On Blackened Wings Page 9

  She dropped back between the laggards. “Are you two okay?”

  “Fine,” the man said.

  The woman nodded, too exhausted to speak.

  “Nonsense, you need a rest. We all do. And a meal wouldn’t hurt anything. We can’t run on faith alone. We should speak to Sir Collin.”

  “No!” they both said at once.

  Marie-Bell blinked in surprise. “If you don’t land soon, you’re going to drop out of the sky. I’d say twenty minutes, tops.”

  “Please, Sir Collin doesn’t like it when people can’t keep up. Our commander chose us for this quest because we were the best under his command. To start complaining two days into the journey would be a grave dishonor. Don’t worry, we’ll manage somehow.”

  Marie-Bell studied the rest of the group. Fully a third were under a quarter of their soul force. If they ran into any trouble in this condition, they’d lose half the force.

  At the head of the troupe, Sir Collin powered along with half his soul force remaining. With the shield’s power to call on, he could probably go until dark. He never looked back to check on his subordinates.

  Marie-Bell had at first thought he resented her because he didn’t want a woman to wield the artifacts, but now she suspected he was just a jerk. While he might not care about his people falling to earth like overripe fruit, Marie-Bell refused to let it come to that.

  She urged her conjured mount forward. He already resented her to the point of near hatred, it wasn’t like she could do anything to make their relationship worse.

  “Sir Collin. It’s getting close to noon. What do you say we take a break and get something to eat?”

  “I told you not to hold me up, girl,” he said, not even looking back.

  “We’ve been flying for ten hours straight and I’m starving. Soul force can only keep you going for so long. You don’t want us to be fainting when we reach the ship, do you? That wouldn’t exactly project an image of strength.”

  “If I order a break, will you shut up?”

  “Happily, sir.”

  “Fine.” Sir Collin raised his voice. “Find a clearing. We’re stopping for lunch.”

  He looked at her as if to ask if she was satisfied. Marie-Bell resisted punching in his smug face by the narrowest of margins.

  The group landed in a little cutout on the side of the road that appeared purposely built for rest stops. The main trade routes in the kingdom had them as well and it was nice to find something familiar.

  Marie-Bell settled at the far edge of the clearing and sat under a broad-leafed tree different from any she’d seen. Hardtack and dried beef didn’t make for the finest meal in the world, but it was filling once she got it down. The rest of the paladins sprawled where they landed, looking for all the world like the weariest band you’d ever seen.

  She caught the eye of the man she’d spoken to earlier and he smiled, offering a nod of thanks. Marie-Bell returned the gesture and found her food tasted better than it had a moment ago. Maybe she’d earned a little goodwill from at least one of her companions, not that they’d dare show it openly.

  The last bite of dried meat was stuck in her throat when she sensed a group approaching. None of them seemed especially powerful, but that didn’t mean they were harmless.

  Marie-Bell leapt to her feet and backed closer to the others. “We’ve got company coming.”

  Sir Collin stomped over to her. “What are you going on about now?”

  She nodded toward the tree line just as the first ragged woman stumbled out. Her head and left leg were bandaged. What little remained of her tunic and trousers had been torn to ribbons. Gradually more people emerged until thirteen individuals stood facing them, all of them sporting bruises and blood-stained bandages.

  Marie-Bell had never seen such a pitiful collection of men and women. She took a step toward them, but Sir Collin pushed past her and marched over to the least injured of the bunch, a dark-haired woman in a blue tunic.

  “What do you want here?” he asked.

  “Help. Please.” Marie-Bell only just understood the words. The woman clearly spoke little of their language.

  “What happened to you?” Sir Collin asked.

  Her face scrunched up. “Rebellion. Failed.”

  Sir Collin shook his head. “We can’t help you. Everyone finish your food. We’re leaving.”

  The native reached for him. “Please.”

  Sir Collin walked away to rejoin his guards.

