Firebrand

  Sweat dripped off her brow as she continued to struggle. She even tried smashing the steel with a rock, but to no avail. She only succeeded in striking her foot. She stilled to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. Her foot had grown numb in the trap.

  “What about Enver?” Estral asked.

  “I left him a note, which I hope he’ll see sooner rather than later.”

  “Hah! I guess I am not the only note leaver.”

  Karigan scowled at her. Since she could not free herself, she decided to see what she could do for Estral. Using the bonewood, she pushed herself up to stand on her free foot. She hopped as close to Estral’s tree as she could, the chain clinking as she went until it tautened and almost yanked her back down. Using the bonewood for balance, she drew her sword and reached as high as she could, but the tip came up short of the net, no matter how she strained to reach it. Enver, she thought, had better hurry, but who knew how long he’d planned to scout? If only she had an ax, she’d chop down the tree.

  “Someone is coming,” Estral whispered.

  The hunters, Karigan thought, to check their traps. She was not wrong. Four men and a woman in woodland garb broke through the brush and came face-to-face with her. She raised her sword.

  “Look at what we’ve got,” one of the men said.

  “Don’t get too close,” the woman warned him. “That’s a swordmaster’s band on the blade.”

  “Now what would a swordmaster Greenie be doing in our woods, eh?”

  “We were lost,” Karigan said. “Let us go.”

  They laughed at her.

  “Truly,” Estral said, “we were just looking for a—a friend. He’s tall, middle-aged, sings . . .”

  “We’ve got a bunch like that,” the first man said. “There is no way this Greenie doesn’t know what forest this is. I suggest she drop her weapons.”

  “Release us,” Karigan countered.

  “No way that’s happening, is there. If you drop your weapons, it’ll go much easier for you.”

  Karigan shifted her stance to improve her balance. She did not lower her sword.

  “Get the one in the tree down first; then we’ll deal with the other.”

  They worked out of her reach. When the net came down, it opened like the strings of a purse and Estral spilled out. She looked like she could barely move from her cramped position. One of the men quickly retrieved the saber and her knife, and prodded her with his own sword. Karigan took a futile swipe at him, but only upset her balance. She struggled to remain upright.

  The man and woman disregarded Estral’s protests and hauled her to her feet. She cried out as they whipped her hands behind her back and bound her wrists.

  A droplet of sweat slowly rolled down Karigan’s temple and cheek, and splattered onto her sleeve. The soldiers, and she deemed that that’s what these people were by their manner regardless of their garb, gazed at her speculatively as she held her defensive position.

  “I guess you want this the hard way,” the first man said. “Very well.”

  In one quick motion, he drew his sword and came for her. She met his blade soundly, but she floundered hopping on one foot, the chain dragging on her. The bonewood kept her upright, but she also used it in concert with her sword to block blows and return them.

  The man was a swordsman and a good one, and he stepped out of reach as if to mock her.

  “I never fought a swordmaster before,” he said, “and I can’t say I’m impressed.”

  Having a foot ensnared in a bear trap was one scenario for which Drent had never trained her. It was a disadvantage, to be sure. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have even been a contest.

  He dove back in, his companions cheering him on, and she tried to adapt the forms of her training to her circumstances. She fought aggressively, pushing him back, and when he was once more out of her reach, she almost fell on her face.

  “C’mon, Darren,” said the woman, “get it over with already. It’s time for us to get back to camp.”

  The man, Darren, grinned at Karigan, and then, instead of attacking, he just reached down and yanked the chain, pulling her leg right out from under her. She fell onto her back. When the soldiers came for her, she rose to her knees and held them off at first with her sword and bonewood, but they surrounded her. She was grabbed from behind, and the others pried the weapons out of her hands.

  She punched and kicked to the last, but there were too many of them. When she got kneed in the gut, she curled up on her side, coughing and retching. They bound her hands behind her and released her foot from the trap using a keylike mechanism, then hauled her to her feet. She almost fell at the pain that shot through her ankle, but they held her up. Her ankle was probably just bruised to the bone, but at the moment it hurt like all five hells.

