Glyphbinder (18 page)

“Hold,” Trell said.

Kara halted Charger, staring at Trell’s arm and then at the side of his head. Jair shouted and the wagon creaked to a stop. Its team, Stomper and Tack, pawed anxiously at the earth.

“Trell?” Kara asked. “Problem?”

“I’m not sure.” Trell frowned at her. “These Sentinels you mentioned. They are an elite military force?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“And you are certain this garrison is active?”

“If it isn’t, someone needs to update our maps.”

“Then I am concerned. If these Sentinels are an elite unit, as you said, we should already have been intercepted by a scout. At least met with their perimeter.”

A bleary-eyed Byn poked his head from the wagon, squinting at the midday light. Trell dropped his arm as Chesa snorted and stomped. Neither of them liked this.

Kara stared at the distant fortress. “Are you certain? Do you know how Sentinels operate?”

“I don’t,” Trell said, “but letting us approach unchallenged makes no sense. I expected someone to greet us in these ruins, ideally before we emerged. Any of these old towers is an ideal place to survey an approach, yet we’ve seen no one. Doesn’t that seem odd?”

Byn hopped from the wagon and approached. “What’s going on?”

Kara glanced at him. “We’re wondering why no one at Highridge Keep has come out to say hello.”

“Ah.” Byn nodded. “I’ll have a look.” He closed his eyes and scribed Theotrix on his face in blood, granting himself the sight of a hawk. Byn opened his eyes and stared at the distant keep.

“I don’t see anyone. There are banners flying, but no one on the walls, and the drawbridge is open.” Byn shook his head and blinked off the glyph. “Could they be out fighting a battle? On patrol?” He walked to the back of the wagon and unwound Pacer’s lead.

Trell shook his head. “No commander worth his salt would let us close unchallenged, nor leave his fortress open and empty. I’m sorry, Kara, but I believe this garrison has been abandoned.”

Kara huffed. She didn’t believe it. She didn’t
want
to believe it, and that gave her pause. What if someone had gotten here ahead of them and killed an entire garrison of Sentinels? What if she was leading them into another trap?

Sera emerged from the wagon, eyes still puffy from crying. Kara grimaced as she thought back on her immature feud with Aryn. How badly had it hurt Sera to be caught in the middle? One more anchor of guilt weighing her down beside so many others.

Kara ground her teeth. Every decision she made turned out wrong. The Sentinels couldn’t all be dead, but they certainly weren’t here. Where could they go now? How could they survive?

How many more of them were going to die?

She remembered Halde’s talk of their world turning to the Underside. She already knew Demonkin were active in the Five Provinces. Had they raised some new horror to tear apart this keep?

Kara pushed all that aside. A leader kept her head. She didn’t feel like a leader but she was one, now, whether she liked it or not. Her friends needed her, and she couldn’t let them down. She sidestepped Charger closer to Trell’s mare.

“Sentinels don’t fall easily, Trell, but what we saw in Taven’s Hamlet — gnarls, Shifters, and mages all working together — it might be enough. There could be an entire army out here.”

Trell nodded. “None of you can eat the food we brought from Solyr. Correct?”

“Not without losing the ability to glyph. It won’t harm you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m more worried about the timing. Now, when we are desperately low on supplies, we’re presented with an empty, open garrison that no doubt contains more than enough food to get us to Tarna. A clear path and an open drawbridge.

Kara glared at the keep and huffed. So it
was
a trap. “Then we ride on. We hunt for food and forage for water.”

“For five people, and horses? That will be difficult, and it will slow us down. Additionally, what if the garrison is not as empty as we suppose? What if there are survivors?”

“What are you suggesting we do, Trell?”

“We take a risk either way.” He took a breath. “However, we cannot move on without inspecting this keep.”

“Fine.” Kara agreed even though the thought of entering Highridge Keep gave her chills. “Let’s get it over with.”

“You will be staying here.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“If this is a trap, it is meant for you. You can’t walk into it.”