  Damn the man! What sort of paladin let people in this condition suffer?

  Marie-Bell went to the worst off of them, a boy barely into his teens with half his face wrapped in a bandage, and sent a stream of healing energy into him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Sir Collin demanded. “Did you hear my order?”

  “Perfectly.” Marie-Bell didn’t look back or stop the energy flow.

  “These people are rebels by their own admission. What do you think will happen if the dragon learns we’ve helped his enemies?”

  “Nothing.” The last wound closed and Marie-Bell moved on to the next person. “The Fire King isn’t going to jeopardize stopping the Binder because I healed a handful of people, whoever they might be.”

  The others had gathered around to watch their argument.

  “You don’t know that!” Sir Collin raged, she suspected more at her insubordination than any fear for the mission. “Your arrogance could be putting the world in jeopardy.”

  “We’re paladins,” Marie-Bell said. “Helping the weak is our duty, no matter who or where they are. These people aren’t evil, they’re scared and desperate. Maybe you’ve forgotten what it means to be a paladin, but I haven’t.”

  “How dare you! I’ve been a paladin since before your parents were born.”

  “Then act like it.” She moved on to the next person.

  The warmth of her partner’s approval flowed through Marie-Bell and the artifacts lent her their strength. She was doing the right thing and heaven take anyone that said otherwise.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The noon crowd filled Central Market Plaza to bursting. Jen said a silent word of thanks to whatever angel might be listening. She had lost the guards a few minutes ago, but a pair of well-meaning civilians trying to grab her instead tore off her cloak, leaving her long blond hair to spill out everywhere and her face, and worse her sword, uncovered. It was a bloody miracle no one had recognized her yet. Not that Jen was about to complain; it was her first bit of good luck since entering the city.

  Though she wasn’t hungry, she let her nose guide her to a sandwich stand where she bought a roasted vegetable sandwich with a coin from her meager supply. She took a bite and surveyed the crowd. A couple hundred people filled the open space between thirty plus merchants’ stalls. A group of six women were gathered around a cloth merchant’s stand. Jen made her way over and mingled. One more woman in the group shouldn’t attract much attention.

  As the conversation turned to the qualities of red velvet, Jen seriously considered taking her chances with her pursuers.

  “She can’t have gotten far,” a guard said.

  Jen shifted to put the fattest shopper between her and the voice.

  “Fan out and find her.”

  She peeked out between a pair of middle-aged women. One of the guards was headed straight toward them. Cursing her luck, Jen shifted and worked her way deeper into the market. As long as he didn’t notice her at once, maybe she could find another group to hide behind.

  “Hey!” the guard shouted.

  Jen stopped, turned, and smiled. “Yes?”

  He stomped over and grabbed her arm. The guy couldn’t have been more than twenty, probably a first-year recruit. Which explained why he didn’t follow protocol and get backup before approaching.

  “What are you doing carrying a sword?”

  “It’s a family heirloom,” Jen said. “Unless the laws have changed since my last visit that’s not illegal.”

  “N
ot as long as they’re peace bound. Yours is free in its scabbard. You’re coming with me.”

  Jen hardened her fist and punched him in the gut. It wasn’t enough to kill, but the guard doubled over, all the air smashed out of his lungs.

  She eased him to the ground. “You rest there. Those fish kabobs can really do a number on your stomach. I’ll fetch one of your friends.”

  Fortunately, he hadn’t regained the ability to speak and she made a clean escape. It wouldn’t last though. As soon as he got air into his lungs he’d shout his head off. Jen needed somewhere to hide before she ended up killing one of these poor bastards.

  A flicker of movement drew her gaze to a silversmith’s wagon. A girl in her mid-teens stood beside the right rear wheel and waved at Jen. What could she want?

  Jen hurried over and as soon as she got near the girl darted away again, out of the market and toward a collection of freshly built warehouses. She’d worked on those buildings during the reconstruction. The crown owned them and rented them out to merchants looking for a place to store excess merchandise.

