Threading the Needle (28 page)

He hauled back on the reins again, but the animal ignored him, cutting sharply left as a wall of ley light spurted up in front of it. Allan slid to the edge of the seat, catching himself with one hand, heard Gaven and Cutter being thrown around the bed, and then the entire wagon jumped as it ran over the bodies scattered over the square. Allan gave up on the reins and clung to the seat as the horse continued to turn. The node's stairs swung into view, and Tim, lurching up as if to try for the wagon, but the burning ley light separated them. Carter dragged him back down into hiding. Then they were rounding back toward the other wagons. Kara was struggling with one of the White Cloaks on the ground, also separated by a wall of ley. She slashed the White Cloak across the face with her knife, blood splattering his cloak, and then he snatched her wrist and drove it into the ground until the blade tumbled from her grip. Beyond her, the others cowered against their wagon,
Adder standing over Dylan with Aaron at his side, Glenn at the end of the last wagon holding tight to Artras' arm.

Glenn's intent hit Allan a second before the horse finished the turn and shot straight for the open street beyond.

At the same time, to the far left, the Wolves broke through the White Cloak guards' resistance. Three of the Wolves charged Allan's wagon from that side.

Beyond them, behind the roil of guards and Wolves, Allan saw the pack's leader, standing in the middle of the street, watching. Except he wasn't focused on where his Wolves were ripping the guards to shreds, nor where the White Cloaks were controlling the ley.

His attention was fixed on Allan.

“Watch out for the Wolves!” Allan pointed as the wagon rocketed past Glenn and Artras and the others. Glenn shoved Artras before him, but she was already running, Glenn on her heels. They fell in behind the wagon, Allan reaching for the reins and pulling back on them hard to slow the horse. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Artras snatching at the bed of the wagon with one hand, almost there. The Wolves leaped over a wall of ley, one getting caught. It yelped as it tumbled to one side, part of its leg and haunch missing where it had been touched, but the others left it behind, snarling after Glenn and Artras, teeth snapping at the air.

Artras put on a burst of speed and vaulted onto the back of the bed, almost slipping off before Glenn shoved her hard, rolling her forward into Cutter and Gaven. They grabbed her and hauled her deeper into the bed as Glenn scrambled to follow. He jumped, caught hold of one side, feet dragging behind him, then hauled himself up, the cords sticking out in his neck at the effort.

He'd barely managed to collapse to the bed when Artras yelled, “Look out!”

Allan shifted in time to see the two Wolves leap. The first landed on top of Glenn, who'd rolled onto his back at the warning and raised one arm in defense. The Wolf's jaw snapped shut on his forearm and shook, Glenn roaring in pain. The second Wolf scrabbled for a hold, claws digging gouges in the bed of the wagon, but lost its footing and tumbled out of the back of the wagon to the road.

Allan faced forward, reins still held uselessly in one hand, then dropped them, turning to leap over the seat to help Glenn. But Artras
had already crawled forward, over Cutter's body. With Glenn struggling beneath the Wolf, she drew her dagger back and sank it into the beast's shoulder—once, twice, then again, farther down its side, as it released Glenn and snapped at her. Glenn had managed to draw his own knife and stabbed the Wolf. It snarled and thrashed, blood pouring from the wounds, and collapsed to one side.

Glenn and Artras sank back, both breathing heavily, Glenn holding his arm close to his chest. Gaven and Cutter huddled against one corner of the wagon behind them. The Wolf lay stretched out on the other side, its odd-shaped limbs limp, blood matting its fur. Allan settled back into the wagon's driver's seat and noted that the horse had slowed, whether exhausted or simply calmed, he didn't care.

Behind them, far down the street, they could see the white ley light glowing in the square, and beyond that, the multicolored shards of the distortion.

Kara's knife sliced across Iscivius' face, but the White Cloak snatched at her hand. Blood dripped down and pattered against her cheek as he slammed the fingers clutching the blade into the stone of the square. She gripped the hilt tighter, but on the fourth attempt pain tingled up her arm and her fingers went numb. The knife clattered to the ground.

Kara reached for the ley, but it was riled up all around her, the other four White Cloaks keeping it in turmoil. She felt their presences working the ley, calling it upward. They were trying to hit the Wolves, but it couldn't be controlled that precisely, not with moving targets that were weaving in and out among their own men, and not without the aid of the mentors from the University.

Wielders were trained to smooth out disruptions in the ley, not cause them.

She reached for it nonetheless, intending to wield it against Iscivius and the other White Cloaks. But Iscivius slammed her wrist into the ground once more, the pain stabbing into her shoulder like a dagger. He had both her arms now, straddling her. His hood had been knocked askew and she could see a neatly trimmed beard, marred by the shallow cut she'd given him, and half-shadowed eyes.

“Stop it! Stop or the rest of your group will be burned from this earth!”

She fought a moment more, then relented. “Let us go. We only want to leave Erenthrall.”

“We can't. We need you.”

“Iscivius!”

Kara recognized the White Cloak woman's voice from before.

“I have her!” He glanced toward the remaining wagons. “And some of the others. At least four of them escaped. One of them was the suspected Wielder.”

The woman cursed. “We're contained. Cason and her group have retreated into the node and sealed the doors.”

“What about the Wolves?”

“They're trapped behind the ley for now. Our enforcers have pushed them back.”

