It had been sloppy. She had let emotion get the better of her and it had caused her attack to go incredibly wide. With more discipline, the fight would have already been over.
Duglas attacked without warning, dashing forward and making a series of thrusts and cuts that very nearly left Erika impaled on the end of his small sword. She fought off the attack, and then a second attack. A third attack drove her all the way back to the carriage and she almost stumbled over the body of the Longdog she’d killed.
Duglas paused and backed away. Erika watched him carefully, waiting for the next attack. He didn’t seem wary, and barely winded. Frost coated his mustache, and he brushed a strand of long hair out of his eyes.
“By all means,” he said, “Catch your breath.”
Was the bloody pillock toying with her? Or was he really unable to beat her as easily as he liked?
She raised her hilt to her face in a mock salute and took several more steps back. The man would play with her until he got bored, and then he would kill her and leave her body for the wolves. Behind her, Dominik had sat up and was watching the fight silently. Norrine sat in the snow beside him, her small hand pressed against his wound. If Erika failed, Duglas would kill them both.
She stuck the blade of her sword under one arm and removed the snuff box from her pocket, fingers fumbling from the cold. The lid off, she raised a pinch of black powder to her nose and sniffed.
A flash of warmth spread through her body as quick as lightning, and she felt the numbness fade from her fingers and toes. Her vision sharpened to the point of being almost painful and she could hear Duglas taking slow, measured breaths.
The master mage hunter was inspecting the wound she’d given him. He looked up and their eyes met briefly, before his darted down to the snuff box in her hand. Duglas tilted his head to one side as she took another sniff of black powder and returned the snuff box to her pocket. She could see the understanding in his eyes as he realized she was not, in fact, taking snuff.
“You bitch,” he snarled, leaping toward her.
The speed she had so feared seemed suddenly trivial as the powder coursed through her system. She brought her sword up and parried his first thrust easily. It took two more thrusts for her to take his measure, and then she went on the offensive.
Even to Erika’s powder-sharpened eyes her attacks seemed blindingly fast. She pressed forward, plowing through his counter-attacks, not letting him get the chance for a proper thrust. She could feel nothing, not even her fury, as the powder sang in her blood. Her sword rang against one of his buttons and she pulled back for a parry and then slammed the blade between his ribs.
Even with her sword sticking out of his chest, Duglas drew back to strike. Erika pushed forward, sliding the slim blade deeper, and closed the gap to snatch his sword arm by the wrist.
“Bloody powder mage,” he spat in her face.
She twisted her sword, letting his cry of pain be her reply. His body sagged and she pulled back and aimed the tip at his heart. He dropped to his knees, the fight gone from him, and he sneered up at her. She let him die with the sneer on his lips.
Santiole’s body was warm when she reached it. Her chest was still, her heart silent. Erika knelt beside her and let the sobs come.
She couldn’t have been crying long when Norrine joined her. The girl stared down at Santiole’s body, unshed tears in her eyes, and clutched at Erika. Erika took the girl in her arms.
“Dominik is hurt,” Norrine said, “but he says he can still drive.”
Erika cleaned and bound Dominik’s wound herself. The old driver had taken a bullet in the arm, but it had missed the bone and she managed to dig it out with her knife. Treating bullet wounds wasn’t common to a noblewoman’s tutoring, but Santiole had taught her enough.
Erika was forced to push Santiole and Tirel in a ditch and cover them with snow, with the hope of recovering the bodies come spring. For Duglas and his companions, she dragged their bodies over two hundred yards and dumped them into a deep crevasse, along with Duglas’ infernal air musket.
They camped there that night and Dominik seemed much recovered in the morning. She sat beside the ditch for nearly an hour, staring down at Santiole’s grave, haunted by memories of the fight. Duglas had been the better duelist. Without the black powder, they’d all be dead now. Had this powder mage girl been worth Santiole’s life? She clutched Santiole’s sword—a prized weapon made from the finest Starlish steel—unable to leave it in a ditch for some highwayman to find.
