The Shadow Within (47 page)

It was midafternoon when they reached Breeton, which, despite her fears, stood untouched. Unfortunately, it was so full of people and livestock it could hold no more. Its gate stood locked, though dusk was hours away, and the gateman would not open it. “We got refugees from Raven Rock,” he told them through a small opening cut into the gate at eye level. “Ye know them barbarian demons leveled it, don’t ye?”

“Aye,” Cooper told him. “And we’ve been nine days on the road now because of it.” He paused. “So it
was
barbarians, then?”

“That’s what they say. And now we’ve got not only the Raven Rock folk, but those from the outlying crofts, too afraid to be out alone, plus all the travelers wanting to get out o’ the rain or fearful o’ going on. Even if we could squeeze ye in, there’d be no place for yer animals. There
is
a place south o’ here, though—maybe a league and a half. Old fortress, used to house royal soldiers, ’til Gillard pulled ’em out a couple years ago. Been empty ever since. Roof’s still decent, though, and the hearth works. I sent a couple groups there yesterday.”

“For the hearth to work,” Cooper argued, “we’d need dry wood. Supplies, too.” The man grumbled that both wood and supplies were in need by all, but finally he went away, returning eventually with another man, who gave them a bag of biscuits and volunteered to bring down a load of wood on his own donkey. In fact, he’d even show them the way if they wanted to wait for him.

Elayne did not want to stay at the fort, and argued with Cooper about it for a bit, too quietly for Carissa to follow, but it seemed to hinge upon some old tale of magic and warlocks which might or might not be true. In the end, seeing as the place had once been manned by the king’s soldiers, and the Breeton gateman had sent other folks to shelter there already, Cooper believed it would be safe. The Breeton people wouldn’t be sending folks on to a place that sheltered an entrance to the Dark Ways. Besides, after nine days everything was wet and soggy, and they could all use some time out of the weather to dry out. It was at least four days more down to Aely.

From the outside, the fortress appeared deserted, its heavy front gate aslant and ajar, bottom edge so buried in a buildup of earth it could not be moved. The keep windows stood dark, but a wisp of smoke arose from the chimney, quickly swallowed by the lower edges of the clouds. Old outbuildings, a clump of bathweed interspersed with dried corn stalks, an old stock pen, a stone well and adjoining trough—they all stood glistening with moisture in a thick growth of grass marred by a single trail leading up to the keep itself.

The Breeton man led them to a musty stable, which they were surprised to find empty, if recently used. “Looks like the others must’ve gone on already,” their guide said as they dismounted. “Guess you’ll have the place to yourself.” He grinned at them, but Carissa felt a twinge of uneasiness all the same. She’d been looking forward to enjoying the sense of safety to be found in the company of common folk.

Leaving two of their men to see to the horses, they trooped up to the box-shaped keep after the Breeton man and his wood-laden donkey. The front door suffered from the same ailment as the main gate, torn partly free of its hinges and scraping the floor. Cooper shoved it aside in a great echoing screech, and they stepped into warmth that was almost painful. That the inside of an abandoned, broken-down keep could feel this warm, Carissa thought, was a measure of just how cold she had become.

As the remainder of their hired guards unloaded the wood, their guide led them up a narrow corridor into a dark chamber whose size Carissa only sensed at first by the feeling of space and the way sound echoed around her. As her vision gradually adjusted, she picked out the stone stairway rising along the left wall, the dim shape of a long table at the room’s end, and the glowing bed of coals on the hearth to the right.

The Breeton man surprised them by conjuring an orblight over by the hearth, directing the men to stack the wood beside it. Following his lead, Cooper and Elayne each conjured one, as well, though their combined light still barely reached the Great Room’s surrounding walls. As the men started to lay the fire, Carissa and her companions continued across the chamber toward the long table, its surprisingly clean surface gleaming in the kelistars’ pale light. Tall, wide-backed chairs presided at each end, the near one empty and the far one— Light pierced the shadows of its embrace, glinting off the long, frizzy hair of the bearded man who sat there, elbows propped on the arm rests, fingers steepled before him, and they all stopped at once. Cooper’s muttered oath drowned out the unladylike word that left Carissa’s own lips. Simultaneously, a cadre of northmen burst from a doorway in the left wall with torches and drawn swords, while another group trooped through the front door, now at Carissa’s back. In a heartbeat, they were caught, led by the Breeton man into the very trap Carissa had feared. She turned to look at him in question, and saw he had known all along.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered miserably, staring at his feet. “They said they’d turn Breeton into another Raven Rock if we didn’t deliver you over.”

