Demonbane (Book 4) (11 page)

He was doing the math in his head, and he didn’t like the conclusions he was coming up with. Olan, Hamis, Tomas, and Callen were all inside the mansion. That left Wanara and Madris to cover the outside alone. There was no way just two Ghostwalkers could sort through all the people frantically trying to make their escape from the house right now.

It would be a simple matter for Bronywn or Dutraad to slip out with everyone else, and take the Soulbinder with them.

Kendril’s only real hope was that he could find the two villains before they had a chance to escape.

And that meant that every second counted.

A large door was open on Kendril’s left. There was movement inside, a shifting of shadows. Some low conversation.

Good enough place to start as any.

Kendril moved to the doorway and lowered his pistol.

Baron Dutraad sat on the edge of the bed in the room, his head in his hands. A guard kneeled beside him.

“Be smart,” Kendril cautioned.

The mercenary leapt to his feet and raised his crossbow.

Kendril fired.

The bullet punched into the man’s chest and sent him flying back into the wall. His lifeless body crashed to the floor of the room.

“
Not
smart,” said Kendril.

Dutraad stood, his mouth agape. “
Who
—what the devil--?”

Kendril rushed forward. He pocketed his pistol and pulled out the second one.

Dutraad scrambled backwards. His back hit the desk and he stopped abruptly. “Now, listen, I—”

Kendril pistol-whipped the baron across the face.

The man fell to the floor. Blood ran down from his nose. He looked up at Kendril with anger and fear all at once. “How
dare
you--?”

Kendril grabbed the man by his shirt and dragged him to his feet. He slammed him back against the wall.  “Where’s the Soulbinder?” he barked.

Dutraad stared at him blankly. His mouth fell open again like a frog’s. “I…don’t—
what
?”

Kendril rammed the barrel of his pistol underneath Dutraad’s chin.

The man’s head jerked back, his eyes wide and his face white.

“You have exactly five seconds to start talking,” Kendril snarled, “or Eru help me I’ll blow your head clean off. Now
where’s the Soulbinder
?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dutraad gasped. “You’re completely mad. A Soul—soul-
what
?”

Kendril had done his fair share of interrogations before, had learned to read responses in mere seconds. If Dutraad was putting on an act, it was certainly a convincing one.

He pushed the gun harder against Dutraad’s neck. “Where’s Kara?”

“Lady Maklavir?” Dutraad’s face twisted in sudden anger. “Ashes if I know. She drugged me and tied me up. Nothing more than a common thief. Are you with her?” His eyes flashed to the door of his room. “What have you done to my guards—?”

Kendril took a step back. He snapped the pistol up so that it pointed directly at Dutraad’s forehead. “Where’s Bronwyn?”

“Who?”

“
Brionne
,” Kendril spat. “Where is she?”

Dutraad blinked. “Brionne? Why on Zanthora would you—?”

It hit Kendril then. A slow, cold feeling that started in the pit of his stomach and worked its way up.

He had been fooled. They had all been fooled.

Bronwyn had outsmarted them all.

Rapid footfalls came from the hall.

Kendril pivoted. He lined up the pistol with the door.

Tomas appeared, breathless. He stared at Dutraad. “You’ve found him. The Soulbinder?”

Kendril scowled and shook his head. He lowered the gun and started towards the door. “See what you can get out of him. I’m searching the rest of the hall.”

Tomas stepped inside the room. He noticed Dutraad’s bleeding nose. “Looks like you’ve already started without me.”

“You took too long.” Kendril started to brush by the other Ghostwalker.

“Better hurry,” Tomas added in a low voice. “We’ll have the city gendarmes on us in no time.” He glanced back in the direction of the stairs. “Olan and Hamis are cleaning up downstairs. He’s not happy with you running off like that.”

“Do I look like I care?” Kendril stepped out into the hall. He looked back at Dutraad.

The baron was cowering against the wall by the desk.

“Do whatever you have to do to make him talk, Tomas,” Kendril said.

He started off again down the hall.

Maklavir stepped into the muggy warmth of the kitchen. It was a welcome change from the frigid temperature outside.

Wanara nodded to where Joseph was huddled against one of the cabinets, then lifted her crossbow and hurried off towards the stairs leading out of the kitchen.

