Keeper of the Black Stones (36 page)

We rode without incident, not stopping until well past sundown, when we were too tired to ride any farther. Then we led our horses far enough off the road to feel safe, and found a small clearing in the trees.

“How much farther do we have to go?” I asked once I was off my horse. I glanced at Doc's watch and noted the time. Past 10, and this would be the 19th still, as impossible as that seemed. We were making progress, but tomorrow and the day after were the only days I had to find Doc. The day after that would be far too late.

Reis grimaced at the question, then tried to put on a lighter expression. “We're moving a hell of a lot faster than we were. Tomorrow evening should put us in Bosworth, the morning after at the latest. As long as nothing comes up.”

“As long as nothing comes up?” I gasped. “Reis, we have to be in Bosworth by the 21st, you know that! If we're not–”

“Jason,” he interrupted, holding up one hand, “I know. You know I know. We'll get there, okay?” He watched me, waiting for a response, and I nodded grudgingly. Reis hadn't let me down yet, and he knew how important this was. If he said we'd get there, I'd just have to believe him.

“Relax, Jay,” Paul cut in. “For tonight, just pretend you're Robin Hood or something. Merry men living in the forest, and all that.”

I snorted. “Merry men wearing green spandex is not my idea of a good time, Paul,” I grunted.

He grinned. “Maybe not, but it made you smile, and that's something.”

I grinned back, relenting, and started pulling food out of my pack. We hadn't eaten anything all day, and I was famished. The others joined me, and
after a brief meal of bottled water, beef jerky, and cereal bars, we curled up with whatever we had, used our backpacks as pillows, and fell asleep.

My last waking thought was of a countdown, hosted on an old bronze pocket watch. The next two days were what we'd been sent here for. The moment of truth. They had to go perfectly, or it would all be for nothing.

Katherine put the clear tube of water down, marveling at its simplicity. It was like the glass she had seen in the church, but lighter, stronger … In short, just another of the wondrous and frightening things these strangers had shown her. There had been music makers, wonderfully warm blankets, strange, pressed bars of oats, grain, and honey … and then the astonishing weapons the man named Reis had held, which spat fire and smoke and killed men.

She realized that any normal girl–any
rational
girl–would have been frightened. Terrified and running, no doubt. But she was fascinated. These people had a magic like nothing she'd ever seen before. They fought Danes, and won. And now they were after Dresden.

She'd been mulling over the same question since the night before, when they had first found her. Run or stay? She knew the decision to run would be the wise choice. These people had to be practitioners of the dark arts, and were now wanted by the law. Something inside her, though, told her to stay. Something about these people–the boy, Jason–pulled at strings deep inside her. Strings she didn't understand, but didn't feel like fighting. She wanted to see where they would go, what they would do.

Besides, she thought practically, where else would she go? She had no home. After her father's death, English law declared that his property belonged to her, but the Bishop had declared her rights forfeit. He had told her–and everyone else, for all she knew–that the church had been given the rights of her father's estate. His dying wish atop the hanging platform. In the Bishop's version, Katherine, per her father's request, was to be placed inside a convent. She knew that her father would never have said that. He loved
her too much. But it was her word against the Bishop's; a losing proposition if there ever was one. She didn't stand a chance here on her own.

So she would stay, then, with these fascinating strangers, with their odd clothing and odder food. Their sticks of fire and heroic mission. She would be associated with them, she knew, and branded a witch. But she would have an adventure. Finally, for the first time in her life, she would see the world outside her home and the surrounding villages.

And she would get to take her revenge on Dresden for killing her father.

Suddenly her mood brightened and the knots in her stomach subsided. For the first time in days, she lost the confusion that had hounded her. True, it would be dangerous, but she had a direction now. A meaning.

Friends.

She glanced to the side, where Jason was already sound asleep, and wondered if they would call her friend. She hoped so. She hadn't had friends–true friends–in years. And if these friends could also save her life, and perhaps her lands … and help her find her revenge … she would do whatever she must to maintain their affection.

At that, she smiled and ducked her head, thinking it was past time for her to be asleep as well. Tomorrow, evidently, was an important day for her new friends.

26

I
awoke to the feel of cold steel pressed against my cheek.

“Get up, boy,” a voice above me growled.

I cringed; I'd been having a pleasant dream, where I'd been in my bed at home, waking to the smell of Doc cooking blueberry waffles downstairs…

Doc. At the thought, my heart stopped. I'd nearly forgotten when–and where–we were. I cracked one eye open, trying to adjust to reality. It was light out, and that must mean–

“Now.” The rough voice cut through my thoughts, and my eyes flew open. That
hadn't
been part of the dream, then.

