Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Page 13

  She pointed down the alley and turned to face the black-clad figure.

  The alley was empty.

  Jeremy jogged along the alley and stopped halfway down. The knight turned in slow circles scanning the nearby buildings. “Did you see someone?”

  Arber walked down the alley and paused at the far end before peering left then right.

  Had she imagined the figure? How could a person vanish into thin air? She stood on rubbery legs and inhaled a long slow breath.

  She walked forward and a scraggly voice came from the alley behind her.

  “Leave Mara, witch,” the wretched voice said.

  She screamed and shifted into a forest cat before turning on whoever stood behind her.

  A gnarled woman, at least seventy seasons old, stood hunched in the alley leaning on a crystal cane. Thin gray hair peeked out from a burlap hood and a bony accusatory finger pointed down the alleyway. “I knew it was you,” the old woman said.

  Her heart pounded, but the woman posed no direct threat. She shifted into human form. “I’m sorry. You scared me. Do I know you?”

  “You brought this plague to Mara,” the old woman said. “It all started the day you showed up.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

  Jeremy and Arber stopped beside her.

  “I licked the last few drops from the glass vile, I did.” The old woman nodded and grinned revealing a mouth filled with rotten teeth.

  The vile she’d given Brees’s sister? She stared at the old woman in stunned silence.

  “Is anyone here alive?” Jeremy said.

  The old woman ignored the knight’s question. “Have you come back to finish the rest?”

  “Finish the rest?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. I —”

  “I don’t believe you.” The old woman glared through hate-filled eyes. “You’re a liar.”

  Arber stepped forward towering over the old woman. “You watch your tongue old woman.”

  She touched Arber’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Is Ajahn Brees here? Have you seen him?” She said.

  “I watched them die,” the old woman said. “All of them.”

  “We can take you away from here,” she said.

  The old woman spat and cottony spittle splattered against the street.

  “I curse you with the same death you’ve brought here,” the old woman said.

  An orb of spirit appeared in Jeremy’s hand, but the woman’s gaze never wavered.

  “No, Jeremy,” she said. “Leave her alone.”

  The woman glared a moment longer then turned to face the empty street. Bony hands pulled on a burlap hood leaving the woman’s hooked nose peeking from shadows. The woman's cane thudded against the dusty road. A moment later, the old crone disappeared around a deserted corner.

  “I wonder how many more are alive?” Arber said watching the woman disappear from view.

  Doubt pressed on her like an iron weight. Had they met Mara’s lone survivor? “Come on, we’re almost there.” She pressed forward moving along the alleyway until it opened on a narrow lane.

  A dozen yards down the lane, the steps descending to Brees’s basement door.

  A flutter rippled through her stomach and she pointed. “That’s it. I’m sure of it.”

  Arber and Jeremy followed until they reached the basement door.

  Like Mara’s other homes, this one appeared devoid of life.

  Adrenaline washed through her arms and legs and she took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

  Moments passed and no sound came from inside.

  “Maybe they came and went,” Jeremy said.

  She raised her knuckles again to knock when the sound of a bolt sliding free came from inside the house.

  She held her breath and the door creaked open by an inch. A woman’s hazel eye appeared through the crack and blinked. “Who are you?” The woman said.

  She recognized the voice. Brees’s sister. “Catalin?”

  Catalin cracked the door open wider. “How do you know my name? Don’t you know this place isn’t safe?”

  “I’m a friend of your brother’s,” she said.

  Catalin’s eyes flickered to the golden hair draped around her face and shoulders. “You know Aren?” Catalin said.

  “Not Aren,” she said. “Brees. Is he here?”

  “What do you want with my brother sorceress?”

  “I’m not a sorceress,” she said. “I gave your brother the medicine. He used it to cure his plague. I think he gave you a dose too.”

  Catalin opened the door wide. “Did you bring more?” Catalin stepped aside. “I’m sorry, please come in.”