“And you can?” Kara did her best to keep the frustration from her tone, but it was difficult. Lack of sleep and guilt over Aryn weighed on her like barnacles on a hull.

“Of all of us,” Trell said, “I have the best chance to defeat or escape anything waiting in that garrison. Or have you forgotten last night’s davenger?”

Kara looked ahead. No, she hadn’t forgotten about last night. “You don’t even know how you did that.”

“Nevertheless, we need those provisions. If there are survivors here, we cannot leave them to their fate. And we cannot have you enter that garrison without knowing what waits inside.”

Kara wanted to hit Trell then, for a moment, and even the thought shamed her. She didn’t like the way he was treating her, like she was some helpless child than needed to be protected. Yet was he, really? Or was he simply calling out a tactical reality?

Their hunter sought
her
. That was their reality now and it changed things, for everyone. Kara wondered if this is how rulers like Prince Beren felt on battlefields. Helpless. Useless. Forced to watch as soldiers died for them while they hid safely behind the lines. Because if they fell, every last sacrifice would mean nothing.

Trell, Byn, Sera, Jair — all of them were risking their lives to protect her. Aryn had lost his. It didn’t matter that she could protect herself. Trell knew that. He was simply reminding her that if she entered Highridge Keep she would put them all at risk, and for what? To prove she wasn’t afraid? To mend an ego bruised by constantly being outmaneuvered by her hunter?

“All right,” Kara said. Clenching her reins as she did so. “But you’re not going in alone.” She beckoned to Byn, even though everything inside her wanted to keep him safe. “We need provisions. They might be in that garrison. Can Rannos sniff them out?”

Byn glanced at Sera as she watched them, arms crossed. She had just lost someone she cared about, and now Kara was sending another man she loved into danger. Sera nodded to them.

“Yeah,” Byn said, rubbing the back of his head. “Rannos can sniff them out.”

“Then take Trell and your horses. See if provisions or survivors remain in Highridge Keep, and be careful. If anything threatens, if you even think you might be in danger, ride to Highridge Pass.”

Jair dropped from the wagon and settled on the ground, cross-legged. “While they search the garrison, I’ll look for any dead, Sentinels or otherwise. If people were killed here and their souls remain, I may be able to find out what happened.”

“Do it,” Kara said, “and hurry.” She turned her eyes on Trell. “No unnecessary risks. Flee to Highridge Pass. Remember.”

Byn climbed into Pacer’s saddle and he and Trell set off, riding at an easy but steady pace for Highridge Keep. Kara watched them go and bit her lip. She wanted to scream after them.

“Hey,” Sera said quietly. She stood beside Kara’s horse now.

Kara glanced down at her. “What?”

“You’re doing great.” Sera squeezed her leg. “You’re doing what you have to, and I don’t blame you for anything.”

“Sera—“

“I said I don’t blame you,” Sera repeated, staring up at her. “Neither would Aryn. There’s only one woman to blame here, and if we see her again, we’ll stop her. For good.”

Kara sighed heavily and watched Trell and Byn ride into Five knew what. “I just hope it’s that easy.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK HUNTS US, TRELL?” Byn asked, once they had ridden a good distance from the wagon. He missed Sera already, but couldn’t let that distract him.

Trell shrugged. “A Tellvan battlemage. Kara said so herself."

“I know what Kara said, and I know what Sera saw. But I want to know what you think, as a Tellvan soldier.”

“You mean what I think about slaughtering civilians?”

Byn sagged and stared ahead. “I’m sorry about what I said at Taven’s Hamlet. I shouldn’t have gone after you like I did.”

“You don’t know me, Byn,” Trell said, after a moment of silence. “I don’t even know me. To be honest, when we first saw that Tellvan banner … I was afraid you might be right.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be.” Byn frowned at him. “I’ve seen enough of you to know you wouldn’t do that. Just murder people like that. I can’t point to one particular thing you’ve done, or one particular thing you’ve said, but I just don’t think you’re the butchering type.”

