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Authors: Brandon Mull

Death Weavers (7 page)

BOOK: Death Weavers
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“Some of us more than others,” Cole said. “But yeah.”

Hunter led the way to the stairs. “Do we know a timeframe?”

“I was just told to hurry,” Cole said.

“Did we pay the innkeeper?” Dalton asked.

“In advance,” Joe said.

“Did we leave a letter thanking the cook for dinner?” Jace mocked.

“Let's go,” Hunter said.

They moved in silence from the bottom of the stairs across the dim common room. Embers glowing on the hearth provided most of the light. Jace held his dagger ready.

Cole slipped out the front door after Hunter. Stars sparkled in the sky overhead. A dull, red moon shed muted light. Glancing up, Cole shuffled to a stop.

Some of the stars were neatly arranged into words.

The writing was not large but distinct.

NO MORE STARS.

Cole turned to Mira, who was looking up as well.

“Mother,” she said. “Honor's and Destiny's stars aren't in the sky anymore. Somebody must have caught on.”

“Now all the Outskirts knows,” Jace said.

“Almost nobody will get what it means,” Mira said. “Mother had to get the message to me and my sisters. Especially to me, so I'd know not to stop looking for Destiny just because the stars are gone.”

“What now?” Joe asked.

“We need to get away,” Mira said. “The Cave of Memory matters more than ever. It's now our only lead.”

“Come on,” Hunter said. They trotted across the yard toward the stables. Hunter first went to where the coach was parked. No horses were currently attached to the vehicle. After scouring the compartment, he handed Cole his Jumping Sword, Mira hers, and passed out knives to Dalton and Joe.

Hunter then entered the stables. He stopped so abruptly that Cole collided with his back.

“Sorry,” Cole said, grabbing his brother's shoulders half to keep Hunter from falling and half to steady himself.

“No,” Hunter said, ignoring Cole, real despair in his voice. “I don't believe it.”

“What?” Jace asked from behind.

“The horses are gone,” Hunter said, racing along the row of stalls. He ran outside the building and soon returned. “All of them. The horses for our coach, plus eight others I saw here earlier tonight.”

“Sabotage,” Mira said. “Are we being watched?”

“At least by echoes,” Hunter said, looking around. “Come on.”

The inn was situated near a crossroads. Cole followed Hunter to the intersection. Empty roads stretched in four directions. Hunter paused and raised a finger to his lips. The others stopped and listened. The unmistakable rumble of galloping hoofbeats drummed in the distance.

“Not good,” Cole muttered, sliding a hand into his pocket to touch the silver ringer. He still sensed no contact from Sando.

“What do we do?” Dalton asked, hysteria creeping into his tone.

“We split up,” Hunter said, calmly assuming command. “Two by two. Whoever stays free rescues the others. The riders are coming from the west. Joe and Mira will go south. Dalton and Jace will travel east. Cole and I will head north. Stay off the roads. Eventually make your way toward the town of Rincomere, north and west of here.”

After Hunter fell silent, the approaching hoofbeats did all the talking. The riders couldn't be more than a few minutes away. This was bad. They could all go down tonight. Without shaping, Cole and his friends were no match for trained soldiers. Panic threatened to take over, but Cole resisted.

“What if echoes are already tailing us?” Cole asked. “Won't they lead the Enforcers right to us?”

“Let me check,” Hunter said. Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the road, he closed his eyes, made fists, and pressed his knuckles together.

Cole shared curious glances with Jace and Dalton.

“Are you praying?” Jace asked.

Hunter gave no reply.

“Maybe Mira and I should get started,” Joe proposed.

Eyes still closed, Hunter held up a finger, asking him to wait. Hunter flinched, eyes squeezing tighter. His head jerked a little. He pushed his knuckles together tighter, arms trembling. Then he opened his eyes.

“Okay,” Hunter said. “There were a couple of echoes spying on us. I took care of them. Let's hurry. Stay safe!”

“He means die bravely,” Cole amended, earning a smile from Jace.

Hunter started running along the road to the north. Cole caught up and ran beside him. Glancing back, Cole saw Joe and Mira racing along the edge of the road in the opposite direction. Dalton and Jace dashed eastward.

