Riot of Storm and Smoke Page 14

  “Maybe I wasn’t clear.” The unmistakable feeling of a knife presses into my side, and I freeze. “Move.” The voice is low next to me.

  “You are making such a huge mistake.” I follow the direction the weapon indicates and pause next to a table, where an ale ripples in time with my pulse.

  “Excuse me. Miss? Do you need some help?”

  I bite back the swear that springs to my lips. I would have drawn the attention of the only chivalrous knight left in the king’s army. I dart a glance up at the man, whose warm brown eyes are dark with worry for me and menace for the man who holds me. I don’t dare look him full in the face.

  “I’m fine. I was just explaining to this gentleman here that I need to get back to my traveling companions.”

  The knight nods. “You heard the lady.”

  My arm is freed, and the table against the wall is somber now, no longer teasing me with grins and waves. They lean forward, watching the show.

  My would-be drinking partner inclines his head toward the knight. “Give you a silver to pretend this never happened.”

  A smile slices its way across the knight’s face. “And if you persist in pursuing this, I will give you the silver of my sword in your belly.”

  There’s a heavy silence as the ruffian weighs the pros and cons of engaging a knight in combat when his brothers-in-arms sit only a few feet away. Apparently deciding it isn’t worth the trouble, he slinks away and I’m left in the company of the knight.

  “I hope that I was a help to you, miss.” He clears his throat, awkward now that there are no dragons left to slay. “My name is Sir Liam of Shengaia. If you’d like, I’d be happy to escort you back to your companions.”

  Not on your life. “Thank you,” I say aloud, growing increasingly aware that I haven’t turned to look at him. “But I’ll be fine. He’s the only one who’s bothered me, and my room isn’t far.”

  His voice wears a frown. “I must insist.”

  “Can no one understand what I mean when I say no?” I finally snap, whirling to look at him.

  His eyes go wide. Horrified, I realize what I’ve done. “Makers,” he breathes. “You’re…”

  I don’t stay to hear the rest. Pushing past him, I shove my way out the tavern’s back door, past the privy and into the night. Distantly, I hear him shout “wait!” and imagine that I can hear the rest of his troop shout “Liam!”

  The ground eats my footsteps. I don’t know where I’m running. If I go back to my room, I’ll be cornered. I haven’t had time to try subtly finding an Underground associate. There’s nowhere for me to seek shelter, no way to save myself but to outrun him. I weave around buildings like I am a thread and the streets, a needle.

  My stride shortens as I lose my breath, but Sir Liam’s footsteps behind me haven’t wavered. I turn a corner, and there’s an open barn, with a water trough on the side. With only moments to make a decision, I choose the trough as the less obvious cover and dive beneath it.

  My breath comes in little pants that I struggle to muffle. I am chin deep in mud and who knows what else. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was stupid of me to leave the shelter of the inn, to brassily put my face where it might be remembered. And if I make it out of here, I’ll have to abandon all of my supplies. There’ll be no going back for them.

  Time creeps by at a snail’s pace. Footsteps squelch toward me, and a heavy sigh reaches my ear. “You’re Lady Breena, aren’t you?”

  Do I move? What choice do I have? I can continue to pretend that he can’t see me or I can face him.

  Standing, I’m acutely aware of the brown filth that drips down my front, but I lift my chin like a queen at court. “I am.”

  He takes a step toward me, and I press my body against the barn’s wall, cringing and reaching for my knife. “Whoa.” He lifts his hands in a placating gesture as he steps back. “I don’t plan to harm you.”

  “No,” I spit hatefully. “You’ll leave that to your king, won’t you?”

  “I’m not—” He makes a noise like an asphyxiating chicken and glances behind him. “He’s not my king,” he says carefully.

  His hands stay up, and now that I’ve a second to breathe, I don’t hear the clatter of his men’s armor as if they followed him. I pull my knife from my belt anyway, pointing it at him. Better safe than sorry.

  “Your troop,” I say. “They won’t be looking for you?”