  She, Arber, and Jeremy stepped through the doorway and waited in the cramped entrance.

  “Is Brees here?” She said trying to peer into the adjoining room, but her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the basement’s dim light. Dared she hope? “Or Aren?”

  “Aren?” Catalin’s brow furrowed. “Why would you ask about him?”

  “It’s important I speak with him,” she said. “He has critical information.”

  Tears welled in Catalin’s eyes. “Did you come all the way to Mara to speak with Aren?”

  “Yes. Please, if you know where he is —”

  “He’s here.” Catalin gestured toward the adjoining room. “But, I’m not sure he’s up for conversation.” Catalin stepped from the entryway and disappeared into the bedroom. “Follow me.”

  She stepped into the room after Catalin and squinted through the shadows.

  Dim lamp light spilled onto the bed where Brees had treated Keely for the atter strike. A plague-riddled figure lay motionless in the bed. Oozing red blisters covered the boy’s face and hands. If death hadn’t yet taken the boy’s life, it soon would.

  Catalin stepped into the room and stopped beside her. “That’s Aren.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jo

  Tara’s arms and legs flailed while the black water’s icy sting bit her to the bone. All sensation in her fingertips fled followed by her arms and legs. Dizziness flashed behind her eyes and consciousness slipped.

  She reached for her stored soul energy and channeled the flow into a void curtain.

  A black wrap shrouded her body in a protective cocoon. Harbor water swept through the curtain and siphoned her energy like a knife through a water barrel.

  The amount of energy required to sustain void magic would drain her reserves in minutes. She had to find a way out of the water or die.

  The bitter sting eased and faint sensation returned to her arms and legs. She flailed forward beneath the water’s surface churning her arms and legs in a frothy stew of ice.

  The clicking sound of oars smacking the water came from her right and she opened her eyes.

  In the harbor’s depths, blackness went on forever. Panic roared through her mind and she turned her gaze toward the surface.

  Torchlight flickered thirty yards away. A ship-size shadow appeared above the waterline a dozen feet ahead.

  Her lungs screamed for release, but if she broke the surface, troopers would fill her with arrows.

  She struggled toward the ship taking care to stay below the surface. Like a lamp low on oil, exhaustion crept into her bones. Her energy reserves burned on empty.

  The ship’s hull, cutting through the water’s surface, appeared a few feet ahead.

  She swam deeper moving beneath the shallowest section of the ship’s bow. Twinkling lights flashed behind her eyes and blackness twisted the edge of her vision.

  She grunted willing her body to give her a few more seconds. Her arms no longer contained strength enough to swim. She drifted higher threatening to break the surface.

  She slid beneath the stern and kicked with all the strength her legs could muster. Her head broke the surface and she inhaled pulling in sweet salty air.

  The blackness fled replaced by exhaustion. She could no longer sustain the curtain without passing out.

 
The ship’s ice-crusted hull stood before her. A twenty-foot wall of slick impenetrable mahogany. On the ship’s deck above, shadows hid any sign of life.

  Icy water slashed at her feet, legs, and chest. She pressed her palms against the hull and pulled herself toward the bow.

  A heavy splash sounded behind her and her breath caught in her throat.

  Her eyes darted across the water. No one appeared. Had an icicle fallen from the ship’s deck?

  A heavy thumping sound came from the hull a few feet toward the stern followed by an urgent whisper from the deck above.

  “Take the rope,” the voice said.

  Her gaze darted toward the deck, but shadows left the speaker masked.

  The thumping came again. “Take it,” the speaker hissed. “They’ll be on you any second.”

  A girl. A Meranthian girl by her accent.

  A rope appeared swaying against the ice-covered hull. She lunged forward and latched onto the rope wrapping it around her wrist and forearm.

  “Don’t let go,” the girl said from above.

  The girl grunted and her body inched upward. Her legs hung limp and useless like two slabs of frozen meat while her body shook.

  The girl’s voice strained with effort.

