Bewitched & Betrayed (43 page)

A surprised shout turned into a pained scream as a coachman went flying over the top of the coach parked next to his.

I bared my teeth in a savage grin. Found them.

Janos Ghalfari quickly climbed into the now-empty coachman’s seat, then stared directly at me.

Oh crap.

With a wave of his hand, the horses around me erupted into terrified screams. Diving under the coach next to me was all that kept me from being pounded into cobblestone paste by rearing and thrashing hooves. I saw the door of Ghalfari’s coach open and Tam’s boots step up and inside. Two more pair of boots, probably worn by Khrynsani guards, jumped in after him.

Dammit.

“Raine!”

It was Mychael. A real shout, not mindspeak. I rolled out from between the wheels of the coach I was under and scrambled to my feet.

Mychael leapt onto the driver’s bench of a coach near the one Ghalfari had taken, his crossbow slung across his back. I threw together some shields and ran toward Mychael, ducking, weaving, and dodging, but mostly trusting my magic to deflect anything a terrified horse could hit me with.

I was nothing short of stunned when I reached the coach with all my pieces and parts intact. Then I saw the thin metal step to the driver’s bench and stopped cold. The freaking thing was chest-high on me. Who the hell drove these things? Giants? Mychael held the team’s reins easily in one hand and leaned over the side—way over the side—and grabbed my arm right above the elbow.

I just looked up at him. “You’re kidding.”

Mychael’s reply was a grin and a pull that lifted me off my feet and landed me on the seat beside him. Impressive.

Ghalfari’s coach had just turned onto the street. Hope surged through me. We could catch them; I knew we could. We had to. I had no idea in hell what we were going to do when we did, but I’d figure it out on the way or deal with it when it happened.

The axle springs creaked and our coach lurched to one side. I turned to see Vegard getting inside on the heels of Vidor Kalta’s black robes.

“You need ballast, sir,” Vegard called from inside. “Just tell us which side you need us on.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. Ballast?

Below the bench, four sleekly muscled black horses pulled hard at the reins, eager to go. The coach was covered in ebony enamel that virtually gleamed. Dustless. Pristine.

I gripped the bar on the side of the bench and held on. “Nice ride,” I managed. “Whose—”

Mychael flashed a fierce smile and snapped the reins. “Carnades.”

 

 

There was a tilted metal footrest for the driver to brace his boots on, and I was definitely bracing mine. Before now, I thought my experience with coaches had been pretty extensive: I’d fought inside a coach, clung to the back of a coach, damn near been thrown under a coach, but I’d never been on the driver’s bench going at a speed that was so far beyond insane it was ridiculous.

That was Janos Ghalfari’s fault, not Mychael’s. The goblin set the speed; Mychael was simply hell-bent on catching him.

We reached a smoother patch of street and my teeth stopped knocking together long enough to speak. “You stole Carnades’s coach.”

Mychael gave me a crooked smile. “Appropriated. In pursuit of wanted felons.”

“There were other coaches.”

His smile broadened into a grin. “Yes, there were. But Carnades has some of the fastest horses on the island.”

“Plus you taking them would piss him off.”

“That, too.”

When Ghalfari and Mychael took the first corner, both coaches’ wheels stayed on the street where they belonged. But when Ghalfari took the next corner sharp—and on two wheels—the need for movable ballast became all too apparent.

Oh crap.

“Vegard!” I shouted. “Right side!”

He and Vidor moved and our coach’s wheels stayed on the street. Disaster averted. At least until the next time Ghalfari turned.

The good thing about coaches and horses was that pedestrians could hear the hooves and wheels coming and get the hell out of the way. It was late morning; the streets should have been filled with people going about their business. A few people were on the sidewalks; most watched the coaches thunder past from the safety of shop and office windows. I figured that the streetlamps flashing with bright blue lights had everything to do with it.

“The lights warn citizens to take cover,” Mychael told me. “Justinius would have had them activated.” Now that we were away from the Conclave complex, Mychael could scoop up my thoughts like dice off a table.

That meant he picked up the word I thought loud and clear when one of the Khrynsani threw open a small door on the back of Ghalfari’s coach and hurled a red fireball at us.

I didn’t think; I just reacted.

