Rise Page 5

  “I pray that you’ll make the right choice,” Alistair told her, his face grim. “If you do not return to Tearmunn within the month, you will become the hunted again. And I will no longer protect you.”

  Wheeling the shadow horse around, Alistair didn’t look back at Ember. The wolves howled in protest, their cries becoming whining snarls as they followed him, tethered by some invisible leash. Alistair put his heels to the dark horse, and in a blur, the wolves and rider became a cloud of smoke and blood lightning that soared eastward up the glen and finally faded from sight.

  WHETHER IT WAS A FEW minutes or hours, Ember couldn’t be sure, but for a time she couldn’t move. She dropped onto her knees beside Barrow and stared into nothing. She had a vague sense of being cold, but the chill was negligible compared to the hollowness beneath her ribs.

  Caber finally roused her from the stupor. She didn’t know what the stallion had done during the fight: whether he’d bolted and just now returned, not knowing where else to go, or if he’d been paralyzed by shock as he watched his friend Toshach die.

  Wherever he’d been and whatever he’d witnessed, Caber now approached Toshach tentatively. Ember watched as the young stallion whickered to the fallen horse. Caber blew out on Toshach’s neck, whinnying softly, then giving a low squeal of sorrow. Stomping the ground twice with his front hooves, Caber snorted and jumped away from the dead horse.

  “I’m so sorry.” Ember heard her own voice before she’d made the decision to speak. Caber looked at her, tossing his mane and whinnying in distress.

  Shakily, Ember stood up. The stallion came to her outstretched hand. His nose was velvet soft on her palm.

  “He did it to save Barrow.” Her words came out thick. “And now Barrow needs our help.”

  Though it took a good deal of coaxing and pleading, Ember managed to convince Caber to lie on the ground alongside Barrow. Even with Caber’s back in close proximity, Ember struggled to drag Barrow into the saddle. She held his body in place as she urged Caber to his feet.

  After she’d collected the saddlebags from Toshach’s body, Ember scrambled into the saddle behind Barrow. Easing Caber into a walk, Ember held on to Barrow with one arm. She tried to keep her mind blank. Fear that moving Barrow at all was harming him further threatened to unravel her determination. Though his heartbeat was steady and his breathing normal, Ember couldn’t know the extent of his injuries. A broken rib or crushed organ would mean his body was bleeding on the inside, invisible wounds that nonetheless meant death. But what choice did she have?

  Ember had briefly weighed the option of riding ahead in hopes of bringing help to Barrow, but it seemed much more dangerous to leave him unconscious and alone than to risk moving him. Moving at a plodding pace frustrated her so that her bones ached, but a faster gait than walking would jostle Barrow too much.

  Steeling herself, Ember loosened the reins, letting Caber take up a swift walk without allowing him to trot. Dawn was breaking over the hills to the east, and Ember rode toward the light, praying that the coast was as close as the promise of morning. Despite her exhaustion, fear kept Ember alert. She surveyed the landscape, always watching for the landmarks that Barrow had mentioned would mark their path to the sea. Should she miss any of them, Ember knew she’d easily lose days wandering aimlessly in the hills.

  When the sun had crested the top of the glen and spilled pale gold and rose light down the slopes, Ember caught her first glimpse of the eastern coast: a dark, roiling blue. The sight filled Ember with more foreboding than hope. As Caber kept up his steady gait, the vast blue expanse rose up to meet them, stretching farther and farther into the east. Ember’s mind was full of brittle thoughts, too easily broken into sharp bits of emotion that cut her to the core. She had almost reached the sea, but then what? Their tiny band would sail to a strange land and hope for aid? The cause already seemed lost to her.

  Caber snorted, his ears flicked, and a moment later, he gave a loud whinny. Ember straightened in the saddle, striving to calm the stallion, who’d begun to prance. Another whinny returned Caber’s call, drawing Ember’s gaze to the woods that lined the path.

  Keeping a tight hold on the reins, Ember watched the forest edge. If bandits hoped for an ambush, she’d be hard-pressed to protect Barrow and fight them off.

  When a gray mare carrying Lukasz emerged from the shadows followed by Kael and his mount, Ember gave a shout of relief. She jumped down from Caber’s back and waved the commander over to them.