She finally decided that Santiole would wish to see this finished, and roused herself from her stupor. She had to be strong. She was heir to a duchy, after all. She couldn’t afford to mourn, not with Adro still several days away and so much at stake.
The road soon left the high mountain passes from Norport and descended onto the Amber Expanse. Known as the breadbasket of the Nine Nations, the fields and pastures of the Expanse seemed to roll on indefinitely towards the horizon. Erika was glad to leave the snow behind even if the fall air was still cold. Norrine rode in silence, avoiding Erika’s gaze.
The northern highway wound along the foothills of the mountains, looking out over the expanse, turning northward toward the city of Budwiel.
Budwiel sat between two great monoliths of stone where the mountain range split into a mighty valley. The Addown River, runoff from the Adsea, flowed through the city to water the Amber Expanse. The carriage crossed the river at nightfall and began a mile-long gentle ascent that ended at Budwiel’s gate. The wind picked up and seemed to blow right through the carriage walls. Erika put her head out the window and looked toward the dots of light that marked the city walls.
Soon they’d be in Adro and beyond the influence of Nikslaus and his Longdogs. They would finally be safe.
She looked toward Norrine. The girl slept soundly in the corner of the carriage, wrapped in furs. She stirred and let out a whimper. Erika adjusted the fur around her shoulders. Yes. It had been worth it. This girl was a powder mage, kin in sorcery in a land where being a powder mage meant death unless you had the name of a great family to protect you. The thought of Santiole’s death sickened Erika. She hoped the mistress-at-arms would be pleased to see them reach safety at last.
“My lady!” Dominik called. “Riders on the road behind us! Coming fast!”
Erika put her head out the window and looked back down the road. There they were, at least a dozen of them on horseback, carrying torches and gaining ground fast.
Was it more Longdogs? Bandits? It could be anyone.
The pressure in Erika’s chest threatened to turn into full-blown panic. She was only a few hundred yards from the gates of Budwiel. She had come too far to fail now.
“Faster!”
Dominik whipped the horses into a gallop and the carriage jolted hard on the dirt roads.
“What’s the matter?” Norrine asked, wakened by the sudden jostling. Erika ignored her and stared at the gates of Budwiel, silently urging the carriage faster. A glance behind her said the riders were coming up too quickly. They would be on them just outside the city gates, which would find her still on Kez lands.
“Norrine,” she said. “When I tell you, you have to leap from the carriage.”
The girl’s eyes grew wide.
Erika went on, “Get into the ditch as fast as you can. It’s deep, it’ll conceal you from the torches. You mustn’t make a sound.”
Norrine nodded bravely.
“Dominik,” Erika called. “Stop the carriage.”
“Are you sure?”
“Now!”
Dominik reined the horses in quickly and Erika took Norrine by the hand. “Out to the left, go quickly.”
The girl opened the door and scrambled into the ditch without hesitation. Erika composed herself, wrapping the furs around her and easing back into her seat as if unconcerned. Within moments the sound of galloping hooves closed in and surrounded the carriage, and men’s voices shouted at Dominik.
The carria
ge door was yanked open and Erika stared into the eyes of Duke Nikslaus. Sorcerous fire danced upon the tips of his gloved fingers, casting half his face in shadows and causing Erika to shy back.
“My lord Nikslaus,” she asked, “is that you?”
The fire disappeared from his hands and the duke jerked the blanket away from Erika, then moved the pile of furs from the other corner. “Why did you run when you saw us?”
“My lord? You gave me a pit of a scare,” Erika said. “We thought we’d been set upon by bandits again.”
“Where is she?”
“Who?”
Nikslaus’ jaw flexed angrily, all hints of his cordial, graceful attitude gone. “You know bloody well who.”
“I don’t!” Erika’s heart pounded and she wrung her hands to keep them from trembling. “If you’re looking for Santiole, she was killed by bandits on the high pass, along with my grandfather’s man Tirel.” The panic came through in her voice and she urged herself toward tears, as a woman who might break into hysterics at any moment.
