Rise Page 10

  “The nobles,” Alistair answered. “You would begin with my family?”

  “They should know how far their son will rise in our ranks,” she told him.

  Alistair nodded, his face alight with sudden pride.

  Eira continued. “You should write to your brother Henry as well.”

  When Alistair’s delight became a scowl, Eira said, “Listen to me, Alistair, and you will have joy in your brother’s folly.”

  “How?” Alistair asked her.

  “Lord Mar already showed us the way,” Eira told him. “We care for Agnes as a hostage. It seems to me that Ember isn’t the only one who would be concerned for her sister.”

  Alistair shook his head. “You place too much faith in my brother’s character. He will call Agnes a whore before he acknowledges the child.”

  “Do you not think we have the means to persuade him otherwise?” Eira said. “If Henry behaves with dishonor, I believe a visit from Lord Mar would be in order.”

  “That would be interesting.” Alistair laughed.

  “Your family will bring us noble houses in Scotland and England,” Eira told him. “They will be the first to align with us, but not the last.”

  When Alistair dropped to one knee, Eira was surprised and delighted. He took her hand, kissing it.

  “Wherever you lead, my lady,” Alistair murmured, “I shall follow, for the world is yours to take.”

  “Yes.” Eira helped him rise. “It is.”

  EMBER WOKE TO comforting warmth. The bonfire, a ramshackle pile of driftwood, spit and crackled as it burned. She sat up, turning when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “How are you feeling?” Barrow asked.

  With a cry of relief, Ember threw herself on him. Barrow grunted and flinched.

  Ember pulled away. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he answered. “The day when these bruises are healed can’t come soon enough.”

  “Good to see you awake and less blue in the face, Lady Morrow.” Kael sat on the other side of the bonfire.

  “Thank you,” Ember said with a rueful smile.

  “That’s twice Ember’s saved your life, Barrow,” Kael told him. “I thought you were the one teaching her to be a warrior.”

  Barrow grimaced. “The last few days haven’t been my best as an instructor.”

  “You do have a tendency to get knocked out at inopportune times,” Ember teased.

  “A terrible habit”—Barrow returned her smile—“that I promise to break.”

  “Glad to hear it.” She laughed, searching the beach near the campfire for her other companions. “Where is the commander?”

  “Guarding the horses,” Kael told her. “They’re the most precious cargo to survive the shipwreck. We can’t risk them being stolen.”

  “How did you save the horses?” If she closed her eyes, Ember could still see the heaving deck, spikes of timber jutting toward the sky as the ship was halved.

  “A stroke of luck,” Kael said. “We were belowdecks when the roof of the berth was ripped away, leaving only sky above our heads. Lukasz went to find the two of you. I went to the horses. I reached them just as the ship broke up, and fortune smiled on us. The beast opened a hole to the sea that let me swim out with the horses. If that hadn’t happened, we’d have drowned.”

  “And Sawyer?” Ember asked, looking for any signs of him elsewhere on the beach.

  “He wasn’t with us at the time of the attack.” Kael bowed his head. “We found his body washed ashore. At least we were able to bury him.”

  Ember nodded, but her chest was tight with grief.

  “He was a good man, but troubled by the evil he’d seen,” Barrow said quietly. “I would hope that he’s at peace now.”

  “What was that thing?” Ember asked, forcing her sorrow aside.

  “Some would call it Leviathan,” Kael told her. “Others a kraken, Lothan, Scylla, or Tethys. It has many names, though I wouldn’t claim to know the true one.”

  A part of Ember wanted to ask plaintively if the myths of sea monsters were true, but she’d seen enough of myth come to life since her arrival at Conatus to quell that impulse.

  Instead she asked, “Have you fought this creature before?”

  Barrow said, “You cannot fight Leviathan.”

  “Especially not when you’re unconscious.” Kael grinned at him.

  “True enough.” Barrow laughed darkly. “Even bearing the greatest of weapons, however, the kraken has the advantage.”

