Dark Haven (52 page)

She saw a flicker of fear in the young man’s eyes, then he set his jaw. “Do what you must, m’lady. Most of this village is kin to me. Whatever I have is yours.”

Within another half a candlemark, Carina had reduced her patients’ fever. The guards, many of whom had seen her heal at Dark Haven, willingly took turns with Adon lending her strength.

Carina instructed Adon to warm broth on the fire, and to spoon what their patients could swallow into their mouths to build up their strength. After a time, she sat back on her haunches, grateful for a cup of kerif one of the guards pressed into her hands.

“I’ll leave herbs with you,” Carina said to Adon, part of the running narrative she kept up with the young man as she worked. “I’ll show you how to make teas and poultices, so that you can keep the sickness from going down to their lungs. You’ve got to keep them warm—bring the sheep and goats into the houses if you need to. The cold will kill them.”

In each of the village’s small homes she found much the same—a family huddled in bed, wracked with fever, weakened from being unable to rise to get their own food. Fires burned nearly out, patients dehydrated from lack of water. Candlemarks passed and Carina, Adon, and the guards did everything they could to save those not already too far gone. It was not uncommon to find four or five people huddled in bed together, with some too sick to realize that one or more of their bedmates were dead. Carina had the guards wrap the bodies as best they could and carry them outside, storing them in a large woodshed until proper burial could be made.

“Here, eat this,” Adon said, pressing a chunk of hard cheese into Carina’s hands. She smiled 446

gratefully, aware that the cold winter sun was already high in the sky and that she was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I’ve never seen a

healer who could bring back someone from the arms of the Lady.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Carina said, sipping the last of her kerif.

So many of the villagers were near death that the healing went slowly. Carina lost track of time in the dark, smokey houses.

“These are my mother and my two sisters,” Adon introduced three haggard‐looking women who joined them midday. Carina immediately set the women to work scavenging for root vegetables and dried meat to create a large cauldron of soup on the tavern hearth.

The winter sky glowed red, setting the bare trees in silhouette as Carina finished the last of her patients. Casson, captain of the guards, shook his head, hands on hips, looking at the sunset.

“It’s late, m’lady. Too dangerous to ride back to Dark Haven tonight. Lord Jonmarc would have my head if I let you ride through the forest at night.”

“You’re very welcome to stay here,” Adon said quickly. “The tavern keeper is my uncle. There’s space enough for the men if they’ll sleep two or three to a room, and a room for you, Lady Vahanian. It would be our honor.” He grinned. “I shall be your host, minstrel, and servant.”

“Bless you,” Carina said, feeling her mood lighten for the first time all day. “I accept your hospitality with all my heart!”

True to his word, Adon found them enough in the tavern kitchen for a meal of bread, dried 447

fruits, meats and fresh cheese. Carina was grateful for the hot tea, and cradled the mug in her hands. She was exhausted. And while she had healed the villagers for the moment, there was no guarantee that they would remain healthy unless they were able to stay warm and get enough food to build up their strength. She sighed. More than anything, she longed for the chance to stretch out and sleep.

A candlemark after sunset, the sound of distant wailing rose in the cold air. Carina exchanged glances with her guards, who ran to the tavern windows. The wailing grew louder, closer, and Carina shivered despite herself.

“M’lady, what is that?” Adon asked.

“I don’t know,” Carina replied. Her guards drew their swords and took positions around the great room, urging Adon’s mother and sisters into the main room. The walls of the tavern shook, and a loud crash nearby made them’jump. Every window in the tavern shattered; a gust of bitter wind swept through the great room extinguishing all the candles except for a single shuttered lantern hanging on a chain from the ceiling in the middle of the room. The wind made the lantern swing violently, sending a dizzying pattern of light and shadow across the room. Adon’s mother and sisters dived under one of the tables.

Carina grabbed a walking stick left behind by one of the inn’s patrons. In the dim light of the lantern, she saw Adon’s face, wide‐eyed with fear. The young man drew a hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and stood braced for a fight. The main door exploded into the room, sending the guard behind it sprawling. Dark shapes swept into the room with the wind, and Carina felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the bitter winter air.

Vayash moru, she thought, sensing the presence of the undead. It has to be Uri’s brood. Their war is beginning!

