The Sleeping King (49 page)

He had no training beyond what his father had taught him with staves, but what the attackers didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Their advance stopped abruptly as they assessed him anew.

He swung Adrick's staff lightly before him, testing its balance. He stood lightly on the balls of his feet as his father had drilled him endlessly, poised to react to the slightest movement from either assailant. He wished the terrain were more open than this. All the brambles and brush were not conducive to a long weapon like his staff.

Just as the assailant on his right lunged, another alchemy globe whizzed past, burying itself in the fellow's belly. Sha'Li must be close to risk the expensive alchemy in this cover-laden terrain where her targets could dodge so easily. Of course, with Will keeping the bandits' attention firmly on him Sha'Li's odds of hitting her targets went up greatly.

The wounded bandit roared in pain and fury as he charged, lifting up his mace as he came. Will planted a foot behind himself for balance, raised the staff overhead, and braced, taking the mace swing squarely in the middle of its shaft. The sturdy wood held, and the spiked ball slid off its metal-clad tip with a hail of sparks and a metallic screech.

Yanking the staff down, Will lunged forward and past his attacker, swinging a flurry of blows low and fast with his weapon on his way by. He rapped the bandit hard on the kneecap and the fellow howled, hopping in pain. That was the greatest weakness of the staff. It was made for disabling a foe, not killing one.

A shout from behind caused Will to whirl, staff instinctively outstretched. He staggered as a rushing bandit slammed into him, bowling him over. Narrowly avoiding landing in the campfire, Will rolled away frantically from the flames and back to his feet.

A glob of black flew past almost too fast to see and splatted against the attacker's face. The man went down, screaming and clawing at his face. Will traced the path of the attack back to its source. The lizardman girl. It looked like spittle. He nodded a quick thanks to her for the help. Her timely alchemy and that spit had likely saved his life.

Rosana. What of Rosana?

 

CHAPTER

19

Raina forced her eyes to stay open against a cowardly urge to squeeze them shut and pretend they were not all about to be skewered or worse. But then a strange thing happened. It was as if the trees themselves came alive and a half-dozen slight beings stepped right out of the trunks. Laughter tinkled in the air like tiny bells.
Dryads
.

The hand covering her mouth fell away from it as shouts of what sounded like disgust and dismay erupted from the throats of the raiders.

The faerie females with skin in hues of green and gold and dressed scantily in bits of clothing made from leaves and twined vines stepped right up to the bandits and soldiers, practically draping themselves on the furious fighters. Raina was shocked to see how quickly the tension drained from the men's shoulders. How fast gleams of ensorcelled lust lit their eyes. Those dryads might not be physically strong, but mentally they were lethal.

“Come with us if you wish to live,” one of the dryads trilled in Raina's companions' general direction.

Raina and the others followed the fae creature with alacrity a little ways through the forest. Suddenly a glade opened before them, glowing in the moonlight. It was circular and beautiful and ringed by rowan trees—

“I know this place!” Raina exclaimed. She turned to Cicero, who stood warily behind her, eyes downcast at the ground. “This is the grove where the wand brought us!”

“Great,” he grumbled.

For their parts, Kendrick and Eben looked around in wonder. One of the dryads strolled up to Kendrick and stroked his cheek with her palm. He smiled like a pup in love, and Cicero groaned under his breath.

Eben did his best not to look directly at the enchanted females, but when one of them breathed something unintelligible in his ear his gaze jerked to her and he was lost as well, grinning wider than any fool.

Their attackers had not followed them into this place. They must know of its charmed nature.

“Thank you for saving us,” Raina said in relief.

One of them waved an indolent hand. “Oh, it is not you we save. But you are welcome, nonetheless.”

“Will and Rosana!” Raina cried out suddenly. “We must help them!”

*   *   *

Will jumped to his feet and raced to Rosana's side. He rolled her over gently onto her back. A lump the diameter of his palm had already raised itself on the side of her skull, but she was breathing normally and didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere.

