Oathen (28 page)

“A Vinten
empire
? Are they mad?” he
barked, rising from his chair and approaching a large map on the
wall. “Whom, exactly, did they propose we subsume to create this
Folly-ridden empire of theirs?”

Runcan approached the map as well. “We still
aren’t clear who they’ve approached with this idea, Sire. It stands
to reason that Kirth, with its massive sea trade, would be a prime
target. The vast orchards of Hardyk are another asset that would
prove useful. And,” he ran a finger upstream along the Shatterglass
River, “if we could claim the Ribbon Mountains, we could control
this river from glacier to sea. Fishing, irrigation, bridge tolls
on caravans.”

Beret frowned at the shorter man. “You sound
like you’re in favor of this nonsense.”

“Sire, I’m in favor of a stable Vint. Which I
believe we have, at least at the moment.”

The Magister harrumphed. “Yes, all right. My
apologies. One doesn’t hear every day that his most-trusted
advisors are planning to depose him in favor of his nephew. Seems
they hadn’t researched Geret very well yet, if they thought he’d be
interested in ruling.”

“They had assigned Salvor the task of
recruiting him, unaware that Halvor’s son was working for
us.”

“My son takes his work a little too
seriously,” Thelios commented from his spot by the fire.

“Where they’re going, Halvor, that might not
be a bad thing,” Beret mused.

Count Gerzan spoke. “Regarding our issues here
at home, Sire, we will want to garner confirmation of their intent
before a trial can proceed, as per law.”

“Once they learn of their conspirators’
deaths, I believe they’ll refuse to speak,” said Rentos.

“That doesn’t give us much time. And they’ll
certainly not speak of any plans to any of us.”

Just as Anjoya was wondering why she’d been
invited here at all, everyone else turned to look at her. Her eyes
widened. “My lords?”

Beret spoke. “You arrived just last night. No
one outside the palace has even seen you, nor knows who you are or
where you’re from.” A small smile of satisfaction crossed his lips.
“Yes, I believe you’ll do nicely. But our plan must be
swift.”

Anjoya’s breath caught. She’d left Salience
partly for professional reasons: the complex politics in Hynd had
constantly been changing, and living in Lesser Salience had made it
harder to keep abreast of broken alliances and useful
rumors.

But here she was, sitting in the palace of the
man who controlled all of Vint. If she could please him, her place
in this new land would be secure, and she might have somewhere to
truly call home.