“I appreciate the confidence.”

“But I don’t think this mage is Tellvan. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh?”

“During the All Province War, the Tellvan were our strongest allies. Even after the High Protector disintegrated Metla Tassau they worked with us, traded with us.”

“A looming threat can do much for peace,” Trell said. “So long as it looms. Stop here.”

Byn listened, stopping Pacer by the open drawbridge. Trell dropped off Chesa and Byn did the same, seeing the logic. No need to risk the horses throwing a leg on muddy cobblestones or getting panicked by a demon. Better to leave them here, safe.

A moat surrounded the garrision, brown, stagnant water. The dark chains linked to the bridge were well kept. No Sentinels showed themselves, and no one challenged them.

Byn closed his eyes and brushed Pacer’s nose. He felt the nervousness in his horse. He stroked Pacer’s flanks and clucked his tongue, softly, until Pacer relaxed. He moved to Chesa and repeated his comforting routine.

“What are you doing?” Trell asked.

“Steadying their minds.” Byn brushed off his hands. “Pacer here is more nervous than Chesa, but even she is wary and tense. They don’t like this garrison. It feels wrong.”

“You can tell all that with one touch on their nose?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a Beastruler if I couldn’t.” Byn thumped Pacer’s side, and his gelding snorted. “Let’s go.”

Trell’s hand touched the grip of his sword, a habit that seemed instinctive, and then he stepped onto the drawbridge. His boots thumped on solid wood, new and strong. Nothing creaked.

Byn followed. “Anyway, Trell, it wasn’t just the threat of Metla Tassau that kept Tellvan with us. Even after the war, they fought hard against the Demonkin. They sent hundreds of mages and soldiers out hunting and many died, badly. They despise demon glyphs. They’d never use them, and would murder anyone who did.”

Trell shrugged as they approached a high stone arch with an open porticullus. “Whoever hunts us may not be in their right mind. I doubt they are working at the behest of the Seven Sheiks.”

“So why hunt Kara? What do they want with her?”

“All we know is we must keep her from them, no matter the cost. The fate of Aryn Locke proves that more than ever.”

“Yeah.” Byn felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. “Aryn didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

Byn still didn’t know how to think about a man who would throw himself into eternal torture to save Sera’s life. It made him feel smaller, somehow, like he had failed Sera in some way he could never fix. Like he didn’t deserve her anymore.

He had always planned to return to Boon and become a veterinarian after graduating Solyr. Sera would join him, marry him, and heal Boon's sick or injured. They would raise their children beside the sea, help Kara tend Ona, fish and sail—

“Byn?” Trell asked. “Anything?”

Byn realized they now stood on mud and cobblestones. “Right.” They had entered the keep. This was why he was here, after all.

Byn examined Highridge Keep’s inner courtyard. Light gray bricks formed massive walls, and the windows in the outer wall were as dark within as they had been without. Mournful wind whistled over the walls and its iron pikes. Nothing else stirred.

Byn sliced his finger and scribed Rannos on his forehead. It felt like his nostrils grew three sizes. The smell of rotting flesh hit so hard it dropped him to his knees, choking and gagging.

“What’s wrong?” Trell asked. A touch worried.

“Sorry.” Byn tried not to cough. The smell was coming from the main door of the inner keep, from behind it. Bodies rotting away.

Byn unscribed Rannos. He couldn’t think with the stench. When he finished, he stood and took a deep breath.

“I think I know what happened to the Sentinels.”

A SHARP INTAKE OF BREATH caught Kara’s attention, forcing her eyes from Highridge Keep. Jair stood, eyes wide and a clear, deep blue. Kara gasped as she remembered what that meant.

The soul determined the color of one’s eyes. Her own soul had changed when she made her first glyph, turning her eyes orange, but a Soulmage’s eye color changed to that of whatever soul inhabited their body. The soul now inside Jair had blue eyes.