  Kael shifted forward. The bonfire cast a strange mask of light and shadow on his face. “We haven’t encountered a sea monster ourselves before now. The records we have of their attacks are rare. From what we know, the kraken keep to the open sea, taking ships infrequently and more infrequently leaving survivors to tell the tale.”

  “It doesn’t bode well,” Barrow said.

  “What doesn’t?” Ember asked.

  “This attack happened close to shore,” Kael answered. “On this sea route, ships are lost to storms, war, or pirates, but not to Leviathan.”

  Ember took in the strain on their faces. Battle-worn knights made fearful.

  “You think it was sent after us?” she asked.

  Kael nodded. “If wolves of fire hunted you on land, it isn’t hard to believe that the greatest of sea monsters was awakened from the deeps to continue the chase.”

  Pulling her knees to her chest, Ember shivered. “How is it that these things—beasts of fire, shadow, and legend—come to life now as never before? What has changed?”

  “That we must learn,” Barrow said quietly, “before we are destroyed.”

  Kael stood, brushing sand from his clothes. “And now that you’re awake, we should be on our way. Something is hunting, and I’d prefer to let it believe us dead than have it come after us again.”

  There were few other survivors. Of the forty souls who embarked from Inverness, only two sailors and five pilgrims besides the four Conatus refugees had escaped to the shore. Ember watched them huddle around their own fires as she, Barrow, and Kael went to join Lukasz and the horses.

  “Any trouble?” Kael asked as they crested the beach slope and found the commander.

  “The two crewmen who made it to shore came skulking,” Lukasz told him. “But they didn’t stay long.”

  “Reaver’s good that way.” Kael laughed.

  “Who?” Ember frowned at Kael.

  Lukasz answered her. “The name of my sword.” He patted the hilt of the massive claymore strapped to his back.

  When Caber caught sight of Ember, he snorted, coming to her and bumping her shoulder with his nose.

  “Thanks for getting me to shore, friend.” She stroked his neck.

  Barrow stood beside her. “He’s very loyal to you.”

  Ember smiled at him, clasping his hand in hers, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. The sorrow she saw in his eyes was too much. If Caber had died, Ember knew the loss would cut her deeply. Yet she’d known the stallion only a short while. Barrow and Toshach had been bonded for years. Barrow returned her smile sadly before going to his new mount, a roan gelding Lukasz had hurriedly purchased in Inverness before they’d set sail.

  “Do you know where we are?” Barrow asked the commander as they mounted.

  “A fairly good idea,” Lukasz told him. “Shortly before the wreck, one of the crewmen told me they’d sighted the Île de Ré on the southern horizon. That means our best hope is La Rochelle.”

  Kael shifted in his saddle, agitated. “Will the cache still be intact?”

  “If the knights at Cernon have honor, it will,” Lukasz answered. “I’ve not had need of the sanctuary before now. We’ll have to chance it.”

  The commander led them forward at a trot. Ember reined Caber close to Barrow’s mount.

  “What is this place we’re seeking?”

  Barrow’s mouth set in a grim line. “A slender hope, but as the commander said, the best we have. In the twelfth century, until their
demise, La Rochelle was a Templar stronghold and the home of their fleet.”

  “And now that the Templars are gone?” Ember asked.

  “When the order was condemned for heresy, a group of Templars collected what they could of their wealth and arcane knowledge and loaded ships,” Barrow continued. “They made their escape so as not to burn with the rest of their brethren.”

  “Where did they go?” Ember checked Caber as he tried to nip Barrow’s gelding.

  Barrow glanced at Caber’s pinned ears. “Not friends yet, are they?”

  “He misses Toshach,” Ember said, then bit her lip, regretting her words.

  “So do I,” Barrow said quietly. Then, after a breath, he continued, “The story of their escape remains a mystery. It may even be a legend. If the Templars on those ships did land on another shore, they’ve kept the location a secret.”

  He leaned forward to pat his mount’s neck as the roan became irritated with Caber’s threatening posture, nostrils flaring and head tossing. “Easy, now.”

  Ember reined Caber slightly farther from Barrow’s horse. “If we don’t know, how does that help us?”