“What did you do to the echoes?” Cole asked.

“I confronted them,” Hunter said. “After opening my mind to the echolands, I found a couple of echoes there. I worked a weaving on them that forced them to depart. It was the best I could manage. A full binding could have imprisoned them or even destroyed them. But I'm not that good yet.”

Cole was already panting. “This is a fast pace.”

“We won't outlast horses,” Hunter said. “Our best bet is to blow our energy before they get too close and hope they never see us.” He veered off the road, running across farmland.

Cole kept up. “What if they find us?”

“If they come this way, we split up,” Hunter said. “We have to stay out of their hands.”

Cole understood. He and Hunter couldn't hope to outfight the Enforcers. And if they got caught, who knew what would come next? Owandell led the Enforcers, and he served Nazeem. Cole had made powerful enemies. Would they experiment with his mangled shaping ability? Torture him? Kill him? Anything was possible.

Hunter had been an Enforcer. If they were aware that he had changed sides, who knew what they might do to him?

Cole caught his foot on a clump of dirt and went down hard, tasting soil. He scrambled back to his feet. Cole missed a lot of things about Zeropolis, but having a battle suit enhance his speed and endurance was currently at the top of the list. Hunter slowed until Cole caught up, then poured on the speed again.

They passed a line of trees into another cultivated field. The trees helped screen them from the road. The pounding hoofbeats grew louder.

“The riders turned north,” Hunter said. “All of them, I think. Good for the others. Bad for us. Could mean they're specifically after you.”

“How would they know I went north?” Cole asked.

“Weaving involves knowing things,” Hunter said. “For some weavers, the skill goes beyond using echoes for tips. They sense echoes and people, sometimes across great distances. We call them perceptives.”

“You think we have a perceptive tracking us?” Cole asked.

“It would be rotten luck,” Hunter said. “We'll know soon.”

Cole ran harder, studying the ground in the dull red moonlight, trying not to fall. He gripped the silver ringer in his hand but still received no advice. He wondered if Sando might have been one of the echoes Hunter had driven away.

Hunter shoved the back of Cole's shoulder, causing him to tumble to the dirt.

“Lie still,” Hunter commanded in a stage whisper, changing course a bit. “It's your best chance. I'll try to mislead them.”

Flat on his stomach, Cole watched his brother sprint away. He supposed staying low was his best bet for hiding in an empty field.

The sound of the hoofbeats changed as the horses left the road, muffled by the softer soil of the field. Beyond the line of trees dividing the field where Cole waited from the next, he detected flickers of motion.

In the other direction, Hunter ran in a crouch. He was almost to the far end of the field.

It didn't feel right to let his brother draw their attention away. Then again, Hunter was a leader among the Enforcers. There was still a good chance none of them knew that he had defected and was helping the resistance. Maybe Hunter could bluff his way out of trouble.

Cole decided to trust Hunter's judgment and stay put. His eyes strayed to the sky.
NO MORE STARS.

Six Enforcers galloped past the tree line, drawing his attention earthward. They rode dark horses and wore black armor.

And they came straight at Cole.

Allowing himself a small, whimpering laugh, Cole slid the Jumping Sword from its sheath. Was there any chance of it working? He couldn't feel his power. Should he fight anyhow?

He was still on the ground, but it was clear that he wasn't fooling anybody. As the horsemen slowed and circled him, Cole stood up. The way the six were positioned, he could only see three of them at a time.

“Cole Randolph,” one of the Enforcers said.

Cole faced him. “Maybe.”

“It wasn't a question,” the rider responded. “Lay down your sword.”

Cole pointed the blade at the ground between and beyond two of the horsemen. “Away,” he said. There was no tug. He sensed no connection to his power.

“This is your final warning,” the spokesman called, drawing a longsword.

Cole stood his ground. Where was his ability? It was buried somewhere inside of him. Cole searched desperately, willing himself to feel something, but came up empty.

Power or no power, if they wanted him, they would have to take him. He would dodge and slash at men and horses for as long as he could. In his gut he knew there was no way he would win. He probably wouldn't harm any of them, and the chances were decent he would get killed instead of captured. Still, after all he had been through, and knowing the horrors that captivity would mean, he couldn't just give up.

