Fireblood (Whispers from Mirrowen) (39 page)

Forcing his eyelids open, he saw the Boeotians advancing on him, spear tips pointed. Several had huge axes.

And that was when the Bhikhu began to fall from the sky.

They were all Vaettir-born, like Paedrin. Over a dozen slammed into the earth, crashing through the smoke and haze of fire. They held swords and staves, whips and javelins. The Boeotians charged them in a clash of bodies. Annon felt a sliver of hope. Just a shard. The weapons whirled and clacked, fists and feet and skin smacking and shoving.

Annon closed his eyes, feeling himself floating. It was a peaceful feeling. It was dying. He knew it. Somehow, it was familiar.

Heal him
, whispered a voice. A woman’s voice. The most beautiful voice he had ever heard. Just a whisper. Just a breath of air. But it was the most lovely sound he had ever heard.

It came from the tree.

“We do not understand the Boeotians’ hatred of us. We do not understand why they invade our lands. With gratitude, we thank the brave ones of Silvandom who form the primary defense against their intrusions. Such opposite philosophies. One race kills. The other preserves. Even the combined might of all the kingdoms could not destroy Boeotia. Yet the combined strength holds the Empress at bay.”

– Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos

P
aedrin crouched so near to Hettie that he could smell her skin. She definitely needed a bath. He nearly commented on that fact when Kiranrao appeared on the other side of her, turning from smoke to solid in an instant. The air tingled with magic every time he did that, and it was starting to annoy the Bhikhu.

Hettie smoothed the hair away from her ear so she could hear him better.

“They are not far,” he whispered. “Be silent and wait. They have a Finder with them.”

“We have a Finder with us as well,” Paedrin reminded him.

“Well and good, Bhikhu. But if you have a clear shot, Hettie, kill him.”

Paedrin planted his hand on her arm as they skulked on the low, sparsely wooded hill.

She shook off his hand. “The Bhikhu is squeamish about such things.” She gave him a scolding look. “I can hobble him, though.”

Kiranrao sighed, shaking his head. “There’s a fool born every moment, and every one of them lives! If you had been raised in a decent orphanage, lad, you would have learned to outgrow this conscience of yours.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I might consent to see you strangled and not intervene,” Paedrin said.

“Quiet. Here they come!”

All three flattened themselves against the slope of the hill, carefully wrapped in the dark side of the bluff. The night had fallen already, but there was a broad moon in the sky giving off ample light.

There was the sound of marching and the snuffling of hounds. A swinging lantern caused a bobbing plume of light to crest the hill. They were low enough that it could not find them. For a moment all three quit breathing. Paedrin was aware of how close Hettie was to him, and it made him scowl for being distracted. There was something musky in her scent, an earthy smell like grass, sweat, and trampled wildflowers. He swallowed, trying to master his thoughts again, to count the various sounds and try to imagine how many soldiers from Kenatos were hunting them.

They passed the hillock, heading east. Soon the hounds were barking and the men began to jog. Around the far side of the hill, the one with the lantern became visible. Only one lantern. How foolish they were. In the dark they would not find anyone, even with those hounds.

Paedrin began counting the soldiers as they appeared.

“How many?” Kiranrao whispered.

“Thirty men,” Hettie answered, slowly rising. “No horses. I’m surprised.”

“There are thirty-two,” Kiranrao said, smiling at her condescendingly. “The Rikes walk more quietly. There they are. Do you see them?” The black robes made them difficult to see.

“Thirty-two,” Hettie answered calmly. “Why the Rikes?”

Kiranrao touched his lips with a finger. “To communicate back to Kenatos. This is not the only group that hunts us, I imagine. They are only following our trail to Havenrook.”

“Which is why we double-backed and now head west,” Paedrin said, bristling with impatience. “They may miss our trail in the dark, thinking us bound east. When they realize it, we are already gone. It is the Uddhava.”

Kiranrao nodded as if it were an accomplishment. “It is. The Bhikhu are not the only ones who use it.”

“You flatter us.”

“I did not intend to.”

“Quiet, both of you,” Hettie snapped. “It worries me that they found our shore trail as quickly as they did. I had hoped for a longer lead. I did not think they would catch up to us after only a day.”

“The Arch-Rike can afford the best Finders, my love. Better than you. We lead them on a merry chase. But they will not stay far behind us.”

“Then we should be going,” she said impatiently, starting to stand.

Kiranrao tugged her back down rudely. “Caution says wait. They may not all have traveled in a mass. Patience.”

Paedrin wanted to break his arm. He wanted to stab Kiranrao’s eyes with his fingers, chop his throat to make him choke, and slam him face-first into the nearest tree trunk. He watched covertly as Hettie rubbed her wrist. Pain was a teacher. Kiranrao was overdue a lesson himself.

In the dark stillness, they waited. The line of soldiers had long vanished into the night. Still they waited. Then two more men, walking side by side, could be heard; they hastened to join the others. Had they left the hilltop, they would have been exposed in the plains.