  “Let’s go,” Darren said. “We’ll take the Greenie to Captain Terrik. The other one can go to Nyssa’s workshop until the cap decides what to do with ’em.”

  Karigan was shoved forward and she almost fell headlong, but somehow she kept to her feet. She limped along behind Estral. An annoying strand of hair had come loose from her braid and hung in her face. She tried blowing it aside, but it just fell back.

  “Don’t think about running off into the forest,” Darren warned her. “There are worse traps for you to step in.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” she muttered. Not with her own sword being jabbed into her back. No, Drent would not be pleased. Not at all.

  THE BURNING FIRE

  ::Grandmother’s true granddaughter has Estral’s voice.::

  Zachary nodded subtly to acknowledge Fiori’s words. He knew the story of how Estral had lost her voice, but he could not say so aloud. He and his fellow slaves had been herded into the great hall to be proselytized by Smurn, and once again, Fiori had sat behind him, doing his whisper-throwing trick.

  ::You could not imagine my shock at hearing my daughter’s voice from another girl. They used some magic, some spell, to steal it from Estral. I have been at my wit’s end trying to figure out how to steal it back.::

  Binning once again snored softly next to Zachary as Smurn droned on. Fiori had told him that he’d been captured in one of the northern lumber camps. He’d changed his name and hidden his affiliation with Selium, but when the intruders discovered he’d a talent for music and was educated, Grandmother decided not to kill him, but kept him as a tutor for her granddaughter. He was teaching her music, reading, writing, and figuring.

  ::I don’t even know how this has affected Estral,:: Fiori continued. ::I don’t know how it has hurt her or if . . .::

  Zachary could hear the pain in Fiori’s voice and desperately wished he could tell him that Estral was fine and searching for him.

  A sudden disturbance interrupted their “conversation.” A soldier strode across the great hall to one of the guards. “Get Captain Terrik.”

  The guard ran off. There was the sound of others approaching, and distracted slaves gazed across the hall to see what was going on. Smurn did not look pleased to have his sermon interrupted.

  “Listen to me, you heathen sinners!” he cried.

  Two more soldiers entered with a captive held between them, her hands bound behind her back. It took a moment for it to sink in that the captive wore Rider green, had brown hair and a patch over her eye.

  “Karigan . . .” he murmured in shock. He started to rise.

  ::No!:: Fiori came up alongside him and grabbed his arm. ::Do not reveal yourself!::

  Zachary was strung taut. Karigan’s gaze fell in their direction, then wandered off as though taking in all her surroundings, then whipped back to them, her expression registering recognition.

  “Uh-oh,” Fiori murmured.

  When one of the soldiers started to follow her gaze, she looked straight ahead and lunged. The two soldiers gripping her arms yanked her back. She recoiled, and
using their hold on her as leverage, sprang and kicked both feet forward into the lead soldier, who sprawled headlong. She then pivoted and kneed one of the soldiers holding her, and rammed her shoulder into the other.

  Zachary was ready to jump to his feet, his fists clenched.

  ::Steady!:: Fiori told him. ::You will not help her by running to her. She is doing this to cover up her recognition of you. Let her do what she needs to!::

  A growl rumbled from Zachary’s chest and Binning shook himself awake. “What’s goin’ on?”

  Other onlookers and slaves laughed at the hapless soldiers who cried out in pain and swore as Karigan planted a swift kick or crunched toes or butted heads. Even bound as she was, she was a mad whirlwind that spun and lunged and charged. She laid waste to any who got in her way. Other guards, finally taking pity on their fellows, closed in.

  “No,” Zachary whispered.

  When one of the soldiers raised the pommel of a very familiar sword to strike her head, he opened his mouth to shout a warning, but Fiori’s fist slammed into his gut. He doubled over and gasped for air.