  Her guide slipped between two of the smaller ones and Jen followed. Waiting in the alley were a pair of dirty men carrying drawn daggers.

  She reached for her sword, but the men quickly put their weapons away.

  “Commander St. Cloud?” the man on the right asked. He had a raspy voice and three days’ worth of stubble covered in grime.

  “You know me?” Jen asked, her hand never straying far from her sword hilt.

  “Certainly. You and your brother, may the angels bless you, saved my little girl from a partially collapsed building after the quake. I’m sure you wouldn’t remember us. The two of you helped so many people after that horrible night, but I’ll never forget you. I’m Bo and my daughter’s Lilly. As soon as I saw the guards chasing you, I sent Lilly to fetch you here.”

  Raised voices from the market indicated the guard she’d flattened had come to his senses.

  “We need to get out of sight,” Bo said. “The guards have become a lot more aggressive since the king’s death.”

  “King’s death?” Jen could only stare. Why did they think Uncle Andy was dead? “Sounds like we have a lot to discuss. Lead the way.”

  She followed Bo, Lilly, and their silent friend deeper into the alley then around to the rear of the warehouse. Bo ran his hand along the wall until a section sunk in and a door slid open. He motioned them all inside and sealed the door behind them.

  Someone fumbled around before sparks lit the darkness. Flint and steel clicked a few times then a candlewick finally caught revealing a ten-by-ten room with a pair of cots, a trunk, and a wash basin. The room looked like a bolt hole, but who had built it?

  “You should be safe here.” Bo set the candle on the trunk and slumped down to the floor. “So why were the city guards after you anyway?”

  “Long story,” Jen said. “The short version is a group of Binder worshipers have decided to try and take over the kingdom so they can hand it over to their master. They’re holding the queen and princess hostage. The king, by the way, is alive and well and under my brother’s protection as we speak. I’m here to get his wife and daughter to safety so he can plan our counterattack.”

  “King Andrew’s alive?” Bo stared as though he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “But they made a big announcement about how the archmage assassinated him and that the queen and princess would be kept safe until she was captured.”

  “So that’s how the cultists are explaining away their house arrest,” Jen muttered. “Who, exactly, made the announcement?”

  “Duke Carmichael and one of the Crimson Legionnaires, a big man, didn’t give his name.”

  “Nathanial. He’s the one who really tried to kill the king. And Carmichael’s the ruler of the western territory which means he’s based in Port Valcane. That makes sense, the place is riddled with Binder worshipers. Now I know who’s running the show.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Bo said. “It was announced this morning that Duke Carmichael’s son would be marrying Princess Karrie as soon as the period of official mourning for the king’s death ended.”

  “And that’s how they’re going to make this coup legitimate. Bastards, every one of them.”

  “What will you do?” Lilly asked in a soft, awed voice.

  “Rescue them of course. That’s why I’m here.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “There it is,” Qang said.

  Red Hood’s Tavern, with its dark siding, numerous windows, and smoking chimney, was nicer than Binder had expected. A family out for a night’s dinner wouldn’t have looked out of place climbing the short flight of steps up to the front door. He’d figured it would be some run-down slaughterhouse. The sort of place the worst of the worst gathered to cut each other’s throats.

  The neighborhood matched the tavern: simple, well maintained, working class. Nothing fancy, but what they had they took care of. The people living here were the ones Binder hoped to help. Good people held down by corruption and incompetence.

  The walk from where Binder was ambushed to the tavern had taken about ten minutes. All the while his prisoner hadn’t uttered a sound. She just glared at him with hard, angry eyes. You’d think she’d show a little gratitude since he hadn’t killed her, yet.

  They paused in an alley across from the tavern. Binder gestured and his prisoner floated in front of him. “Tell me everything.”

  “I’ll tell you nothing.”