Black‐clad shapes moved in a blur. One of the figures lifted Casson like a toy, bent his head against the soldier’s neck and ripped open his throat in a single, fluid movement. In the dizzying 448

light of the swinging lantern, a guard ran at the black clad figures with a battle cry, sword slashing. One of the vayasb moru stepped forward, easily blocking the sword with his bare forearm, moving his other hand to rip out the soldier’s throat with his nails.

Carina heard tables being thrown aside and the women’s screams reached a frantic pitch. There was silence, and then the sound of bodies falling to the floor. For a moment, Carina saw four black‐garbed figures facing them in the weak light of the single candle. She could hear the breathing of the soldiers and, pressed together as they were, she could sense their fear. Beside her, Adon kept his grip steady on his knife.

The black figures moved as one, with no sound but the rush of air. Adon gave a strangled cry and stepped in front of Carina. “Adon, no!”

Half‐mad with terror and rage, the young man dived at the nearest figure, landing a solid blow with his knife. Carina screamed as the figure casually reached out and grabbed Adon by the forearms, bending forward to press his mouth against the young man’s neck. Adon gave a single scream and slumped in the figure’s hold.

“She’s mine.”

Carina wheeled. There was just enough light to make out the figure that strode in through the kitchen door. Dressed in black but wearing no hood, Malesh was smiling. “Greetings, Lady Vahanian.”

Carina held her ground. “The Blood Council won’t let you get away with this.”

“I don’t recognize the Blood Council’s authority.” Malesh walked closer. “Nor do I recognize a 449

mortal Lord of Dark Haven.”

Carina swung her staff at him, connecting with full force across his shoulders. The staff snapped, and Malesh laughed. “Did you enjoy the show? After all, you’re the reason I’m here.” He moved toward her in a blur, grabbing Carina by the upper arms in a painfully tight grip. “You, m’lady, are the key to Dark Haven. Dark Haven must have an immortal lord. I’ll make you my immortal lady.”

“Why me?”

Malesh’s smile broadened. “Because taking you destroys Vahanian.”

Malesh drew her close against him in an unbreakable embrace and lowered his mouth against her neck. His lips were soft, seductive, and she fought revulsion as he kissed her throat.

Pain flared as his teeth pierced her skin. Carina gasped. Malesh wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him so tightly that she could barely breathe. The room around her swam.

Her healer’s senses screamed a warning in her mind and she knew that she was losing blood fast. Her heart thudded as her body weakened. She felt a wave of vertigo and a growing coldness as her knees buckled. Pinpricks of light danced in her vision, and her sight blurred.

Malesh eased her to the floor, and slid up one sleeve of his coat, exposing his forearm. With a single slash of his nail, he opened a vein and pressed it against Carina’s lips. He forced her jaws open, yanking her head back by the hair as drop after crimson drop fell into her mouth.

Jonmarc, forgive me.

450

CHAPTER THIRTY

“What do you mean, she rode to West‐ormere?”

Neirin flinched. “She took ten guards with her, m’lord. They left before noon, fully intending to be back before sunset. If the village was as sick as the young man said, an afternoon might not have been enough.”

“Or maybe the entire thing was a set‐up. We don’t know who the messenger was, or whether someone put him up to it.” Jonmarc warred with himself over what to do. Ride for Westormere, and he and his men might ride into a trap—or merely incur Carina’s ire by meeting her group on the road back. Wait for dawn, and they would be too late if the messenger had been a ploy.

“M’lord! Open the door!”

Vahanian drew his sword and cautiously went to open the door. A runner stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and his cheeks red with the bitter cold. “M’lord! A vayasb moru just dropped a body off at the main gates. Two of the vayasb moru guards went after him, but they lost him.

The body’s been drained, m’lord. This was beside it in the snow.” The young man held out his hand and opened his fist. Carina’s shevir, crushed and twisted, lay on his palm.

“Call up the guard—mortal and vayash moru.” Jonmarc said when he found his voice. “We ride for Westormere.” He paused, and looked at the runner. “Have the guards tell no one about this.

Do you understand?”

The runner nodded, wide‐eyed, and left to do as he was bid.

