White Star (19 page)

Evelyn looked away, and headed up the stairs. “Evelyn,” Orrin said.

She paused, one foot on the steps, her hand on the railing.

Orrin stood there in the doorway, lit by the fire, his hazel eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Lock your chamber door,” he growled, then vanished into the night, pulling the door behind him.

She smiled then, her heart feeling oddly happy as she went up the stairs. She didn’t lock her door.

But Orrin never came.

They
gathered in the kitchen at dawn. There were no smiles this morning, no levity. Evelyn understood the change, as they all started to focus on the task at hand. Dorne had prepared a meal, and they ate quickly, drinking strong kav with their food.

There was some last-minute fussing with packs and gear, and Dorne handed out sweet nut bars for everyone to put in their packs. Then they silently walked to the well, to fill waterskins.

“Ready?” Orrin asked.

There were nods all about, but Dorne shook his head. “Not quite.” He wiped his hands on his apron, then raised them to the sky. “Bless these warriors, Lord of Light and Lady of Laughter.”

Orrin rolled his eyes, but stood silent. The others bowed their heads respectfully, with some shuffling of feet. Evelyn bowed hers as well, but not before she noticed that Sidian had lifted his face to the sun, his eyes closed, his lips moving in his own prayer.

“Lord of Light, bless us with your light, to grace our paths and illuminate our ways. Lady of Laughter, bless us with your mirth, to bring our hearts comfort and strengthen our resolve for the task ahead.” Dorne’s voice was firm as he finished. “Praise be given.”

“Praise be given,” Evelyn echoed.

“Now, are we ready?” Orrin asked.

“Not quite,” Reader said. With a very serious look, he produced a small brown bottle.

“Not some of your gutrot,” Dorne said with a frown.

“Why not just cut your stomach out?”

“It’s tradition,” Reader protested. He lifted the bottle and took a healthy swig. “Whoosh, that’s fine.” He coughed as he handed it to Sidian. “I let it age a bit this time.”

Sidian tipped the bottle, then wiped his mouth. “Oh, what, all of a day?”

Timothy and Thomas took their gulps, dancing a jig after they swallowed, making what she assumed were appreciative noises. Their eyes were watering as they handed the bottle to Mage.

“What’s in it?” asked Evelyn.

Orrin shook his head. Dorne waved both his hands in negation. “You don’t want to know.”

“Only the finest of ingredients,” Reader said stoutly. “I even washed the barrel.”

Mage took a swig, his face screwed up with anticipation.

He couldn’t speak, just handed the bottle to Archer, who accepted it with a nod, and took two swallows.

He held the bottle out to Orrin with a smile. “It’s not quite got the kick of the last batch.”

Reader frowned. “Must be the aging.”

“Or the clean barrel,” Dorne observed.

Orrin reached for the bottle, but Evelyn beat him to it.

Before she could have second thoughts, she took a careful sip.

She might have dropped the bottle if Orrin hadn’t rescued it. Her eyes opened wide as she swallowed, the burn racing down her throat. She gasped as she started laughing, unable to form words.

Orrin had taken his turn, but started sputtering a bit when he saw her reaction. There were smiles all around as she coughed.

“Reader, that is the gods-awfulest—” Evelyn shook her head as it hit her stomach, and burned.

“Why, thank ya.” Reader beamed.

Orrin gave the bottle back to Reader, who corked it and put it back in his pack. “Now, are we ready?”

A change came over the group then. The levity was gone in an instant. Evelyn watched as their eyes hardened. Even Mage lost his youthfulness, in his grim determination. They looked each other over, and they all nodded. “Very well,” Orrin said. “Evelyn, if you would. . .” Evelyn cleared her throat, closed her eyes, and pictured the shrine in her mind, sending out her magic, seeking. . . Her stomach burned, and she shifted a bit. Hard to cast a spell with your stomach on fire. She took a breath, cleared her mind, and . . . sought. . .

A shrine to the Lord, built of stone, with a painting of the rising sun over the Keep. Just a glimpse, but it was enough. A glimpse, a direction, and with just the right. . . She gestured, chanting under her breath. . . “Wow,” Mage breathed.

Evelyn opened her eyes and saw the familiar oval, with the vague white curtains that seemed to move in the air.

She concentrated, holding it open.

“Reader,” Orrin said.

