“Not sure yet. Just . . . let’s keep it quiet, eh?”
“Understood. And the assassins?”
“Do a room-to-room search for them. If you find anything, inform me immediately.”
“If we find assassins?”
“Kil them. Then bring their bodies to me. Discreetly.”
“Aye, my lady.”
Dagmar walked back to the castle and inside. The Tribesmen had been quiet today. Something that did not make her feel better.
“Commander Ásta,” Dagmar cal ed out when she saw the Kyvich witch with her troop leaders.
“Lady Dagmar.”
“Is everything al right? Any problems last night?”
“No, my lady.”
“You sure?”
“Did you hear there was a problem?”
“No,” Dagmar lied. “Not at al . Guess I’m just a little nervous about al this.” The Kyvich smiled at her. “Something tel s me, Lady Dagmar, that you don’t get nervous over anything.”
“Of course I do. My whole life is fil ed with worry.” She pointed toward the gates. “Is there a reason you haven’t fol owed the Tribesmen out into the woods and finished them there?”
“That’s not our job.”
“Pardon?”
“We’re here to protect the children and only the children. We wil not leave them to take on a battle that your people should be fighting.”
“So if the Tribesmen get past the gates, wipe us out . . .”
“Not our problem. The children are our concern. Now if you’l excuse me.”
Annoyed, Dagmar headed downstairs to where they kept the children.
“What’s wrong?” Talaith asked as soon as Dagmar sat down at the smal table with her.
“Nothing,” Dagmar lied again. “Everything al right here?”
“Fine.”
“No problems last night?”
“No. None at al . Why?” Talaith leaned across the table a bit. “Are you sure everything’s al right, Dagmar?”
“Yes, yes. Everything is fine.”
Talaith sat back. “How’s it going outside?”
“It’s being handled, but it’s clear that Annwyl has made enemies of pretty much every Tribesman from here to the Desert Land borders.”
“So they’re not giving up?”
“No, but we’l be fine,” she assured Talaith.
“As my guests keep reassuring me.” Talaith looked over at the squad of Kyvich who stood on guard duty inside the room.
“Would you rather be down here alone?”
“Might as wel be. They’re not exactly chatty.”
“I don’t mean for your social life, Talaith. I’m talking about the safety of the children. So please, do me a favor and suck up the misery for a little while longer.”
“Oh, fine. Here. Have some tea. It’l make you feel better.”
While Talaith poured Dagmar some tea, Dagmar watched Ebba search among the children’s bedding.
“Lose something, Ebba?” she asked.
“Can’t find the children’s swords. And you know how they get when they don’t get in their morning training. Cranky doesn’t begin to describe it.” She winked at Dagmar and went back to her search while Talaith complained about the Kyvich. She didn’t complain about anything in particular, just that they existed.
Slowly, Dagmar shifted her focus to the children. The three of them sat cross-legged on the floor in a circle. Rhian drew symbols on parchment and appeared much more worried than usual, her smooth brow pul ed down into a very deep frown; Talan played with one of the dogs; and Talwyn read. To everyone’s surprise, Talwyn was an advanced reader like her mother. Very advanced. She could read at least three languages that they knew of. The language of the humans in this region, the language of dragons, and now, according to Ebba, she could read the language of centaurs.
As Dagmar watched her, the seven-year-old girl lifted her head and looked at Dagmar through dirty, unkempt hair, black eyes like her father’s and yet she seemed so much like Annwyl. Especial y when the child suddenly smiled at her.
And it was at that moment that Dagmar realized . . . the captain of the guard would never find those assassins alive.
Fearghus watched Ragnar hover over his brother. Briec hadn’t moved since he’d been struck, the healers working on him through the night, but no one had told the rest of them anything and he was beginning to get anxious.
After several minutes, Ragnar came to his side.
“Wel ?”
“It seems that—”
“I don’t have time for one of your careful y worded replies, Northlander. Just tel me if my brother’s going to live or die.”
“I don’t know. He’s completely unresponsive, barely breathing, and . . .”
“And?”
“His spine’s been split.” Ragnar shook his head. “Neither I nor the healers know how to fix that. Perhaps your mother or Morfyd . . .”
“Wil they even know what’s happened to him?”
“No. We’ve been cut off. I can’t contact my brother or Keita or anyone.”
“Neither can I.” Fearghus cleared his throat. “If he survives . . . wil he walk?”
“I don’t know. But I do doubt he’l ever fly again.”
“Thank you,” Fearghus said and walked out of the chamber. He went around the corner and tried to control his breathing. He couldn’t al ow the troops—or his kin—to see this.
“Fearghus?”
