Betrayal in the Highlands (30 page)

What about Molly?

She and Norb deserve whatever they get.

You don’t believe that.

The hell I don’t.

“Abby,” he said, too emotionally exhausted to look at her. “See that building over there?” He pointed behind the ugly new tavern. “The stables?”

She squinted at the log-and-brush lean-to, where a group of horses stood tethered. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I want you to circle around and select the best three horses you can find.” He resumed his quick pace. “They need to be w-well, well-rested.”

“You want me to steal them?”

“Look. We don’t have time to be honorable, all right? Our lives are at stake.”

You don’t have time to be honorable?

“Okay.” Abby surveyed where Edmund had pointed. “No problem!”

“Wait a couple of minutes and then get them saddled. If there aren’t any saddles, just take them. Ride them out of town. We’ll meet you by the west gate.”

“What’re you going to do?” she asked.

“Make sure nobody tries to stop you.”

Edmund snapped his fingers at Becky, who’d fallen behind the group, sniffing in all directions. She caught up, nose still twitching high in the air.

“Go with Abby,” he told her. “All right, girl?”

Becky glanced warily around.

“There’s one more thing, Abby.” Edmund faced her, too weary to react to her beauty or the conflicting emotions rising from deep within him. “These … these people, the goblins and the rest. They’ll kill you, or worse, if they can. And there is worse than death—much worse. You have to trust me on that.” He held her gaze to ensure she understood he wasn’t exaggerating.

Abby cringed at Edmund’s bloody eye patch and turned away.

“If somebody grabs you,” he went on, “you have to fight back. You have to do whatever you can to get free. Bite, kick, hit—stab them in the groin. Do whatever you can. But don’t just stand there and scream, do you understand? Never allow yourself to be taken prisoner. Never.”

Abby nodded.

Edmund leaned closer. “What?”

“I said okay!” She swore under her breath. “I’m sorry about what happened in the woods. I was an idiot. It’ll never happen again, I promise.” She stared directly into Edmund’s swollen eye and repeated with determination, “I promise.”

Edmund softened. “I know. Next time you’ll know better.”

Next time?

“Ed, I just want to tell you—” There was tenderness in her voice, a tenderness Edmund couldn’t allow himself to feel at the moment. Molly’s words still pounded away inside him, hammering at his gut.

“Here.” Edmund tossed her the dagger she’d dropped when the goblins attacked. She caught it with fumbling hands. “We’ll talk when we have time. Just do what I said, all right? Get the horses and meet us by the west gate in a few minutes.”

“You can count on me.”

Edmund wanted to smile reassuringly at her, but all he could do was fight back tears.

“Come on, Pond.”

With Pond following, Edmund hobbled straight for the horses behind The Buxom Barmaid. Abby stood in the road, watching them. Edmund pointed at her then made an arc with his finger, indicating the route he wanted her to take. She nodded and hurried off around another building that appeared to be a general store, dagger at the ready.

Becky seemed undecided.

“Go with Abby,” he told her again. “And don’t let anybody get near her, okay? Protect Abby. Kill if you have to. Do you understand? If anybody tries to touch her, you kill them. All right?”

Becky raced off after Abby, leaving Edmund and Pond to stalk toward the makeshift stables behind the tavern.

“You aren’t planning on leaving her, are you?” Pond asked.

“No,” Edmund replied. “We’re getting out of here. All of us.” Then something in Pond’s demeanor registered in Edmund’s mind. He stopped. “Do you, do you
like
Abby?”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

Pond’s face reddened.

Damn it. I can’t believe this!

Pond shoved his hands into his pockets and lifted his shoulders. “I like her a good deal, Ed. And I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Traitor!

How can you think that about Pond? He’s not like Norb.

I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life.

That won’t be long if you don’t get out of here.

“Anyway,” Pond went on, “I think she likes you.” He forced a chuckle. “Must be the eye patch. Maybe I should get one.”

Cradling his damaged arm, Edmund watched Pond kick dirt and ash with the toe of his boot.