Blind obliviousness was her only weapon now.
The tightness in Nikslaus’ jaw disappeared slowly and he stepped out of the carriage, conferring with one of his men.
“You were set upon by bandits?” he asked when he returned.
“Yes! Five of the filthy bastards. They killed Tirel and wounded Dominik. Santiole killed two and I, one, before they retreated. Santiole died from her wounds.”
“You fought them?”
“I had to!” Erika said, forcing indignity into her voice. “We were fighting for our lives.”
Nikslaus seemed to consider this for a moment. “Three of my men are missing. They were on the same road as you.”
“Most likely ambushed by the same band of highwaymen that attacked us.” Erika took deep breaths, her hysterics only partially faked, and tried to gather herself.
“Bandits,” Nikslaus said flatly. “Like the bandits in your grandfather’s forest.” His tone indicated just how convenient he thought her story was.
Erika leaned forward, jutting out her chin. “The king needs to clean up his bloody roads,” she exclaimed. “You’ve lost, what is that, five of your men now? And both Santiole and Tirel have been with my family for decades. They’ll be impossible to replace.”
Nikslaus sniffed and retreated from the carriage once more. “Search the fields and ditches along the road,” she heard him say. “Question the driver.”
A voice answered him in a whisper, likely thinking Erika too frazzled to hear. “Shall we kill them both, my lord?”
“We’re a stone’s throw from Budwiel’s walls, you bloody idiot,” Nikslaus hissed back. “There will be a dozen witnesses.”
Questions were directed at Dominik but the old man played his part perfectly. Erika watched with no small amount of trepidation as Nikslaus’ men swept through the nearby fields with torches held high and leapt down into the ditches to search them by hand. She kept the pommel of her sword in a vice-like grip and wondered if she’d be quick enough to draw, killing Nikslaus before he could react with Privileged sorcery.
Nikslaus returned to her carriage about ten minutes later. He crawled inside and sat across from her, exactly where Norrine had been a quarter of an hour ago. His face was lit eerily by the light of a torch outside the window.
“You’ve not yet asked why we’re holding you here.” Nikslaus said calmly.
Erika felt a cold sweat break out on her brow. “I assumed you had a good reason. You are the king’s servant, after all.” Her voice trembled.
“Indeed. I am going to let you go now, but be warned, my lady. I will be watching you. And if you decide to play this game with me again, I will present your head to the king.” Blue fire sprouted from the fingers of Nikslaus’ runed gloves, dancing like candles in the wind. He drummed his fingers on the side of the carriage, leaving black burns.
“I don’t know what you are accusing me of.”
“I think you do.” Nikslaus climbed out of the carriage, leaving Erika alone with the sound of her own pounding heart.
The sound of hooves retreated, but Erika could see from her window that Nikslaus’ men were still searching the surrounding fields and up and down the road. Dominik, holding his wounded arm stiffly, appeared at the window. “My lady, are you all right?”
“You did well,” she answered with a nod. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. We can’t risk....”
Erika said a silent prayer for Norrine. “I know. Take us inside the city.”
Norrine tumbled to the bottom of the deep ditch that ran alongside the road into Budwiel.
She was less than a dozen paces from where she’d left the carriage and was already coated in mud. The walls of the ditch blocked her vision of the road and the carriage and everything but the sky above and, further on, the torches of Budwiel’s main gate. But there was nowhere to hide. Water came up to her ankles and the walls were too steep for her to climb back out. The Longdogs wouldn’t be sloppy this time. Norrine remembered Santiole’s warning not to trust to luck after the Longdogs had failed to find her back at the Leora manor. Now Santiole was dead and Norrine wondered if she would soon join her.
She could hear hoofbeats and angry voices shouting.
They would find her, and they would kill her. Like they’d killed Phille. Like they’d killed Santiole.
Nothing to do but run, a hunted animal near the end of the chase.
