White Star (23 page)

Evelyn took a breath, and half closed her eyes so that she could focus on summoning the power. She heard Blackhart’s blade strike, heard the struggle at the door, heard Thomas panting, but ignored all of it in order to cast the fire at the enemy.

She opened her eyes, ready to cast—

They were children.

Children of all ages were coming up out of the water, dripping wet, horribly empty eyes in gray faces. They advanced on Blackhart, their hands out, reaching for him.

Blackhart raised his sword, but the blade hesitated, staying high over his head.

Evelyn’s throat closed. Horrified, she scrabbled to her feet, away from the nightmare that advanced toward her. Thomas moaned, reaching out to grab her ankle, as if afraid she’d leave him.

Blackhart stepped away from the undead children, trying to brush them aside. But they clung with claws and teeth, hanging from his arms, fastening themselves to his legs. . .

“They ain’t kids!” Mage was beside her, yelling at both of them.

Evelyn could hear the others struggling behind her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“Too many,” Mage said, then glanced at Evelyn. His eyes were sympathetic, but then grew grim as he turned his attention back to the fight. He extended his hand and shouted three words, calling the fire.

His spell wasn’t big, but it was hot and bright as it washed over the small heads as they emerged from the water. But the odium were wet, soaked through, and though their flesh crisped, it offered enough protection for them to swarm over Blackhart, their clawlike hands grabbing him. Blackhart cursed as they overwhelmed him, pulling him to the floor.

Evelyn heard his sword hit the stone floor, and she screamed his name. The magic came then, and she cast her fire over the monsters. Her fear fed the flames, and she struggled to keep them away from Blackhart. But there were so many, she lost sight of him in the mass.

Mage pulled a dagger, but it was too little, too late. The odium swarmed over them, clawing at tunic and trous, reaching for her outstretched hands. She stepped back, hearing the struggles of the others at the door, and gathered her will to burn these monsters to oblivion.

From behind, a body fell next to her. It was Timothy, his throat slashed open, his eyes wide.

Evelyn swept the flames closer, to try to stop the undead children. But they pressed forward, their wet clothes smoldering, their hair burning on their heads. One reached down and pulled the dagger from Thomas’s chest.

Thomas screamed.

Something struck the back of her head. Evelyn staggered, but the pain and blackness swallowed her consciousness whole.

«
^
»

He
was adrift in pain, darkness, and despair.

It was no less than he deserved. The agony grew, pain in his shoulders and arms. He didn’t bother to cry out or call for aid. None would come.

It was the sounds that forced him back, movement around him. His eyes barely opened, crusted and thick with his own blood.

Orrin was in the throne room. In the Keep. They were in the throne room.

That thought, the thought of his men— that thought more than any other— brought him back. His arms were chained above his head, and he was hanging limp from the irons. He didn’t move, just let himself hang from them as he struggled back to full consciousness.

Before him, two odium held Reader between them, stripping him to the waist and throwing his armor on the ground. Reader’s head hung down, his eyes closed, but he still breathed.

There was a pile of weapons and armor already there. Orrin recognized his weapons, as well as those of the others. With grief, he saw that Thomas lay near his feet, faceup in a pool of glistening blood. Timothy’s lifeless body was draped over Thomas’s chest.

The bite of the manacles into his wrists was no more than he deserved for having gotten such men killed.

Orrin watched as the odium dropped Reader’s armor and pack onto the pile. Reader’s belt was tossed as well. One end flopped on the floor with a rattle from the ring of keys.

The creatures dragged Reader off. They heaved him onto a table set in the center of the room, and started strapping him down.

Orrin let his head loll to the side. Sidian was there, standing silent, in chains. He’d been stripped to the waist as well. He watched the odium with a grim look on his face.

A moan came from Orrin’s other side. Archer, from the sound of it.

There was something at the base of the opposite wall, but he couldn’t focus well enough to tell who it was. But then he heard a soft moan, and he knew.

He brought his feet under him at that point, and stood, taking the pressure off his arms. They tingled with new pain, but he ignored that. “Evie?”

A head lifted, and he could just make out her blue eyes. Mage was next to her, sprawled on the floor. Orrin’s gut twisted when he realized that their chains were those damned spell chains, attached to each wrist, and running through the chains on the walls.