Callen closed his herb bag and stood.

Maklavir came over to his side. He looked down at Joseph with concern. “Is he--?”

“He should be fine.” Callen pulled the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “He only got a very light dose of the poison, just a scratch on his arm. Any more and the mithridatum might not have helped.” The Ghostwalker put a hand on Maklavir’s shoulder. “No guarantees, but I think he’ll make it.”

A gunshot echoed from upstairs. There was another scream.

“I need to go,” Callen said with a glance at the stairs.

Maklavir nodded. “I’ll stay with Joseph until he recovers.”

Callen nodded, then sprinted up the stairs.

Maklavir sat down next to his friend.

Joseph’s face seemed a healthier color. His breathing was slower and more even now as well. As Maklavir watched, the scout’s eyes flickered open.

“Uhhh…where—?”

The diplomat smiled. “The kitchen of Dutraad’s manor. You were poisoned, old boy. Lucky we had Callen here when we did. He seems to think you’ll pull through well enough now.”

Joseph tried to rise, but collapsed back against the cabinets with a groan.

“Whoa!” Maklavir put his hand on Joseph’s arm. “Now’s hardly the time for any heroics. You were almost dead, for Eru’s sake.”

Joseph tried to say something, but nothing came out. He closed his mouth and swallowed hard.

Maklavir leaned in. “What is it?”

“Kara,” Joseph managed to croak out. “Where’s…
Kara
?”

The room was empty.

Kendril went in with his pistol out and ready anyway.

He stepped carefully across the wooden floor, his eyes watching carefully as he walked. Nadine was still unaccounted for, and she had disappeared a little too abruptly for Kendril’s taste.

He stopped in front of an open strongbox. Papers were scattered over the floor, along with a spilled coin purse. Pieces of a shattered vase lay on the ground.

Kendril knelt down. He picked up one of the ceramic pieces and stared at it a moment.

Kara
.

There was movement behind him.

Kendril whipped his pistol up in one smooth motion.

Olan appeared in the doorway of the room, sword in hand.

Reluctantly, Kendril lowered his firearm. “It’s a miracle I haven’t shot one of you by now,” he muttered.

“If I had a pistol, I’d shoot
you
,” Olan returned. “You disobeyed orders.”

Kendril stood. “You mean when you were yelling at me downstairs? I didn’t realize that was an official order.”

Olan came into the room. His eyes fell on the strongbox.  “The Soulbinder?”

Kendril shook his head.

“
Vesuna’s blood
.” Olan snapped his head towards the other Ghostwalker. “The witch? Kara?”

“Gone.” Kendril tossed the piece of vase to the floor. “Unless they’re both hiding in a closet somewhere here.”

“There’s bloody
panic
downstairs.” Olan stepped closer, and moved a pile of papers out of the way. He scowled. “A panic that we caused, I might add. The city gendarmes will be here in minutes, if they’re not already.”

Kendril glared menacingly at the man. “You want to say it? Then
say
it.”

Olan straightened. His eyes flashed. “You destroyed our
one
chance to get the Soulbinder, Kendril. This plan was idiotic from the start. I said so.”

Kendril didn’t lower his gaze. “You did.”

“Tomorrow’s the new moon. You know what that means.”

Kendril nodded. He looked back towards the strongbox. “It means we’re out of time.”

“You’re
through
, Kendril.” Olan stepped towards him. “I don’t care if you are Madris’ little darling. I know what you
really
are, and your little games here in Vorten are done. From now on we do things my way.” Olan turned back towards the room’s door.

“And what exactly is
your
way?” Kendril asked calmly.

Olan half-turned his head. “We only have one lead. Dutraad. We’re taking him with us. Tomas will have to get the information we need out of him.”

“So now we’re kidnapping a baron?”

“That’s right.”

Kendril shook his head and smirked.

Olan turned fully around. “What’s so funny?”

“Bronwyn. She was right about me. I
am
stupid. It was in front of my face the whole time, and I didn’t see it.”

“Didn’t see
what
?” Olan barked impatiently.

“Kidnapping Baron Dutraad won’t help us. I already talked with him, and he doesn’t know anything. He’s a dupe.”

“A
dupe
? And you figured this out after talking to him for thirty seconds?”