  “The story of the Templars’ voyage was passed down to Conatus,” Barrow answered. “But we received another tale as well: that because La Rochelle offered salvation for a few of the persecuted, it would forever remain a sanctuary for those of our order in need. This place is reputedly protected by Templar spellwork so that only warriors loyal to their cause may enter.”

  “Why did Lukasz mention Cernon?” Ember asked.

  “La Rochelle’s sanctuary was created over a century ago,” Barrow said. “The Guard of Cernon are supposedly its caretakers, but given the mythic nature of the story, we can’t be sure they’ve maintained it—if it ever existed. Though the Templars were destroyed, Conatus was never in danger. We haven’t had need of such a place.”

  “Until now,” Ember said quietly.

  They traveled in silence, at a steady but restrained pace to avoid straining the horses after their ordeal at sea. When the sun reached its midday pinnacle, Lukasz brought them to a halt. The horses had their fill of ripening spring grasses while their riders took turns resting. Their provisions lost to the sea, Ember tried to ignore her rumbling belly. If her companions could bear hunger without complaint, she was determined to do the same. Though as she watched Caber relish his mouthfuls of greens, she wished that the grasses could feed her too.

  Lukasz took them overland, in sight of but not on the main road. Though they traveled without speaking, Ember could feel the tension that bound them together. The sight of other riders sent ripples of alarm through their party, palpable enough for the horses to sense it, making them snort and prance nervously.

  As they neared La Rochelle, the road became more congested, and Lukasz deemed it safe enough for them to blend in with the other travelers. Bedraggled as they were, Ember supposed they didn’t appear too strange for road-weary pilgrims.

  Stout walls formed a barrier between La Rochelle and the countryside. The stone fortifications were enhanced by tall towers that cast watchful shadows over the city. Lukasz led them southwest through the narrow streets. The pungent scent of seawater permeated the city. Though the town corridors still bustled with people, dusk had long since fallen, and the merchants had closed their stalls for the day. Ember’s stomach had grown vengeful claws, but her hopes for encountering a baker selling bread were rapidly waning.

  When they reached the harbor, Lukasz dismounted and waited for the rest of them to do the same. Leading the horses along the waterside until it became a canal that eased between the stone buildings, Lukasz pointed at a tall church.

  “Saint-Sauveur,” he told them quietly. “The sanctuary we seek is there.”

  They passed by the bell tower, turning down a side street barely wide enough to accommodate the horses. The corridor ended abruptly, leaving Lukasz to stop in front of a carved stone façade. Two torches blazed in sconces, throwing their firelight onto an image taller than the commander. A pair of knights rode together on a single horse, the words Sigillum Militum Xpisti ringing the life-size soldiers and their steed.

  “The Templar seal.” Peering at the image of these brethren in arms, Ember contended with admiration and sorrow. The legacy she aspired to fulfill was one that had ended with blood and fire. So many lives lost.

  “I hope this works,” Lukasz said.

  Standing before one of the torches, he swiftly passed his hand through its flame. As they watched, the firelight blazed anew—its flames silver-white. Stone grated on stone, and the two riders slowly pulled away from them into a hidden recess.

  Lukasz ducked into the shadows, reemerging a few moments later. “There’s a short staircase, but it opens into stables below. We can bring the horses.”

  “Stables underground?” Ember looked at Barrow.

  He shrugged. “It’s a refuge for knights, and knights have horses. See?” He pointed at the Templar seal.

  “Hilarious,” Ember replied drily.

  “I only speak the truth,” Barrow said seriously, but his eyes were laughing.

  Barrow and Kael blindfolded the horses so no time was wasted coaxing the animals into the dark stairwell. Lukasz entered last, taking the white-flamed torch with him. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, the great stone seal groaned, returning to its original place.

  Kael glanced at Lukasz. “I hope you know how to open that up again.”

  “You’ll just have to trust me,” Lukasz told him. “Get the horses settled.”

  The light from Lukasz’s silver-bright torch revealed an open space. Ember couldn’t discern whether it was a natural cave or a man-made hollow. Iron rings were bolted into the rock walls, offering tie offs for the horses.