  Binder shook his head at her stubbornness. “It will be considerably less painful if you tell me on your own rather than making me rip the information from your mind.”

  Qang blanched. “You can do that?”

  “Easily. To a divine being, you mortals are open books just waiting to be read. The painful part is pulling open the cover. The harder you resist, the worse it hurts. If I’m careful, most of her mental functions should remain intact.”

  “Generous of you,” Qang said.

  “Yes, though pointless. I’m sure I’ll end up executing her as the traitor she is.” Binder trained his penetrating gaze on the now slightly trembling woman. “What does Jet look like?”

  Despite her obvious fear, the prisoner remained silent. She had a strong will. Binder admired that, even if it annoyed him.

  “Jet’s about thirty,” Qang said. “Short and slim, with long black hair that explains her nickname. She’s got a tattoo of a green dragon that curls around her right eye and she always dresses in black. Believe me, if you see Jet, you won’t mistake her for anyone else. She’s got an… air about her.”

  “She’s crazy,” the prisoner said.

  “That too,” Qang agreed.

  Binder grabbed the girl on either side of her head and stared deep into her eyes. As he expected her psychic resistance was considerable, for a human. It took all of five seconds for him to rip apart her feeble natural defenses then her mind belonged to him.

  It seemed this girl, Teng, had lived a rough life, working any odd job she could find as long as it kept her out of the brothels. He shifted to more recent memories. Ah, there was Jet. Attractive enough for a human. Teng’s consciousness flinched from Jet’s presence even in the halls of her own mind. If she feared the woman that much, Jet must be a truly horrid human.

  A couple more minutes of rummaging around and Binder had all he needed. Out of pity for what he’d seen, Binder withdrew his psychic probe as gently as possible. Enough people had hurt this girl without him adding to her pain. When he saw her slack-faced expression Binder sighed. Sometimes his best efforts weren’t enough.

  “The meeting’s not for another half an hour,” Binder said. “And Jet will probably be late. I’ll go in and wait for her. You stay here with Teng.”

  “Who’s Teng?” Qang asked.

  Binder jerked a thumb at the prisoner.

  “Right. Um, don’t you think Jet may run if she sees you waiting for her instead of the girl?”

  Binder concentrated and
his body blurred. When the transformation was complete he was a perfect match for Teng. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Qang shook his head. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Yes, return to Heaven where I belong. Stay here and out of sight.”

  Binder crossed the street to the tavern, climbed the short flight of steps, and pushed through the door. A handful of people sat at the scattered tables. Everyone looked up when Binder entered and just as quickly returned to their meals.

  Behind the bar polishing glasses was the biggest human Binder had ever seen. That had to be Renton Hood. The man could have nearly looked Binder in the eye in his natural form. His shoulders had to be five feet across and they bulged with muscle, just like the rest of his body. He wore a leather vest with no undershirt to better show off his chest along with a scar that ran from his left shoulder to his right hip.

  On the wall behind him hung a massive, red-bladed ax. Binder had never seen metal quite that color. Seemed unlikely it was natural. Probably soul forged. He shivered. Something about that ax rubbed him wrong.

  He put the proprietor out of his mind and angled across the room to the table where Teng was to meet Jet. He slid into an empty chair facing the door and settled in to wait.

  A serving woman came over to check on him, but Binder shook his head. She shrugged and went to pester the other guests. Half an hour passed and still no Jet. Binder forced himself to remain patient. The delay was just some foolish human way of establishing dominance. The species seemed incapable of avoiding such displays. It was one of many faults Binder hoped to train or breed out of them.

  Finally, a full twenty minutes after she was supposed to arrive, Jet pushed through the door. Everyone in the place stiffened when they saw her. Apparently Teng wasn’t the only one who feared the woman.

  Jet surveyed the common room with a look of supreme contempt before sauntering up to the bar. Renton poured her a shot of something which Jet downed in one swallow before kissing the giant bartender full on the lips.