  ::I am sorry,:: Fiori said, ::but you must not reveal yourself.::

  When Zachary regained his breath and looked up, Karigan and her captors had disappeared and his fellow slaves had erupted into fist fights with the remaining guards. A big man named Merth punched Smurn in the jaw, and the lay priest flew onto his back and skidded across the floor, robes billowing about his legs.

  Zachary looked for Fiori, but he, too, had vanished. He rose to his feet to make a run for it when Binning grabbed his arm.

  “What you doing, Dav?”

  Zachary didn’t answer. A couple dozen soldiers ran into the great hall straight toward the fighting slaves. His chance to run now quashed, he dragged Binning against a wall to lie low while the soldiers dove in among the fighters swinging their cudgels with merciless ferocity.

  “Keep calm and put your hands over your head,” Zachary told Binning. He hoped the soldiers would see that they were not participating in the fight and spare them the beating the others were receiving.

  “Why’d that fellow slug you?” Binning asked.

  Zachary shrugged and winced as a cudgel cracked against Merth’s skull. The big man fell hard.

  “And why aren’t you fighting?” Binning asked.

  “Look at Merth,” he replied. “Don’t need that.” No, if he was going to free himself so he could help Karigan, he would not risk injury.

  The thralls were soon subdued and Zachary’s plan had worked for the most part. A cudgel had grazed his shoulders, but it was a minor blow compared to what had happened to Merth and a few of the others.

  Those who could work were sent back to the passage. Zachary moved stones, cursing himself for not having acted more quickly to help Karigan. Then he reminded himself he could not have gotten far, which would not have helped either of them. His rational mind warred with his need to protect, and he was so agitated that he slammed rocks into his basket and hurried up and down the passage in record time.

  Where were they holding her? What would they do to her? How was it she had been caught? He emptied his basket of rocks and made the return trip into the passage. He had sent her north to find the p’ehdrose, guided by the Eletian and accompanied by Estral Andovian. Where were Estral and Enver? Were they, too, being held by Second Empire? Had they come to the Lone Forest because they had traced Fiori here?

  At the end of the passage, he knelt on one knee and hurled the rocks into his basket. A hand grabbed his wrist and he nearly flung a rock at whoever it was, but stopped himself. It was Lorilie Dorran.

  “What’s eating you, Dav?” she demanded. “The guards are noticing. You might want to calm down.”

  How could he? But he took a deep breath and instead of hurling the next rock into the basket, he let it roll off his hand.

  “That’s better,” Lorilie said. She picked up a stone for her own basket. “Save your strength for when you truly need it.”

  When would that be? He felt so helpless.

  “Is it the Greenie who has you so riled up?” Lorilie asked in a low voice. “Heard they were taking her to Nyssa.”

  Nyssa. The name chilled him. He forced himself to shake his head and rise calmly with his full basket. Inside he raged, raged as hot as the firebrand the Eletians named him. He’d learned enough to know that Nyssa was the resident torturer, that she took delight in her role. Having a Green Rider in her clutches would please her. He wore the cloak of one she had flogged to death.

  If she hurt Karigan, he would destroy her. Her, and all of Second Empire, and he’d do it single-handedly if he had to. But alas, for all his plotting, he could not yet see a clear path. He had to calm himself again when he dumped his rocks.

  Slow down, slow down.

  He could not help it. It infuriated him that the woman he loved was at the mercy of one such as Nyssa, and he a captive, too, and so impotent. He paused before reentering the passage. Plotting and planning were not what were needed, perhaps . . .

  “Keep moving, idiot,” a nearby guard said.

  Zachary trembled, the rage rising to the surface. I cannot bear it. I cannot bear the thought of her being hurt. He closed his eyes, recalling the scene of the sword’s pommel coming down on her head.

  The guard closed in with his cudgel. “I said, keep moving.”