“I did.”

Olan narrowed his eyes. “Are you insane? Dutraad was behind the whole thing. You said so yourself. It was
his
carriage that had the assassin, the witch was here at
his
estate. His house guards were obviously in on the whole thing.”

Kendril gave a slow nod. “Right on all counts.”

“Then Dutraad must have been the one behind this whole conspiracy.”

The Ghostwalker gave a bitter smile. “Right again.”

Olan ground his teeth in frustration. “Then what’s the problem?”

Kendril turned his head towards Olan. “The problem,” he said quietly, “is that we have the
wrong
Dutraad.”

Chapter 7

The carriage pitched and weaved as it rattled down the icy street. A rider came up next to the window, his horse keeping pace with the vehicle.

“No sign of Captain Mayer or the others, my lady,” he said through the scarf that covered the lower half of his face. His greatcoat and hat were covered were covered with snow. “There’s a commotion back at the house.”

“Not our concern,” said Bronwyn carelessly. She shifted on her seat and pulled her shawl up against the cold wind blowing in through the open carriage window. “We’re not going back there again.”

The rider ducked his head as he passed under a hanging wooden sign. “But my lady, Captain May—”

“Martyrs for our cause, Lieutenant Veringer,” Bronwyn replied smoothly. She pressed the seal onto a final envelope, then shoved the letter she had been holding into a stack of others, all tied together by string. She lifted the bundle and handed them through the windows to the rider. “These must go out tonight. Deliver them by hand,
Captain
.”

The man swallowed, then took the letters and spun his horse around.

Nadine smiled from where she sat beside Bronwyn. “The goddess rises.”

Bronwyn glanced over at the assassin. “No thanks to
you
. I gave you a simple little assignment. Kill Kendril and his friend. Now really, was that so hard?”

Nadine’s smile disappeared. The white mask that covered half her face looked ghostly and strange in the darkness of the carriage. “The Ghostwalker proved…resourceful, my lady.”

Bronwyn closed the window, shivering against the cold. “Oh, well. I suppose I should be angrier, but I admit half of me would be sorry to see dear old Kendril dead. He really is too much fun.” She glanced over at Nadine. “If he shows up before tomorrow night, however, you really
must
kill him. We can’t allow any more slip-ups.” She looked over at the seat directly across from her. “Why Mina, you’re trembling! Do you need another blanket?”

Lady Dutraad tore her gaze from the window and looked over at Bronywn. “N-n-no my lady. I just…B-b-baron Dutraad, my husband, I d-d-don’t know if—”

Bronwyn leaned forward and took both of Mina’s hands in her own. “Take a deep breath, my dear. We’ve talked about this before. I know it’s hard, believe me I do. I wish there was some other way, but there isn’t.”

Mina turned her head towards the window again. Her face was pale. “B-b-but—”

“Shhhh,” Bronwyn whispered. “You want to be beautiful, don’t you?”

Mina closed her eyes. “Yes.”

Bronwyn smiled. “Trust the goddess. She will make you beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. The most beautiful woman in all of Zanthora.” She sat back in the seat, and glanced over at the bound, unconscious form of Kara leaning against the opposite side of the carriage. “You will see, Mina. Only one more day, and Indigoru will rise again.”

“The city gendarmes are outside,” said Hamis. He nodded down the central hall to the house’s front doors. “What’s the plan, Olan?”

The Ghostwalker commander reached the bottom of the flight of stairs. He looked around the mansion’s central hall. Behind him came Tomas, dragging a pale-faced Dutraad with a dagger to the baron’s throat.

Kendril came behind the three of them. His face was calm, but his eyes sparked with fire.

“We may have to fight our way out.” Olan glanced back at the huddle of house servants. The workers were huddled fearfully against one wall. They were watching the armed Ghostwalkers fearfully.

Kendril looked over at Olan. “Fight the city gendarmes? Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Funny,” said Maklavir from where he leaned against a side table, “usually I’m asking
you
that question.”

“How many gendarmes?” Olan asked Hamis, ignoring Kendril entirely.

The bald, bearded Ghostwalker shrugged. “Only got a glimpse. I’d say at least a dozen. Maybe more. They’re massing to enter the house.”