  “We thought the worst when you were delayed,” Kael told her. His eyes rested on Barrow’s unmoving form, and he was already climbing from his saddle.

  “He’s alive,” Ember said, answering Kael’s unspoken question. “Toshach fell, and Barrow was crushed beneath him.”

  Lukasz dismounted, and the two men lifted Barrow from Caber’s back, setting him carefully on the ground.

  “Were you attacked?” Lukasz asked. “Was Toshach struck down?”

  “Yes, but the fall happened when we tried to flee,” Ember said. “Toshach had pulled up lame, slowing us. When we were forced to run, he managed a short while but then he broke down.”

  “Who pursued you?” Lukasz spoke to her as Kael unbelted Barrow’s sword and lifted his tabard and shirt.

  Ember’s mouth went dry when she saw the mottled skin of Barrow’s chest and abdomen.

  “Ember,” Lukasz said, drawing her gaze from Barrow.

  “Alistair,” she answered. “He had… creatures with him, hunting us. Wolves made of fire. They moved with impossible speed, as if riding a storm. We couldn’t outrun them.”

  Kael swore, and Ember feared he’d assessed Barrow to be beyond help, but the blond knight was looking at Ember.

  “Fire wolves?”

  She nodded. “Barrow was unconscious, and the wolves would have been on him. Toshach attacked the wolves before they could reach Barrow. A horse had no chance against them. I don’t know if anything could hurt them.”

  “Like the shadow creatures,” Lukasz said quietly. “Beasts we do not have the means to fight are being raised against us by Eira.”

  “How did you escape?” Kael frowned at Ember.

  She hesitated, not knowing if the truth would suffice as an answer. Her cheeks grew hot when she told Kael, “I took advantage of Alistair’s favor and was able to convince him that, given time, I might return to Tearmunn.”

  Ember looked at Kael, expecting him to doubt her tale. But Kael offered her a wry smile.

  “Enough said.” He shot a knowing glance at Lukasz. “I suffered many, many hours listening to Alistair proclaim his love for you.”

  Ember’s blush deepened.

  “It served our purpose,” Lukasz added. “You were wise to exploit that weakness.”

  The commander’s words did little to ennoble Ember’s strategy, but at least they understood why it had worked.

  “Did Alistair reveal how our flight was discovered?” Kael asked her. “Were we betrayed?”

  “He didn’t say,” Ember answered. “But with Barrow’s injury, I was forced to continue at a slow pace. Fitch and Mercer never overtook me, as they should have.”

  Kael sighed. “We’ll assume them lost, then?”

  “We must,” Lukasz said. “We waited longer than I like in the hopes that we weren’t alone in making an escape. Though Alistair was persuaded to give you freedom, Eira will soon send others after us.”

  A thin voice trilled from the forest. “My lords? Is it safe?”

  Kael groaned. “For a minute I’d forgotten about him.”

  “Kindness,” Lukasz chided, but he smiled at Kael. “The man’s been through much.”

  “And we haven’t?” Kael replied. “I’ve had pudding made of stronger stuff than him.”

  Lukasz laughed quietly, then called out, “Come to us, Sawyer! There’s no danger here.”

  Ember watched as the woodcutter who’d revealed the extent of Eira’s treachery scuttled from the forest. Sawyer hurried to join them. He huddle
d on the ground next to Lukasz. The man’s entire body was taut and quivering.

  Bobbing his head in deference to Ember, Sawyer let his eyes roam over Barrow’s bruised torso. For a moment, the trembling of his limbs ceased and the wild bulging of his eyes relented.

  “If I may, my lord,” Sawyer asked Lukasz, “have a closer look?”

  Kael rocked back on his heels. “For what purpose?”

  “My mother was a healer,” Sawyer answered. “I’ve not her skill, but I might be able to help some.”

  “If you could tell us how severe the injuries are, we’d be in your debt,” Lukasz said, making space for Sawyer to kneel beside Barrow.

  With light, probing fingers, Sawyer worked his way over Barrow’s shoulders, chest, and abdomen. Ember winced when he touched the purple and red contusions that webbed over Barrow’s skin. Sawyer bent down, placing his ear against Barrow’s chest, listening. He rose and carefully lifted Barrow’s head, molding his hands to the shape of Barrow’s skull.

