Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (37 page)

Mara’s face contorts trying to make out the man at the top of the stairs.

The man pats Zach on the shoulder and steps onto the first marble step.

Preta’s eyes snap back to Mara then back up to the man.

Rufus spins toward the square and laughs. “
Ah
—the weather sure is changing early this year. Nothing like a good snow, but it’s really coming down now. Sure doesn’t bode well for a light winter, oh well.” Rufus kicks his fine brown leather boots on the wheel, removing the snow from them.

The man descends the stairs in slow motion. A straight black cane extends to the ground in his right hand. With care, he watches his feet hit each step.

Mara slips a hand into her coat for her dagger as she inches toward Preta.

Rufus places his hand on the carriage. “Preta, have you gotten to see any sites in Bielston yet? The library or the art museum or the new rail?”

“Huh?” Preta says, not paying attention to Rufus, thoroughly entranced by the man descending the stairs.

“Did you see any sites yet?”

“
Oh
—no—sorry, we’ve been preoccupied.”

“You’ve never been to Bielston you said, right? You should really take advantage of the opportunity while you’re here; so much to see.”

Preta gives Rufus a forced smile. “Yes, I hope so too,” and then she shifts her eyes back to the man on the stairs.

Rufus chuckles and gazes back up to the white sky. “When the frost tingles and the winds bite, the ghosts of Wintermore will rise from their plight. Tormenting the souls and giving them fright, they’ll spread their wings and shower their blight. Blocking out the sun before the amber death—”

They’ll steal your flesh and take your breath.

Rufus extends his hand toward the stairs. “And here he is.”

With head lowered and obscured by his hood, the man stops. He taps his cane on the ground three times, striking stone.

Preta glares and blinks as a snowflake strikes her eyelash. The poem of Wintermore, a poem of her youth that her grandmother used to tell her on the snowy nights along with the stories of ancient magic and fairy tales, is now firmly imprinted on her mind as the bitter wind takes her breath away.

The man raises his chin and removes his black snow-covered hood.

“Lomasie, my old friend.”

HONOR AMONGST FRIENDS

Preta jumps back, slipping on the slush.

Mara catches Preta underneath her armpits.

Agna gasps.

“Careful there,” Rufus says to Preta, “it’s slippery out here today.” He turns to Lomasie. “These are the ladies I told you about. Seems their companions got themselves into a bind by the docks.”

“Ladies,” Lomasie says in a calculated, deep drawl, “it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintances,” and he gives them a half bow while still staring up at them with his black eyes. His back straightens, and he taps his cane on the ground twice. “Maybe I can help.” The right side of his mouth curls into a devious grin while he squints his sinister right eye. Lomasie grips the cane shaft with one hand and rubs the silver owl knob handle with the other.

Rufus pats Lomasie on the back. “True, true, you can certainly help, maybe even better than I.”

Preta’s back presses against the carriage, and Mara nudges her along the rails to the other side. She glares at Lomasie, stuck between the urge to freeze, run, or lunge at him and gouge out his eyes.

Lomasie gives a curt laugh. “I don’t know about that, you exaggerate, old friend.”

“Modest as always; sure you can,” Rufus says.

Preta can’t control herself any longer. “We don’t need help from the likes of him.”

Rufus tilts his head toward Preta, confused. His mouth partially opens, unsure of what he just heard her say. He furrows his brow. “Excuse me?”

Mara pokes Preta in the ribs. “Shut up.”

Lomasie taps his cane on the ground twice. “Preta, is it? Pretty name.”

“Don’t talk to me,” Preta says, “you evil—”

Mara jabs Preta in the ribs again. “Stop it.”

“There’s no need for that, young girl,” Rufus says. He eyes Agna and flicks his head toward Preta. “Does the girl have some sort of affliction?”

“No worries,” Lomasie says, “some of these country folk can’t control themselves; many never learned proper manners. Anyway, to the jail by the docks. Shouldn’t we be on our way?”

Preta leans forward as if ready to attack. “You’re the—”

Mara yanks her back, digging her fingernails into Preta’s skin.

“
Ouch
—”

Mara turns Preta toward the carriage and shoves her into the back seat. “Get in, now, and keep your mouth shut.”

Preta climbs into the carriage, escaping Mara’s grip. “I’m going to kill—”

Mara pokes Preta in the ribs again.