I threw up a shield in front of me and Mychael, and neatly deflected the fireball. My next deflection wasn’t so neat and a signpost on the street corner burst into flames. Oops. Any people left on the street promptly dived for cover.

The Khrynsani grinned in a flash of fangs as red flame spun over his hand. His eyes were fixed on somewhere out in front of us, down low. The fireball became a solid sphere and he aimed.

At our horses. The bastard was going to torch our horses.

I gritted my teeth pushed my shield out in front of the lead team, one hand still gripping the handrail, the other extended palm out, struggling to hold the shield in place. Keeping a shield steady while I ran was one thing; doing the same in front of four racing horses was virtually impossible. If the shield touched them, they’d spook. If they saw that fire coming at their faces, they’d definitely spook.

I felt Mychael’s will combine with mine and the shield darkened. The horses could still see to run, but any fireballs coming at them would just look like a ball, not horse-terrifying fire.

“Vegard!” Mychael called.

“I’m on it, sir.”

I felt a surge of power from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and Vegard was half out of the window, his eyes intent, silently mouthing something I hoped the fireball-throwing goblin wasn’t going to like, or better still, wouldn’t survive. I felt a tug and a sharp yank from Vegard as the goblin came flying out of the back window of that coach like he’d been jerked out by a giant hand. The goblin slammed into a metal lamppost with a hollow clang.

Beautiful.

“Wagon ahead!” Vegard shouted.

Oh no.

One man, one horse, and a cart loaded with what looked like firewood.

And Janos Ghalfari was going to run right over them.

The man saw the coach bearing down on him and desperately pulled the horse’s lead, trying to get him to move. The horse reared, dumping the logs into the street. The man and horse got clear just in time. Ghalfari’s horses jumped or dodged the logs.

The coach wasn’t nearly as nimble.

The right front wheel hit one of the smaller logs and the coach lurched sharply to the side, enough to knock around anyone inside, but not enough to turn the coach over.

The next log was much bigger.

Everything seemed to go into slow motion. Ghalfari’s coach flipped over on its side, sliding along the street in a spray of sparks. Janos Ghalfari was thrown to the curb and lay there unmoving. Mychael pulled back on the reins as hard as he could to stop our horses from slamming into the overturned coach.

And Tam.

The panicked horses were still trying to pull the wrecked coach. A moment later there was a sharp crack of breaking wood and the horses were running loose down the street, dragging their rigging behind them.

“Carnades’s driver keeps a crossbow under the seat,” Mychael told me. He pulled back the coach’s break handle and leapt down.

I quickly groped around under the bench and found it, along with a small quarrel of bolts. It wasn’t big; it didn’t need to be. I was familiar with the model. Medium range, maximum damage. It was built for persuading bandits that robbing you would be a truly bad idea.

Or for convincing Sarad Nukpana to get the hell out of Tam’s body.

I jumped down from the bench, crossbow trained on the open coach door. Vegard and Vidor Kalta were already out. Vegard’s axe was in his hands and glowing. Vidor was just glowing.

Shields, right. Way to get yourself killed, Raine. Why don’t you walk around naked, too, while you’re at it? I got my shields up and around me where they belonged.

“The guard’s dead,” Mychael called.

“Nukpana?” I moved closer, bow loaded and held ready.

“Not here.”

“I saw Tam get in,” I insisted.

My skin prickled on the back of my neck. Mychael’s expression said he felt the same thing.

The bastard was using a negating spell and full veil. I moved protectively in front of Mychael.

Nukpana/Tam materialized on the other side of the coach. Full shields, full power. Incredible power. There wasn’t a scratch on him. Our bows were worthless and so was our magic.

Nukpana/Tam’s smile was bright and beautiful. “Now that we’re all here, may I propose a trade?”

Mychael smoothly sidestepped me, leaving nothing between him
and Nukpana/Tam but about twenty feet of open space.

A lot of damage could be done in twenty feet. I didn’t know how fast Nukpana could lunge out of Tam and into Mychael—or if he could even do it at all through Mychael’s shields—but I wasn’t about to let anybody find out. Vidor Kalta might know, but his attention was on examining Janos Ghalfari’s crumpled body.

Nukpana/Tam didn’t even spare a glance for his own family. “I take it my dear uncle did not survive his folly.”