The smaller man lowered himself to the ground and slowly put his face in the portal. He pulled it out, and grinned back at them. Then he crawled forward, disappearing into the veil.

Orrin gave a nod, and Sidian and Archer walked through, with Timothy and Thomas right behind. “Wait for a signal,” Orrin said as he stepped through. Evelyn held her breath, then let it out slowly, before Orrin’s hand appeared and gestured for them to come through.

Mage gave her a look, then closed his eyes and stepped through.

Evelyn took a breath, and followed.

«
^
»

Archer’s
skin shivered as he stepped through the portal. Stepping into nothing and going to something was not the right way of things. But he cleared the magic with ease, and brought his bow to bear as soon as he was through.

Sidian was crouched next to the door to the outside, scanning the street beyond. Timothy and Thomas pressed close behind him, holding their spears carefully. Reader was outside, tucked into a doorway, dagger at the ready.

Archer steadied his aim, and waited.

The sound of Blackhart’s boot came from behind him.

“Clear?”

Sidian held up a hand, and Reader gave a nod. Archer heard the rest of them come through, and then there was a sound like a cork being pulled from a bottle. Evelyn moved past him, with Mage and Blackhart close behind.

Blackhart signaled Reader to take the lead. The small man darted down the street, staying low. Sidian waited a breath, then flowed out the door. Timothy and Thomas followed him.

Blackhart gestured, and Evelyn and Mage went next. Archer lowered his bow and brought up the rear, keeping an eye open.

They moved down empty streets at a trot, everyone alert to the least sound. Archer thought that was the spookiest part of it all, the quiet of the towns and villages they’d searched. And this one was no exception, dead quiet except for their footfalls.

Reader paused ahead, and they all stopped where they were, tucking into doorways and such, trying to hide as best they could.

Archer caught movement from the corner of his eye, and took a quick glance back.

Odium were behind them, moving into the shrine.

Archer caught Mage’s attention, and pointed back with his chin. Mage looked, and his eyes went wide as he jerked his head around to stare at Archer.

The odium were still crowding into the door of the shrine.

Reader moved again, and the others followed. Archer gestured Mage on, and continued moving, keeping careful watch behind.

They’d reached the edge of the village, then darted across the main road to the pine woods beyond. Once they were under the boughs, deep within, Archer got Blackhart’s attention and told him what he’d seen while the others caught their breath. “They didn’t follow,” Archer finished. “Not that I saw.”

“We’ll keep to the woods as long as we can,” Blackhart said. “Ralan will be watching for us.”

“Should we stay in sight of the road?” Reader asked.

The others stood silent as Blackhart shook his head. “No. We’ll angle off. Ralan is running patrols along the woods closer to the walls. They’ll find us.”

Reader gave a quick nod, then headed out.

Fallen pine needles muffled their footsteps. Blackhart and Sidian took the lead now, keeping the pace quick.

Archer kept watch on their backtrail, but there was no sign of trouble. He kept an eye on the Priestess, too, but she was keeping up just fine.

He hoped he could do as well in those damn dungeon tunnels.

Archer growled at himself, and kept his focus on what he was doing. Later was later. Besides, the odium would probably kill him dead long before he got to the tunnels, and wouldn’t all that worrying be wasted then?

He focused on the task at hand, and tried to ignore the fear churning deep in his gut.

If only those tunnels weren’t so damn narrow . . . and dark.

“
You’re
all a sight braver then I am, that’s the truth,” Ralan said. “Not for blood or money would I go in there.” His mounted scouts were bustling around them, seeing to their horses and tightening girths. They couldn’t stay here long.

“There’s no choice.” Blackhart shook his head.

“I know.” Ralan’s gaze darted to the group under the trees. “I just—”

Blackhart lowered his voice. “We’ve got to get it stopped. And this is our best chance.”

Ralan shook his head. “I know, Lord Blackhart. I know.”

None knew better, to Blackhart’s way of thinking. Ralan’s mounted scouts had kept watch over the Keep for weeks now.

To Blackhart’s relief, they’d passed through the pine woods without encountering any odium. Ralan’s men had spotted them as they’d emerged from the forest. From here they had a clear view of the first wall that surrounded the Keep.