A dark figure stood over me, clad in black clothing and polished mail. His face was hidden in the shadow of a deep hood, though I could see the glint of his eyes. I didn't recognize the voice. Of the most immediate importance, though, was the long dagger he clutched, its side lying against my face. He moved the tip of the dagger down my cheek now, along my jaw and under my chin, to rest it finally in the soft spot at the top of my neck.

I climbed clumsily to my feet, trying to keep my chin as elevated as possible, and dropped the blanket to the ground. Shocked at this awakening, I let my eyes fly around the clearing.

Over a dozen soldiers had made their way into our camp while we slept. Rough men now held Reis, Paul, and Tatiana, though Katherine sat in the middle of the group, on her own. These were hard, brutish-looking
men, currently moving with purpose through the camp, going through our things. Capes the color of blood fell just below their knees, covering the black leather jerkins and gleaming sheets of mail on their chests and arms. They bristled with knives and swords, all shining dully in the early rays of the sun. These were nothing like the soldiers we had seen in Doncaster, who had been overweight men and boys dressed in rags. These were professionals, and following precise orders. They were well fed, cleanly scrubbed, and heavily armed, and their eyes reflected a cold hunger that made me shiver.

These men would kill us if ordered to do so, and they wouldn't hesitate over the job. And I saw now that they had been at work before they woke us. Not one but two heavily woven ropes, tied in hangman's nooses, hung from a long tree limb behind my friends.

“What exactly can we do for you, gentlemen?” I asked before I lost my nerve.

There was an abrupt laugh behind me, and the dagger at my throat moved slightly as my captor threw off his hood. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and then did a double take. He was no older than Paul and I. His features were as striking and sharp as the men who followed him, with dramatic black eyes and dark hair, cut just below his shoulders. A thin scar on his left check turned his mouth up to give his features a joyful expression. I assumed that this was false, and almost certainly unnatural. It probably drove him crazy. My mouth turned up involuntarily at that, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Me getting killed would, after all, defeat the point.

Still, the fact that he was our age, as well as the odd feeling that I had somehow met this boy before, made me relax slightly. True, he was a soldier. But if he was our age, I might find some flexibility there. My eyes traveled slowly down his body, and back up. He wore black leather britches, with the ends stuffed into knee-high black leather boots. A black cape fell loosely by his side, completing the menacing ensemble, and in turn making him look like a fifteenth-century version of Darth Vader. I nearly choked at that thought. I'd definitely been spending too much time with Paul, to be making comparisons like that at a time like this. Still, he was barely more than a kid. Surely that made him a little less scary. A little more … gullible?

“So you're the horse thieves my men encountered yesterday,” he growled. “I must admit, though, that I have never seen horse thieves so … oddly outfitted.” He glanced around our camp, then yanked back on my neck. “Who are you?”

My eyes flew to Reis, who lowered his eyebrows in a silent ‘no.' What was I supposed to say? I certainly couldn't tell the truth, and we hadn't come up with a real cover story. After all, the original plan had been to
avoid
the natives.

Before I could think of a reasonable reply, the boy behind me darted forward to grab Katherine, who had been sitting on the ground up to this point. He yanked her to her feet, his hand buried in her hair, and slid the flat side of his dagger across her throat.

I took an involuntary step forward, but another solider quickly grabbed my arms and yanked me back.

“Perhaps you need some encouragement to answer my questions,” the leader snapped. He pressed down and Katherine gasped. A drop of blood appeared on the tip of his dagger. “Answer me, or I will kill this one and then hang the others,” he drawled coldly.

“NO!” Reis yelled hoarsely. He threw his elbow into the soldier behind him and turned toward Katherine, only to be stopped in his tracks by yet another soldier. This one hit Reis in the gut with the pommel of his sword, and my erstwhile body guard doubled over in pain and dropped to the ground. In a quick motion, the same soldier brought his sword up and prepared to deliver the finishing blow.

“Stop!” I shouted desperately. My mind raced, trying to get a handle on this quick turn of events.
Stall
, I thought quickly. That was always the first step in a plan. “I'll answer your questions, just don't hurt my friends.”

The young soldier nodded as though he'd expected as much, and eased his hold on Katherine. “I shall make this simple for you,” he said quietly. He looked at me, then toward Paul and Tatiana. “I am going to ask you a few questions, and I expect answers. Honest ones. If I believe you to be lying, I shall kill the girl.” He shrugged casually, as if to assure me that killing
the girl, or anyone else for that matter, meant nothing to him. A ball of ice settled deep in my stomach, and I shivered again. I believed him.

That didn't mean that I liked it.

I nodded once, my mind racing. Where exactly were Reis' guns and daggers? Were they within reach of any of us? My eyes darted to the side, running over the clearing and searching. The last time I'd seen them…