Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) (43 page)

“So, they know we’re here?” Adearre asked.

“Yes,” Bray said. “And so I think it is time we acted, before they find our hideout.”

A particularly ominous howl of wind keened at that moment. The snow had begun to fall in earnest. It did not seem a terribly promising omen.

“So…” Adearre said. “We need to think of a way to get into a heavily-occupied compound and take a treasured object right out from under their noses. Should be a slice of
peidra…
”
 

Peer, quite unexpectedly, burst out laughing—the high-pitched, frantic laughter of a person under a tremendous amount of stress. The sound echoed eerily in the cave, like a chant. He laughed so hard and deep that tears formed in his eyes.
 

“What is so funny, love?” Adearre asked.
 

Yarrow felt Peer’s good mood flash like a light. “It’s Smugglers and Scrutineers,” he managed to say at last.
 

The others, even Ko-Jin, joined Peer in his laughter. The cave resounded with the sound, as if a large crowd were having a most merry time. Yarrow sat with raised brows, uncomprehending.

“Well,” Bray said, when her mirth had finally begun to subside, “it’s not exactly the same.”

“You mean when they tag us, we can’t just return to base?” Ko-Jin asked with a grin.

“No,” Bray said, “because they
can’t
tag me. I’ll only have to become solid long enough to get hold of the sphere. There is no reason for the rest of you to put yourselves in harm’s way.”

“Don’t know, Bray,” Peer said. “I’m not liking the idea of you heading in alone.”

“Yarrow will know if I get into trouble; you can come after me if something goes wrong. But how could it? They can’t touch me. We’ll just have to get away quickly—get to a boat.”
 

Yarrow shook his head. “Couldn’t we send word and wait for reinforcements?”

“It’d be near a month afor anyone could get here,” Peer said.

“And they know we’re here,” Bray added. “We need to act now. We need to take it from them before that monster forces more children to suffer for his cruel scheme.”

“You are right, of course,” Adearre said. “I only wish there was another way…”

“Does anyone have a better suggestion?” Bray challenged, green eyes narrowed.

“No…” Adearre said.

Bray gave a sharp nod of her head, as if that decided it.

“When?” Yarrow asked.

“Tonight,” she said definitively. “The longer we wait around, the more chance we have of being caught. At night, hopefully most of them will be sleeping.”
 

Yarrow still did not like the idea, but he could see no better alternative. They spent the rest of the evening discussing their plans, huddled against the cold and watching the snow mount beyond the mouth of the cave, Yarrow with a growing feeling of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

The night sky stretched black and starless. Thick snowflakes danced in the sea wind, as if lost between cloud and earth. Yarrow heard a horse whinny from within the cave. Peer whispered soothingly to the beast, stroked its velvet nose. They had gone for the horses some hours past. The carriage they had left—riding horseback would be faster, though two of them would have to share a mount.

Ko-Jin helped Bray bedeck herself with weapons. She wore a sword at her side, several knives hidden about her person, and two loaded pistols strapped to her thigh.
 

“The safety is on, remember.” Ko-Jin pulled the buckle tight.
 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said patiently.
 

Adearre strode into the cave, brushed off his coat, and kicked the snow from his boots. “It is done.”
 

“Any trouble?” Bray asked.

“No.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them. “It is just where we discussed. We will have the horses ready for you down here—it should give us a sufficient lead.”

Bray nodded. Yarrow could feel her tension; she was a drawn bow, taut and ready to spring. He had to respect her fearlessness.
 

“I suppose there is nothing more to wait for,” Bray said.
 

Peer came forward and pulled Bray into a tight embrace. “Be careful.”

She patted his back. “I will.”

Adearre approached her next. He whispered in her ear, but Yarrow could not make out the words. Bray gave Adearre a serious look and a single nod. He smiled down at her.

Ko-Jin offered Bray his arm and they shook hands. “That’s my favorite blade I’ve given you,” he said. “See that you return it to me.”

And then Bray turned to Yarrow, and he did not know what to do or say. Fortunately, she removed the need for him to act. She kissed him swiftly, her hands on either side of his face. It was a familiar thing, as if they had kissed a hundred times, yet it still sent a wave of warmth down his body. The others graciously pretended not to notice.
 

“I will see you shortly,” she said with a smile. Before Yarrow could respond in any way, she passed out into the darkness and merged with the shadows.
 

Ten minutes passed in long, slow succession. Peer set about packing, unpacking, and repacking their supplies. Ko-Jin, deep within the cavern, practiced the
Ada Chae
. Adearre leaned against the mouth of the cave and stared off vacantly into the snow. And Yarrow paced. He focused every ounce of attention on the bubble of emotion in his mind that belonged to Bray. She hummed with caution and determination.

Yarrow, so utterly intent on what Bray felt, didn’t see the shadows as they loomed into the opening of the cave. He did, however, hear Adearre call out and saw him jump to his feet.
 

Yarrow spun on his heel. A party of young Chisanta garbed in black emerged out of the darkness. They numbered too many to count; Yarrow and his companions were laughably outmanned. Still, he braced himself—rooted his feet to the ground and breathed in deeply through his nose. Prepared for a fight he could not win.

