White Star (13 page)

Blackhart was charging down the path, his red cloak streaming behind him. The others followed right on his heels, moving fast.

It was easy to see the Priestess, clad all in white. She was almost surrounded by odium, so intent on the ones in front that she didn’t see the others moving around the pool, reaching for her. Her hair had come out of its bun, and the braid was swinging. One of the odium reached—

Archer drew a breath, waiting—

“Evelyn!” Blackhart’s shout rang out.

The Priestess’s head snapped around, as did the odium’s. “Orrin?” Her voice rose in astonishment.

Archer’s focus was the odium. At the slight shift of its head, his first shot took it in the eye.

The creature fell to its knees, grabbing at the arrow.

They’d been fighting odium for weeks now, and Archer’d learned a thing or two. It wasn’t that the things felt pain. An arrow to the chest or leg didn’t really do much to them. But whatever magic powered those things still needed eyes to see and hands to grab.

They weren’t easy shots to take, but Archer was patient.

Mage was next to him, chanting under his breath. Archer waited, nocking another arrow. Mage had a spell that let him move small objects at a distance. It might not have the explosive force of the Priestess’s flames, but it had its uses.

“Far right,” Mage said in a distant voice.

Archer waited.

Suddenly, an odium’s head was jerked to look right at Archer, as if held tight, an unmoving target.

Archer put an arrow in each of its eyes, as easily as he’d hit a barn.

As the odium fell, Mage spoke again. “Far left.”

Archer nocked another arrow.

Orrin
plunged down the stone steps. “Evelyn!”

He saw her turn, saw her surprise, and saw the odium behind her go down, Archer’s arrow in its eye. He ran then, coming up behind one of the odium trying to surround his woman.

It was what was left of a woman, its rotting flesh and sagging breasts hanging from white bone. He swung his blade in a wide arc, aiming at the monster’s neck.

The sword cut through flesh and bone in one blow, and the head went flying. The body took one more step, then collapsed.

Reader ran past on his right, and Sidian on the left. They both waded into the odium, Reader darting in, using his speed and his dagger to hamstring any within reach. The odium didn’t feel pain, so their legs collapsed before they knew he was there.

Sidian followed behind. As each odium fell, he swung his mace and crushed its skull.

Thomas and Timothy attacked, fending the creatures off with their shields and bringing their maces to bear. Two-on-one worked best, but Orrin waded in, shearing off hands with his blade, pressing through to Evelyn.

She stood now, her back pressed to a pillar, breathing hard, her glazed eyes wide with shock.

He placed himself in front of her, giving her a bit of breathing space, facing the odium that remained. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the stench, he swung his sword with care, using the heavy blade to break the arms of the odium as they reached out.

Briefly, he heard Evelyn shout something, and fire burst out behind the odium, clearing the back ranks. The heat washed over him, and Orrin watched with grim pleasure as their rotting flesh crisped on their bones as they fell.

Within moments, all the odium lay on the ground, some still twitching and trying to crawl.

They’d learned the hard way to make sure that the monsters were truly dead. The others walked through the field of battle, smashing skulls.

Archer and Mage were headed down from the ridge. Orrin wiped his blade and then sheathed it, turning to look at Evelyn.

She stood there, leaning against the pillar for support. “Orrin?” She looked at him, her blue eyes dazed. “Where—?”

He reached for her arm, to steady her as she swayed. He could feel her trembling under his fingers. “Are you injured?” He stepped closer. “Did they—”

She reached out, pressing her hand against his chest. He drew her a bit closer, but she shook her head, her long braid hanging over her shoulder. “Just drained of power. Give me a moment.”

“That’s more than we have,” Orrin growled. “We need to get you out of here.”

Her blue eyes focused on him, wide with surprise. “I can’t leave the shrine.”

“You must,” Orrin said. “We’ve learned—”

“I can’t,” Evelyn repeated impatiently, as she looked around. “Look at this mess. Those bodies need rites said over them, and a decent burial.”

“Evelyn,” Orrin snapped.

“I’m bound to the shrine.” She lifted a shaky hand to her head, brushing back the loose hair from her face. “I can’t leave without the Archbishop’s permission. I’m not even supposed to use magic, except that—” She gave him a weak smile. “I could really use some kav. Would you like some? I’ve some stew by the fire, and—”

Orrin hit her square on the jaw.