Iscivius' grip on her wrists had slackened, enough that Kara's hand now tingled as the blood returned. It still throbbed from being struck into the stone.

Iscivius gazed down at her. “Are you going to cause any more trouble?”

“Yes.”

“At least you're truthful.”

He released her suddenly, rolling to one side. He picked up Kara's knife before she had a chance to react. “Don't try anything. You and those still here are surrounded by ley.”

Kara sat up, wiping at her sweaty face. Her fingers came away smeared with blood. Her wrist throbbed and multiple parts of her body felt bruised.

But Iscivius was right. She and those of her group still in the square were surrounded by a wall of ley boiling up from the flagstone. Adder, Aaron, and Dylan were still at the side of one of the wagons, twenty paces away. Tim and Carter were at the base of the stairs leading up to the node. The White Cloaks and their original escort of guards held the far corner of the square, but closer in, so that the ley shielded them. The only others within the wall were a group of twenty guards in the opposite corner, standing ready, facing the street beyond, where at least ten Wolves paced back and forth, snarling and snapping at the ley but keeping a respectful distance. Upright in the middle of them stood another man, although Kara realized he wasn't completely human. He'd been transformed by the auroral lights, like Hagger after the
Shattering—half wolf, half human. Unlike Hagger, his transformation appeared to be closer to human. He wore a tan jacket with gold buttons and black embroidery, like what a lord would wear.

As she watched, the pack's leader snarled an order, literally, the command more growl than words. A few of the Wolves backed off immediately, only turning to lope off into the distortion-lit dusk when they were over twenty paces distant. More stayed behind, their growls increasing in intensity, the ruff on the back of their necks raised, lips drawn back from wicked teeth. The pack leader spoke again, his tone harsher, and they pulled back as well, but not without a bout of plaintive howls echoing up into the descending night.

The pack leader gazed at them all, eyes fixed on the White Cloaks in unabashed hatred before falling to meet Kara's gaze. He held it a long moment, long enough that Kara felt oddly disconcerted, and then he turned and stalked off after his pack.

Kara exhaled, unaware she'd been holding her breath. Her gaze strayed to the bodies that littered the square. Some of the Tunneler dead had been left behind on the steps of the node, two Wolves mixed in with them. More of the White Cloak guards lay scattered in the corner streets to Kara's left. They'd taken the brunt of the attack. Kara counted at least twenty dead, and she knew some of the bodies must have been consumed by the ley. But they'd killed more of the Wolves—at least five. One of them was whimpering and struggling to rise, part of its leg and haunch burned away. The red-shirted guards that had kept watch while the Wolves were still present turned to rejoin the White Cloaks, two of them using their swords to kill the wounded Wolf on their way back.

Except they didn't rejoin the White Cloaks. They surrounded Adder and the others at the wagon, a smaller group heading toward Tim and Carter.

Adder looked toward Kara, eyebrows raised, sword tipped slightly up in a ready position, but Kara shook her head. There was no reason to fight, not when they were hemmed in by the ley with no chance of escape.

Adder lowered his blade. The guards disarmed him. They searched the rest, taking away swords and knives and anything else that could be used as a weapon.

The other White Cloaks arrived.

“Why didn't you use the ley to kill them all?” It took Kara a moment to realize Iscivius meant kill the Wolves, not those from the Hollow.

“We were barely controlling the ley as it was. If we'd tried to burn them all out once we had the square under control, we may have lost control completely and killed everyone. Father wouldn't be happy with that now, would he?”

“No.” Iscivius had been staring at Kara, thoughtful, but now he turned toward the wagons. “Send out some guards to see if they can round up the missing horse. We aren't leaving any of these supplies behind.”

“What about our deal with Cason?”

“They must have led the Wolves to us. I feel no urge to compensate them for that. Besides, they made off with at least one wagon, while half of this group they'd captured managed to escape. I consider that fair enough trade. We'll take these three wagons back with us, if possible. Begin loading in the Wielder that's wounded. Transfer supplies to another wagon if necessary.”

They scrambled, three small groups heading out into the southern streets once the other three White Cloaks killed the gouts of ley protecting them in that direction. The rest either watched to make certain the Hollowers didn't escape or began to shift supplies around to make room for Dylan.

Kara watched silently, then climbed to her feet, brushing grit and dust from her hands. The blood on her skin had dried and now prickled unpleasantly, but the tingling in her wrist had faded. Tim and Carter were herded toward her, followed by Adder and Aaron. Someone had retrieved Dylan's litter where it had fallen and the guards hoisted him back onto it. The horse had obviously not run far, because the guards were already returning with it. The others had calmed and the guards were checking hitches, bridles, and traces.

As soon as the others joined her, Kara asked, “What are you going to do with us?”

Iscivius turned to face her again. “We're going to take you all to the Needle.”

“What's the Needle?”

“You'll see.”

“Why are you taking us there?”

“Because Father needs you.”

“What for?”

“He'll have to explain. It would be meaningless coming from me.”

Kara fisted her hands in frustration. “Who is this Father? Who are you?”

One hand rose to touch the symbol stitched in black on Iscivius' chest—a single vertical line with a second lancing down at an angle to join the first. It was splattered with dried blood from where Kara had cut him, but he didn't seem to notice. He hadn't even tended to the wound; it had stopped bleeding on its own.

“We're the Kormanley.”

PART II

The Needle