  He eyes my knife warily. “Well, I expect they will if they think me dead, but all they saw was me offering a pretty girl some help and following her out of the tavern. I’ll leave the rest to their imaginations.”

  We’re at a stand-off, he with his hands in the air and me with my knife before me. He lowers his hands slowly and reaches into his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” I ask sharply.

  “I promise I’m not getting a weapon or anything. It’d have to be damnably small if I were.” He fishes something out and tosses it in the muck at my feet.

  I debate for a moment. I could bend to pick it up and he could rush at me, but he hasn’t actually tried to hurt me so far. Keeping a cautious eye on him, I bend at the knees and pick up what looked like a pebble in the air, wiping it clean on my sleeve.

  Something leaps in my throat. It’s Da’s token.

  No, I can still feel mine warm between my breasts. It’s Sir Liam’s token. Just like Meddie’s, just like Clift’s, just like the secret room in the castle.

  I look at him for a long, weighing moment and sheathe the knife. “Your loyalties?”

  “Are to Egria. Not her king. Not the empire he tries to amass.” He takes a step closer. “I’m for Prince Caden’s cause. For peace, Lady Breena. My men are, too.”

  It might be a world’s worth of stupidity, but I believe him. How could that be though? It’s not as though the king would intentionally create a troop of rebels. “How?”

  He catches my drift. “We can’t control who the king sends to join our ranks, but those allied with him tend to be…weeded out in battle.”

  The smile he sends me then is chilling. I infer what he doesn’t say. They don’t protect the king’s men when they’re charged to fight for him. In fact, I’d be surprised if that’s all. The men’s throats are probably cut by the very people they expect to trust.

  We really are at war. Inside and outside of our borders.

  Something works in my throat. But the possibility of an ally… And after I thought I’d lost the only ones I had, too. I’m not sure I want to turn anyone with allegiances against Langdon down. I could use the help.

  “It’s true that we were looking for you. Every man in the kingdom is. Do you know what the king has offered for your return with the Princess Aleta?”

  I flinch.

  “She’s with you then,” he surmises, seeing my reaction.

  “Not…not anymore,” I mumble. “What is it that you want from me?”

  “We ask only to give our loyalties to you, Lady Breena.”

  “But...” They’re Caden’s men, he’d said. Wait.

  “You said you’re loyal to Prince Caden?” I should have caught this straight away. “How do you know that he works against his father?”

  Liam’s eyes widen. “You haven’t heard.”

  “Heard what?”

  “The night you fled the castle, the prince was found by his father. They fought—many of the nobles who were there for the wedding heard about it. His Highness was disowned.”

  “And banished?” I hope it’s only that. It’s the most palatable of the options my mind supplies me with: beating, imprisonment, maiming, torture, death. The list goes on, my imagination unrelenting.

  Liam shakes his head. “No. The king stowed him in the dungeon, with little food and water. Rumor has it he was visited by the king’s favorite scholar, trying to wring answers from him.”

  My heart dives. Caden. I can’t imagine him like Da in a cell, bones protruding from his skin, smudged with his own filth, insects drawn to him like they’re drawn to m
anure. In my mind, his arms hang heavy from shackles, suspended above his head, and his gray eyes blink at me wearily.

  And the king’s favorite scholar. That could only be Tutor Larsden. Too well, I remember the man’s propensity for pain. He’d plunged my hands into a bowl of burning oil and that had only been in the name of science. If Caden’s torture had been court-sanctioned for other reasons…

  Blindly, I reach forward to steady myself against the trough.

  “It’s all right,” Liam soothes. “The Underground freed him. He’s been riding all over the country, building an army against his father. We’re riding to join him, but…” He looks me over and has the gall to smile. “I think you require our services more.”

  Right. That’s right. My knees want to buckle in relief. I sent Clift after Caden. He’s safe. As safe as he can be anyway.

  “You want to pledge your loyalty to me?” I finally speak, incredulous. “I’m no royalty, Sir Liam.”

  “You’re Egrian nobility.”