Nobody else in the world would have charged back into the library of the Undead King to rescue me like he did. Nobody
…

Edmund wondered which hurt more—his arm or his heart.

“Look, Pond, if you … if you and Abby … that is, if … if she wants you … well, she couldn’t pick a better man.”

Do you really mean that?

How much pain can one man endure in a day?

Pond looked up. For the first time in their relationship, it seemed he didn’t know what to say.

“Come on,” Edmund said. “We have to get out of here. All of us.”

He resumed hobbling.

They reached the eastern side of the two-story tavern.

I told him I could get Ed to do anything I wanted
…

Edmund scowled.

It’s true. You know it’s true. You were stupid to think she would actually have feelings for you. All those years, she was just manipulating you, using you to get what she—

“Ed?”

“What?”

“Everything okay?”

They crept along the side of the tavern. From inside came muffled conversations and laughing.

“I’m fine.”

“Because if it’s about Abby and everything …”

Edmund stuck his head around the corner and surveyed the field behind the building. It was hard to believe nearly three years ago, not far from that very spot, he’d sat on the back steps of The Wandering Rogue after being chased out of the common room by a young storyteller. But The Wandering Rogue was gone now like everything else, the entire town reduced to a handful of poorly constructed buildings, a few clusters of tents, and the burned-out remains of his wasted childhood. Across the field, eight horses and a pony were tethered to a railing before a wooden trough. Nobody appeared to be guarding them.

“Because if it’s about Abby,” Pond went on. “You know, I’d understand. She’s really remarkable.”

Yes, she is.

“Ed?”

Edmund tried to smile at his pit mate, but his lips only quivered. Tears began to well up behind his swollen eyelid. He felt empty—utterly empty.

He leaned against the side of the building.

“Let’s just, let’s just get out of here,” he said, “all right? Maybe when we’re safe … maybe she’ll, she’ll have us arm wrestle for her or something.”

Pond laughed. “And you wouldn’t mind losing?” He felt his flexed bicep.

“Pond …” Edmund sagged against the wall.

“All right, all right. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Thank you.”

He peeked around the corner again and scanned the night for any sign of a guard or a stablehand but saw nothing. All seemed quiet. Then he turned back and noticed how happy Pond seemed. Despite the dirt and drying blood, his face seemed to shine in the starlight. Edmund could practically see an image of Abby dancing in his head.

He deserves her.

I deserve to have somebody.

You endanger everybody around you, especially Pond and Abby. Do you really think somebody deserves you?

“Pond,” Edmund said, startling him from his thoughts. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything. Just name it. Do you prefer a spelling contest over arm wrestling?”

“If something were to happen to me …” Edmund chose his words carefully. “If, if I were to get killed or something, go back to Long Ravine, take all that money we have in the bank … and have a good life with Abby. Okay?”

“You mean that?”

Do you?

I don’t want to think about it.

“There’s something else,” Edmund continued. “I need to know that you’ll do as I ask. I n-need … I need to know you won’t lie to me or do something noble.”

Pond chuckled. “Noble? When am I ever noble?”

“Plenty of times. You are the most noble, the most heroic person I have ever met.”

“And to think I thought I was just a merchant!”

“Look, if … if I ever get captured …” Edmund paused, wondering how to express what he wanted to say. “If I ever get captured, don’t come for me, understand? Just take Abby and go as far away as possible. Take her back to Mogadore to meet your children. Okay? Go wherever you want. But don’t come after me.”

Pond became serious. “Ed, I—”

“Pond, I’m too tired to argue. I need to know you two will be safe. If something happens, I don’t want to be in some goblin pit, wondering if they have you and Abby somewhere, torturing you until I do what they want. I need to know that if Kravel says they have you … I need to know that’s a lie, understand? I don’t want to be tricked into coming back for you or giving them the formula.”

Pond stared off into the smoky blackness.

“Pond, please.”

“I’ll make sure Abby’s safe,” he said.

“That’s not good enough,” Edmund replied, his voice tired and drawn. “I need you to promise you won’t come back for me. I need to know you won’t put yourself in danger like that again.”