“Orrin.” Evelyn’s voice was a groan. “Where—” She lifted her head and looked around. “Oh no, no.”

“Evie, are you hurt?”

“Children.” Evelyn’s voice cracked. “They used children.”

There was nothing to say to that.

Sidian pulled on his chains, testing their strength. Orrin did the same, but there was no give. “How long have you been—”

“In time to watch them bring Reader in and start stripping him,” Sidian said softly. “Your head is still bleeding.”

“Mage.” Evelyn had managed to reach the young man, pulling his head into her lap. She was checking his arms and legs when he stirred, moaning.

Sidian twisted around, looking up at the wall where the chains were threaded through a ring. “Odium can’t be that good at stonework.”

“They aren’t.” A soft voice echoed through the room. “I used magic.”

The hairs on the back of Orrin’s neck lifted. “It can’t be. You’re—”

“Dead?” Elanore walked through the huge double doors with an escort of odium. She paused in the light, looking as lovely as ever. Her red lips curved in a smile as she looked at Orrin fondly. “Not so, my Lord Blackhart.”

She was dressed all in black, her bodice tight around her breasts, her skirts long and sweeping the floor. Orrin blinked, taking in the stunning perfection of her pale face.

She advanced, the odium walking behind her in a crowd. Men, women, and children, all vacant-eyed and gray, following their mistress. A shiver went down Orrin’s spine. A wave of cold, foul air swept over him as she drew near. He had to blink, as his eyes watered from the stench.

Elanore stood before him, still amused. “Orrin.”

“You’re dead. They brought me your ring,” Orrin said. He focused on her face, flawless and serene.

“Do you still have it?” Elanore’s voice sounded odd, as if distant somehow. “I’d like it back.”

Orrin stared at her. “The Chosen killed you.”

Elanore’s perfect face screwed into an ugly grimace. “That bitch with the red gloves. I’ll suck her soul from her body after I’ve claimed what is mine.”

“Josiah is not yours.” Evelyn spoke from behind her.

Orrin watched as Elanore regained her composure. She laughed a perfect laugh, artful in its perfection.

“Such a gift you bring, my Orrin. A high priestess of the Gods of Palins.” Elanore turned, and walked over to where Evelyn lay in chains, glaring at her defiantly.

Orrin yanked on his chains. “If you’re alive, why send odium against your own people? Why not summon me, and—”

“You don’t look much like a priestess,” Elanore said, ignoring him. “More like a street urchin. But I can taste your power.” She reached out to brush her fingers over Evelyn’s hair. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Evelyn jerked her head back. “Why?”

“Portals.” Elanore turned back and smiled at Orrin. “I haven’t been able to learn that spell. Imagine being able to open a door to anywhere you’ve ever been. And you will teach me.”

“No. We’ll stop you,” Evelyn said calmly. “The Gods will not allow—”

“Gods.” Elanore laughed again. “Did your precious Gods stop me before? Did they stop my Lord Blackhart from delivering the people of Farentell to my mercies? I used them all to create my odium. Men, women”— Elanore looked back at Orrin— “children.”

Evelyn was pale, her gaze on Orrin.

“You filthy, lying bitch.” Orrin threw himself against his chains. “Never the children. Once we realized what you did down here, never once did we offer up a child. Evie, you have to believe—”

* * * * *

Evelyn’s
heart stopped beating.

Elanore chuckled again, looking down at her. “Why should she believe you, when she has the evidence of her own eyes?” She gestured to the odium. Evelyn couldn’t help looking at the men, women, and children. Walking corpses, she reminded herself. Who could feel no pain, had no awareness . . .

“It’s the truth.” Archer’s voice was little more than a croak. “The adults, yeah, we gave them to you. We thought them the enemy, Priestess. We needed the odium to protect our lands. But never the kids.”

“He herded them for me”— Elanore glanced at Evelyn, no doubt to see the impact of her words— “like so many cattle. Down the tunnels to my workroom. Whole familes at a time, chained to the walls, crying out for mercy, watching as I drained the children first.” She watched Evelyn closely, like a cat.

“You lie,” Evelyn said firmly. “The Lady of Laughter spoke to me, telling me to save Orrin Blackhart. She would turn her face from him if what you say is true.”

Orrin’s face was a mask of disbelief. Then he slumped in his chains with obvious relief.