Preta scowls at Mara. “Don’t—”

“I said shut up.”

Rufus, embarrassed, watches Preta squirming in the carriage. “Right you are, Lomasie, right you are, so on to the jail.”

Lomasie grips the owl tight; his black leather gloves crinkle and squeak. “Funny girl, Rufus, and you say she’s a friend of yours?”

Agna climbs into the carriage’s back seat and sits next to Preta, placing her hand on Preta’s knee, trying to calm her.

Rufus opens his arms toward Lomasie. “Sorry for the girl’s behavior, I never imagined. Maybe she’s simple and hides it well. I don’t know.”

Lomasie smiles and rests his hand on Rufus’s back. “To the docks then?”

Preta sees Zach at the top of the stairs, and she leans out the carriage and waves, motioning for Zach to come down to them.

Zach stares at Preta for a second, then descends the stairs.

Mara climbs into the carriage front seat and yanks Preta down. “Wits, Seeros, wits.”

Lomasie squints at Mara then peeks to the stairs and to the oncoming guard.

Rufus kicks the carriage’s wheel, knocking more snow off his shoe. “Right you are, old friend, to the docks with us. And to be clear, I just met them the other day. Her brothers, I told you earlier.”

Lomasie nods as he smiles and he removes his arm from Rufus’s back. With both hands on his cane, he takes a step to the side.

Inside her cloak, Mara grips her dagger handle. She glances, focusing from Lomasie to the surrounding square for any signs of his minions. Mara’s free hand creeps forward, inching for the reins lying on the seat next to her.

Lomasie chuckles. “Yes, her brothers, you told me.” Lomasie’s right hand grips the owl knob, his black leather gloves squeak as he squeezes tight. “And Rufus?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry old friend, truly, I am.”

Rufus cocks his head to the side toward Lomasie, unsure of why he is apologizing. “Why are you sorry?”

“Goodbye.” Lomasie’s right hand twists the owl knob, pulling a dagger. Lomasie thrusts the blade into Rufus’s chest, pressing the cold steel deep into his heart.

Lomasie tilts his head around Rufus’s collapsing body, and he scowls at Preta.

Mara snatches the reins and cracks the horse’s hindquarters.

The horse jumps, snow sprays off its back as hooves crash onto the stone road.

Mara cracks the reins again.

The horse’s hooves slip and clack on the slick stone.

Preta loses her balance. Her bandaged hand hits the floorboards, and she winces in pain.

Mara’s body tilts to the side, and she pushes off the seat and draws a dagger.

Preta regains herself and grips the bench with her good hand. She rotates her body, peering through the back window and toward Lomasie.

Rufus lies at Lomasie’s feet. A bright-red circle surrounded by pure white extends away from Lomasie’s black boots.

Preta places her hand over her mouth as Lomasie thrusts his arm upwards into Zach’s chest.

The guard’s head tilts up and his body falls back limp.

Lomasie gingerly lowers him to the ground and then scans in every direction. He bends over, wiping his bloody dagger on Zach’s dead body, and he gracefully twists it back into the cane. His right arm with cane in hand extends in front of him as he steps forward and drops the silver tip to the ground.

The carriage rushes away through a wall of snow. Every passing second, Lomasie fades more into the background.

Each step methodical, Lomasie carefully ascends the marble stairs and goes inside the magistrate’s building, never looking back.

UNDERESTIMATING YOUR FOE

“Is Lomasie following us?” Mara says with her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“He’s not coming,” Preta says. “He just killed the guard and went back inside the building.”

Mara’s brow arches. “Inside the magistrate’s building? Did you see anyone else in the street?”

“Yeah, he went back into the magistrate’s building, and I saw no one else.”

“Crap.”

Not understanding, Preta leans into the front seat. “What’s wrong? He’s not coming after us, that’s a good thing.”

“What’s wrong is Lomasie killed the Northern Brenton rep on the bloody front steps of the consulate and had no problem just strolling right back inside without fear of apprehension.”

“Meaning what?” Preta says.

Agna touches Preta’s arm. “Meaning they’ll be coming after us for killing Rufus, and Lomasie is politically connected.”

Mara scowls as she cracks the reins. “The whole city will want blood, and they’ll be searching for us. And I’m sure Lomasie will be glad to help them. And when they do catch us, he’ll take you wherever he’s gonna take you, Seery. And Auntie and me here will be ripped apart by the mob.”

