VirtualHeaven (22 page)

He tried to break from her grasp. “No, Kered,” Maggie
insisted. “You must hear me. Close your eyes, close your ears.” She drew his
head forward and cupped his face to force him to listen. His blood flowed warm
on her hands.

“The gun. Under the bed…card box. Save yourself,” he
whispered. She swallowed and nodded.

“Now, slave.” Samoht yanked her away and flung her on the
bed. Then he reared back. “Hm, I do not believe Kered can see quite well enough
from there.” He jerked her to her knees and pushed her to the cold stone floor,
face down beside the bed. Maggie stifled a scream and tried not to let her
revulsion show, for Kered had gone wild against his bonds. He would die for
her, and she couldn’t bear it.

Samoht tried to pry her legs apart. She fought him, inching
forward to the edge of the bed and the black shadows beneath, her fingers
stretching out, seeking the gun. If only she could reach it! She groaned as
Samoht’s hands clawed at her thighs. She lurched away, arms outstretched.

Her fingers touched the box of cards. Frantically, with
Samoht’s breath hot on her neck as he leaned over her, she ripped it open. The
contents spilled, her pendant rolling away, the cards scattering. Her fingers
searched and found the gun. She brought it up, twisting in Samoht’s punishing
grasp. Her eyes had only a moment to focus at his flushed face. She pressed the
red button.

Samoht’s head disappeared.

His torso, not understanding, remained upright on its knees,
shaft erect and pulsing for a brief instant, then the body crashed to the
ground, spraying blood in all directions.

Maggie began to shake. It started in her hands and traveled
to encompass her whole being. With cold deliberation, she ignored the tremors,
rose, and picked up Samoht’s bloody knife, the one he’d used so brutally to
carve flesh from Kered’s body. She slit Kered’s bonds, taking him against her
like a mother gathers her child to comfort him. His hot breath bathed her chest
as he leaned against her and gathered his strength.

He rose and took the gun from her fingers. He needed to pry
them open. “Thank you, Maggie, you saved my life.” He gasped. Carefully, he
touched her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. He was bleeding from half a dozen places
and yet asked if
she
was hurt. Maggie flung herself into his arms. “I
killed a councilor,” she cried.

“You saved us from a painful death.” Kered set her aside and
stood by Samoht’s still-quivering body. “I would have torn his head from his
body with my bare hands if I had gotten free.”

Maggie swallowed and nodded. “I’m glad he’s dead. He
deserved to die the moment he put that knife to you.”

“Come. Quickly. Dress.” Kered tossed her gown to her.

“Wh-wh-what are we going to do?” she stuttered as she pulled
the silky cloth over her head and wrapped a cord belt about her waist.

Kered lifted the gun. He sighted on Samoht’s corpse and
fired. Samoht’s remains vaporized in an instant. “Now he is missing. His men
may search forever, but he is gone without a trace.” He aimed at the thick
streamers of blood that splattered the walls and floor. Slowly, using a
sweeping motion, he used the invisible destruction to begin erasing the gory
display. After a few minutes he turned to her. “It is not working.”

Maggie stared about. She remembered how the gun had
destroyed stone when they fought the Wartmen. If the weapon was functioning
properly, surely not only the blood but also the stone floors and walls should
be affected, too. Maggie took the gun and did as he had, alternating between
red and blue and pointing directly at a splotch of gore by her feet. Nothing
happened.

“I’ll clean it; maybe it’s clogged,” she said, moving to the
washbasin.

“Maggie, we haven’t time.” Kered spoke softly, touching her
arm. The blood had dried in a twisted pattern like snakes writhing along his
forearm. “The gun has lost its power.”

She hit it repeatedly against her palm. “No. It can’t be. We
need it.”

Kered stood before his washbasin and rinsed the blood from
his wounds. “Accept it, the weapon is useless. Come help me, Maggie.”

Maggie stuffed the game gun into her belt. “What are we
going to do?” She quickly mixed the gray herbal and smoothed it on the worst of
his wounds, then bandaged them. She began to cry as blood soaked through the
salve and continued to run in rivulets along his leg.

He gathered her against him and hugged her. “Do not weep.
When Samoht tired of you, he would have presented that pathetic N’Olavan guard
with his story of spell casting and the council would have tried you as a
witch. They burn witches here, Maggie. The High Priest would examine you first,
with unimaginable torture, and then they would burn you.”

Maggie pulled back. “I’m weeping for us. For you. How can we
explain all this blood? His guards know he was with us. They’ll know we did
something to him.”

“There is no time for this speculation. You are right about
one thing—Samoht’s men will return. We must be gone from here.”

