Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (18 page)

“The alley—they have the girls.”

“Excuse me, Agna.” Grandpa presses off the table with one hand and balances himself with a cane in the other. “Get Deet, and I’ll meet you in the alley.”

“I’m coming with you,” Agna says, getting out of her chair.

Yaz sprints to Deet, who is in a conversation with an older hunched over gentleman. Yaz butts in and talks with exaggerated arm movements.

Deet points at the cart and then sprints toward the alley.

Yaz reaches the cart and draws his sword and slings his bow. He turns toward Preta. “Let’s go.”

Preta and Yaz reach the shaded alley’s entrance as Deet passes through the bright opening at the other end.

Yaz catches up to Grandpa then runs on ahead.

Preta exits the alley right behind Yaz, and they come to an abrupt stop on the dry dirt road skirting the apple and peach orchards.

Yaz surveys the scene while creeping to the right side of Deet. He grazes the back of Deet’s shirt with a spike and keeps moving forward to the other side of the road.

“That’s far enough, Yaz Penter,” Lomasie says with a cool voice and standing tall under an almost barren peach tree. “And now you can place your bow and sword on the ground and take five steps forward.”

Grandpa and Agna emerge from the alley and freeze for a second as they take in the players.

Grandpa moves to the left side of Deet.

Agna stands behind Preta, who is still in the same spot.

Lomasie points his long, boney finger toward Grandpa. “And you can stop right there, Mr. Penter.”

Preta takes it all in; the town’s orchard is in front of her, row upon row of peach, apple, and pear trees, mostly bare after the recent harvest and the change in the weather. No other townsfolk are in sight, all either at work or at the wedding behind them. To her left along the road is a young man, barely twenty, black hair and cocky grin, dressed in a black suit with a grey armband. He stands near a strawberry patch. Straight ahead fifty paces away, another similarly dressed man, much older and with a short white beard stands next to Lomasie.

Lomasie stands behind Lurrus, and his hand squeezes her shoulder. About thirty paces to the right of Lomasie stands Nala, behind her, Clist, and another young man, tall and blond and also wearing a black suit, and next to both the whistler in his black leather duster. To the far right along the road, another one of Lomasie’s men at the ready, ugly, pitted face and scowling with a pistol in hand.

The whistler’s black duster flutters as he tosses a gold coin to Clist and flicks his chin to the right. “You did well, now leave us and not a word to anyone.”

With a gleam in his eye, Clist catches the gold coin with both hands. He raises the coin in front of his face. He grins, then glances at Preta and sneers. Clist kisses the shiny gold, holds it toward Preta then slides it into his pocket, and he scurries away down the road and disappears back into the town.

Deet sternly points at Lomasie with a shaky finger. “Let them go.”

“And why should I do that, Deet?” Lomasie says in a cool, calculated tone. “Besides, you’re in no position to demand anything.”

“What do you want from us?” Deet says with a slight crack in his voice.

“You know what I want.”

“You can’t have her!”

Lomasie smiles and strokes Lurrus’s hair. He raises his cane, a silver owl fixed on the end for a handle. Lomasie tilts the handle toward Lurrus and presses the owl to her cheek, making it appear as though it is giving her a kiss. “Then we have a predicament. But if it makes you feel any better, I promise she won’t die by my hands. Though if you don’t give her to me right now, I can’t promise the same fate for the other two ladies standing next to me.” He bends over and smells Lurrus’s silk-like blonde hair. He glances up at Deet. “Who, I must confess, both look absolutely stunning today.” Lomasie stands straight and points the owl toward Deet. “By the way, congratulations, I heard it was a riveting service. I would’ve loved to attend, but I had more important matters to take care of earlier before our little get together here today.”

Yaz steps forward and scowls, spit flies out of his mouth as he speaks. “You’re a dead man!”

On the whistler’s face, his wrinkles accentuate the deep-red scar piercing through his thick black beard from just under his right eye and running down to the bottom of his neck. He raises a blade to Nala’s throat, and blood trickles down her neck. “Far enough, now put the bow and sword on the ground as Mr. Lovaine said, or she dies.”

Lomasie gives a cocky smile and nods. “
Ah
yes, Yaz Penter, anger problems, notorious fool, somewhat skilled with a bow, and a penchant for attacking men at the washhouses in the nude. I agree, I am indeed a dead man, though not by your hands, and definitely not today. Now you on the other hand, that may be a different story, my boy. As I said before, put the bow on the ground, and take five steps forward. I won’t ask again.”