“Pity.” Elanore turned away. “I was enjoying his pain.” She turned, her skirts sweeping the floor as she stepped toward the table where Reader lay.

Evelyn took a breath once the stench retreated a bit. She watched Elanore move away, leaving a trail of something behind her on the floor. Evelyn’s eyes widened as she realized they were bits of dried flesh.

“Odium,” Elanore said, “a source of great power. Far greater than a human army.” She ran a hand over Reader’s bare chest. The man gasped, as if in pain. “What need have I for human warriors? Odium have no need to eat or sleep. As I grow more powerful, I control more and more from this distance.” She looked at Orrin. “You will join them, Orrin. And you will obey. But let’s start with this one, shall we?”

Elanore spread her hands wide and pressed them into Reader’s chest. She started to chant vile words in a soft, gentle tone, almost like a lullaby.

And Reader started to scream.

Evelyn cried out, and lowered her head to pray.

Elanore’s chanting rose and fell in a soothing pattern, broken only by Reader’s outcries. Evelyn could hear him thrashing in his bonds, and the hoarse curses coming from Orrin and the others. Only the odium stood silent and unmoving.

“Lady.” The whisper came from Mage, his head still in her lap.

“Mage.” Evelyn lowered her head. “You’re bleeding. Stay still, and—”

“You must listen.” His voice quavered. “The spell chains have a flaw.”

Elanore’s voice was even, her chant continuing its pattern, unbroken by Reader’s screams. Evelyn darted a look in her direction, then lowered her head to Mage’s. “A flaw?”

His eyes fluttered, and he drew a few short breaths before he answered. “Never got it right. They can take in only so much magic, and then they fall apart, Lady.”

Evelyn struggled to understand. “What? How much—”

“Depends on how old they are,” Mage said. His hands shifted slightly as he felt the metal of the cuffs of her manacles. “These have been around awhile. We might be able to burn through them.”

She had a thousand questions, but she wasn’t going to waste any time. “How?”

“Cast spells,” came the faint answer. “Pour your power into them, and the metal will crumble like dried bread.” Mage flicked a glance at the odium near them. “But pour too much of your power into them, and you risk death.” He struggled to sit up, leaning against her shoulder.

Evelyn glanced around the room. “The odium will sense—”

“She’s using magic,” Mage whispered.

Evelyn bit her lip. Reader’s cries were whimpers now, as Elanore seemed almost to glow. “We have to try. Elanore’s made a mistake, Mage.”

He blinked at her, puzzled.

“The Lord of Light delivers justice to his people with a fair hand.” Evelyn shifted slightly, putting her hands over his manacles. “But the Lady of Laughter delivers vengeance.” She looked at Orrin just as he lifted his head. She saw so much in his eyes. Shame. Horror. Repentance. Love. Desperation for a chance to set things right.

She’d call the magic and free him, even if it meant her own death.

“You save your strength, Mage. I’ll deal with the chains. But you must promise me”— she grasped Mage’s manacles tight— “that you’ll end this if I can’t.”

“I swear,” Mage said. “I’ve got an idea. Maybe I can use the draining spell against the odium. But you have to get me free.”

Evelyn nodded and closed her eyes, trying to focus despite the suffering around her.

Orrin
shouted a curse, trying to distract Elanore from her chanting. But the bitch kept chanting, her voice even and calm, as Reader writhed in pain beneath her hands.

He risked a glance at Evelyn, sure that her eyes would be filled with disappointment, or hate for what he’d done. But she was sitting still, her eyes looking off in the distance, as if she were casting a spell.

Mage was struggling to sit up. Evelyn was covering his manacles with her hands.

Orrin’s stomach twisted. Mage had told her about the chains.

He feared for her then, feared both she and Mage would burn themselves out. But it wasn’t like he had an alternative to offer. And anything was better than seeing her tortured.

Sidian had pulled his chains so that one hand was higher than the other. He was rubbing his chest, still glistening with grease . . . and then rubbing his wrists. The manacles were tight enough that Orrin was certain he wouldn’t have much luck, but it was worth a try.

Archer was stretching out his long legs, trying to shift the pile of weapons and gear, so he could get to Reader’s keys. His long foot was pale in the darkness as he strained; his face, even paler.