“Who do you think you serve?” Cole cried.

The Enforcer hesitated, as if trying to discover the trick in the question. “The High King, of course,” he finally said.

“Your orders didn't come from Owandell?” Cole asked.

“Naturally, since he leads the Enforcers, under the direction of the High King,” the spokesman said.

“I am a servant of the High King,” Cole said. It was at least partially true. The High King had asked him for favors when they last spoke. “Stafford Pemberton does not want me captured. The person who wants me is Nazeem, Owandell's real master. Nazeem taught Owandell shapecraft.” If he was going down, Cole figured he could at least start some rumors that Owandell and Nazeem would rather keep unspoken.

The Enforcers were looking at one another. Did some of them know that Cole spoke the truth? Any of the experienced shapecrafters probably did. Had some of them heard similar rumors? Nazeem seemed more known in Necronum than elsewhere. Many echoes were clearly aware of him.

“Enough stalling,” the spokesman barked. “Take him.”

Cole heard pounding hoofs and a piercing whinny. All heads turned toward the oncoming sound. A riderless horse was closing on the group, its dark coat and mane aflame with flickering red highlights. The horse jumped over one of the mounts surrounding Cole, smashing an Enforcer from his saddle in the process. The horse landed smoothly and kept running.

The other horses began to stamp and rear. None of them were nearly as large as the newcomer. The new horse ran wild, leaping and bucking, crashing into the lesser horses and sending their riders flying.

The Enforcers had no answer to the sudden assault. A pair of them who had fallen to the ground were promptly trampled by the fierce horse. Cole held his sword ready, prepared to jump out of the way when the wild horse turned on him, but the crazed steed paid him no mind.

Though the rampaging horse appeared out of control, it soon became clear that it was targeting the Enforcers. Moving like a rodeo cowboy's worst nightmare, the huge steed kicked horse and rider alike, ruthlessly stomping the Enforcers when they flopped to the ground.

Within less than a minute, the wild horse galloped off into the night, spewing clods of soil. Six Enforcers lay motionless, along with two of their horses. The other four mounts cantered away, empty stirrups flapping.

Cole sheathed his sword as Hunter ran up to him.

“How'd you do that?” Cole asked.

“Wasn't me,” Hunter said, surveying the fallen riders. “I could hardly believe my eyes.”

Stunned and relieved, Cole found himself laughing. “It was like a tornado.”

Hunter laughed too.

Cole walked over to a fallen Enforcer, taking in the dented armor. “No way did that just happen. I was doomed. Do horses get rabies?”

“That wasn't rabies,” Hunter said seriously. “That horse was an assassin. I had a great view. It couldn't have taken out those Enforcers more efficiently. And then it stormed off.”

“Where'd it come from?” Cole asked.

Hunter rubbed his chin. “Some echoes can influence animals. Maybe the echo you're working with guided it. If so, he's really powerful.”

Cole held up the silver ringer. He still sensed no communication. “That makes more sense than some random horse protecting me.”

Hunter laughed again. “Those Enforcers had no clue what to do. It caught them totally flat-footed. Not one of them even tried to use their weapons. I can hardly blame them.”

“What now?” Cole asked.

“Enforcers tend to work in isolated units,” Hunter said. “I doubt they involved legionnaires or guardsmen. I scattered the echoes that were trailing us. The short-term threat might be over. Finding Dalton and the others in the dark will be tricky, especially since they're on the run. Let's get farther from the inn. Tomorrow, we'll buy horses and make our way to Rincomere. The others can catch up with us there. I think all the Enforcers followed us.”

They started trotting away from the fallen Enforcers.

“Did the horse look weird to you?” Cole asked.

“While it pummeled those Enforcers to death?”

“Almost fiery,” Cole said.

“I noticed. Kind of like fire reflecting off smoke.”

Cole nodded at the perfect description. “Yeah.”

“The reddish moon is up. Just a trick of the moonlight.”

“The other horses had dark coats. But they didn't look like that.”

BOOK: Death Weavers
9.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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