Rift (43 page)

“How dare you come to Lady Morrow in the middle of the night, you cur.” Alistair spat at his feet.

With a drawn face Barrow gazed at him and then at Ember, who still clung to her loose kirtle.

She shook her head. “Barrow, please, it’s not . . . He surprised me.”

The pale cast of Barrow’s skin became a white rage. “I told you to stay away from her. And yet you burden her still with your childish obsession.”

“I love her, you brute!” Alistair snarled.

Barrow grabbed Alistair by the shirt and towed him into the cell, kicking the door shut behind them.

“I would not bring shame on Lady Morrow by drawing our companions to witness this scene,” Barrow said. “But I will not tolerate your presence here.”

“I have far greater claims to Lady Morrow than you.” Alistair shook himself free of Barrow’s grip.

Barrow’s hands fisted. “No one has claim on her.”

“And I suppose you’re here to comfort her now that her mentor is dead . . . the mentor she gained once you abandoned her.” Alistair smiled cruelly. “Do you think to wile your way into her bed, promising to guide her to womanhood?”

Barrow lunged at Alistair, but Ember reached him first. Her fist cracked against Alistair’s jaw.

“How dare you claim to love me and speak of me so?”

Alistair stared at her, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry, my lady. This barbarian’s rudeness infects me.”

“Barrow has done nothing wrong,” Ember told him. “I asked him to come here because I don’t understand what is required of the Guard after Sorcha’s death.”

Alistair’s eyes roamed over Ember’s bare shoulders. “And you thought to receive his advice in your nightshirt?”

Ember stiffened. “I thought he had decided the hour too late to come. His appearance is a surprise to me. Just as yours was.”

Behind her, Ember could hear Barrow breathing hard, but he didn’t move toward Alistair again.

“Then perhaps the honorable thing to do is for both of us to bid you good night.” Alistair glanced at Barrow. “Ember spoke true. The hour is far too late and we needn’t keep her from sleep with our quarrel.”

Barrow was silent for a moment but then said, “Agreed.”

Ember turned, casting a pleading gaze on him. How could she object without making things worse? He gave a slight shake of his head.

“After you,” Barrow said to Alistair, gesturing to the door.

Alistair bowed to Ember and said, “Think on my words, Ember.”

Barrow lifted his brows but followed Alistair to the door without speaking.

He turned in the door frame. “Sleep well, Lady Morrow,” he said. Then he closed the door.

THIRTY-THREE

EMBER STARED AT THE
ceiling, unable to sleep though she lay on her pallet in a clean, dry nightshirt. She’d listened so hard for any sign of Barrow’s return that her ears ached. But he hadn’t come back. She toyed with the idea of going to him but couldn’t help but think that his absence was a sign of anger toward her. The thought of seeking Barrow’s cell and his bed only to be turned away made her feel as if she’d be sick.

Her mind remained divided because of another matter as well. What did Alistair mean about a new order? Did Eira have a plan that only the Circle knew? But if that were the case, why would Alistair know about it and not the rest of the Guard?

In the woods, that shadow creature had manifested in front of her, but when the pendant had burned, it had vanished.

The pendant that Alistair had given her. Eira’s pendant.

And what had Eira told them about Sorcha’s death? She’d said that the villagers believed Sorcha to be a witch because the shadow creatures had vanished instead of attacking her. And they’d burned her for it.

Ember’s throat went dry. Why had the creatures vanished? Had Eira given Sorcha a pendant as well?

She climbed from her bed, groping in the darkness for the necklace, which she’d left on the table.

Her hands shook as she lifted it, trying to make out its details despite the lack of light to see by. In the shadows she could see nothing other than a pendant dangling from a chain, but the longer she gazed at it, the faster her pulse pounded.

Could she have been taken in Sorcha’s place? Did Sorcha burn only because she’d been caught in the village where Ember had not?

The knock at her door made Ember jump. The pendant slipped from her hand, its gold edges tinkling against the table when it fell.