451

Gabriel met Jonmarc’s eyes. “The bracelet doesn’t prove that Malesh has Carina. It could even be a copy. If you ride out, you’re playing into his hands.”

Jonmarc sheathed his sword and reached for his great cloak from the peg on the wall. “I promised her I would always come for her. I’m going to keep that promise.”

Jonmarc’s soldiers pushed their horses as fast as the snow covered roads would allow. The vyrkin caught up to them just outside the manor, and loped alongside, making the trek seem effortless. The guard rode with swords drawn, on alert for danger, but the forest and the roads were empty. And as they rode, Jonmarc struggled to quell fear that threatened to rise into panic.

Finally, Westormere came into view. Lights glowed in the windows of the tavern and the houses.

It was clear from the snow that Carina’s party had traveled this way. Jonmarc chafed at the delay as the group stopped just outside the village gates. A soldier dismounted and warily approached the guard seated in the small gate room. At a distance, Jonmarc could see the soldier speak to the man without success. He gently shook the guard, and the man slipped from his chair to the ground.

At Gabriel’s silent signal, the guards spread. Three of them, all vayash moru, kept close to Jonmarc. As they rode into the village, trampled snow and broken windows were at odds with the peaceful image from afar.

“She’s likely to be in the inn,” Jonmarc said.

The door was splintered, ripped from its hinges. All of the windows were shattered, and shards of glass lay like bits of ice on the trampled snow. Jonmarc felt his heart pound as his boots 452

crunched on the icy steps.

“Sweet Lady of Darkness,” he murmured as he stepped into the tavern great room. A ghastly tableau spread before them. Near the fire, three women lounged as if drunk, spilled mugs of ale in their hands, their skirts arranged enticingly as if they were strumpets frozen in a moment of revelry. Their pallor and the bloodstains at the bodices of their dresses told otherwise.

Arranged at the long great room table was a feast. The guards and a young man Jonmarc did not recognize were seated at the table as if about to eat. Carina sat at the head of the table, as unmoving and silent as the others.

With a strangled cry, Jonmarc ran past Gabriel. He pulled back Carina’s chair and she tumbled into his arms. She was deathly pale, and her skin was as cold as the snow outside. “No, please, no,” Jonmarc murmured, desperately feeling at her throat for a pulse and bringing away fingers bloodied from the two punctures at the base of her neck. “Carina,” he whispered, holding her to himself, burying his face in her hair as he sobbed.

“Jonmarc.” The voice sounded with compulsion, something Gabriel had never used with him.

Now, it broke through his grief.

“Leave me alone.”

“She’s not dead, Jonmarc.”

Jonmarc lifted his head, unashamed of the tears that streaked down his face. “There’s no pulse. I can’t feel her breath. She’s cold as ice.”

“Listen to me, Jonmarc. They meant to bring Carina across as a strike against you. But a healer can’t be brought across. Whoever did this must have been young in the Gift not to know that.

453

The healing magic won’t accept the Dark Gift. My senses are sharper than yours. She isn’t dead, and she isn’t brought across. There’s hope.”

Jonmarc heard Gabriel giving orders to the guards, and was grateful to him for taking command of the situation. Gabriel called two of the vayash moru soldiers to him.

“Jess—I want you to find Riqua. Tell her what’s happened, and ask her to come to Dark Haven immediately. Then go to Westmarch. Find the Keeper Royster. Bring him back to Dark Haven yourself.

“Kayden—go to Principality City. Find Sister Taru in the Citadel of the Sisterhood. Tell her what’s happened to Carina. Bring her to Dark Haven—by magic or by our means, I don’t care so long as it’s quick.”

Both men bowed low and left immediately. Two large wolves padded up beside Jonmarc: Yestin and Eiria. They took up an unmistakably protective position near Carina.

“It’s like this throughout the town—all dead, and all posed.” Gabriel’s fist clenched. “Uri’s playing with us. He wants war because he’s sure he can win. He’s wrong.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Burn the village. There was an outbreak of disease here—the young man told Neirin that most of the village was too sick to leave their homes. No one will question it if we say the plague took them and that we had to burn their possessions. We owe them a decent burial. A pyre will hide the death wounds, buy us time. If we’re fortunate, we can bring Uri to ground before he and his brood do any more damage. The cost is too high for all of us if war comes.”