“But, Ed—”

“But Ed nothing. Look, Pond, you have to take care of Abby. You can’t protect us both. You know that, don’t you?”

Pond picked at the grey paint flaking off the weathered wall of The Buxom Barmaid.

“It isn’t as if I wouldn’t try to escape,” Edmund went on. “I just don’t want to get distracted by thoughts of you two being held hostage or something. Do you understand what I mean? I need to know you won’t be used against me. Please, Pond. Promise me.”

Inside the tavern, a great shout of drunken laughter went up.

“Tell you what,” Pond said. “If you get dragged back to the pits, I’ll say good riddance to you.” Then his voice caught in his throat. “But, but if they do capture you, I’m chasing them until they reach the mountains. Deal?”

“What about Abby? You have to take care of her first, all right? Don’t worry about me. I have Becky.”

At the hitching post, a horse nickered.

Abby was sneaking through the darkness along the makeshift stables, Becky close behind. Even from a distance she looked breathtaking, soft starlight shimmering off her face and long black hair. The heaviness smothering Edmund seemed to lighten as he watched her. But then he thought about Pond and Abby—and Molly and Norb.

I’ll die alone.

Better than making somebody die with you.

“Let’s go,” he said with an effort. “I don’t want some drunk guard stopping her. Let’s make sure nobody’s around to—”

Edmund straightened.

An icy sensation prickled over his skin. Pond sensed it as well.

“Ed,” he whispered. “Remember the rose garden back at Baroness Melody’s estate?”

Edmund peered around the corner of The Buxom Barmaid for a third time. He thought he could see Abby and Becky moving behind the stables, but he couldn’t discern anything in the desolate night that might have been responsible for his growing fear.

“Ed.”

Pond was looking back the way they’d come, back to the front of the tavern where three shapes marched toward them through the darkness.

“Ed,” Pond repeated, still staring at the figures.

One was clearly Edith, striding next to the diminutive outline of Lester the Jester. But the third figure—a vague form, bent and tottering toward them with the aid of a cane—drew Edmund’s attention. Though the unbridled fury in Edith’s eyes and Lester’s contemptuous scowl had now become clear, Edmund still couldn’t make out who led them. It was as if this person were cloaked in shadowy wisps that barely concealed the red flames of wrath within.

“Get out of here,” he said to Pond. “Go. Go warn Abby!”

Pond stepped backward, preparing to flee, when a voice, rough and old and full of power, slithered through the night.
“Stivne enplass nå
.
”

Pond went rigid.

Something in this voice struck a chord in Edmund’s memory; he’d heard it before, though not filled with such hatred and unbridled rage.

Who—?

Edith, Lester, and the shadow-cloaked figure halted before Edmund and Pond, just out of sword-thrusting range. The hunched figure pointed a gnarled white finger at Pond.

Hunched
…

That librarian back in Eryn Mas was hunched. What was his name?

“
Søvn nå
,” the old voice said.

Pond collapsed to the ground, eyes rolling into his head, hand still clutching the rapier.

“Pond!” Edmund kneeled by his pit mate.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Lester said. “You’re the one whose goose is about to be cooked. And where’s that damned dog? That crazy mutt will finally get what it deserves, too.”

Pond was still warm, but his breaths were shallow and uneven.

“Edmund.” Edith’s smoldering anger betrayed her forced calm. “What did you find in Iliandor’s diary? Under its cover. What did you find?”

Holding his throbbing right arm, Edmund wished he’d drawn his sword. At least then he might have been able to do something, even left-handed. He glanced past Edith. The road in front of The Buxom Barmaid lay deserted. He searched right. A few tents stood a couple of blocks away, but their inhabitants wouldn’t be able to help. What could such men do against three magic users?

“Answer her,” the old man demanded.

The librarian’s name was—

“Horic?” Edmund said.

Immediately his vision penetrated the shadowy wisps cloaking the figure’s face. It was Horic, yet it wasn’t; at least, it wasn’t the kindly old man who’d helped Edmund in the library at Eryn Mas the year before. The person before him was ancient but far from frail. He was as old as time and just as formidable.