Maggie followed him to his cupboards.

Kered drew clothing from a shelf and dressed. He laced on
buff breeches and a leather jerkin. Blood stained the bandages on his chest and
shoulder. “We will seek Nilrem’s wisdom. Surely, he can think of some solution
to this. While we are gone, there will be a frantic hue and cry over Samoht’s
disappearance. When it dies down, we will return.”

A cold apprehension settled in Maggie’s stomach. “It isn’t
that simple, is it?”

Kered’s only answer was to strap on his sword belt, then he
sheathed a long knife at his thigh and slipped a boot knife into place. He
knelt before her, slipped his hands under her gown, and strapped a knife sheath
to her upper leg. Maggie knew this arming signaled disaster.

They climbed out Maggie’s window, dropping to the ground and
using shadows to make their way to the barracks. Because Kered’s facial wounds
were bleeding again, Maggie knocked and asked the sentry to summon Vad.

Vad appeared like an avenging angel in the lighted door, a
fierce frown on his face. “I have not hired a fornitrix tonight! Be gone!” he
ordered angrily.

Maggie stepped into the light. “Vad, it’s me. Maggie.” She
whirled from the door before he could answer and hurried to where Kered waited
at the side of the building, away from the torchlight illuminating the barracks
doorway.

“Maggie!” Vad joined her in the shadows and his voice rose
when he saw Kered. “By the sword! I thought you would never get here. I sent
Tol hours ago.”

“Tol?” Kered stepped into the light. Vad gasped at Kered’s
appearance. His cloak covered his wounds everywhere but his face. The thin,
bloody line across brow and cheek stood out starkly in the bright orb-glow.
“Why send Tol to me?”

“First—who did this to you?” Vad placed a hand on his
friend’s shoulder. Kered winced under Vad’s heavy hand. “No one gets close
enough to cut you without some treachery.”

“Aye. ‘Twas Samoht’s treachery. He attacked Maggie. Accused
her of witchery.”

“I assume he is lying bloody somewhere if you are any
indication of the battle,” Vad said.

“Samoht is dead. Thank the gods for Maggie’s gun. There will
be no body to deal with.” The two men took each other’s measure in silence.
“And now, Tol?”

“Have you not heard? The men bringing our second delivery of
ice were attacked on the way through Selaw land. All drivers and members of the
escort were massacred. Samoht called for instant retaliation. My army has been
mustered to depart at dawn. Tol was to have summoned you to a special council
session. The Selaw representatives swear they are not responsible and promise
all-out war if we retaliate in kind without investigating this matter more
thoroughly.”

“Damn Samoht! What could he have been thinking to have
picked such a moment to attack me?” Kered slammed his fist into the wall of the
barracks.

“Don’t you see, Ker, he did it deliberately. With you out of
the way, who would support the Selaw emissaries?” Maggie interjected, pulling
her own cloak close against the chill of fear that enveloped her.

“Maggie has it aright,” Vad said. “There can be no delay in
quelling what will be a bloody retribution.”

“I will not be here to help,” Kered said. Maggie and Vad
stared at him, gape-mouthed.

“I-I don’t understand,” Maggie stuttered. “You must help!”

“I must return you to Nilrem’s mountain,” he retorted.

“What are you saying? How can you think of leaving when the
wars you fought to end are starting up again?” Maggie’s disbelief hardened her
tone.

“Maggie.” Kered gently cupped her face. “Samoht’s men will
come for you. We could not hide the carnage in my chamber. When Samoht cannot
be found, his men will accuse you—they have the perfect witness, that hapless
N’Olavan guard. Do you think he will not take the opportunity to barter his
life for yours? Whatever crisis exists for the Selaw, your life is my
priority.”

She swallowed at the finality of his tone.

Vad, however, was not so easily silenced. “You cannot leave.
‘Tis madness. Who will speak in your stead? Who will temper Ronac’s marauding
instincts?”

“You will.” Kered addressed Vad, but stared into Maggie’s
eyes. “I will move with all speed. When Maggie is safely hidden with Nilrem I
will return and lend the weight of my words to avert this disaster.”

“Kered, you are mad. It will take three days there and three
back! All the men of war will be marshaled by then.”

Kered spun to face his friend, his voice sharp and angry.
“Then you will need to speak in my stead. Am I the only one who sees reason? Go
to Tol, appeal to Flucir. Take word from me, damn it. I will write the words if
need be. Just do it.”

Vad pulled himself to his full height. Maggie watched an icy
calm settle on him. “As you wish.” He was no longer a friend beseeching a
friend; he was a soldier obeying his commander.