Evelyn’s head snapped back, her eyes rolling up into her head. Orrin scooped her up as she collapsed, unconscious.

“Kav, my ass.” He slung her over his shoulder, grunting as he got her into position. “Let’s move.”

“Did she say something about food?” Reader asked.

“Gather her things, and try to make it look like she fled in a hurry.” Orrin shifted his burden, settling her on his shoulder. “Mage, keep her unconscious.”

“No problem.” Mage stepped forward. “I don’t want her frying my ass when she wakes up. She’s not gonna be happy. I didn’t bring any spell chains, and I can’t take the time to make—”

“Cast the damn spell.” Orrin’s rough voice cut through the babble.

Mage blinked, jerked his head in a nod, and reached out to touch the Priestess’s head.

“So”— Archer was looking out over the valley, watching for threats— “we’re kidnapping her?”

“It’s a rescue,” Orrin said as he continued up the path, Evelyn balanced on his shoulder. Sidian and Reader were already moving to follow his orders.

“Ah”— Archer’s voice held silent laughter— “I’m just a simple man of the land, but it sure looks like a kidnap—”

Orrin turned and glared.

Archer closed his mouth with a snap.

Orrin turned again, and headed up the hill.

«
^
»

Evelyn
awoke slowly, to the sound of a lark’s song. She was stretched out on the ground, on a bedroll cushioned with blankets. She didn’t have to open her eyes to determine that. On patrol, most like. It was oh-so-familiar, sleeping on the ground. Didn’t really bother her that much.

There was a pillow for her head, and she was lying on her side. The scent of ehat wool surrounded her— her old red cloak, no doubt. Though the smell wasn’t her favorite, it wasn’t bad enough to make her want to face the dawn just yet.

She was warm and comfortable. There was stirring in the camp, and someone was cooking on the fire. The smell of strong kav hung in the air, as well as the scent of fried bread. Her stomach rumbled in response. If they were lucky, there’d be a bit of pork fat in the pan for seasoning. On patrol, that was a real treat.

She frowned, thinking, unsure of the day or which patrol she was on. But it didn’t really matter. She relaxed, trying to sleep just a few minutes more. Sure enough, there was a footfall by her head, more than likely the watch commander about to—

She hadn’t been on patrol in years.

Evelyn’s eyes flew open, and she jerked up, wide awake.

The old red cloak slid from her shoulders as she sat up. Blackhart stood over her, steaming mug in hand. “Thought you could use some of this.”

She blinked at him, confused. “Orrin?”

“The same, Lady High Priestess.” Blackhart squatted in front of her, giving her an almost apologetic look. She sat up within the blankets, smoothing back her hair and looking around to get her bearings. They were under some pine trees, with a tiny fire. There were pots and pans by the fire, but no one else was in sight. She reached for the mug, trying to cover her disorientation.

Their fingers touched when she took the mug. His were callused and strong under hers.

Her body flushed at the warmth of his skin, and she looked up into his eyes with a bemused smile. His hazel eyes were on hers, caring but also worried. Her heart warmed to see him as she took a sip of kav. It was hot, dark, and bitter, and blew away all the cobwebs.

“You hit me!”

Blackhart leaned back on his heels. “I did. You were blithering.”

“I wasn’t.” Evelyn frowned as she remembered the fight.

“Where—? How long—?”

Blackhart turned and reached for another mug. “Three days’ hard ride from the shrine, in the Black Hills.” He looked at her over the rim.

Evelyn took in the state of her clothes, her hair, the faint fuzzy taste on her tongue. “A sleep spell.” Indignant, she sat up straight and glared at him. “You used a sleep spell on me.”

“I’ve an apprentice mage with me.” Blackhart looked smug. “After I hit you, he made sure you’d not awaken until I wanted you to. He said you’d not suffer thereby.” Evelyn narrowed her eyes. “Where is he?”

“Hiding,” Blackhart said. “My men have seen what you can do, Lady High Priestess. They are not eager to have their eyebrows burned off.”

“What’s to say that I won’t?” Evelyn pointed out. “You’ve kidnapped me, after all.”

“I rescued you,” Blackhart corrected. “Fine thing, to roast your hero alive.”