Vidor stood from his examination. “Broken neck,” he declared with cool, clinical detachment. “There appear to be other injuries, but it was the neck that killed him.”

I risked a look over to where Ghalfari lay, his head twisted at an impossible angle, his lifeless black eyes staring up at the sky. So much for him having ultimate power over the dead. Good to know that Nachtmagus Janos Ghalfari could do something stupid and get himself killed and stay that way just like the rest of us.

Though lately dead didn’t mean gone.

“Where’s his soul?” I quickly asked Vidor.

“Dissipated,” he assured me. “And to answer your next question, I have no sense of him anywhere in the immediate vicinity.”

“Bring him back, Nachtmagus,” Nukpana/Tam snapped.

“As I just explained, his soul has fled his body.” From the annoyed clip of his words, it was obvious that Vidor didn’t like repeating himself, even to an almost demigod. “Janos Ghalfari was notorious for abusing his gift.” The slightest of smiles creased Vidor’s thin lips. “Perhaps he feared repercussions.”

Nukpana/Tam’s lips twisted in a sneer. “From whom?”

“From
what
. Reapers collect the dead, and they do not tolerate mortals who abuse souls—particularly if that mortal is a nachtmagus who should know better.” Vidor’s tone held a hint of satisfaction. “I don’t believe your uncle was anxious to, as they say, pay the piper.”

Nukpana/Tam’s turned his fury on Mychael. “My uncle lies dead in the gutter like an animal because of your interference. I hope you enjoyed enforcing the law—it will be your last time carrying the burden of morality for us all.”

“If you’re through with the melodrama, you’re wasting our time.” Mychael’s hands were glowing with a white light, quickly becoming brighter until I couldn’t look directly at them.

Nukpana/Tam took two steps forward, his boots tapping sharply on the cobbles. “I agree. Time is of the essence.”

The air around Mychael crackled with magic, lethal yet perfectly controlled. “Release Tam. Now.”

“I have every intention of doing so.” Nukpana/Tam flashed a crooked grin, and the sight of it twisted like a knife in my gut. How many times had Tam given me that same grin, mischievous and playful? Sarad Nukpana’s perverse use of it now was sickening.

“Releasing Tamnais is half of the trade that I propose,” Nukpana/Tam continued. “Surrender yourself to me and I shall leave Tamnais’s body unharmed.”

“So you can stroll into the citadel and steal the Saghred,” I said.

Mychael’s hands grew even brighter and he never took his eyes off of Nukpana/Tam. “The archmagus and my officers know not to let me into the citadel until they’re certain I’m not infected by you.”

“Infected?” Nukpana/Tam laughed, a short bark. “You make it sound like a disease.”

“Parasite is more like it,” I hissed.

The goblin chuckled darkly. “Poor Tamnais isn’t having a good week, and thanks to the paladin, I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Mychael’s arrangements have left me with no choice but to remain where I am. Tamnais’s imprisonment will become permanent—and the fault for his fate rests solely on the two of you.”

I’d heard enough, more than enough. I raised my crossbow.

“Yes, kill Tamnais. If you don’t kill him now, little seeker, Carnades Silvanus will have enough evidence to execute him tomorrow. The elf mage has been giving the two of you credit for my handiwork. Before this day is over, Tamnais will prove his suspicions correct. Carnades is most eager to see an umi’atsu bond at work, and I’m going to show it to him.” His tone became softer, almost compassionate. “However, I do not have to tell Carnades Silvanus your secret. You do not have to take his petty insults, tolerate his feeble attempts to ensnare and imprison you. And make no mistake, compared to your power, his attempts are feeble. You know this—and yet you still fear it.” Nukpana’s voice became Tam’s voice, his words soothing reassurance. “You need not fear your power. You can eliminate the Carnades Silvanuses of the world, the Taltek Balmorlans. No one like them can or will ever harm you or those you love again. Is that not what you desire above all else?”

I wanted it to be true. I wanted it to be Tam. But it wasn’t. It was all lies and illusions, trickery of the mind, temptation with the one thing I desperately wanted. The Saghred had been tempting me from day one. It knew what I wanted and had given me the power to do it. To protect myself, my family, my friends. The Saghred would give me everything I needed to keep them safe and more. Much more. All I had to do was take the power, use it—and then feed the stone to replenish it.