  No. I’m not.

  “And you work against the king,” he continues. “That is good enough for us.”

  I run the edge of my token along the underside of my thumb. “I need time,” I say. “To think.”

  “Please take it,” he encourages me. “I need a few moments as well. There are matters of men on my end that must also be seen to.”

  “Meet me here,” I say, decisive. “At sunrise. I’ll give you an answer then.”

  In truth, I think I know my answer already, but I need to give myself a moment to consider what is happening.

  The fact is, on my own, I am failing. Even before the others were captured, we were failing, though none of us would admit it. We fled weeks ago and moved across the terrain like ants. We left the capital so suddenly, and then the bandits hit. Alone, I’m disorganized, and despite having distinct goals, I have no real plan.

  But Sir Liam seems like he may. So I go back to my room. I hitch my pack onto my shoulder and leave payment on the bed.

  Liam’s banner waves in the wind as dawn strokes color into the dark sky. His sigil is a tree cracked by forked lightning. He waits, mounted on horseback, his troops behind him, like he’d known what my answer was as well.

  I nod at the banner, at the tree depicted on it. “Lot of Earth Shakers in your house?”

  “Not anymore. But once.”

  It’s a grim sigil, I think, staring up at it. With the lightning splitting the tree in two like that, it’s desolate, speaks of absolute destruction.

  It makes me think of war. When given a chance, you must cut your enemies in two rather than worry about preserving the whole.

  Introductions are made. The group looks much smaller out here than in the confines of the tavern. Liam has a company of about twenty. They range from sullen to friendly, short to tall, and—I spy a couple of hoods tucked into the backs of armor—Elementals to non.

  “The sun is rising, my lady.” Liam gives me a crooked bow and extends a hand. “Shall we?”

  Taking a deep breath, I grasp hold of his hand, swinging myself onto the horse behind him. “To Clavins, then.”

  I fall into my bedroll two days later after we set up camp. Jospuhr, true to his word, hasn’t sent any of his men after us. Or, at least, anyone he’s sent has had the courtesy to conceal themselves. But it would seem that he truly is content to sit back and play the part of an idle spectator.

  Still, although his men don’t nip at our heels, the shadow of my father does. He may not give chase at the moment, but we’re two participants in a race. And to the victor goes the continent.

  That is, provided we can defend it once we get to Clavins.

  I feel like I’ve no sooner shut my eyes than Lilia kicks at my feet, and I groan, clutching my pillow closer. “I am sleeping,” I grouse.

  “Get. Up,” she says intently.

  Her tone rouses me to alertness. My eyes snap open. Instantly, I’m awake and reaching for my sword. “What is it?” I ask. All around me, I hear the sounds of the camp waking up. The gentle clatter of armor being secured over torsos, the hiss of fires being snuffed out—to make it more difficult to find us.

  “The night watch spotted movement coming over one of the eastern hills,” she says. “It looks like a company of men, headed straight for our camp.”

  I pause in the act of fastening my belt. “My father’s men?”

  She nods. “It certainly looks that way.”

  Had Jospuhr changed his mind so quickly? As fast as I can, I tie up my bedroll and pack my horse up. “What does the watch make of them?” I ask as I swing my leg over the saddle. “Are they prepared to attack?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sure they will, but they don’t appear to be troubling themselves to remain beneath our notice. It’s not us they’re after. Their journey is more about speed than stealth.”

  Speed. Then they’re heading for the north, and their crashing upon us will be purely accidental—and end in total disaster. “We can’t outrun them, can we?”

  She shakes her head. “I think we can meet them head-on. But I think that’s the best we can hope for.”

  Damn. I had hoped we wouldn’t have to clash with Egrian troops until we reached Clavins. No use wishing on might-have-beens now when there is so much else that requires my focus, however. I ride forward to check on the perimeter and help our troops ready themselves where I can.

  “See to our people where you can. I trust your judgment!” I call back to Lilia.

  A look on her face like granite, she rides forward and seizes my reins. My horse prances in place nervously.