Cooper growled another epithet as Carissa forced her gaze back to Rennalf, who watched them with amusement. As the man Breeton from fled through the front door, Rennalf’s underlings swiftly disarmed Cooper, Hogart, and the others, then herded all out the side door save Carissa.

As the rest of Rennalf’s men scurried about setting torches in wall brackets and stoking the newly kindled fire, she stood looking down the table’s gleaming length at the man civil law designated her husband. He met and matched her gaze, his face hard between the side braids, his eyes reflecting the light of the candelabra that had been set upon the table between them. He still wore the green-stoned amulet on his throat, and now she clearly sensed his unsettling aura of dark power. Warlock. Master of the Ells. Walker of the Dark Ways and Servant of the Shadow. No wonder he’d reminded her of the priests and Broho of Esurh.

“Well,” he said. “Ye’ve have decided t’ return at last, my vinegary, headstrong little wife.”

“What are you going to do to my friends?” she demanded.

“They’ll be fine. I have what I came for.”

She stared at him wordlessly.

“Ye heard my little Illik died?” he asked.

No answer. He grinned. “That means ye still have a chance t’ produce an heir for me.”

The words were not unexpected, but hearing them sent a shudder rippling through her, and for a moment she thought she couldn’t stand here another moment. He saw her reaction, and snorted. “Ye should be grateful, woman. If I didna need ye, I’d kill ye. In fact I may yet, if ye’re too displeasin’. Or truly barren.” He waved a hand. “I’m preparin’ t’ eat. Join me. I’m sure ye’re hungry after all yer travels.”

Actually, her stomach was drawn up into a knot, her breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps as if all the air was somehow being used up and she couldn’t get enough of it. A plate of mutton and rye bread was set before each of them along with a tankard of mead. She loathed mead and he knew it, though right now even water would have been hard to swallow. He pulled out his knife, using it with his fingers to cut and pull away pieces of the meat, then stuff them into his mouth in great, awkward gobs. Fatty juices gleamed off his beard, and he kept grinning at her every time he caught her looking at him, showing his teeth along with the food he was chewing. She soon learned not to look.

In the relative silence her thoughts finally came round to the acknowledgment of how he had gotten here. For there’d been no horses in the stable, and she doubted they’d been hidden in the woods. It was cold and wet, and Ren- nalf couldn’t have known when she’d arrive. Besides, horses in the stable would have been no surprise. If they weren’t there, it was because Rennalf hadn’t used them.

He waved his knife at her plate. “Eat. Drink. We’ll be leaving soon and I want ye mellow.” He grinned at her as he chewed. “This very night ye’ll be back in the big bed at Balmark.”

She swallowed down rising terror and came suddenly aware of the Terstan orb, hanging from its chain around her neck, warm against her skin. Elayne said it would protect her against the ells. Maybe it would protect her from Rennalf, as well, though it hadn’t done much of a job so far.
You said you
would make me a way,
she thought reproachfully at Eidon.
But just like
always, you only make things worse
.

Rennalf scowled at her. “Are ye deaf, woman? I said eat. The food’ll help settle yer stomach.”

She began to pick at the bread. After a while he said, “I want t’ see ye drink, too.”

In the past, it had been his custom to force her to choke down a tankard of mead to make her more “biddable.” It had worked to a point—under its influence she could actually bear to have him touch her. But it never took away the tension, the revulsion, the utter contempt for him. Or for herself. She lifted the heavy tankard and sipped, controlling the gag reflex with all her will. It was even more bitter and rotten-smelling than she remembered.

“More,” he ordered her. “A good hefty swallow.”

As she struggled to obey, a red-haired man jogged down the stone stair from the second level and stopped at tableside. She recognized Ulgar at once. “Aistulf’s demanding t’ see ye now, sir, and gettin’ flamed about it. Should I bring him through? I’m na sure he’d agree to it.”

“Tell him I’ll be there soon.”