  Zachary dropped his basket and launched at the guard, who gaped in surprise before he was knocked down. Zachary pummeled him, loosed himself upon his captor. While some guards menaced the watching slaves and pushed them back into the passage to prevent them from joining the fray, others rushed to the aid of their comrade. Zachary met them, taking fierce joy in releasing his rage. Bones crunched beneath his fists. He did not hold back this time. He used his training to its full extent, disarming a guard and using his cudgel as though it were a sword. He was wild; he was the burning fire.

  He smashed skulls and sent guards flying, but in the end, there were many of them and just one of him, and they all had cudgels, too.

  NYSSA’S WORKSHOP

  The guards flung Karigan onto the straw-strewn floor, at Estral’s feet. She was barely conscious, and Estral thought the cords binding Karigan’s hands behind her back excessive, for she looked far from capable of doing much harm at the moment.

  Estral dropped to her knees beside her. “Karigan,” she whispered, and shook her shoulder. “Wake up. Please.”

  Karigan did not respond.

  At some point, the guards had parted Karigan from her greatcoat and waistcoat, and now searched through the pockets. They turned up wadded handkerchiefs, a few coppers, some hair ribbons, and a hoofpick.

  “Nothing of importance,” one of the guards said in disgust as he tossed Karigan’s greatcoat onto a table next to her weapons.

  They were in a simple wood building with low beams, few windows, and a brazier at the opposite end. The wood looked light and smelled relatively new. The structure had been recently built, unlike the ancient keep Estral had spotted through the trees before she’d been separated from Karigan and locked up.

  “What’s a Greenie doing without a message satchel?” the other guard asked.

  “Spying, that’s what.”

  “And the other girl?”

  “Who knows. Another spy, probably. Nyssa will find out.”

  Since Estral’s hands were not bound, she started to work on loosening the cords around Karigan’s wrists. One of the guards poked the bonewood through the slats of the pen and jabbed her shoulder.

  “Ow!”

  “You leave those, or we’ll hurt you,” the guard said.

  “What is she going to do in her condition?” Estral demanded.

  “She’s done plenty already.”

  Estral rubbed her shoulder and decided she would try later, when they were not so attentive. She could only imagi
ne what “plenty” Karigan had done. It must have been impressive considering the bump on her head. Blood matted her hair.

  “Please wake up,” Estral whispered.

  Karigan groaned. Her foot twitched.

  “Karigan?”

  “What the hells . . . ?” she murmured.

  “We’re being held. You must have put up a fight. They won’t let me untie you.”

  Karigan gave a raspy laugh, then fell silent and still. Estral feared she’d fallen unconscious again, but then she suddenly said, “It started out . . . a promising day.”

  Estral could have cheered to hear her friend speak. “I know. I ruined it for you. I’m sorry.”

  Karigan quieted, looking for all the world like she had fallen asleep. Estral grew anxious again.

  “Karigan?”

  “What?” She sounded beyond tired.

  “Just wanted to make sure you were still with me.”

  Karigan expelled a long breath, and then started wrestling with her bindings, twisting and writhing her wrists. They had already looked chafed and raw, and now she was only making it worse by causing the cords to cut deeper into her skin.

  “Ow. Damnation,” she snarled, but she kept struggling.

  “Stop,” Estral told her, “you’re bleeding.”

  “Get these off me.”

  Estral licked her lips. “I told you, they won’t let me. They’ll hurt me if I do.” A quick glance revealed the guards were indeed still keeping a watchful eye on her.

  Karigan gave up and slumped, seeming to rest. Then, just as suddenly, she fought to sit up. Estral helped her.

  “Shouldn’t you stay down? Take it easy?”

  “Probably,” Karigan said, grimacing. “Why is there a herd of horses galloping through my head?”

  “I’m sorry,” Estral said again, overcome by a fresh wave of remorse. “If I hadn’t—”

  “We can discuss that later.” Karigan closed her eye for a few moments, then with a deep breath and a grunt of effort, forced herself to her feet and lurched across the pen to peer through the slats. Estral stood, as well, and followed her gaze to the two guards talking over her coat and weapons. One puffed on a pipe. Karigan’s gaze moved on, seeming to scrutinize the rest of the building.