With shaky finger, Preta points ahead down the road. “So we get my brothers right now and get the heck out of the city.”

Mara stays silent, running over the probabilities in her head. She nods. “We’ve got maybe an hour before the city goes on lockdown. Lomasie will bring his men and probably the city guards to the jail. He’ll expect you to go for your brothers. I suppose they’ll be behind us within the next thirty minutes.”

“Preta, we have to get out of the city right now,” Agna says.

“No way. I’m not leaving without my brothers. I don’t even know if they’re dead or alive.”

Mara grits her teeth. “If we don’t get out of the city soon, we may never leave here.”

“What about the docks? Ships are leaving all the time.”

Agna squeezes Preta’s hand. “Our passage isn’t for another two days.”

“So what, we can sneak aboard a ship.”

“To where? We don’t even know where the ship’s are heading to.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s leaving the city. We’ll worry about the destination later.”

Mara shakes her head, tired of listening to Preta and Agna argue. “We’re wasting time. We need to find an exit out of the city before it’s too late.”

Preta crawls into the front carriage seat and snow blinds her as it flies through the open gap between the carriage roof and frame. She rubs her eyes. “We’re almost at the docks; let’s see if Deet, Yaz, and Tages are there.”

“I don’t know,” Mara says.

“What about your friend? Don’t you want to help him? Are you just going to leave him to the Dregs or worse? What kind of friend
are you
?”

Mara glowers, cracking the reins over and over and not changing direction.

Agna grabs Mara’s arm. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you changing directions?”

“Shut up, old woman. We go to the docks, and then we get the hell out of the city.”

Agna pouts and leans back in her seat.

Using the hood of her cloak, Preta shields her face. In the dark, she almost smiles for Mara listening to her, though her mind tells her the stakes are too high for small victories. They only have minutes, and she doesn’t even know if her brothers are still in the city.

The carriage darts through the street, and its wheels smoothly rattle over the snow-covered cobblestones.

Mara yells at street walkers, “Move, get out of the way!” She doesn’t slow for anything and keeps cracking the reins.

Preta peeks out from underneath her hood. A man and a woman holding hands jump out of the street in front of them. She can almost reach out and touch them they’re so close as the carriage skates by.

“Sorry,” Mara says, waving at them. She shrugs and smirks. “I warned them and said get out of the way, and they didn’t listen to me.” Mara laughs in crazed snorts.

Preta peeks back at the man. He stands up covered in snow, wringing and waving a newspaper in the air. “Crazy woman, slow down!”

Mara cranes her head out the window and yells back, “I said get out of my way, you deaf fool.” She shifts her focus forward. “I warned him. I could’ve just run the sorry sap over.”

The buildings in front of them come to an end and the docks extend out into the sea. The winds pick up, and the snow transitions from falling straight down to swirling sideways.

Mara stops the carriage in a large open area where many roads converge in a T-intersection with the docks. “Good,” Mara says, jumping off the carriage, “this snow may be to our advantage.”

Preta rummages through her pack and pulls out her pistol, loads it, and places it in her inner cloak pocket. “How can this snow be to our advantage, I can’t even see my own nose?”

“Just keep up with me, Seery, and don’t get in my way.” Mara points at Agna. “Stand in the alley across the street and keep your eye on the carriage. Unless of course you’ll do your thing and help us.”

Preta glances between Mara and Agna, unsure of Mara’s unprovoked hostility.

Agna gives Mara a sneer and climbs down from the carriage. “Be safe, Preta,” she says, and she disappears into the alley.

Mara rolls her eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

Preta pushes Mara. “Hey, what’s your deal with Agna? No need to treat her like that.”

“Shut up, you don’t know anything. Now follow me and keep your mouth quiet. This time, let me do the talking. All I need from you is to stay out of my way and make sure you pick up my clothes if they fall off, got it?”

Preta nods as she folds her arms tight across her body, trying to keep warm. “I got it, though you didn’t answer my question.”

“Keep up—no questions,” and Mara charges through the snow toward the jail on the corner. Half the jail’s facade faces the street and the other half faces toward the docks. Mara climbs the icy stone stairs to the front door. On the right side, four guards wearing black uniforms stand huddled around an iron barrel with flames flickering out the top.