“My hero?” Evelyn sputtered, then laughed.

“Exactly.” Blackhart stood. “And since I think the food is cooked . . . and if you promise not to hurt them, or give them some kind of crotch rot. . .” Blackhart tilted his head at her. “We are all that stands between the odium and the people of the Black Hills.”

“I won’t hurt them,” Evelyn said quietly.

“Thank you.” Blackhart gave her an odd look and lowered his voice. “I need your help, Evelyn.” He lifted his head, and called out, “It’s safe. She won’t hurt you.” The pines stirred, and six men emerged, gathering up their plates and mugs, and settling by the fire.

Evelyn studied them as Blackhart made introductions.

They nodded their heads as their names were called, but seemed more intent on their food than anything else. The one named Archer had a mug in his hand but remained standing, watching over the area. She recognized the stance of a man on guard.

The smaller man brought her a plate of pan bread and refilled her mug with kav. “I’ve seen you before, Reader.”

“Might could be, ma’am.” The man bobbed his head nervously as he moved back to the fire.

There was a huge, bald black man, his arms and face covered in decorative scars. His big white eyebrows rose as he gave her a nod and a smile. “Sidian, Lady High Priestess.” His voice was deep, as she’d expected, but he had an odd accent.

The youngest, the one she felt certain had to be the apprentice, kept trying to hide behind Sidian.

“I won’t hurt you,” Evelyn repeated.

“Mage, settle down and eat,” Blackhart said. “We need to get moving as quick as we can.” He nodded to the last two men. “That’s Thomas and Timothy.”

Those two, clearly brothers, settled by the fire and helped themselves to food.

Evelyn bit into the warm bread, and chewed thought fully. They ate in silence. Blackhart moved to take Archer’s place, so that he could eat.

After the last of the kav had been poured, the men started to gather their things.

“There’s a stream back in the trees,” Blackhart said.

“We’re off, as soon as we’ve broken camp. The town’s not far. If we ride hard, we’ll be there before sunset.”

“I’ve nothing—” Evelyn cut off her words when Blackhart dropped a saddlebag by her bedroll. She licked her fingers, and opened it to find the few personal items she’d had at the shrine, and her spare clothes.

She looked up at the man who stood standing there, looking down at her. She thought about her options for a moment, then stood, gathering up the saddlebag. Without a word, she handed the red cloak to Blackhart.

He took it from her, and swept it over his shoulders. “I’ll just be a minute,” she said softly, and faded back into the trees. The stream was close, and there was a fallen tree where she could take care of basic needs. Once that was done, she knelt by the stream, and washed quickly in the cold water.

She could leave. There was nothing stopping her from opening a portal and returning to the shrine, or to the church in Edenrich, for that matter. That was what she should do, under the sanctions the Archbishop had placed on her. Not to mention the gift from her father. That was still tucked within her robes.

But her curiosity had the best of her. Blackhart was alive, and had men working for him. What had he managed to accomplish? And why did he need her? Evelyn sighed, using her robe to dry off. She braided her hair back up into its bun, and gathered her things into the saddlebag. She was a prisoner, wasn’t she? Unable to work magic, as the Archbishop had instructed. She’d have to go along with Blackhart, wouldn’t she?

Rationalizations firmly in place, she walked back to the camp.

Once
they were mounted, Orrin gestured for Archer to take the lead. Usually he rode in back, but Orrin wanted his sharp eyes at the front on this ride.

Archer raised an eyebrow, and nodded as he urged his horse forward. The others fell in line, and Blackhart took the rear.

He had to watch the prisoner, didn’t he?

He grimaced as his horse headed down the path. What was he thinking? Yes, she had power. Yes, she might help them. But she’d already risked so much on his behalf. This was trouble, pure and simple. There was no way she—

“Orrin.”

He looked up, and saw that she had waited for the road to widen as they emerged from the trees, and then moved her horse alongside his.

“That shrine, where you found me, that was in Farentell.”

“Yes,” Blackhart said. The truth would come out at some point, so he might as well tell her now. “Just on the edge of the old border.” He paused, giving her a hard look. “Your punishment?”

Evelyn’s cheeks flushed pale pink. “Yes.” She frowned, and looked him in the eyes. “How did you know I was there? Only a few priests and the Archbishop knew.”