She stood and dropped a low curtsey. “As my
lord commands.”

~~~

Meena worked her way down the old rope,
bracing her feet on the dank stone wall. Above her, Kemsil held on
for dear life, descending in short slides every few
seconds.

“Kemsil,” she said, her voice echoing within
the reach of the Circuit’s translucent orange barrier. “Relax. It’s
not that far down to the water cavern. If you do manage to fall,
you’ll survive.”

“Ah, but how can you be sure?” he
asked.

“Because you’ll land on me,” Meena
said.

“…
Um.”

Meena grinned in the dimness. “Once we’re at
the bottom, we’ll use the water sluice to enter the tunnel system.
Just remember to stay close to me, and behind me. Unless there’s
someone attacking from behind. Then you should be somewhere
else.”

“Your succinct plan leaves me in awe of your
masterful grasp of tactics,” Kemsil commented.

“Just do as I—” Meena broke off, listening.
The sound of a wooden door slamming open reached her ears from
above, and she gestured for Kemsil to be silent.

“Climb back up,” she whispered. Kemsil, eyes
wide, nodded assent.

A minute later, they reached the lip of the
well. Kemsil grabbed the base of the well’s wooden arch, bracing
his foot against a metal support strut, allowing Meena to climb
higher up the rope. They raised their heads out of the well and
looked around.

At that moment, twenty black-clad cult members
burst out of the wooden door and slowed, looking around intently.
They scanned the area immediately around the door and the well, but
saw nothing suspicious.

Then one of them called attention to the bent
green shoots in the garden a short distance away. Before they could
take more than two steps in pursuit, however, arrows and
multicolored magical attacks struck them all down.

Even though he was protected from sight,
Kemsil still flinched.

Meena had no such hesitation, though. She
grasped the well’s lip and leaped out, drawing a pair of short
swords from their scabbards.

After two steps, she noticed that the orange
wall continued to dance ahead of her. She whirled, making her short
hair ruffle, and regretted for the first time that the Circuit of
Sa’qal had indeed been made with earth magic, making it as strong
as any Shanallese magic. “Turn it off!”

Kemsil shook his head at her, barely visible
within the well. “No!”

“Kemsil! Turn the thrice-damned thing
off!”

With thunderous speed, a dozen mounted horses
galloped past her. She saw Rhona and Salvor flash by, riding in
different directions, led by strangers in everyday clothes. She
called to Rhona, running to stop her horse. But the pirate didn’t
hear or see her, and her mount was too fast. Her horse galloped by,
kicking up clods of earth behind it.

“Kemsil! You idiot!” she hollered, turning and
running back to the well. She sheathed her swords, and when she
reached the well’s lip, she dragged Kemsil out onto level ground
and into a run. “Why didn’t you lower the barrier around me when I
told you to? You do remember I can’t destroy the book without
Sanych, right? You should have let me stop those
riders!”

“You don’t know who those people are,” he
puffed as he matched her flat-out run. “They had magic; they might
have killed us! Well,” he amended, “killed me. And with me dead,
the cult would know you were here the next time they cared to look
for you, which could be any second! And may I remind you,” he added
in an angry tone, “that you can’t destroy the book without you,
either? Where are we going?” he demanded.

“Stables,” Meena said as they ran around the
edge of the large, sprawling farmhouse. “We’ll follow someone’s
tracks until—”

A sparkling green flash whizzed past them,
following the horses’ hoof prints, eradicating them
completely.

Meena raised her fists to the sky. “Stars and
darkness,” she hissed. “Can’t I catch a break?”

At that moment, a dozen black-clad riders
burst from the stable gate just ahead, in hot pursuit of the
retreating green sparkles. Kemsil and Meena pressed themselves
against the wall and watched as the cult riders swiftly rode away.
One of them flung a hand forward, and a shimmering blue ribbon shot
ahead, attaching itself to the green sparkles, yet stretching to
remain on the ground until the cultists’ horses trod over
it.

It was just a matter of time until they caught
Rhona.

“Now what?” Kemsil asked, holding his hands up
helplessly, watching their last lead be commandeered by the
enemy.

Meena grinned wickedly. “Now,” she said,
slapping his arm as she strode into the cult’s stables, “we have
someone to chase.”

~~~

Kemsil urged his stolen horse after Meena’s as
they pounded through the dim fir forest. Soon, they caught sight of
the hindmost cult riders dodging through the trees. The dim
greyness beneath the mist-laden boughs of the fir trees made it
difficult to make out more than mere movement, but Kemsil was
heartened to see they were catching up.

They flashed past a hot spring tucked into the
forest, its warm steam rising as an obscuring curtain that parted
and curled as they rode through it. Meena drew an arrow from the
quiver at her hip and notched it onto the bowstring, holding it at
ease against her thigh, guiding her galloping horse with her knees
and urgent murmurs.

“You’re not going to try to shoot at them from
here, are you?” Kemsil blurted, glancing at the indistinct figures
ahead.

Meena slid her eyes over to him, a sly smile
on her lips. “Not all of the Shanallar’s magic is confined to the
scope of healing.” She raised the bow up high overhead, then drew
the arrow back as she lowered it, aiming. Her horse pounded along
the thick needle carpet, its hoof beats muffled. Branches swept
past, inches from Meena’s bow.

The enemy ahead twisted and turned among
mist-shrouded trunks, tracking the blazing green spell ahead of
them.