He heard someone approaching from behind and spun to face this new threat. He looked up. A breathtakingly beautiful female figure dressed in nothing but green leaves stepped forward. The firelight revealed her skin to be gently green in hue as well.

His jaw dropped. The staff wobbled, abruptly heavy and clumsy in his hand. “Who are you?”

He did not know whether to stare at the
green
female or look away from her scanty attire. To worry more about the threat this strange creature posed or about Rosana lying unconscious on the ground. To attempt to render aid to her or leave her be. In the end, confusion froze him in place.

A ruckus erupted as Cicero, Eben, and Kendrick, in that order, burst into the little clearing followed by two more of the green humanoids. “Are you safe?” Cicero rasped.

Will gestured down at Rosana. “She's out cold, but she'll live.”

Raina rushed over to the gypsy girl and knelt beside her, examining her quickly. “The swelling is outward. This is good. Although she should not remain unconscious for any longer than can be helped.” She laid her hands on Rosana's head and commenced trickling a stream of white magical energy into her injury. Will was so grateful he felt vaguely nauseous.

Eben looked down at a prone bandit at his feet and announced, “What should we do with them?”

Kendrick frowned. “I do not think those were simple bandits. They fought like trained soldiers.”

“Anton's men?” Eben asked tersely.

Kendrick nodded grimly. “It would be just like him to disguise his men like this so he can get away with attacking lawful subjects.”

Raina murmured distractedly, “A few of the men who attacked us actually wore Anton's colors. But they were definitely working in league with these bandits.”

Those were
soldiers
? Horror exploded in Will's gut. He would be put to death or enslaved forever for attacking the governor's men! They all would. He told Raina urgently, “There's one over there … I don't think I killed him … can you heal him?”

She moved quickly to the bandit Will indicated and cast the required healing magic. The fellow lurched and sat up, looking around in disorientation, and Will was so relieved he could cry. The soldier/bandit blinked exactly twice before a dark shape slid out of the shadows and struck him on the back of the head with the butt of a dagger. The bandit fell over.

Will's jaw dropped. “You didn't kill him, did you?” he demanded.

“Of course not,” the lizardman girl replied scornfully. “He'll wake up in a little while.”

Raina moved around the clearing silently. She rendered enough aid here and there to keep any of their attackers from dying, and each time one of them regained consciousness the lizardman girl clocked the fellow on the noggin just hard enough to knock them out. Will thought she took altogether too much pleasure in doing so.

One of the dryads cooed, “Come with us, young ones. We have food and drink and will not let those bad men bother you.”

Without stopping to ask the others what they thought of that idea, Kendrick grinned and plunged into the trees after the females. Eben went after his friend all too willingly. With a shrug, the lizardman girl followed.

“I do not like it,” Cicero announced.

“We'll be careful,” Raina murmured. “And we girls are immune to their charms. If you boys start acting strange, we'll rescue you.”

Rosana giggled and Raina joined in.

“That's not funny,” Cicero ground out.

Will's sharp ears picked up the sound of movement beyond the clearing. And after the ruckus of the past few minutes, no animal in its right mind would be moving around out there like that. “Funny or not,” he muttered, “I think more soldiers come. We'd best go with the dryads unless you fancy being overrun and killed.”

The kindari let out a long-suffering sigh and turned to follow the others.

*   *   *

Gabrielle looked down the high table at the Imperial inquisitors seated below her. High Lord Inquisitor Laernan had insisted on sitting below with his men rather than at the high table with her and Regalo. She admired the gesture—it was the sort of thing her own lord husband would do—but she could not help fearing the quiet, polite man. He was, without question, the most infamous torturer in the Empire.

Rumor at court was that he and Endellian were close. The princess generally kept company with a small cadre of the offspring of the archdukes, and, of course, her own brothers and sisters, of whom Laernan was one. It was a strange position that particular group found itself in, heirs to titles held by immortals—eternal limbo. At least Laernan seemed to have found himself a useful niche at court.

