He huffed in amusement. A gang of two—him and Hux—real scary. And yet...
Something snagged in his mind. A ghost of the forest. That wouldn’t quite work.
But when combined with Quain’s weed boy...

A silly idea popped in his head. He almost dismissed it, but,
upon deeper inspection, it might just work if he could pull it off with a
straight face. If the monkeys ever found out, he’d never hear the end of it.
Best to ensure they didn’t find out.

Kerrick mounted Huxley. The contact transformed the horse’s
hide into the colors of the forest. Signaling Hux into a quiet walk, he headed
back to the trapped smugglers. Before they reached them, Kerrick stopped Hux and
invited the vines to spiral up Hux’s legs. The horse cocked his ear back and
turned his head to peer at Kerrick with his left eye, questioning.

Kerrick patted him on the neck. “It’s okay,” he whispered.

The easygoing horse seemed satisfied and stood still while the
vines wrapped around them both. Weed Boy, the ghost of the forest was ready to
make a grand entrance.

Moving at a slow pace to accommodate the vines, Kerrick and Hux
stepped into view. The smugglers’ bickering ceased the moment they noticed
him.

With a booming voice, Kerrick asked, “Who dares enter
my
forest?”

They stared at him for a moment. He hoped they saw a giant leaf
creature.

“Uh,” Jack said. “This isn’t your—”

“Silence!” Kerrick raised his arm.

The vines holding Jack gagged him, muffling his cries of
distress.

“Anyone else care to correct me?” Kerrick asked.

The rest remained quiet.

“Good. You must leave
my
forest and
never return. Or...” Kerrick urged the vines to tighten around the captives,
making it hard for them to breathe. When he was certain they’d gotten the point,
he eased the pressure. “Understand?”

They nodded. Even Jack.

“Good. Now be gone!” He swept his arm dramatically—the monkeys
would be giggling by now.

The vines dragged the smugglers along the forest floor. Kerrick
and Hux followed. When they reached the main path, Kerrick had the vines release
the smugglers.

They staggered to their feet and, without a backward glance,
bolted down the path. Kerrick wondered if they’d warn their cohorts away, or if
he’d have to deal with more intruders before Avry and the others arrived. He
resigned himself to the fact that weed boy might be needed again.

He waited until the dust of the smugglers’ passage had settled,
then allowed the vines to drop from him and Hux. The horse snorted as if
commenting about the strange antics of humans. Kerrick didn’t disagree with
him.

They returned to the campsite. Kerrick dismounted, landing on
weak legs. While his connection to the living green remained a part of him, he
struggled to manipulate the foliage. Unlike in early autumn, he now needed to
draw power in order to use the forest. And each day it was a little bit
harder.

Kerrick stretched out on his bedroll. Exhaustion pressed on
him. Using his magic shouldn’t be this draining. It had depleted his energy
before he sickened, but now it required double the effort. Why? He’d no idea.
Too tired to puzzle out the logic, Kerrick rolled onto his side and fell
asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Kerrick kept his vigil and stayed
alert for potential problems while continuing to train Huxley. Each day he
stayed busy to avoid sinking into dire speculation over why Avry hadn’t arrived
yet.

By the eighth day, Kerrick had to admit something had gone
wrong at the monastery. He’d promised to rescue Avry if she’d gotten caught. Now
all he needed to figure out was how.

The main problem was his inability to leave the forest for
long. But what if he took the forest with him? How? Would the vines stretch into
the aqueducts? Probably, but not all the way into the city. What if he carried
bushes with him? He’d need his hands. And Hux wouldn’t fit in the tunnel.

Remembering the wagon, Kerrick fetched it. He wove vines
together and made small sheets. Then he dug up two bushes and, careful to pack
the dirt around their roots, he wrapped the root ball in the sheet and tied it
tight.

With the bushes in the wagon, Kerrick entered the aqueduct. He
pulled the wagon behind him with one hand and held a torch with his other.
Passing the end of the greenery, Kerrick felt the familiar pressure return.
Damn. Kerrick used his magic to continue on. Soon after, he struggled to move
forward until he reached the end of his invisible tether. The light from his
torch illuminated numbers and letters that had been painted on the walls. An
intersection was just a few feet away.

Bitterness pulsed as he debated his next move. If he depleted
his strength now, he’d be useless. Kerrick needed a better idea. Retreating to
the forest and Hux, he rested and mulled over the problem.

By the time he’d regained his energy, the sun had set. Not that
it mattered in the dark tunnels, but he also hadn’t formulated a plan.

Kerrick huddled next to a small fire. Maybe he’d been rash to
scare the smugglers off. He could have paid them to go into the city... And
what? Find Flea and Ives? They were supposed to report back to him if something
went wrong inside the monastery. Their absence meant they, too, encountered
trouble. The smugglers wouldn’t break into the monastery for all the gold in his
pocket; everyone in Ozero Realm was terrified of the priests.

Even though he had the entire forest at his command, he
couldn’t do a damn thing to save Avry. Not without help. And who would help him?
Not Ryne. Noak? If the tribesmen did travel south with his warriors to aid Ryne,
perhaps Kerrick could intercept them. But when should Kerrick abandon his vigil?
Tomorrow morning? No. The sooner the better.

Energized, Kerrick hopped to his feet and packed up his meager
supplies. He spread the burning logs out and went to fetch water to douse the
flames. As he scooped up dirty water, a faint rumble reached him. It emanated
from the aqueduct. He approached the entrance and leaned in to listen.