Maggie began to weep. “No, no. I can’t let you make this
journey. I’ll never forgive myself if there’s a massacre. Don’t make me
responsible.”

Kered gripped her shoulders. “How dare you think I do this
just for you! As long as you are here, they may accuse me of being ensorcelled.
My every word and gesture will be in doubt. The only way to counter the
accusations of Samoht’s men will be to have you gone.”

The realization that Kered might be taking her away to save
his political future stabbed like a sharp dagger. “I see. Of course, you must
not appear to be under any
spell
. How could I be so simple?” She ducked
her head to hide her pain.
What of the spell of love?
she wanted to
scream.

“Aye. Now you understand.” Kered turned a last time to Vad,
his tone commanding, brooking no disobedience. “I will give you a written
authority to speak for me. Work only to delay any action until I return.
Suggest that whatever retaliation they make will be equally devastating, no
matter the delay.
I will see to it
. Now fetch some paper so I may pen
the words.”

Vad gave a short bow from the waist and went back into the
building. When he returned, he stood at stiff attention as Kered wrote hastily
on a sheet of paper. Maggie watched as he boldly scrawled his name across the
foot of the paper, then rose and thrust it in Vad’s direction.

Vad rolled the document, bowed again from the waist, and
wordlessly left them, then stood in the arched doorway a moment before running
back to them. Vad swept Maggie into his arms, kissed her soundly, and then set
her on her feet. “Go with the gods. No matter what is said, I will champion
you. I know you are no witch and have not an evil bone in your body. Though
they lay hot coals on my tongue, or thrust burning rods up my—”

“Stop!” Maggie cried. There was no humor in Vad’s tone, no
indication he was joking. She pounded her fists on his shoulders. “How can this
be happening?”

Vad held her close and hugged her hard. “Look after him and
send him back anon,” he whispered in her ear. “I have not his abilities. We
need him.”

Maggie sobbed on Vad’s shoulder. When Kered yanked her from
Vad’s arms, she clung to her friend, not wanting to accept the reality of their
departure, of what could happen in the next few days.

“Kered,” she gasped. “My pendant. I left it under the bed.”

Kered swore. “By the sword, what more could go wrong?”

“Please, Vad,” Maggie called. “Get my pendant—under our bed.
Keep it for me.”

Vad nodded and raised a hand in farewell.

They made their way through the darkened streets, Kered
avoiding all her attempts at speech. Overhead, the four orbs, close together
now, cast enough light to navigate without torches. At last they stood poised
at the top of the long stair leading across the strait to the stables where
Windsong waited. They had not spoken once. Maggie tried to catch her breath,
for Kered’s relentless pace was back. He had not looked at her, nor offered her
any reassurance. But when he began the steep descent, she saw him stagger. Who
knew what the pace cost him?

Puffins perched along the handrails to the stair—their only
escape. Kered took the steps two at a time, ignoring the agitated fluttering of
wings. When Maggie tried to grasp the rail, the birds pecked at her. “Kered,
wait,” she called softly.

He turned about and looked back. “Hurry, the puffins sense
the blood.”

She nodded, slipping her hands into her cloak, and tried to
steady herself for the precipitous descent. In a sudden burst of sound, the
puffins lifted off, circling and swooping, brushing her with outstretched
wings. She screamed and Kered halted. He swung back and leapt the stairs
between them.

Kered jerked her into his arms and sheltered her as he ran
down the remaining stairs. The sentries snapped to alertness when they passed
by. Above a man shouted. Maggie looked up through the mass of soaring wings. A
Red-rose warrior stood at the cliff top.

The birds attacked. The warrior disappeared in a black
cloud. The sentries rushed to his aid, shouting as the puffins turned on them.
Maggie and Kered staggered past the men who blocked their path across the
narrow footbridge to freedom.

Kered placed Maggie on her feet and drew his cloak open. The
guards, swatting at the birds and crying in consternation, saw the hilt of his
sword and fell back against the rails in instant recognition of the ancient
symbol. He swept his cloak about them both and they quickly passed the
remaining sentries. The birds followed, cawing angrily, swooping and soaring
overhead. Maggie felt her hair brushed countless times by wings, and yet, only
the sentries seemed to be getting pecked. Their arms and faces ran with blood.

Kered took the second flight of stairs at a slower pace, his
breath laboring as he ascended the steep steps. She felt a tremor run through
his arm.

“By the sword,” Kered swore when they reached the summit.
The puffins landed in thick rows along the stone walls lining the avenue to the
stable. “‘Tis grateful I am to these black fowl.”

“How can you say that? They attacked us!” Maggie huddled
against his side, feeling the rapid beat of his heart that was only outmatched
by the pounding of hers.