Gabrielle's gaze shifted to the Emperor's Master of Hounds. Another frightening individual. He apparently had figured out how to breed specific lines of mastiff-like hounds who could track and hunt down extremely specific targets. Certain hounds tracked down fae creatures. Others tracked psionically capable beings or elementals. Apparently, the pack he'd brought to Haraland hunted Children of Fate.

Which was a serious problem. A Child was known to live in the local area. She must get word to the man as soon as possible. And in the meantime, she must delay the master from running his hounds. Gabrielle motioned the castle steward near and murmured to him, “Open a cask of our best wine and keep it flowing to our guests.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Regalo glanced over at her, his right eyebrow lifted in question.

She answered his unspoken question innocently, “We would not want the Emperor to think that we show his servitors anything other than our most lavish hospitality, would we?”

Regalo made a sound of agreement.

Mentally, she winced. He must not suspect anything. Not if she wished him to live … which she desperately did. He must never find out that she had received an anonymous note just before the meal with a crude compass etched in its wax seal that suggested that the latest search for Children of Fate be thwarted as much as possible.

She could certainly understand the logic of keeping the gifted seers out of the Emperor's clutches. Forcing him to operate blind was a clever tactic. But why now? He'd been using Children of Fate seers for as long as anyone at court could remember. Her curiosity bordered on painful in its intensity, even though she knew it likely that her questions would never be answered.

Her mission was merely to serve in silence and secrecy. To knock a chip or two out of the foundation upon which the Eternal Empire rested. She must satisfy herself with that. To do more would risk drawing too much attention to herself, if not outright discovery. And that would be disastrous. All the work of her co-conspirators would be for naught if Maximillian caught wind of their slow, careful work.

Who knew how many years' worth of effort would be wasted? Her guess was that the Eight's work stretched back for centuries, if not longer. The thought was mind-boggling. But how else could anyone stand against the Emperor? It would take the combined efforts of generations of resisters to defeat him.

Regalo commented casually, “Did I tell you that the Master of Hounds has trained a new type of hound and two of them are with him? Laernan came in person to see them hunt.”

She had ducked in the stable earlier to peek at the great fawn-colored beasts whose heads came easily to her waist. She'd assumed they were psionic hounds bred and trained to sniff out psionic abilities within people. It was said the hounds could smell a psionicist a league away and could track one up to five days after a scent trail was laid.

“Special hounds?” she asked lightly. “What do they hunt?”

He tore off a chunk of bread and spread berry butter on it as he answered, “Prophets and seers, apparently. Children of Fate, in particular.”

Her fingers went white around the chalice she clutched. “How do you suppose he trained them to do something like that?”

Regalo swallowed the bread before answering, “No idea. Impressive, though. Apparently, a Child has been tracked into Haraland. High Hunter Lovak and High Inquisitor Laernan are taking the beasts out tomorrow to finish the hunt. Thought I might ask to go with them and see the hounds in action.”

“What hour do you leave? Should I have Cook serve breakfast here or prepare rations for in the field?”

“After breakfast will be soon enough to start out, I'm sure. No need for these things to be uncivilized affairs. After all, they hunt humans, not wild animals.”

She made a noncommittal sound as her mind raced. She must get word
now
to the Child of Fate in Haraland to hide. Or, better, flee. Whom could she trust with such an errand? Deeter. One of Krugar's men. He'd retired from the army a while back. Worked as a gardener, now, on the castle grounds. “An early breakfast on the morrow. And a picnic I should think for during your hunt. Shall I have Cook pack a supper as well?”

“I think not,” Regalo replied casually. “How long can it take to hunt down one fugitive seer once the Emperor's hounds pick up the trail?”

She restrained an urge to run as she excused herself and left the room.

*   *   *

Will looked around in wonder as the dryads ushered the party into their magical grove. It was fully as beautiful as the hearth tales said faerie places were. A strange sense of familiarity came over him as he looked around this place and its exotic occupants. He'd never seen a dryad or a dryad grove before, yet he recognized this place.