  Ember noticed that, while he was occupied, Sawyer’s tremulous character vanished. He ministered to his patient with calm, steady movements. Purpose offered a salve for his fear, putting his mind at ease.

  “He’s had a good knock on the head,” Sawyer told them. “Quite the lump back here. No blood, though.”

  “What about the rest?” Ember pointed to the bruise on Barrow’s torso.

  Sawyer shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, but my mother told me that if a man’s heartbeat is strong and his breath doesn’t sound like he’s half drowning, then he’s got a chance. Best thing is to give him rest.”

  Lukasz and Kael nodded, apparently satisfied by Sawyer’s assessment, but Ember wished Sawyer could offer more assurance.

  “He’ll get rest on the ship,” Lukasz told Sawyer, but he glanced at Ember, sensing her concern. “And when we reach Krak des Chevaliers, their healers will attend him.”

  “Yes,” Ember replied, because there was nothing else to say. All she could do was wait and hope that Barrow’s wounds would mend.

  “My mare will bear the double burden of myself and Barrow till we reach the port,” Lukasz said. “She’s a stouter horse than Caber.”

  Kael and Lukasz carried Barrow to the commander’s horse. At Ember’s side, Sawyer had reverted to his former state. He twitched as he stood, often muttering under his breath. Pity for the woodcutter filled Ember.

  “Perhaps you could ride near me,” she said to him, “and tell me more of your mother’s work.”

  “As my lady wishes,” Sawyer answered. “My horse is still tethered in the forest, where we were waiting.”

  Sawyer yelped when Kael slapped him on the shoulder. “And that’s why you should go get the beast.”

  With a whimper, Sawyer scampered away.

  “You should be gentler with him.” Ember frowned at Kael.

  “Ride with him for as many hours as I have, and we’ll talk.” Kael grinned at her.

  As they continued to make slow but steady progress toward the sea, Ember kept her word. She rode alongside Sawyer, engaging him with questions. At first the woodcutter seemed reluctant to converse, but as Ember asked him to recount his memories of his mother, Sawyer began to relax. The frightened whine with which he often marked his words faded. He smiled as he recalled the days of his childhood. Ember was careful with her questions, making sure to keep his mind on the distant past and well away from the trauma of recent days.

  Though Ember had believed the coastline promisingly close, they had farther to travel than she’d thought. Only as dawn broke on the second day of their sojourn did they reach the port of Inverness.

  Kael rode at the head of their small band while Sawyer and Ember moved to ride abreast of Lukasz in the hopes of sheltering Barrow’s dire state from inquisitive gazes. Kael guided them to the harbor, which reeked of brine and kelp.

  “Do you want to secure our passage, or shall I?” Kael asked Lukasz.

  “Go ahead,” Lukasz told him. “We’ll likely need to make a shorter voyage to one of the French ports before we can find a vessel that will travel as far to the east as we wish.”

  Kael swung out of the saddle, giving charge of his mount to Ember. His horse hardly needed tending. All their mounts were so exhausted that they were more than pleased to stand and doze while Kael found a ship.

  From where he was slumped in the saddle against Lukasz, Barrow stirred, groaning, and then went still.

  “Oh!” Ember was ready to dismount, but Lukasz stayed her with his hand.

  “It’s a good sign,” Lukasz told her. “I think he’ll wake soon, but there’s nothing to be done right now. Stay where you are, lest you draw unneeded attention to us.”

  Grudgingly, Ember remained in the saddle, though she kept a close watch on Barrow, hoping for another sound or movement.

  Kael returned in less than an hour, looking quite pleased with himself.

  “Well?” Lukasz asked him. The commander appraised Kael’s self-satisfied smirk uneasily.

  “Found a ship,” Kael told them. “She’ll take us to Bordeaux.”

  “And is there a berth for us where Barrow can rest?” Ember tossed the reins for Kael’s mount back to him.

  “There is, my lady.” Kael flashed a coy smile at her.

  Lukasz’s eyes narrowed further. “A merchant vessel?”

  “They have some cargo,” Kael said. “But the ship will mostly be filled with passengers.”

  “What sort of passengers?” Lukasz asked.

  “Humble pilgrims,” Kael answered. “Like ourselves.”