  Barrow found a pitchfork in a nook as well as fresh hay and a sack of grain.

  “Someone’s been keeping this place in order,” he told them. “And a good thing that is. Our horses hardly need a meal of moldy hay and rotten grain.”

  As Barrow apportioned food for the horses, Kael and Ember took turns leading their mounts to a carved stone trough into which bubbled a steady stream of fresh water. When the horses were unsaddled and fed, Lukasz beckoned the other knights to follow him.

  Opposite the stairs, the cave narrowed into a short tunnel that ran up against a solid wooden door. Finding it unlocked, Lukasz opened the door and led the way into another open space.

  As torchlight illuminated the room, Kael clapped his approval.

  “I’m glad the horses aren’t the only ones provided for.”

  The room was small, but furnished with all they could desire. A table and six chairs were laden with bread and fruit. Six pallets were tucked against the walls. Ember went to a tall wooden cupboard, where she discovered dried meat, herbs, and a cloth-bound hard cheese. Her mouth watered while her stomach cramped with hunger.

  “There’s wine.” Kael hooted with delight as he opened a barrel.

  Ember brought the meat and cheese to the table while Lukasz prepared a fire in the hearth.

  “Where do you think the smoke is released?” Barrow asked the commander.

  “Somewhere inconspicuous,” Lukasz answered with a wry smile. “Or the purpose of this place is ill served.”

  Though ravenous, Ember forced herself to eat slowly, chewing her bread and cheese thoroughly instead of wolfing down large chunks as she wanted to. The lack of talk at the table confirmed that Ember’s companions were as hungry as she.

  The silent meal was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in a lock. Ember jumped up in surprise. She’d been so fixated on her rumbling stomach that she only now noticed the second door in their hiding place—the door that was slowly opening.

  Lukasz brandished the knife he’d been using to eat. Leaving his chair, Barrow pounced onto the table’s edge, using its surface to propel his jump to the pallet where he’d left his saber. Ember and Kael rushed to the wall where the door was opening, placing themselves behin
d the door so they’d be hidden from whoever had turned the key.

  “Qui est ici?” The question floated from behind the half-opened door.

  Tilting his head at the sound of the speaker’s voice, Lukasz spoke. “Jérôme? Is that you?”

  “Lukasz?” the hidden man replied, and the door opened a bit further.

  Tension melted from the commander’s shoulders. “Yes. You don’t how glad I am that you’ve come to meet us.”

  When Lukasz let his knife fall to the table, Kael and Ember retreated from their hiding place, and Barrow rose from where he’d been crouched by the pallet.

  The door swung open, and a lanky knight with long chestnut hair gathered at the nape of his neck came into the room. Lukasz rounded the table to receive the French knight’s embrace.

  “It’s good to see you, friend.” Jérôme’s voice lilted with his accented English.

  “The same,” Lukasz answered. He gestured to his three companions. “My fellow knights, Barrow Hess, Kael MacRath, and Ember Morrow. It’s my honor to present Jérôme Fauré, Cernon’s finest Guard.”

  “Your praise is undeserved.” Jérôme shook his head. His gaze lingered on Ember, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She wondered if he found the presence of a woman among Conatus’s knights unsettling. She knew women of the Guard were a rarity, but she didn’t know how exceptional her role might be.

  “You’ve always been too humble, Jérôme,” Lukasz answered. “We’re indebted to you for the food and shelter. Our need is great, and we feared that the sanctuary of La Rochelle might have been long neglected.”

  Jérôme nodded, his smile short-lived. “You were right to be anxious. Until very recently, La Rochelle was viewed as a worthless vestige of days long past.”

  “What changed?” Kael asked.

  “So much, it seems, and so quickly,” Jérôme said. “I feared this place might be needed, so I took it upon myself to restore its provisions.”

  “Alone?” Barrow returned to the table.

  With a sigh, Jérôme told him, “Yes. I regret to confess I cannot trust my brethren as I would like. I took over the watch at La Rochelle, which had been an unfilled post for some years, but I did so in secret.”