“Awfully confident, you are,” Yaz says, conceding and dropping his bow and stepping forward.

“I am confident, Yaz Penter, great men often are.” Lomasie chuckles. “And my men told me you were supposed to be the stupid one. Very observant, boy, seems you’re much smarter than I was led on to believe, I’ll have to have a talk with my informants.”

“Let them go,” Deet says, pointing and shaking his finger again.

Lomasie sways the owl handle side to side, teasing Deet. “The girl.”

Preta steps forward. “I’ll go.”

Deet thrusts his arm out to block her. “Don’t you move.”

Yaz, losing his patience, eyes Deet.

Deet shakes his head
no
, and Yaz shakes his head
no
back with raised eyebrows.

“Enough,” the whistler says. “Hand over the girl, or these two die,” and he shakes Nala’s body.

Lomasie holds his finger out toward the whistler while he still glares at Deet. “I told you, you can’t win them all, Penter, and this one you’ll most definitely lose. One way or the other, you choose.”

Preta takes a step ahead of Deet.

Deet grabs Preta and yanks her back behind him, then he stares at Yaz and shakes his head
no
.

Again, Yaz shakes his head
no
, but this time his eyes narrow, and his brow arches as his anger and impatience grows.

Deet glances from Lurrus to Nala and then back to Lurrus.

Lurrus cries though is composed. She tries to smile at Deet, and Deet slightly tilts his head to the side, apologizing to her with his eyes.

Nala stands strong with a stone face that would kill.

Yaz stares at Nala and rests his chin on his chest while keeping his eyes locked on hers.

Nala’s eyes lower and then snap up a second later.

They both look to Nala’s left at the same time.

Yaz slides one foot back while slightly bending his front knee. He gracefully drops his arms to his side with hands open.

Deet sees what’s happening and reaches behind him, gripping the pistol stuck in his belt.

Both of Yaz’s hands turn into his body and shoot out in one motion, releasing two spikes.

Nala stomps on the whistler’s foot, and she dives to the left into a somersault.

A spike strikes Lomasie’s white-bearded man in the center of his chest, and he falls backward—dead.

The whistler dips left in reaction to Nala’s foot stomp, and Yaz’s other spike grazes the whistler’s right shoulder.

Lomasie calmly cocks his head to the left, his mouth curls into a sinister grin. He winks at Deet as he twists the owl head of his cane, producing a silver dagger. Lomasie slides it behind Lurrus’s back, and he slightly shrugs while never taking his eyes off Deet.

Deet extends his arm toward Lurrus. “No!”

Lurrus lurches forward, still held up by Lomasie. Her sad eyes plead to Deet to save her. Her face turns into a frown. Blood trickles out of her mouth, and she gags.

Lomasie opens his arms wide, letting Lurrus drop.

She falls forward, limp, shaking on the ground.

“No, no, no!” Deet steps forward with his arm still extended toward Lurrus. He growls and raises his pistol and fires at Lomasie.

Lomasie doesn’t flinch, and the shot misses. He raises his cane toward Deet and a small orb of bright-red light shoots out the silver metal tip.

Deet dives to the side, and the orb barely nicks him in the shoulder. His momentum carries him forward to the ground, and he hits his head on a medium-sized flat rock. His pocket watch tumbles out of his pants, clicks open, and the glass shatters.

“Deet?” Preta says, staring at her brother lying motionless.

Lomasie raises his cane into the air and fires a red orb into the sky. “Praetors, engage!”

Lomasie’s man on the left, black hair, young and cocky, runs for Preta.

Grandpa steps in front and trips the praetor with his walking stick while simultaneously twirling his cane over onto the falling man, knocking him out. Grandpa glares at Lomasie, fury in his eyes and his lip quivers.

Lomasie, calm, professional, raises his cane, aiming it at Grandpa. The cane’s tip emits a faint-red glow. The glow intensifies with each passing second. “Goodbye, Mr. Penter.” A red lightning bolt arcs out the tip and strikes Grandpa’s chest.

The crimson lightning webs around his body and propels Grandpa off his feet and onto his back. His charred body hits the ground with a faint groan and a puff of air—then silent—gone.

Yaz drops to a knee, flipping out a spike, nicking a praetor in the arm and sending him to the ground.

