To Whatever End (Echoes of Imara Book 1) (38 page)

Number Three rose from his bed and Pathius stood. Three’s eyes were intense, his brow furrowed down. He looked up at Pathius and held his gaze. “I will see to it.”

Elation poured into Pathius, dousing the fear. His lip curled up in a smile, and he reached out to grip Three’s hand, giving him a nod of respect.

“Once you’re at the fallback point, under the city, Cecily will come for Number Fourteen. I need you to make certain she succeeds.”

Number Three nodded. “It shall be done.”

38. TRUST

Cecily waited in the courtyard, the palace towering above her. The tall spires gleamed in the early morning sun, the chill air crisp against her skin. The heady scent of gardenia from the Shaper gardens hung in the winter air, mixing with the musky smell of leather and horses.

The bulk of Rogan’s force amassed on the other side of the palace in a makeshift staging area. They had decided on a force of a thousand men, including a number of Fire Wielders who usually manned the wall. None of them wanted to take any chances with Nihil’s aberrant Wielders. True to his word, the Paragon had sent a contingent of Lyceum Guard from each of the four wings of the Lyceum, and more importantly, a supply of absorption collars. Cecily had one tucked in a small inside pocket, the weight a constant reminder of what she intended to do with it.

Griff and Serv were nearby, their horses saddled and ready. Serv ran his hands along the straps, checking his buckles. He caught Cecily’s eye and gave her a small smile and a nod. His calm demeanor helped settle her nerves. Griff laughed at something a passing soldier said, his loud guffaw carrying over the din. He strode around the horses, eating a large piece of sausage.

“I don’t know how you can eat right now,” Cecily said.

Griff smiled. “I can always eat,” he said with a wink, taking another bite as sausage juice ran into his auburn beard.

Mira and Sumara waited nearby, talking with Edson. Mira had changed out of her Royal Guard uniform, opting for a thigh-length tunic over black leggings and boots, her quiver and bow strapped to her back. Sumara’s long white dress was covered by a full-length brown wool coat, with wide sleeves and a long hood that hung down her back. Edson stood to the side and nodded along with the conversation. His leather armor was secured with black straps and a green cloak hung down his back. A sliver of wistfulness cut through Cecily’s apprehension as she looked at him. She wondered if this was how a mother felt, realizing her son was no longer a boy.

Merrick walked over to her, tugging on his brown leather gloves and flexing his fingers. His faded green cloak drifted behind him.

“Did you find anything?” she asked. Merrick had left the previous day to scout ahead.

“It looks clear. I got close to the complex, but there was little I could see. We will need to be prepared for anything,” he said.

Cecily nodded. “I agree.” Merrick reached out and squeezed her arm before walking away.

The back of her neck tingled and she turned to find Callum lounging against a stone pillar. “Kind of nice having the crown on our side this time, isn’t it?” he asked and gestured to the activity in the courtyard.

Cecily took a few steps toward him. “We have the advantage in numbers,” she said. “Unless he has an army of those Wielders hidden in his compound.”

One corner of Callum’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile. “If that’s the case, there’s not much hope for any of us. But I’m putting my money on us this time.”

“This time?” she asked. “Have you been wagering against us?”

He lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “There was a time when I wasn’t so confident in our little band of rebels. The whole treason thing was a bit much, even for me. I am rather fond of my head staying attached to my neck.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Griff as he clapped Cecily on the back.

The other companions wandered over, lingering near Cecily while they waited for Rogan and Alastair. The company was nearly ready to depart. Cecily’s eyes roved around the courtyard and a calmness settled over her, heartened by the presence of her friends.

Rogan appeared on the palace steps, flanked by Alastair and several Royal Guard. Cecily sucked in a quick breath. He was dressed for travel, a dark shirt under leather armor, his black cloak cascading down his shoulders, a sword at his hip. He looked exactly as she remembered him from the war, a man not yet the king.

After quickly scanning the courtyard, Rogan walked over to Cecily, his hand resting on his sword hilt. “Everything is in order.” He nodded to the others, meeting their eyes in turn.

Cecily tipped her head to him as her thoughts drifted to Daro. She didn’t know what he would do when they arrived, or whether they would be able to contain him. She had to believe she could reach him this time, regardless of what they had done to him.

Thinking about Daro brought images of Pathius to her mind. It troubled her that his face drifted into her consciousness so often. He was like a blot of dark paint that drips into a lighter shade, permeating the color. She no longer dreamed of Daro, but woke in the night soaked in sweat, visions of Pathius still swimming in her mind.

Cecily turned and almost tripped over a young messenger boy. His hood was down, his cheeks pink with cold. He looked up at her with wide eyes, his mouth working as if to speak.

“I have a message for Cecily of the family Graymere,” he said as his eyes darted between her, Sumara, and Mira. “Is one of you Miss Cecily?”

Cecily narrowed her eyes and looked around. She caught Callum’s eyes and he shrugged; apparently the messenger wasn’t one of his. “I am Cecily,” she said. The boy held out the message, hovering with expectant eyes after she took it. She dug into a pocket and handed him a coin, and he scurried off, disappearing between the lines of horses.

As she opened the note and read, her throat clenched and she forced herself to swallow. She stood still, reading it several times while her friends shifted on their feet, looking back and forth between each other.

Callum spoke up. “The suspense is too much. What is it?”

Cecily tried to process what she read. She looked down at it again. The letters were slanted and messy, blots of ink dotting the margins. “It’s from Pathius,” she said.

