Rift (24 page)

“Please, Ember.” Alistair’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I would still be your friend.”

Releasing her breath, Ember said, “As would I.”

“Good,” he said with a nod, but he wasn’t looking at her.

Ember followed his gaze and found Barrow waiting at the far side of the hall. He was watching them.

“Come, then,” Alistair said, walking toward Barrow. Ember followed, and when they reached him, Alistair said, “I’m sorry to keep your student from you, Barrow. I simply wanted to wish an old friend luck on her first mission.”

“She needs no luck,” Barrow said.

“Of course.” Alistair brushed past the taller knight into the hallway.

Ember began to follow him, but Barrow caught her elbow.

“Is all well?”

“Yes,” she said truthfully. Alistair’s admission of offense had freed the painful knot tied in her belly for the past day.

Barrow looked into her eyes for a moment, searching for proof that she’d spoken honestly, and then continued into the hall. She walked beside him in silence.

The paddock was located between the practice field and the stables. They came upon Ian and two stable hands holding six restless horses, Caber and Toshach among them.

An older man with a shiny, bald head, who was cloaked in the same dark gray robes worn by Lora, stood alongside the Guard’s commander.

“When you’re ready, Hamish,” Lukasz said.

Hamish bowed. “Commander.”

From within the folds of his robes, Hamish produced two slender metal spikes unlike anything Ember had seen. Stranger yet, the bald man began to stab the air with the spikes. His arms reached high and dipped low.

As he moved, the air began to change. No longer was Hamish striking at the air; instead he was pulling shimmering threads of light through the empty space before him. The spikes moved faster and faster. The bright threads twisted, layering atop one another. The horses began to paw the earth, shying away from the ribbons of light that flowed from Hamish’s spikes. Soon a tall, gleaming rectangle appeared holding an image in its depths more vivid than a tapestry. Within the light-filled shape Ember could see a heavily forested slope.

Hamish spun to a stop. He bent over, panting. Sweat poured over his scalp and down his face.

Ember had taken several steps back.

“What is that?” she whispered more to herself than to anyone else.

But Alistair had made his way to her side. “That is how we can make it to Cornwall and back in a day.”

“But how?” She gazed at the shimmering image, her heart battering her ribs.

“The mysteries of the clerics are many.” Barrow approached her from the other side. She thought she noticed him shoot Alistair a warning glance. “One of the secrets they’ve unlocked is this: a means to open doors to far-off places.”

Ember’s breath was coming fast. Her first encounter with the wonders at work within Conatus had fascinated her, but the reality of their existence was finally settling in her mind. Magic. Conatus wielded powerful magic. Real magic.

The danger of their position made her sway on her feet. Hadn’t Sorcha and Lukasz just spoken of how many innocents were burned for accusations of witchcraft? And there was no innocence to be found here. If others were to learn what went on behind the walls of the keep, surely they would all be tied to stakes and set aflame. It had already happened to the Templars. What was there to stop it from happening again?

Barrow’s hand was on her shoulder. She looked up at him and saw him taking in the fear in her eyes.

“The path is here,” he said quietly. “But you are free to walk it or choose another way.”

As he spoke, Sorcha moved into the light, leading a roan gelding, and was gone. No, not gone . . . but in a different place. Through the wavering gleam of the doorway Ember could see her standing near a tall pine tree. Lukasz and his dapple-gray mare went after her, followed by Kael and Alistair with their mounts.

“What do you choose?” Barrow said, remaining at her side.

Ember ran her fingers over Silence and Sorrow, hanging in their leather sheaths at her sides. She answered him by taking Caber’s reins from Ian and walking into the light.

Her skin prickled as she passed through the door, as if hundreds of butterfly wings brushed against her and then were gone. Caber pranced and snorted as they moved through the light but gave no other signs of distress.

Alistair was waiting for her on the other side of the door. “Incredible, isn’t it?”