She slipped and stumbled as she went, trying not to catch herself on the slick ditch walls so as not to leave any sign of her passage. By now they would have caught up to Erika’s carriage. They would be searching Erika, and they would then search along the road.
They were going to find her. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if,’ but ‘when.’ Budwiel’s gates seemed impossibly far away, looking up into the night, the flickering torches atop the wall taunting her. Norrine felt tears running down her face. Mud and water squelched in her boots and covered her from head to toe. The clothes Erika had given her.
If Norrine didn’t escape, Erika wouldn’t either. Norrine had to escape. Not just for herself or for Phille and Santiole’s sacrifices, but for Erika.
How much further? Mud stung her eyes. She stumbled forward, blindly, trying not to make a sound.
Rough hands snatched her under the shoulders and lifted her from the ditch. She flailed about in her panic, trying to reach into her pocket for her penknife. She had to get away. She couldn’t do this to herself, or to Erika.
She had gotten them both killed.
Erika’s carriage arrived at the gates a few moments after Duke Nikslaus had left. Dominik pulled up just inside the gate and Erika took the stone steps to the top of the wall, ignoring a curious look from a blue-coated Adran soldier.
Nikslaus’ men were still out there. They searched in a circular pattern, working their way out, and the ditches were being examined once again. If they found Norrine now.... Erika didn’t want to think about it. She was safe enough in Adro, but her grandfather would suffer for it.
Erika was joined a moment later by the captain of the wall guard. She turned toward him, noting that he was alone. Perhaps she wasn’t as safe as she thought.
“Something wrong with my papers, captain?” she asked in Adran.
“Not at all, Lady Erika.” He settled with his elbows on the wall and watched Nikslaus’ searchers. “You have any trouble out there? We were about to send a company to investigate.”
“That wouldn’t have ended well,” Erika answered. “They were mage hunters. Best not to start an international incident on Kez lands.”
“Ah,” the captain said, eyeing her for a moment. “For the best, then. I’m glad you made it here safely. Could you have your man pull around to the side of the gate house, please? I have a package for you.”
“Excuse me?” What was this? Something else? Another trap?
“You best be on your way, I think. And someone has left you a gift at the gate. Pick it up on your way
out.”
Something about her presence—or more likely the presence of the Longdogs just outside the gate—had the captain nervous.
“I will, thank you.” Erika glanced once more at the searchers and climbed back down the wall. She gave instructions for Dominik to pull around to the side of the gate house. They sat waiting for several minutes before the captain appeared at her carriage window.
“There you are,” the captain said, opening the door. It took a moment for Erika to realize the captain wasn’t talking to her. Norrine stepped into the carriage and settled into the seat across from Erika. Her jacket was gone, replaced by an old Adran military coat. The scarf that had covered her powder mage brand was also gone.
“She was a bit muddy when she came in,” the captain said. “We cleaned up her boots the best we could, but her jacket was a total loss.”
Erika struggled with words. “Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me,” the captain replied. “Thank Captain Tamas. He comes around every few months with new boots and a bottle of port for each of us here on Budwiel’s wall. In return, we keep a lookout for...special...kinds of runaways. We’re glad to be of some service, my lady.” He tipped his hat and stepped away, closing the door.
“Are you all right?” Erika immediately asked Norrine. “Did they hurt you?”
Norrine shook her head. “They were very kind,” she said.
“How did you make it to the gates?”
“I did jump in the ditch, but I thought I should get away. I started along the bottom. There was a lot of water, so I shouldn’t have left any tracks. The soldiers on the wall saw me approach and came out and got me.”
Erika nodded. Very kind of them indeed. Powder mages might be legal in Adro, but they weren’t exactly welcomed either. Who was this Captain Tamas? And why did he care about Kez powder mages?
It was a mystery that would have to wait until another day. She felt her exhaustion overwhelming the adrenaline that had kept her going since she left grandfather’s manor. She sank against the wall of the carriage and nodded off, dreaming of a warm bed.