“Yes, sir. Will ye be wantin’ the others here t’ go through, too? Because Dorniuk’ll need help if ye do. It’s too many too soon, he says.”

“Tell him t’ get some help. But start them going through now. I’ll need everyone in Balmark if things get touchy with Aistulf.”

Ulgar left, and Rennalf continued to eat while Carissa toyed blankminded with her food. Her hands were trembling so badly, she could hardly hold the dull-edged eating knife they’d given her, and the mead gurgled acidly in her stomach. Rhiad had needed to drug Abramm to bring him safely through the corridor, he’d said. Rennalf must be doing the same here. Not trying to mellow her to make an heir, but to bring her through the DarkWays back to Balmark.

Panic roiled through her, and she must have made some sound or movement because suddenly the flickering eyes glared down the table at her. “By the Stone, wench, what’re ye mewing about now? Drink another draught of that mead.”

She was jittering, her whole body shivering with the terror and helplessness sweeping through her. At the sharp tone of his voice, she flung out a hand to obey, seized the tankard in weak, shivering fingers, and lost hold of it halfway to her lips. The vessel clanged onto the plate, its rank, golden contents splashing out across the table and into her lap. She was on her feet in reaction almost as it happened, but did not save herself from a dousing, even as Rennalf’s profane exclamation rang off the stone walls.

As the sound faded, she looked up at him, new terror eclipsing the old. In time past, a beating would have followed such a performance. Indeed, from the look on his face, she was sure that was precisely what was to happen.

Then Ulgar was back again. He’d spoken to Dorniuk and sent several men through and thought Rennalf should go next. “Tis flickerin’, m’lord. Likely only good fer one or two more ’fore it goes down. Could be an hour or more ’fore the other waymakers get there. An’ I do na like the sense I’m gettin’ from Aistulf, m’lord. I think there’ll be trouble.”

Rennalf blew out an angry breath and shoved his plate away, then stood, the chair scraping across the stone floor. “All right.” He strode down the table’s length and seized Carissa’s arm. “Ye’re comin’, too. Sane or not, ye can still bear me a son.”

He dragged her up the stone stairway to the second-level landing, then down a hallway to a windowless storage chamber in whose far corner a column of dancing green threads stretched from floor to ceiling. Like the etherworld corridor Rhiad had made in Esurh, this one’s presence buzzed unpleasantly across her skin, even as it stirred the orb on her breast to fire.

Rennalf shoved her forward, but she veered away, aware of the fact that she was jibbering with fear and unable to stop. Terror gave her strength as she fought him in earnest, slipping free of his grasp, then running mindlessly into the wall. Cursing ferociously he seized her on the rebound and dragged her toward the column. They were still several strides away when a searing heat exploded on her chest and rushed down her arm, loosing his grip and flinging him back from her.

Regaining his balance, he stood holding his wrist as if it hurt and staring at her in confusion. Then the amulet flared. Understanding hardened his lips. “So—ye’re one of
them,
are ye?”

Lurching toward her, he grasped the front of her tunic with his good hand and yanked downward, the sound of the ripping fabric loud against the buzzing. Cold air rushed over the suddenly exposed nakedness of her chest as she gaped at him, as taken aback by his action as she was by what he did next: nothing. He only stood there staring at her chest as if he had never seen it before.

Comprehension dawned.
He thought I was a Terstan! Expected to find a
shieldmark and now that it isn’t there, he doesn’t know what to think
. Unless—
he’s seen the orb!
But a quick look down showed the orb had vanished. Her gaze came up, scanned the room, and found it, slid up against the wall in a crumple of chain, glowing with white-hot fire. Any minute now he’d turn, see it—

Don’t let him see it, Eidon! If you live, please! Don’t let him take me!

Frowning, he looked down at his hand, then up at her chest again, and burst into a stream of muttered blasphemies. Then he turned to Ulgar, standing in the open doorway. “Post a guard in the hall, lock the door from the inside, then follow me through. We’ll send someone for her later.”

At Ulgar’s nod, Rennalf wheeled and strode into the column, vanishing in a flicker of green and blue. A moment later, Ulgar pulled the door shut, his key grating as the lock tumblers turned and the tongue engaged. Then he followed his master into the green-and-blue oblivion of the doorway into the Dark Ways, and Carissa was alone.