Ember’s throat went dry. Why had the creatures vanished? Had Eira somehow been connected to it? She’d been the only one to witness Sorcha’s demise. Could she have stopped it but didn’t?

Before she could answer, the door opened and Ember’s chest tightened. She was certain Alistair had returned. But the figure that entered her cell was much too tall to be Alistair.

“Ember, you must wake.” The sound of Lukasz’s voice startled her more than the knock at her door.

“I’m awake, Commander.”

“There is an urgent matter,” he whispered. “Dress and come to the stables. Make haste, for time works against us.”

“I’ll hurry,” she said.

Without another word he was gone and she was once again alone. Ember slid a fresh kirtle over her shoulders and pulled on chausses. After she’d belted her tabard, she hooked the leather covers for her weapons into place, haunted by the feeling she would need them. She donned her heavy cloak and drew its hood over her head.

When Ember reached the stables, she found a small group huddled around a single lantern held by Father Michael. She glanced over the half dozen men and women, seeking familiar faces. Lukasz and Kael were both there along with knights she recognized but didn’t know other than from sharing meals with them in the hall. The only person present who wasn’t one of the Guard was Thomas, the eldest member of the Circle. She continued her search, and her eyes burned when she realized she’d been expecting to see Sorcha among them.

“Ember.”

She whirled to find Barrow standing behind her. Fighting the impulse to embrace him, she let her fingers brush over his before letting her hand drop to her side.

His smile was fleeting. “I’m sorry . . .” His words trailed off, but she knew he couldn’t say more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He joined her in the small circle, standing close enough that their arms touched.

Lukasz, who’d been speaking quietly with Father Michael and Thomas, looked over the group and nodded.

“This completes our number.” He sighed, shaking his head. “We are few, but I can’t claim surprise at that.”

A weasel-faced knight, who Ember remembered was named Fitch, asked, “Are the rumors true?”

“I am sorry to say that they are,” Lukasz answered, looking around at the huddled group. “You are here because you came to me after Eira visited you with promises of power, of a new hierarchy in Conatus.”

While the people around her nodded, Ember frowned. When Lukasz saw her furrowed brow, he smiled and said quietly, “Or you are here because someone I trust believed you to be incorruptible.”

Ember felt Barrow’s hand rest on the small of her back. She nodded at the commander, but her head was spinning.

Promises of power. A new order.
Alistair had come to her tonight, speaking of Eira’s greatness.
I want you to understand how much I trust her.

He wanted me to join them,
Ember thought as bile rose in her throat.
Did he know what Eira planned for Sorcha? Did he do nothing to stop it?

“You promised a witness to back up your words, Commander.” Fitch cast a suspicious glance around the dimly lit circle. “Where is he? I want to follow you, but I need proof.”

“Lora.” Lukasz beckoned someone from the darkness of what Ember had thought was an empty stall.

The cleric who summoned sparring partners from the clay appeared, supporting a rickety man whose eyes were wild with fear.

“You said you’d protect me.” He clung to Lora.

“These are friends, Goodman Sawyer,” Lora said gently. “None here will offer you harm.”

“You don’t know, you don’t know.” Sawyer’s limbs shook. “They all turn. They all choose him.”

“Who is this man?” Barrow asked Lukasz.

“A servant of Abbot Crichton,” the commander told him. “He arrived at the keep yesterday and Lora was the first to speak with him. She had the good sense to keep him hidden.”

“Hidden from whom?” Fitch asked.

“My fellows in the Circle,” Thomas told him. “I am afraid they cannot be trusted.”

Restless shuffles stirred the group.

“What do you mean, the Circle can’t be trusted?” the knight called Mercer asked.

Father Michael raised the lantern so its light rained down on his head. “A great evil has come upon us. A darkness that corrupts the very core of our order.”

Lukasz nodded, gesturing to Sawyer. “This servant brings a tale of woe from the abbot’s estate.”

Mercer snickered. “Since when is woe for the abbot woe for us?”