He looked up at his Aunt Ghleanna.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Nothing’s definite. We keep it quiet for now. Just say he’s recovering.”
“That’s al wel and good for everyone else, but I’m asking as your aunt. How’s me Briec?” He shook his head, working hard to gain control. “It’s bad. Ragnar, the other healers . . . they say there’s nothing they can do.”
“What about your mum?”
“She’s his best bet, but we’l never get him out of here now.”
“But if we finish the tunnels, strike the next blow . . . the last blow.” She gripped his forearm. “Then we can get your brother back to Devenal t Mountain and let your mum heal him. Don’t give up on him, Fearghus. Please.”
“Of course I won’t.”
“I’l get the ones working on the tunnels to move their col ective arses. We’l get this done.” She pressed her claw to his cheek. “We don’t give up on each other in this Clan, boy. Don’t you forget that.”
“I won’t.”
She nodded and stomped off, ordering recruits to get to the tunnel, while al around them the cave wal s shook from the never-ending siege from the Irons battering them mercilessly, giving them no way to get out—to get his brother out of here and someplace safe.
Yet Fearghus knew his aunt was right. They didn’t give up on each other, and he wouldn’t start now.
Chapter 23
After a quick but lusty morning romp, Rhona and Vigholf bathed in the river, dressed, and were riding toward the Western Mountain Pass by the time most people were sitting down for their first meal.
They rode hard and made good time, stopping at a few smal towns along the way so Vigholf could do what he did so wel : get information from complete strangers. Rhona would have to admit, she was impressed. She simply didn’t have an easy way like that with people she didn’t know.
And those she did know, she wasn’t above threatening to get information. Vigholf never had to do that. She couldn’t explain it; he just . . . had a way.
Yet Rhona wasn’t completely useless, able to fol ow the queen’s tracks once they got into the Karpos Forests that surrounded the Western Mountains. Then again it wasn’t hard to differentiate Annwyl’s tracks from the many others that ran into and around the area. The woman had such big feet for a human female....
They rode the horses deep into the forests, Rhona keeping an eye out for any new markings that would show a change in direction. She was just pul ing to a stop to get a closer look at something near a tree when Vigholf murmured, “Smoke.”
“What?”
“Smoke.” He pointed. “Over there.”
Rhona scented the air. Aye, there was smoke—and fire.
She turned her horse and rode in that direction, Vigholf beside her. As they moved along, they could see the stil burning remains of a smal vil age. Before they got too close, she dismounted and left the mare. Unlike Rhona and, to a lesser degree, Vigholf, the horses weren’t immune to flame.
As she neared the vil age, Rhona could hear the wailing and cries of those who’d survived the fire that had gutted their homes. Worried it was the work of a pissy dragon, Rhona walked up to the first human she found not completely lost in grief.
“What happened here?” she asked.
The man looked up at her, his eyes red from the smoke and his own tears. “Soldiers. From the Provinces.”
“They just burned your vil age? Why?”
And it was his next words that stopped her heart. “Because of the woman.”
“The woman? What woman?”
The man blinked, let out a breath. He looked so exhausted. “The traveler. She came with two other females.”
“She fought the soldiers?” Vigholf asked.
“Nah. She went with them wil ingly. Alone. I don’t know about them other two. They weren’t with her.” He swal owed, wiped at his brow. “She didn’t fight, yeah? Until the soldiers started burning the place. Then she fought, trying to stop them. That’s when they hit her. Hard. Knocked her out.” His voice caught. “That’s when they set the entire place to burn. My wife . . .” He shook his head. “Guess I should be grateful, though.”
“Grateful?”
“Rumor was they’d burned some other vil ages the past few days, but not before they . . . to the women . . .” He shook his head and blindly walked off.
“We need to go,” Rhona said.
Vigholf looked around and, if these humans weren’t already in a state of shock, they’d have been terrified by the expression he wore. “But these people, Rhona . . .”
“I know. But there’s nothing we can do for them now. And Annwyl’s alone with those soldiers. We have to move.”
“Right. You’re right.” Vigholf took a step, then stopped. “They were looking for her. They knew she was coming.” Rhona headed back to the horses. “We have to move.”
It was easy enough to track the soldiers. They were headed back to the Provinces and moving at a nice clip until late in the evening when they final y stopped for the night.
Vigholf crouched beside Rhona on a hil overlooking the campsite. Together they watched as the soldiers dragged Annwyl from a cage. When they started kicking and punching her, Vigholf had to catch Rhona and hold her.
“Not yet,” he told her.
“We can shift.”
“You don’t think they know how to fight us? That Thracius didn’t give his human soldiers enough insight to bring a couple of us down during battle?