  “I wasn’t finished, Highness,” she says, her voice lowered. “Caden, it’s important you know...the watch say it’s not just a small troop. It’s an entire leg of the Egrian army, Adepts and all. Their numbers match our own, but...”

  “But their number of Adepts is likely thrice ours,” I finish bleakly.

  The outlook isn’t good. But Lilia’s determination to see this through shines hard on her face. “You’re supposed to be the master strategist, Caden,” she says. “Start strategizing.”

  Somehow this command is all I need.

  My mind begins whirling over battle formations, weighing and dismissing some just as quickly. There’s the option of meeting them head-on as Lilia suggested—the element of shock should never be discounted—but this likely isn’t a group of green soldiers. They’d recover quickly from such a surprise.

  A surprise.

  That’s it.

  “How long until sunrise?” I ask.

  “They’ll be here before then,” Lilia says. She’s momentarily distracted by a horse’s whinny and scowls until the steed’s master quiets it.

  A smile treads cautiously across my lips as the spark of an idea ignites. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  It’s true that darkness can provide a disadvantage. But, utilized properly, it can be a boon, a tool with which to work. The shadows provide cover. Allow one to sneak up on unsuspecting targets and get closer before detection.

  The creatures that come alive at night provide their own cover, and before the sun rises, they are not yet silenced. The chirps, the howls—all will do well to mask a misstep. The sounds of breathing can be attributed to them. Though the hairs on our enemies’ necks may prickle as they recognize eyes on their backs, the beauty of the human mind is its unwillingness to accept what it does not expect. The eyes, too, will be thought to belong to the animals.

  Lilia taps my elbow. “I’m with you, remember,” she reminds me quietly. Our half of the forces looped around to follow the Egrian troops at a distance. The dirt is disturbed where they recently passed through.

  I nod sharply as we move forward, my heart pounding. This could work. This could truly work.

  Shouts and battle cries erupt in the distance as the first half of our forces strike. This is our moment. Now, or we lose before we have truly begun. I take a deep breath.

  “Now! With me!”

  I sur
ge forward, leading the charge.

  Our steel meets some resistance—the ones with the quickest instincts among the Egrians—but this is what I had counted on. They’d thought the soldiers they already fought were the only ones they’d have to face.

  They scramble to meet the rest of us as we fly in. My sword cuts through one man’s midsection like a knife through butter; the sharpening I’d done in spare moments paid off.

  Already, I’ve lost Lilia in the fracas. I block another woman’s strike and parry, then wince as she whisks her sword away to slice at my free forearm.

  Ah. The pain cuts through me like a streak of angry heat. I cut my foe down with one arm and grip the reins with the other, oozing red with blood.

  It’s a surface wound, however. Unpleasant to look at and a torrent of black-red rushes from it when the muscle strains, but not ultimately a defeat.

  I ride into the melee, trying not to concentrate on its bite and sting as my sword flashes out and in, back and forth, like a beast with its own mind, its own muscles. It’s done by rote.

  With targets falling one by one, the tide begins to turn.

  How I wish that it turned in our favor.

  I’m focused, but far from the battle. I see only targets. I fear that if I start to process their faces, I will falter. It will be my undoing.

  Fire flashes in the corner of my eye, and a strangled scream wrings the air. My breath, already ragged, rips out of me. The Egrian Fire Torchers are acting.

  Flame licks past me, tasting my cheek on its path to a feast. It wraps around one of my men, still in his saddle. His face contorts as he frantically tries to pat the flames down. Horror-struck, I ride toward him, hoping to pull him from his saddle. To assist him somehow.

  I’m too late. He falls and is trampled beneath hooves almost instantly.

  I turn and strike another enemy with the butt of my sword. He joins my comrade beneath the horses.

  At last, the fire begins to clear, and I grin savagely, wheeling my mount around. There. Finally. I see a Torcher encased in stone, bound and frozen.

  This was my last-ditch effort, my failsafe.

  Our last chance.