Preta, eyes wide, not believing what is happening, she leans toward Grandpa’s dead body.
Grandpa…

Agna grabs Preta’s shoulders, pulling her back away from the action.

“Let go of me,” Preta says. “Grandpa!”

“He’s gone.” Agna pulls Preta again. “We need to get you out of here.”

Preta wiggles away from Agna and points at Lomasie. “No! We have to get him!”

Nala crouches next to Deet and eyes Grandpa lying dead.

Yaz peeks back, seeing both Deet and Grandpa not moving.

Lomasie, the whistler, and two praetors stroll with a casual stride toward Preta.

A gunshot strikes a rock within a foot of Yaz, causing it to explode and shrapnel nicks his arm. Yaz returns a spike in the praetor’s direction but misses.

Agna tugs Preta’s arm harder. “To the pavilion. We’ll be safe there.”

Nala props up Deet, balancing him against her body. “Yaz, help me.”

Yaz picks up his sword off the dirt and stands at the ready for the oncoming praetors.

Nala waves her arm frantically. “Yaz, help me!”

Agna shakes Preta hard. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Not without my family,” Preta says, eyeing Nala struggling with Deet.

Agna lets go of Preta and she helps Nala lift Deet to his feet.

Two praetors close in, one of them, the tall man, circles a sword above his head in rhythm, the other, pitted and ugly, loads bullets into his pistol.

Nala screams at Yaz, “Yaz, help us, or we all die!”

Yaz runs to Nala and throws the sword to the ground. He stuffs Deet’s pistol into his belt and hoists Deet up onto his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

Preta eyes Deet’s pocket watch lying next to a jagged black rock, and she reaches for it.

“Preta, move,” Nala says.

“Not without—” She lunges toward the ground, sweeps her hand over the grass and dirt, and her fingers latch onto the silver chain attached to Deet’s shattered pocket watch.

Nala grabs Preta’s arm and jerks her into the shaded alley. “Move as fast as you can and don’t look back.”

They run through the cool, damp passageway about to enter the square. The stone walls, slightly green with moss, seep water. The dank smell of mildew mixed with wedding feast fills Preta’s nostrils with every frantic inhale.

Ahead, the ongoing party is in full swing; dancing and joy reverberate off the cobblestones and brick.

“
Aw—c
rap!” Yaz says as he drops Deet. A small bolt sticks out of his thigh. “Nala, Nala, my leg. I need help.”

Preta skids to a halt and peeks back. Both of her brothers lie on the ground wounded.

Yaz gets to his feet, hopping on one leg.

Nala points at Agna’s chest. “Get her out of here,” and she pushes Preta toward Agna.

Agna grabs Preta’s arm tight. “No discussion, girl, come with me.”

Nala runs to Yaz and lifts Deet to his feet.

“Can you walk?”

Yaz breathes heavy. “Sorta.”

Lomasie’s men reach the alley entrance.

“Can you help me with Deet?” Nala says, struggling to keep her feet while propping up her brother’s dead weight.

“I’ll try.” Yaz wraps Deet’s shoulder around his arm, and they hobble through the opening and into the pavilion square.

Preta and Agna, distraught, waving their arms in front of a group of joyful dancers, draw attention.

Concerned, wedding guests congregate and point.

A red orb strikes the ground next to Preta’s shoes, and she flinches as the electric arcs out and sears the stone with black marks. Another orb shoots over Agna’s shoulder and hits a man a few steps away.

The red lightening arcs around the man’s body, and he shakes violently, teeth chattering, foam oozes out of his mouth. He collapses to the ground as smoke emanates off his olive wool jacket.

Agna’s snarly, sweaty, red-faced husband runs to her. “What’s wrong. What’s going on?”

“Men in the alley are coming for us, they’re trying to kill us.”

Another lightning bolt cracks as it strikes the ground near them and a wet cobblestone explodes—and another and another and another.

Agna’s husband yells to a group of men standing by the pavilion, including Lurrus’s brothers.

The men charge the alley with makeshift weapons in hand.

Nala and Yaz emerge with Deet and tumble to the ground.

With sword swinging, Lurrus’s blonde-haired bold brother runs alongside Agna’s snarly husband.

They skid to a stop, both men fly backward, landing on their backs next to Nala, a dagger sticking out of each of their chests.

“Get Deet up, Yaz,” Nala says.

“I can’t, my leg.”

Agna runs to her dead husband. “
Klaus
? No!”