Ko-Jin and Peer ran forward, but not before three of the enemy set upon Adearre. He attempted to fight, but was overcome in a matter of moments—fists and feet moved so quickly they were nearly invisible. He received a hard blow to the face with a short staff and hit the floor with a sickening thud.
 

Peer called out in alarm and ran forward.
 

“No, Peer!” Ko-Jin shouted. “We need to stay together.”

But it was too late. Peer placed himself before Adearre’s crumpled form protectively. He managed to deliver several blows before he was caught by either arm and restrained. Then he, too, sustained a sharp thwack to the head and fell limp to the stony ground, just beside his friend.

Yarrow and Ko-Jin took several steps back.

“Stay by my side,” Ko-Jin said from the side of his mouth. Yarrow nodded, but knew not even Ko-Jin could overcome such numbers. Yarrow watched as they closed in. They were young, he could tell, but they worked together as a unit, with a single mind and a single purpose. Yarrow’s heart thudded rhythmically in his chest, but his head remained clear and his breathing even.
Ready.

Three figures stalked forward, as no more could fit abreast in the cave. Two of them struck at Ko-Jin and one at Yarrow. His opponent, a tall young woman with cold eyes, moved inhumanly fast. Yarrow could not hit her—every swing he took struck nothing but air. She, however, had no problem finding openings in his defense. She hit him square in the jaw with enough force that spots appeared before his eyes, but he remained standing. He was, after all, rooted. He could not be knocked down.
 

To his left, Ko-Jin was a sight to behold. He seemed to possess more than his fair share of arms and legs. He took down his first two opponents easily. They were instantly replaced by two more. Yarrow heard, distinctly, the sickening crack of Ko-Jin breaking an arm.

In his distraction, Yarrow did not see the girl’s fist coming until it struck him squarely in the nose. Blood poured hot and fast into his mouth. But, still, he remained upright.

Again, a crack reverberated in the cave. A second teen’s arm broken at the elbow.
 

“Enough!” a commanding voice echoed.
 

Yarrow’s opponent halted immediately and stepped aside. A thick-shouldered man with fair skin and deep red hair, barely younger than Yarrow himself, stepped forward. In his outstretched arm he held a pistol cocked and, Yarrow could only assume, loaded.

The man brought the gleaming barrel of the gun to rest flush against Yarrow’s forehead. The metal felt cool. It sent a shiver down his spine.
 

The redheaded man turned to Ko-Jin, who stood motionless, dark eyes wide. His fear sang in harmony with Yarrow’s own.

“Stand down, or your friend loses his head,” the man said through a thick north Dalish accent.
 

Ko-Jin raised his hands in surrender.
 

The man smiled, revealing a line of crooked teeth. “Very good.”

And his arm stretched back then slammed forward, the butt of the pistol hitting Yarrow sharply in the forehead. There was a moment of sharp, agonizing pain and a loud ringing noise—then blackness.

Darkness and silence pervaded the compound as Bray phased through the wall, careful to keep in the shadows. She knew, generally, where the sphere was being kept, but not what kind of defenses or protection it had, if any.
 

Bray slunk soundlessly, keeping flush with the great crumbling wall. A bird cawed from somewhere nearby and she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden breach in the stillness. She paused, allowing her heartbeat to regulate and her breathing to slow, and chastised herself for her jumpiness. Yarrow was liable to have felt that and be needlessly worried.
 

The wind whipped at her clothes, numbing her fingers with its cold. Her face stung and she could feel her nose beginning to run.
Best keep moving
, she told herself.

She came to the building from which she had seen the sphere taken several days before. Its roof had long since collapsed, though the walls were more intact than many of the other edifices in the ruin. Bray listened for several moments—it was utterly quiet within. With a deep breath, she phased through the wall and entered the structure. Though the ceiling was open to the falling snow and the star-strewn sky, the walls did provide some shelter from the wind, for which Bray’s numb appendages were glad.
 

She found herself alone in a long hallway. To head right would take her to the entrance, so she proceeded to the left, careful to keep her footfall silent. She came to a great oaken door, old and ornately carved, though rotting and splintered in places. It stood ajar, and through the crack a soft blue glow emanated. Crouched low, Bray peeked into the room. Within was a near-empty chamber, dark save for that cold light. Its source was the sphere, which, the only occupant of an inner chamber, sat like a piece of art upon a pedestal, cradled on a white silken pillow.
 

Bray’s breath caught at the sight of it, then her brow furrowed. That she should enter this highly-occupied compound without seeing a single individual seemed a blessing. That the building was unguarded, a miracle. But that her target, an ancient and powerful treasure, should be plainly on display, unprotected, and exactly where she expected it to be,
that
was far too good to be true. Bells of alarm rang in Bray’s mind. It was ideal, and in her experience such circumstances were never ideal. This must be a trap.

But trap or no, she could not turn back. She pushed the door open far enough to admit her and crept cautiously into the room. She entered an antechamber that circled the main atrium, an additional doorway standing between herself and her goal. The round chamber had high ceilings and a crumbling stair that led to what had once been a second story. The sphere sat at the very center, below the skeleton of a domed ceiling high above.
 

Bray studied the room as best she could in the limited light, but there were so many dark recesses it was impossible to feel entirely alone.