“In this case the abbot’s downfall could very well be our own.” The commander didn’t smile.

“What’s happened, Lukasz?” Barrow frowned at him. “What has befallen the abbot?”

“Tell them, Sawyer.” Lora nudged the shuddering man.

Sawyer’s eyes roved over the group as he spoke. “I was there when they came. The lady Eira and the strange man.”

Ember’s breath became shallow. Barrow took her hands in his, hiding their clasped fingers in the folds of his cloak.

“They met privately with my master,” Sawyer said. “But soon the abbot’s screams filled the halls of the manor and spilled out into the gardens. We all heard him crying for mercy. He found none.”

“Who caused the abbot’s torment?” Lukasz asked, though the set of his jaw suggested he already knew the answer.

Sawyer’s mouth quivered. “H-h-him. We didn’t know what they were. The things he called to his service. The monsters. The shadows.”

“The shadow creatures?” Barrow asked with alarm. “The same beasts that attacked the village?”

“So it would seem,” Thomas answered quietly.

“And Eira was there?” Fitch’s hand was on his sword hilt, as if he expected an attack at any moment. “She went to the abbot and no one knew of it?”

“We knew nothing before Sawyer arrived,” Lukasz said. “Go on with your tale, goodman.”

“They slaughtered the soldiers who tried to help the abbot,” Sawyer said, half sobbing. “They are invincible! No weapon can harm these demons.”

“Do you believe they truly are demons?” Father Michael asked.

Sawyer nodded. “They serve their master, who is but the devil. What other creature could manifest such evil things at will?”

“What happened next?” Mercer’s brow knit together. “After the soldiers were killed.”

“There were a few left who surrendered.” Sawyer drew a shaking breath. “Eira offered amnesty to any who swore their allegiance to her and to the stranger.”

“Does he have a name? This stranger?” Barrow asked.

“His name is Lord Mar,” Sawyer said. “Lord Bosque Mar.”

“Is this demon known?” Mercer turned to Father Michael.

The priest shook his head. “I have never heard this name. Nor of any being who can call up demons in such number and with such powers.”

Barrow drew a sharp breath. “And Eira was a witness to all of this?”

Sawyer’s voice dropped to a whisper. “They say she delighted in the abbot’s pain . . . They say she laughed.”

“What of the abbot?” Fitch demanded. “Is he dead?”

“No,” Sawyer told him. “He is a prisoner in his own home. At Eira’s orders he signs what letters and documents she wills, and if he resists, the stranger brings his demons to torment the abbot further.”

“This is our doom,” Fitch murmured. “By her own will Eira let Sorcha burn . . . She will destroy us.”

“Hush,” Lora said as Sawyer wrung his hands and wept.

“And how can we trust this man?” Mercer glared at her. “What if he’s come to us with this story only to elicit our own allegiances? He could give all our names to Eira.”

Sawyer looked up, tears dripping off his chin. “No, Lord Knight, no. I was only able to escape because I am a woodcutter. When I went to my work in the forest, I ran away.”

“You weren’t pursued?” Barrow frowned.

“The abbot has many servants,” Sawyer said. “I think Eira had little care for a simple woodcutter.”

“She wouldn’t want any to learn of what’s happened at the abbot’s estate,” Mercer argued.

“Yes, Lord Knight.” Sawyer nodded. “But who would believe me other than someone of your order? I came here in the hopes that Lady Eira would think it impossible for any of the abbot’s servants to seek your aid. For the lady herself lives here, and if she were to discover me, I would surely be killed.”

Father Michael laid his hand on Sawyer’s forehead. “You are a brave man for bringing us this news. God bless you, my son.”

Sawyer began to cry again.

“What will we do?” Fitch shifted on his feet, uneasy. “Confront Eira? If her allegiance with this fiend is revealed, perhaps we can expel her from Conatus and then seek a way to defeat her new ally.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Thomas said in a strained voice. “Eira has gathered followers. Many within Tearmunn have been swayed by her promises that colluding with this foul creature somehow befits our mission.”