  “Kael—” Lukasz began, but Kael’s laughter cut him off.

  “Protest if you like, but it’s a fine plan, and you know it,” Kael told the commander. “Joining the Bordeaux to Constantinople pilgrimage will give us a perfect cover for travel. The sailors will be far less likely to remember a few additional pious passengers than they would a small group of knights paying good coin for transport.”

  “A merchant’s vessel would be faster,” Lukasz said.

  “Faster isn’t better in this case,” Kael told him. “Arguing is just a waste of our time, and it keeps poor Barrow from his berth. Besides, the pilgrim vessel sails tomorrow morning. The first merchant ship to depart leaves in two days.”

  Lukasz held Kael in a stony glare for a few moments before he said, “Very well. Lead on.”

  ALISTAIR FOUGHT NOT TO cower in the face of Eira’s cold fury.

  “You let her go.” The quiet slither of her words was much worse than if she’d been screaming at him.

  “Yes, my lady,” Alistair answered, ready to accept punishment. He couldn’t muster words to defend his actions. Bosque’s shadow steed had carried him back to Tearmunn so swiftly that he’d had little time to contemplate the consequences of his choice. When the strange void the horse traveled through had vanished, revealing the familiar slopes of Glen Shiel, Alistair had gazed at the Conatus keep, feeling it tower over him like his doom.

  Despite Eira’s incredulous expression, Alistair held fast to his reasons for giving Ember her freedom. Ember had spoken true: Alistair knew her well. Though the temptation to seize her, restoring her to Tearmunn as a captive and his personal trophy, had been overwhelming, Alistair knew that victory would have been bittersweet and short-lived. Ember couldn’t be conquered or coaxed. If she were to return to the keep and accept his affections, it must be by her own will.

  Alistair didn’t believe Eira would take to his pleas of true love kindly. He stood in awe and fear of the warrior woman. She was the greatest of leaders, and he would follow her to the ends of the earth, for to be at Eira’s side was to know true power. But Eira’s strength was rooted in ambition and fearlessness, and Alistair doubted she’d ever felt the flames of love that burned in his blood at any thought of Ember Morrow.

  “I ask your forgiveness, my lady,” Alistair said quietly. “I am sorry to have earned your anger.”

  Eira snorted, half turning from him to look at Cian as tho
ugh for guidance.

  Cian stood quietly. Her face showed lines of tension that Alistair read as disappointment.

  “Your actions are difficult to understand, Lord Hart,” Cian said. “Do you have doubts about my sister’s plans for the order?”

  Eira’s eyebrows shot up and she wheeled on Alistair. “Do you?”

  Dropping to one knee, Alistair said, “Never, my lady. I am yours to command.”

  “A reprieve is in order.”

  Alistair looked up in surprise to see Bosque coming toward him. He’d been silent as a statue upon Alistair’s return to the great hall. Alistair could see that Bosque had been listening to all that was said, but Bosque hadn’t spoken until now.

  Eira frowned at Bosque. “A reprieve?”

  “His deeds tonight may have been misguided, but his loyalty to you remains true,” Bosque said with an air of finality.

  Meeting Bosque’s steady gaze, Eira slowly nodded. She stepped back when Bosque moved to stand before Alistair.

  “Rise, Lord Hart.”

  Alistair stood up. Bosque was unsettlingly close, his silver eyes boring into the young knight.

  “Do you know where the traitors’ path leads?” Bosque asked.

  “Ember goes to her sister’s new home,” Alistair told him. “The estate of Count de La Marche in France.”

  Eira broke in. “Does she go alone or with the others?”

  “I can’t say,” Alistair answered. “I only know that Ember gave me her word that she would seek refuge with Agnes.”

  “And you trust the lady Morrow’s word?” Eira made a low noise of disgust.

  Alistair fell silent. He didn’t know if he fully believed what Ember had said, but he’d believed her enough to let her go. His heart had assured him the risk was worthwhile.

  “Whether she reaches that destination or another, she travels to the coast,” Bosque offered. “And will take to the sea.”

  “Yes,” Alistair said. “It would seem more likely that she sails with Lukasz and Kael rather than alone.”

  “And what of Barrow?” Cian interrupted. “You haven’t spoken of him. Was he not with Lady Morrow?”