  She edged higher up the ship’s hull and turned her gaze toward the bow.

  Flickering torchlight reflected from the water. The low hiss of baerinese troopers came less than fifty feet away.

  If she took the girl’s life, she could reach the deck in seconds, but at what price? She would lose the girl’s mind along with any valuable information. No. She would let the girl live. One pet working alone couldn’t save her from an army. “Hurry.” She intended to say, but the word came out as a low jumbled moan across her frozen lips and tongue.

  High-pitched strains and grunts came from above.

  She edged higher up the hull hanging fifteen feet over the harbor.

  Near the stern, the torchlight grew brighter and the skiff’s bow slipped past the ship’s hull.

  Her heart raced and she turned her gaze upward. Through chattering teeth she tried to speak, but her lips and tongue wouldn’t abide her wishes.

  The girl grunted again and she lurched a foot higher then another.

  “Bastards,” the girl said under her breath.

  She moved another foot higher and the ship’s deck appeared.

  Heavy brown boots clunked against the frozen decking. A pair of strong hands grabbed beneath her arms.

  She flopped, like a dead fish, across the deck.

  “Let go,” the girl said.

  She let the rope go and coiled into a tight ball. Her body shook with violent tremors. “Pl-pl-please,” she said getting the word out.

  The girl’s heavy footfalls sounded behind her. A moment later, rope scraped against the hull.

  “She’s here. I saw her,” a baerinese trooper said from below.

  “I told you, she’s dead,” a second trooper said.

  “Both of you shut up and keep looking,” a third said. “The captain will skin us alive if we don’t return with her body.”

  A heavy weight pressed against her and hushed urgent words followed. “Don’t move,” the girl said whispering in her ear. “They’re right below us.”

  The girl’s arms wrapped around her and heat spread through her arms and chest.

  On the water below, oars slapped then faded. The skiff and its troopers disappeared off the ship’s port side.

  “They’ll start searching the moored ships next.” The girl’s warm breath tickled her ear sending a jolt through her body. “We’ve got to hide.”

  The girl moved and frigid air slammed into her.

  Her nightgown stiffened under a thin layer of ice and her arms and legs refused to work. The girl hadn’t recognized her. She couldn’t remember a time when a person didn’t recognize her.

  The girl moved behind her and knelt. Long hair dangled inches above her while the girl’s face remained hidden by shadows.

  She felt neither the girl’s touch nor the deck beneath her bare frozen feet. But, her body moved and her feet slid across the icy deck.

  The girl grunted and yanked her toward the stairs leading to the ship’s lower decks.

  More voices came from the harbor and grew louder by the second. She couldn’t make out the words, but the trooper’s sounded agitated.

  The girl’s head cocked sideways as if listening. “We’ve got to hurry,” the girl said in a nervous whisper. “They’re going to search the ships.”

  A buzz of adrenaline washed along her spine sending life into her arms and legs. Her fingers twitched and then her feet. “Help me up,” she said managing to slur the phrase.

  The girl offered a hurried nod and pulled her to her feet. “Lean on me,” the girl said in a low comforting whisper.

  Her arm slipped around the girl’s shoulder. Warm skin pressed against her. Adrenaline spiked. A living human’s touch laced with neither fear nor revulsion. Tears streaked her face restoring sensation in her cheeks. “Thank you.”

  The girl slipped a gloved hand around her waist and eased her down a stairway leading to the lower decks. “Three flights down. Can you manage?”

  She nodded willing her frozen feet and legs down the steps.

  With strained effort, the girl guided her three decks lower until the stairway ended. “This way. Hurry.”

  The low hiss of troopers and the rustling of heavy boots drifted down the stairway.

  Her pulse quickened and pain flared in her legs and feet replacing the numbness. “I think I can walk,” she said.

  The girl let her go and slipped ahead down the passageway.

  The familiar pang of loss floated through her stomach. A feeling that accompanied her like a dysfunctional friend. She edged forward along the passage pressing her hands against the bulkhead.