They stood in the midst of tall pines, the cover of the trees much denser than that of Glen Shiel. Sunbeams struggled to pierce the cloak of branches.

“Can it be real?” Ember murmured. “Are we truly in the German forest?”

“It’s real.” As Barrow answered, the light-filled door vanished, making her gasp. Toshach swished his tail as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

“Where did it go?”

“Hamish closed the door,” Barrow said. “Leaving the portals open would expose Tearmunn to discovery. And the magic that Hamish wields is rare. We’ve found few individuals who can master the art of weaving portals.”

While logical, his answer didn’t speak to Ember’s primary concern. “But how do we get back?”

“A door will reopen here at the appointed hour tomorrow, as the mission is likely to take us through the night.” Barrow moved to Lukasz’s side and Toshach pranced to impress the commander’s mare, who eyed the eager stallion with disdain. The commander was gazing up into the tree cover, turning in a slow circle.

“It makes me miss my homeland.” Lukasz gave a wistful sigh.

Kael swung into the saddle of his bay mare. “You’re imagining the resemblance. We’re much closer to France than Poland.”

Lukasz threw him a cold glance. “Don’t spoil my reverie.”

Ember only half noticed the exchange. She was still mulling over the news that she’d be spending the night in a foreign land where flesh-eating monsters might be living in the trees. It wasn’t a comforting notion.

“Don’t worry, Em,” Alistair said as he mounted his coal-black gelding. “If we find the striga early, we’ll get to spend our night at a village tavern. The Germans brew incredible beer.”

Ember returned his smile weakly. Caber nudged her shoulder, and she gratefully let him lip at her braid.

“At least you’re here,” she murmured, patting the stallion’s velvet nose.

Alistair grinned at her. “My pleasure.”

She didn’t bother correcting him given that she’d pledged to restore their friendship.

When they were all mounted, Lukasz reined his mare around to face the group.

“Our work will be much less treacherous in daylight,” he said. “Though also less likely to bring us success. Hamish brought us to the central point around which the disappearances have occurred. There’s a village directly to the east. We’ll fan out in pairs to the west, south, and north. Keep an eye out for evidence of the striga—its roosting site or remains of its prey. Should you find something, alert the rest of us with a horn blow.”

Ember was about to ask about Lukasz’s last instruction when she looked down at her saddle and found a small horn of polished ebony hanging from a leather cord.

“If we find nothing before sunset, we’ll regroup here and proceed with our hunt.” Without waiting for a response, Lukasz wheeled the gray mare around and set off to the south at a gallop. Sorcha clucked her tongue and her gelding took off in pursuit of the commander.

Kael stretched lazily. “North or west?” he asked Alistair.

“Does it matter?” Alistair asked.

“North is hills and woods,” Kael said. “West is the Rhine.”

Ember spoke up. “I’d like to see the river.”

“As the lady wishes, then,” Kael said. “Let’s go, Alistair.”

The two men set out at a trot.

“You want to see the Rhine?” Barrow asked Ember.

“The river is the closest I imagine I’ll ever be to France,” Ember said. “And soon my sister will make her home there. She’s betrothed to the Count de La Marche.”

“Is she?” Barrow nudged Toshach into a walk and Caber fell in beside the other stallion.

Ember nodded.

“Our work takes us to many places in the world,” he said. “Even France. You may yet visit the French kingdom.”

“That may be true, but I’ll likely never see Agnes again, and since I have the opportunity, I would like to at least have looked on the land she now calls home,” she told him.

“And why France?” Barrow asked. “Your sister had no suitors closer to home?”

Ember’s laugh was abrupt. “She did! In fact, it was Alistair’s older brother, Henry. I always thought her silly to be smitten with him. Henry’s as hotheaded as Alistair. But when my father arranged the match with the count, Agnes gave no objection. He hopes gaining kin across the channel will bring him lands there as well. Even if she dislikes her new husband, Agnes would never cross my father.”