Ralan jerked his head toward the wall. “The main gates are forced open, the doors pulled down. Once in a while we’ve seen odium on the top of the second wall, as if they’re patrolling, but it’s not regular.” Ralan hesitated. “I got an odd feeling that they do it only when someone thinks of it.”

Blackhart frowned.

Ralan shook his head. “Don’t ask me why I think that. More a gut feeling than anything else.” He drew a breath. “The main gates are hanging on their hinges. The portcullis is bent and twisted. I’ve sent two groups to sweep the area between the two walls. So far, nothing.”

“You weren’t supposed to go in,” Blackhart pointed out. “Your job is to help us get in, and keep the way clear so we can get out.”

“The faster you’re in, the better.” Ralan shrugged. “The men just swept the area clear of the odd odium. They didn’t try to enter the Keep proper. Horses can still outrun the monsters, and the damned monsters haven’t learned to use the catapults.”

“Yet,” Blackhart pointed out.

Ralan’s easy grin flashed. “Always so optimistic, Lord. Ride double with my men,” he suggested. “We can get you to the second wall fast, and drop you right at the base of that guard tower. We’ll hold position and give you cover while you open the door.”

“Hard on the horses,” Blackhart said.

Ralan shrugged. “They’ll survive.”

“We’ll do it your way,” Blackhart agreed. “It’s our best chance.”

“Oh, and don’t bother with wearing the sigils.” Ralan grinned. “The odium will tear your throat out, either way.”

“Thanks,” Blackhart said.

“Anything to oblige.” Ralan’s grin faded. “How long do you want us to wait?” he asked.

Blackhart looked over his shoulder. His men were taking a break, eating and drinking before they continued. Evelyn sat in their midst, chewing on a piece of dried meat. She caught his gaze, and raised an eyebrow.

Blackhart turned back to Ralan. “A full day. If we’re not out by sunset tomorrow, pull your men back.”

“To Wareington?”

Blackhart shook his head. “No. I mean all the way back. Get the people out of the Black Hills. I left orders that they make ready to flee.”

Ralan studied him.

Blackhart returned the look. “Whatever is in there is powerful. We fail, you take the people and flee. Get word to Queen Gloriana that we failed.”

Ralan looked toward the wall. “I’d rather drink to celebrate your success.”

“That would be my preference,” Blackhart said.

Ralan nodded. “I’ll see to it. Either way.”

Evelyn
sat under the cover of the pines, and watched Blackhart talk to the leader of the scouts.

The silence was oppressive here in the woods. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the branches. No birdcalls, no rustle in the undergrowth.

“This place reminds me of Athelbryght,” she said. “So still. So quiet.”

“You know Athelbryght?” Thomas asked.

Evelyn nodded. “Josiah is my cousin. I wish he was here now.”

“Lord Josiah?” Thomas asked. He exchanged a glance with his brother.

Timothy frowned. “He’s not a good fighter.”

“No.” Evelyn looked at the brothers, curious as to how they knew that. “But something happened to him when Elanore attacked. He can drain odium of their magic, and they turn to dust.”

“Really?” Mage asked. “How was he able to do that?”

“We don’t know for sure.”

“Huh.” Mage thought about that. “The Baroness sent a lot of mages to Athelbryght. None of them came back.”

“Was that when your master was killed?” Evelyn asked.

Mage shook his head. “My master was killed when there was a backlash of power through the linked mages, when the Baroness was hurt so bad.” He tilted his head. “He drains odium?”

“Let her eat,” Sidian chided. “We’ve no time for what might have helped us.”

Evelyn nodded in answer to Mage’s question as she worked off another bite of dried meat.

“Wonder if that had anything to do with the spell we use to make the chains,” Mage mused.

Evelyn looked at him closely. “You mentioned that before, and I was going to ask you about it. You know how to make spell chains?”

Mage nodded. “All the apprentices did. It’s not so hard, once you know how to bind the spell to the iron.”

“I want to learn that one,” Evelyn said. “We can teach each other, once this is over.”

Mage nodded. “It’s the waiting I hate.” He picked up a handful of dried pine needles and twisted them in his hand. “Gets to me,” Mage said. “The waiting.”

Evelyn nodded “Eat something,” Sidian said. Reader nodded absently as he twisted a ring of keys in his hand, as if trying to memorize them. Timothy and Thomas had gone silent. They ate and drank methodically, as if doing a chore.