Meena’s eyes closed, and Kemsil’s
widened.

She opened her eyes, seemingly unaware of her
speed, her target’s unpredictable motions, or even of Kemsil riding
next to her.

She smiled. Her arrow loosed.

Kemsil watched it fly within a pace of half a
dozen different trees. The riders jinked left, then slowly angled
right again. The arrow slammed into the hindmost rider’s back just
as his horse leaped over a fallen log, and he toppled off,
vanishing from sight.

“How did you do that?” Kemsil asked in awe. He
shot a look at Meena, who was already nocking a new arrow on her
bowstring.

Meena grinned. “Magic.”

“You have arrow magic?” Kemsil asked,
skeptical.

“No,” she allowed, not letting her eyes leave
her next target, “I have sixty-three collective years of archery
training and instructing, and the rank of Archery Master Martial in
Kazhbor. Thanks to magic.” She drew back the bow again.

Moments later, the second rider fell, and only
then did the others notice they were being targeted. Four riders
peeled off from the group and turned back through the trees,
searching for their attackers.

Kemsil pulled the Circuit’s barrier in close,
and they slowed their horses. Meena nocked another arrow and tilted
her bow horizontally. “Follow me,” she said, kneeing her horse to
the left.

The riders spread out and slowed down. One
shot a series of whistling green swirls out into the surrounding
forest, but none of the seeking sparks approached Kemsil and Meena.
The riders trotted by, and Meena plugged the green-swirl
spellcaster with an arrow that punched its way through his chest
and out his back.

The other three cult members instantly wheeled
their mounts, converging on their companion’s location. One threw a
head-sized, glowing yellow ball of force ahead of her, and by
unlucky chance it struck the edge of the Circuit’s orange barrier.
The impact caused a loud gong-like sound to resonate through the
forest. Kemsil cried out and clutched at his head. Meena grabbed
his horse’s reins and led it deeper into the forest, but the yellow
ball remained stuck to the Circuit’s sphere like honey, melting
across its surface with yellow ripples, revealing its presence to
the cultists.

The cultists followed, stalking their
prey.

While Kemsil tapped frantically at the symbols
on the Circuit, Meena jerked two arrows from her quiver and ripped
off a fletching from each one, then nocked them both and fired from
her hip. The arrows streaked through the rippling barrier, angling
apart from each other, and slammed into the chests of two of the
cultists. They slid from their mounts, leaving alone the woman who
had thrown the yellow ball.

Kemsil expanded and contracted the circuit’s
range several times in quick succession. The yellow ripples finally
ceased and vanished, leaving him and Meena hidden again.

The cultist woman reined in sharply, holding a
smaller yellow ball in her left palm. “I know you’re there,” she
called to the empty forest ahead of her. “You may kill me, but
you’ll never stop us all. We will have the thief, and her key, and
then the
Great To
—”

Meena’s arrow struck her in the throat. The
black-clad woman toppled off her horse and landed in the fir
needles that blanketed the forest floor, writhing and choking as
blood spurted around her clutching fingers. Her horse shied and
trotted away a few paces.

“While you’re wishing, ask for a dragon egg,”
Meena jeered, then spurred her bay onward. With Kemsil by her side,
she rode in pursuit of the rest of the cultist riders.

“
Come. We have food. And answers.” Narjin smiled mischievously
in the doorway, reminding Sanych of Meena’s wicked grin.

Sanych smoothed her soft, dark blue tunic over
her hips, then picked up the wide leather belt and tried her best
to make it twine around her waist like Narjin’s. She followed her
mysterious escort out of the small bedroom in the secret hideout
where their rescuers had finally brought them.

Tucked against sheer red cliffs and hidden
from view by a misty forest, the small wooden building had been
invisible to Sanych even as they stood before it. Ahm, silver hair
gleaming, had stepped out of thin air to greet them. After a
moment, the building popped into view behind him. Once inside,
Sanych realized that the structure extended deeply into the stone
cliff itself.