And I wonder if that is the cause of her sorrow,
Ember thought, surprised it had taken her so long to consider that possibility. She wished she could speak to Agnes. How many burdens did Agnes bear alone because Ember had been too consumed by her own worries about the future? She didn’t know when she might find out. There had been no word from her family since they’d left Tearmunn.

“Mmmm.” Barrow cast a sidelong glance at her. “And he had similar plans for you?”

“My father always has plans.” She put her heels to Caber and the stallion leapt forward.

EIGHTEEN

THE COMMANDER’S
prediction proved accurate. Though Ember and Barrow spent the morning winding through the forest and the afternoon traveling alongside the Rhine, they found no signs of the striga. In the course of their search they’d scared up a few deer and startled a peasant woman who was out gathering firewood, but otherwise they’d only had each other for company. No horn called them back. When the haze of sunset seeped through the pines, Barrow reined Toshach to the east.

“Let’s return to the others.”

By the time they reached their point of origin, the sun was gone. If a moon graced the night sky, its light wasn’t strong enough to push back the forest’s gloom. Ember squinted into the darkness, hoping at some point her eyes would adjust. She didn’t know how she’d fight if she was blind.

Her fears were slightly allayed when Sorcha produced a lantern, which she hung from a wooden pole. The horn panes of the lantern were barely translucent, throwing only a bit of light into the shadows.

“So it’s a hunt, then,” Kael said.

“Yes.” Lukasz passed a weary hand over his face. “We’ll have to draw it out.”

“And hope it’s hungry,” Kael added.

Sorcha shifted in her saddle and the lamplight flickered. “They’re always hungry.”

“And that works in our favor tonight,” Lukasz said, swinging out of his saddle. “We’ll leave the horses tethered here. The striga is no danger to them.”

Kael jumped down from his mount and grinned darkly. “Horseflesh can’t compare to human.”

Barrow grimaced as he dismounted. Ember slid out of the saddle, leaning her forehead against Caber’s neck and feeling regretful that she’d be leaving him behind.

When the horses were tethered, the knights walked a short distance into the forest and gathered in a tight circle.

“How do you propose we lure the striga?” Alistair asked in a hushed voice.

Ember didn’t know if whispers were necessary, but the pressing darkness and thick silence of the Black Forest did make speaking in normal tones akin to shouting.

Kael kept his voice low as well. “I’d think that would be obvious. The striga will be looking for a meal.”

Barrow nodded, and Ember’s skin began to crawl.

“The villagers have begun to avoid the forest after dark,” Lukasz said. “We should be the only prey available tonight. And with the forest folk hiding in their houses, the night flyer should be getting desperate for fresh meat.”

“Ember is the obvious choice,” Sorcha said. “She’s the smallest of us, and if she rids herself of her weapons and tabard, she’ll appear vulnerable.”

Alistair bristled. “We’re not using Lady Morrow as bait. I’ll do it.”

“I’m not afraid,” Ember protested, though she had to push the words out of her closing throat. “I can make do with a dagger. Just tell me what to do.”

“No,” Barrow told her. “He’s right. Revenants are vile foes, but a striga is a truly vicious and cunning monster. Your first mission is not the one in which to take such a dangerous role.”

Lukasz nodded. “Alistair is as fine an option as Ember. He may not play the part of a helpless young woman, but he’ll easily appear an overconfident fool.”

“Thanks, Commander,” Alistair said drily.

Lukasz grinned at him. “If the role fits . . .”

“Of course.” Alistair unbuckled his sword belt and pulled off his tabard, handing both to Kael. “What now?”

“Take the lantern and start walking east,” Lukasz told him. “We’ll flank you, keeping to the shadows. I’d wager the striga will be hunting closer to the village, hoping it can catch someone who thinks it safe enough to step outside if they stay close to home.”

Sorcha passed the lantern to Alistair.

“One more thing.” Lukasz pulled a dagger from his belt, and before Alistair had time to react, the commander sliced open the side of his neck.