  The girl paused, cloaked under heavy shadow, and glanced toward her. “It’s here.” She pulled open a heavy door built into the decking and disappeared.

  She leaned forward and peered over the edge.

  A ladder disappeared into blackness.

  Her shoulder’s tensed. Was she walking into a trap?

  The girl’s comforting voice came from shadows. “It’s okay.” Soothing light flooded the compartment below and an oil lamp appeared in the girl’s raised hand.

  She paused staring into the girl’s face.

  Blond, dirt-streaked hair hung loose around the girl’s shoulders. A pair of intelligent green eyes peered up from the storage compartment.

  She slipped her feet in the ladder’s top rung and swayed.

  Voices rang from the stairway at the passageway’s end.

  The troopers would be on them in minutes. She forced herself down the ladder.

  The girl touched her leg and guided her down the ladder. “I’ve got you,” the girl said from below.

  She grabbed hold of a rope attached to the underside of the trapped door and eased it closed behind her. She continued down the ladder until her feet touched the deck.

  Wooden crates packed the ship’s cargo bay. Between the crates, narrow corridors led deeper into the hold. Corridors just broad enough for two slight humans to pass through.

  The girl slipped ahead and turned sideways to fit between the boxes and crates.

  She followed doing her best to keep with the girl’s hurried pace.

  The girl turned right and then left. They twisted and turned through a maze of crates before stopping.

  “Why are we stopping?” She said.

  “This is it.” The girl glanced toward an over-sized crate. One of dozens in the narrow isle.

  “We aren’t anywhere,” she said.

  The girl worked the edges of the crate’s cover. “Get the other side.” The girl glanced toward her. “Hurry.”

  She slipped her numb fingers inside a gap behind the crate’s lid and pulled in time with the girl.

  The lid fell away revealing its contents. Blankets, loose clothing
, bread, and dried fruit filled an otherwise open space.

  “Get inside,” the girl said.

  A half-dozen heavy footfalls pounded on the decking above.

  She hurried inside the crate and crawled to the back shivering in the corner.

  The girl ducked into the crate and pulled the lid shut using two pieces of rope attached to the lid.

  She struggled against an overwhelming urge to reach out and take the girl’s life. The night’s events had drained her energy. The dark magic flowing through her blood demanded feeding.

  The girl spun and faced her. “Take off your clothes.”

  Her teeth clattered, and she pressed her knees into her chest. “What?”

  “Your nightclothes are covered in ice.” The girl crawled ahead stopping near her feet. “You’ll freeze to death. I’ll help you.”

  She unfolded her body and nodded.

  “Your lips are blue and your skin is white as snow,” the girl said. “I don’t know how you survived.” The girl’s deft hands worked the buttons on her ruined nightgown. “What’s your name?”

  Why did the girl need her name? Would she recognize her? Her shoulders slumped and her gaze drifted downward. “Tara.”

  The girl’s hands never stopped working the buttons. “I’m Jo. Can you hold out your arms?”

  She did as Jo requested lifting her trembling arms outward. “Why did you save me?”

  Jo’s brow furrowed. “That’s an odd question. Why wouldn’t I save you? Those…things were about to kill you.” Jo pulled the frozen sleeves of her nightgown over her arms.

  The nightgown fell free revealing her naked body. She hugged her arms over her chest covering her breasts from view.

  Voices sounded outside the crate. The troopers had entered the cargo hold.

  “Be still,” Jo said. “They’ll hear us.”

  They could do more than hear. Should she tell Jo that the baerinese could detect strong emotion? Not now. Not ever. She nodded and leaned forward pressing her chest into her legs.

  A fresh wave of tremors set her body trembling. Without the aid of adrenaline or movement, she would go into shock.

  She tasted the ember of death deep inside her body and beckoned the magic forward. She couldn’t trust this girl. This human. But, Jo had saved her life.