Everyone erupted in a flurry of gasps and questions, leaning toward her, and some reached out to take the note. She clutched it to her chest as her mind reeled. “He says they are abandoning the compound. He and some others are still there, but they’ve sent Daro away. He’s telling me where to find him, and how to get there.”

She reached out and handed the note to Rogan. He read it over, his forehead creasing as his eyes flicked across the page. He lowered it as he finished. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said. “There’s no way we can trust his word, and even if we could, this doesn’t change our plans. We march for the compound.”

“Agreed,” Alastair said. “This must be some sort of trick.”

He passed it to Serv, who read it with Griff and Sumara looking over his shoulder. “One thing is certain,” Serv said as he looked up at the companions. “Nihil knows we’re coming. We need to be prepared for the worst. And it is quite possible Daro won’t be there by the time we get in.”

Cecily’s mind raced. There was much more at stake than one man’s life. Nihil needed to be stopped and Rogan’s force was the way to ensure that end. Serv handed her the note and she looked at it again. The pull of her bond with Daro stirred inside her, faded and weak. The words scrawled on the paper plucked at her. If they prevailed against Nihil, but Daro wasn’t there, how would they find him? Her doubt solidified into firm resolve.

“I know this is madness,” she said, “but I believe him. Pathius stopped Daro in Wesfell, and we know they had been sent to kill us. He must have put himself at great risk when he did that, and when he sent this.” Her friends went silent, their eyes flicking around as if they waited for the others to react. “Rogan is right—this doesn’t change the plan, except we have to assume Nihil knows we are coming and will have laid a trap. Merrick will take men to scout ahead and the rest of the force will attack the compound. Neutralize as many of his Wielders as possible; try not to kill them. I don’t know if we will be able to help them, but we have to try. Remember, these are all men like Daro, taken from their families. We have to assume they are being controlled, and there may still be a way to set them free.”

Callum brushed his hair from his eyes. “And what is it you’re going to do, exactly?”

Cecily took a breath. “I’m going after Daro.”

“Cecily, that’s madness,” Alastair cut in. “You can’t possibly believe this message. If Nihil is setting a trap, this is most certainly it. This is suicide.”

Serv’s voice carried over Alastair. “I’ll go with you.”

Cecily’s head whipped around to look at Serv. His face was serene, his blue eyes bright.

“We all admire your loyalty, Serv, but our plan is sound,” Alastair said. “You can’t go gallivanting off because of this. Be reasonable.”

“I know, it doesn’t make sense,” Cecily said. “And I can’t ask any of you to go with me based on my gut feeling. But I’m telling you, I know this is real. Pathius sent this, and he isn’t lying. He’s trying to help us.”

Callum stepped forward, his head tilted to one side. “I’m in.” Everyone’s eyes swung to look at him. He shrugged. “If Cecily thinks this is what needs to be done, I’m inclined to believe her.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me,” Griff said with a wide grin.

“I’m with you too,” Edson said.

Rogan met her eyes and stared hard for a long moment. He gripped the hilt of his sword and pursed his lips. “Very well. Merrick will take Mira and a small group of my men to scout the compound. Alastair and I will lead the main force. The rest of you, go with Cecily. If this message is correct, you can intercept Daro and bring him to the Lyceum. If not, we will retrieve him from Nihil’s compound. But,” he said and paused with one finger raised, “be wary. I suspect we will all be walking into a trap.” He reached out and gripped Cecily’s hand. “I won’t lie to you. I can’t promise anything about the fate of Nihil’s other Wielders. The Paragon was adamant that it would be far too dangerous to let them live, and I tend to agree. But I will keep your words in mind.” He squeezed her hand. “Be safe.”

She nodded. “You too.”

He turned on his heel and walked away, and his purposeful steps took him quickly out of sight. Alastair followed, his sable cloak flowing behind him.

Mira leaned in and gave her a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Cecily squeezed her back. “You too.”

Merrick nodded as he and Mira turned to follow Rogan and Alastair.

The rest of her friends looked at her. She glanced down at the note one last time before she folded it up and tucked it into a pocket. Her shoulders relaxed and her mind was clear. She couldn’t explain why she knew this was right, but something deep inside told her to trust Pathius.

39. COLLAPSE

The stillness of the forest was a lie. Violence dwelled beneath the branches of the trees, hiding in wait, ready to strike. Pathius couldn’t see the king’s force, but he knew it was coming. He strained his ears, anxious to hear some sign of the impending battle. The sun had crested past midday, the shadows growing long, yet there was still no sign of them.

From his vantage point atop the building, he couldn’t see far into the forest. The trees were thick and there was no clear road or path leading to the compound. Rogan would have a difficult time bringing a large number of men through. No doubt the new king already knew the lay of the land. Pathius had not seen his scouts, but he was certain they had been there.

His mind drifted back to an earlier time, the before. He heard the voice of his father, lecturing him on tactics and strategies. He let the memory come, no longer trying to suppress his former self. He was Pathius now, once a prince of Halthas. He was no longer Number One. Nihil just didn’t know it yet.

He crouched down and kept his head low as the first of Rogan’s forces appeared through the trees. They crept amongst the underbrush and took up their positions behind the tree line. Pathius could see the forest begin to shift as a great mass of men moved into place. His gaze swept from side to side, taking in the numbers. He couldn’t tell for sure how many were coming, but it appeared to be a sizeable force. He laughed to himself as he thought about how few of Nihil’s men were left in the compound. Rogan had come expecting a battle. Pathius would have to do his best to give him what he came for.