The sound grew louder. Water rushing? Kerrick wondered if it
was a good idea to be standing at this spot. Curiosity kept him in place. More
splashing followed, and a drumming that echoed off the stone walls. When a voice
cried out over the din, Kerrick yanked his sword free. A glow from a torch lit
the interior and he backed up.

Friend or foe? He’d find out soon. Retreating to a better
position, Kerrick waited.

From the amount of noise, Kerrick guessed at least a company of
soldiers was racing toward the exit. It couldn’t be Avry and the others, they
wouldn’t produce that much—

Flea and Ives burst from the aqueduct. Kerrick’s relief didn’t
last long as more people streamed out. Were they being chased?

He pulled power, turning normal and intercepted Flea who
stumbled through the underbrush with Melina right behind him. She carried a
torch.

“What’s—” he tried.

“We have them all.” Flea gestured to the others wildly.

People continued to pour out. Some carrying torches, others
swords. All wearing robes and no shoes. All women.

“All? As in
all
the girls in the
monastery?”

“Yes, over two thousand. We must keep moving.”

Kerrick heard the number, but he didn’t quite comprehend it
until the forest protested the trampling of the bushes and vines by so many
feet. He didn’t recognize anyone else.

“Which way?” Flea demanded.

Sneaking through the forest was no longer an option. They
needed to get to Pomyt Realm fast. Kerrick pointed. “Head straight. When you
reach the path, turn right and follow it.”

“Are you coming?”

“Where’s Avry?”

Flea gestured behind him. “Back there somewhere.”

The tightness around his heart eased. “I’ll catch up. I want to
make sure everyone gets out.”

Flea nodded and, calling for the others to follow him, he ran.
The women formed a single line. Many glanced at him as they passed. They
regarded him with a variety of expressions, mostly curious, but the ones
clutching swords shot him hostile glares as if he’d dare to attack them. No one
said a word. Strange and smart.

The women continued to race by. Kerrick scanned the faces,
searching for Avry. An amazing number of people gushed from the tunnel. And he
fully expected priests to be close on their heels.

After the main surge finished, the slower escapees—the wounded
and those supporting them—trickled out. Avry should be with this group. Instead,
Odd and his men assisted them.

Kerrick didn’t hesitate. He approached Odd. A woman covered in
blood and gripping an equally bloody sword stopped and stepped close to Odd as
if to protect him. Kerrick ignored her. “Where’s Avry?” he asked Odd.

Surprised, Odd glanced around. “Didn’t she come out?”

“No.”

“She should have.”

Kerrick stifled the desire to strangle the man. “That doesn’t
help.”

Odd exchanged a look with the woman. “I thought she was ahead
of us.”

“She was carrying Palma,” the woman said.

“Palma was injured, right?” Kerrick asked even though he knew
the answer.

“Yes, badly. She—”

Odd cursed. “She stopped to heal her.”

“But I didn’t see anyone. I made sure we were the last and I
extinguished the lanterns,” the woman said.

“Avry probably ducked down a side tunnel so no one would stop
to help and risk getting caught,” Kerrick said. “Is anyone chasing you?”

“No one from the monastery—the women were thorough, but I’m
sure the priests will organize a posse to come after us,” Odd said. He cursed
again. “Fydelia, you catch up with your ladies. Kerrick and I will go back and
find Avry before they do.”

If Odd had stabbed him in the stomach, it would have felt
better than knowing Avry was in trouble nearby and he couldn’t help her.

“I can’t.” Kerrick forced the words out.

* * *

He watched Odd enter the tunnels. The sergeant carried a
torch and Kerrick’s life. If something happened to Avry... He stopped his dire
thoughts. Instead, he prepared to intercept the priests and guards from the
monastery.

Kerrick expected dozens to chase after the women. What he
didn’t expect was Jael exiting the aqueducts holding a bloody sword.

Shocked, he observed her. Jael wore a penitent robe. Surely she
hadn’t been incarcerated, too. What was her game? Her beautiful face was creased
into a scowl as she scanned the woods. The trail left by the women was clear. At
least she was alone. For now.

Kerrick had to intercept her. But he wasn’t sure how to do it.
Her air magic was much stronger than his forest magic. Perhaps he could ensnare
her in vines and knock her unconscious. Then what? She’d be impossible to
incarcerate or rendered harmless.

“Kerrick, I know you’re here. Show yourself,” Jael called.

He pulled power and turned normal, hoping to distract her from
the vines creeping toward her legs.

“Wow, you look terrible,” she said.

“Right back at you, Jael. Brown isn’t your color.”

“I agree. Red is much more suited to me.” She held up her
bloody sword. “Isn’t it pretty?”

He recognized the smug gleam in her eyes. Fear for Avry pumped
through him.

Jael jabbed the weapon forward in a mock attack. “And shoving
this into Avry’s heart was a thing of beauty.”

His world spun, but fury trumped pain. Kerrick stepped closer
to her.

“I’m going to savor that look of astonishment on her face for a
long time,” Jael said. “She thought I’d use my magic, but the vibration as the
blade scraped bone tingled all the way up my arm.” Jael held her hand up,
stopping Kerrick’s advance with a wall of air. “Not that I’m averse to using my
magic.”

The vines wrapped around her legs. She tsked. “You know better
than that.”

The wall of air changed direction. Instead of pressing on him,
it pulled away, taking his breath with it. He doubled his efforts, urging the
vines to move faster. If he could just get to her before he passed out...
Kerrick struggled to draw a breath. Dizzy and lightheaded, Kerrick sank to his
knees. Desperate for air, he dug his fingers into the dirt and wrenched every
last bit of his magic to him, hoping to block Jael’s attack.