Kiranrao tapped his nose, smiling smugly.

Paedrin gritted his teeth, admiring the man’s keen senses but also hating him at the same time. When the final two had passed, the three rose from their hiding place and continued westward, toward Silvandom.

Kiranrao vanished into a shadowy mist, leaving the two of them alone again. For all they knew, he could have been walking right next to them. He had some sort of magic imbued in his sword that gave him the abilities beyond ordinary men.

“Explain to me again why he is with us,” Paedrin said in a low voice. “I know you said it before, but every time he opens his mouth, I seem to forget it.”

“He wants the blade, Paedrin. He will barter with my uncle for it. The stones for the blade.”

“But
you
found the stones. He would not have been able to get them on his own, by what you told me. It was as if the tree gave them to you.”

“There is a Romani saying, Paedrin. Let your bargain suit your purpose.”

He sighed. “And that means?”

“When he found me at the temple, I was going to lose the stones anyway. A man like him can just take what he wants. So I made a bargain with him to free you, in exchange for the stones, knowing that he would try and bargain with Tyrus for the blade. Of the two, I think Tyrus is far more clever.”

“How did you know he would accept your bargain?”

She gave him a wrinkled-brow look that reminded him of a disdainful cat. “You can be such a fool, Paedrin.”

“Yes, I know. But humor me anyway.”

“He relishes a challenge. He is the only man known to have stolen from the Arch-Rike’s palace and lived to boast of the deed.
Stealing a prisoner from the dungeon is just the sort of thing that appeals to him. Romani love a challenge. They thrive on risk.”

“It probably didn’t hurt that he knows how much I loathe him. That made the risk all the sweeter.”

Hettie nodded. “He is always trying to gain leverage over someone. A way to turn them to his will. Once he could see that I cared…” She clamped her mouth shut, frowning fiercely at the word that had slipped from her mouth.

Paedrin’s heart shuddered at the slip. He wasn’t sure how to take it, and the silence became awkward and fraught with energy. Well, it should not surprise him that she cared. He had saved her life, after all. Their long talks had been something he had enjoyed much himself. He cared for her, with no doubt. Probably much more than she did him, but he would never have admitted it openly like that.

“Well, I am grateful that you did rescue me,” he said, coughing into his fist. He showed her the Kishion ring. “I hope your uncle can find a way to remove this. I would not want to use goose grease on it every day. But better than the alternative of having no control over myself.”

She said nothing, and an icy silence fell between them.

The wind was mild that night. They walked firmly, keeping a strong pace to pass the time. To the south, light glimmered on a hill, many leagues away.

“Is that a town?” Paedrin wondered.

“Minon,” Hettie replied. “It is a border village between Kenatos and Wayland. A walled place where shipments are protected. We are approaching the road.”

“Have you ever been…?”

The sound of baying hounds trumpeted in the distance behind them.

Hettie frowned. “They found our trail too quickly. I hid our tracks very well. The only thing that would have made it better was to kill a skunk to completely mask our scent.”

The sound of horns filled the air next.

“Persistent,” Paedrin said.

“They are calling to Minon to box us in. We should probably run. If we can clear the other side of the road, it will get easier. How did they find us so quickly?”

Paedrin frowned and started to jog. “Maybe they can track my ring?”

Hettie shook her head. “If that were so, they would not have missed us at the hill.”

“Their Finder must be better than you thought.”

Hettie was quiet a moment. “But how can they track us? Is someone following us? Can you see?”

Paedrin looked back the way they came and could not see anyone in the distance. Not even the lantern was visible yet. A shape flittered past his vision up above, startling him. Looking up, he realized the sky was circling with birds.

“What sort of bird flies at night?” he asked aloud. “I thought only bats did.”

Hettie looked up and let out a sharp breath. “Owls! Of course, I should have thought of that. They can track us better at night than during the day. Owls have great vision in the dark. We are being followed from above.”

Just then a snapping sound struck nearby, the small rumbling sound of thunder. They recognized it immediately, for the same sound preceded the Kishion’s arrival. Paedrin grabbed Hettie’s arm and pulled her to a halt.

Three men appeared.

They were Aeduan, by the look of them. Each wore a black jacket buttoned down the front with a small white ruff at the
collar. Each also wore an intricate gold chain around his neck with a multifaceted gem embedded in a medallion. White ruffles appeared at their wrists too.

“Paracelsus,” Hettie said.

The three men said nothing, but as one they touched the medallions and a streak of red light shone from each, connecting the three medallions in a triangle of light, trapping the two of them inside.

Paedrin rushed toward the nearest one. As he approached, he felt a rush of air shove him backward. The air in front of the man was hot and jarring, forming some sort of force that prevented him from approaching the man. His ears rang with pain, and he backed away. The pain lessened.

“We have you caged, Bhikhu,” one of them said. He had a short gray beard, cropped close to his jawline. He motioned for the other two with his free hand. “Close ranks.”