25

Odenite camp, outside Kirlan

KNOT WANDERED THROUGH THE camp searching for the last of his injured soldiers, stunned by the blinding display of light. The third Outsider was gone. None remained. The threat had passed, for now, and yet Knot still felt a twisting feeling in his gut. Something was not right.

The column of burning light that had destroyed the last Outsider must have been called up by Jane, or perhaps Cinzia. Knot had never seen anything like it. He remembered the shining white light Jane had displayed when the cotir had attacked them at Harmoth, but this had been different. Far brighter. Far more focused. The beam lit up the night brighter than the sun ever could.

It had destroyed a Goddess-damned Outsider, for Canta’s sake.

He found Eward in pain with what was likely a broken arm, but otherwise unharmed. After making sure Eward and the other injured soldiers were being cared for, Knot made his way towards the center of camp, where the first Outsider had fallen, surely at Astrid’s hand.

The center bonfire still burned brightly, and a group of charred tents nearby hurled smoke upwards.

Lying in the grass was the dead Outsider.

Knot circled the thing grimly. The Outsider he and Eward’s soldiers had taken down sported dozens of wounds. This one, on the other hand, showed almost no injuries at all. The Outsider’s hide was smooth blackness. A few deep gouges marked the thing’s neck. Astrid’s claws, surely. Then, Knot walked around the thing and saw its head. Or what was left of it, anyway.

The lower jaw had been completely torn from the skull. It now lay a few rods away from the beast, the grass beneath soaked in blood. One of the creature’s own fangs, longer than Knot’s sword, had been jammed into a big black eye.

“She killed it by herself.”

Knot turned to see Cavil, Ocrestia’s husband.

“You saw it?” Knot asked.

“It was…” Cavil looked down. “…horrifying. But Astrid killed it, on her own.”

“Is she—”

“She’s all right, she’s all right,” Cavil said quickly. “Guess I should’ve led with that. Leg looked a bit messed up, but she limped off that way.” He pointed in the direction of where the final Outsider had been obliterated by the beam of light, on the southern edge of camp, closest to the city.

Knot looked at the Outsider’s body, and couldn’t help but chuckle. His girl had done this. It was odd to be proud of her for killing an Outsider on her own, but there was no mistaking the feeling that swelled in his chest.

He looked to Cavil. “You all right?”

Cavil shrugged. “Ain’t dead, if that’s what you mean.”

Knot grunted.

“Go find her,” Cavil said. “She was looking for you.”

“Thank you,” Knot said.

It took him a few moments to get to the edge of the camp. So many injured Odenites. He saw Ocrestia and the new disciple, Baetrissa, leading a small group administering to the injured. He had yet to glimpse Cinzia or Jane. They would have to wait until after he found Astrid.

As Knot approached the southern edge of camp, the twisting feeling in his gut intensified. He looked around, trying to discern what might cause the sensation. At the edge of camp, he noticed a carriage.

The Odenites had many horses among them, and a few wagons. But the people had given up any carriages they had to make the trek south. Jane had insisted on it.

A woman in the red and white robes of a matron walked around the carriage. Astrid’s words came to mind, about who she worked for. Who owned her, as she put it.

A specific faction of the Denomination, led by someone who calls herself the Black Matron.

A low growl began deep in Knot’s throat. He picked up speed, moving towards the carriage. He did not see Astrid anywhere. But the carriage had bars on the windows, a strong lock on the door. Its passengers were not meant to ride in comfort; they were meant to ride to prison.

“Stop!” Knot shouted, breaking into a sprint.

The woman in robes looked back at him, then rushed to the front of the carriage. A Goddessguard and a half-dozen Sons of Canta were with her. They all leapt onto the carriage, and the Goddessguard snapped the reins. The carriage began moving south, towards Kirlan.

Knot swore. He would not catch them on foot. He looked back at the camp and saw a group of horses, saddled up, tied to a set of posts hammered into the ground. They would have to do.

He ran back to the horses. The first animal shied away at his touch.

“Easy,” Knot coaxed. The animal looked strong, certainly the strongest of the group tied here.

The horse sidestepped, then cocked its head in Knot’s direction.

Good enough. Knot made sure the girth was tightened, then untied the horse.

“I know I’m a stranger,” Knot said, his voice low and calm, “but I need you to trust me right now. Can you do that?”

The horse stamped a hoof.

Knot took that as a yes. He pulled himself into the saddle, and urged the animal forward. The horse fought him at first, reluctant to leave its companions, but eventually gave in, picking up speed as Knot chased after the carriage, already fading into the night.

He had gained ground on the carriage, but the city walls already loomed over them. The gate was open, despite the late hour. The Black Matron must have arranged for the Sons of Canta to keep it open for her.

Could she have arranged for more than that? The Black Matron’s timing, arriving at the camp right after the Outsiders attacked, could surely not be a coincidence.

Doubt cracked through his resolve as he rode after them. Had these people even taken Astrid? But what else could they have been there to do? A matron, showing up at a time like this, shortly after Astrid had revealed what she had done, was too much.

Astrid had to be with them. Knot knew it in his gut.

Twenty rods out from the carriage, now. He was a single rider on a single horse, easily able to outpace the two horses ahead, weighed down by their load. He could just about make out one of the Sons sitting on the bench at the back of the carriage. The darkness made it difficult to tell, but Knot thought he saw a crossbow.

A bolt whispering past his ear confirmed that theory.

Knot clenched his jaw. He was getting close. Ten rods.

The Son with the crossbow took aim, and Knot shifted at the last moment as another bolt split the air where he’d been a moment before. He regained his balance, and kicked his horse forward.

“Come on, boy,” he said. Wasn’t sure whether the horse was male or female, now that he thought about it. Didn’t matter. “Just a little farther.”

Five rods.

The carriage slowed as it approached the gate, but Knot did not slow his own horse. Instead, gripping the reins, he climbed to his feet, balancing on his horse’s back, and then leapt forward. His momentum, along with the slowing carriage, caused him to crash right into the Son with the crossbow. The carriage continued to move through the city gate as Knot slammed his fist into the Son’s jaw. Knot ripped the weapon from the man’s hands, then threw him from the carriage. He pointed the crossbow at one of the other Sons standing from the bench, and fired a bolt directly into the man’s belly. Knot tossed the crossbow aside and kicked the man off the carriage. The remaining Son on the back bench drew a dagger, stabbing at Knot, but Knot deflected the attack and rammed his palm up into the man’s chin, following through with an elbow to the man’s face. Out cold, the Son toppled from the still-moving carriage.

The Goddessguard, the matron, and another Son sat on a raised bench at the front, their heads just visible above the top of the carriage. The Son and matron looked back at him, while the Goddessguard kept his eyes on the road. They were through the gate, now, and moving into the city. More quickly than they should be, even at this late hour.

Knot peeked through the bars into the carriage. Sure enough, he saw Astrid there, eyes wide, body frozen. There had to be nightsbane in the carriage. Either that, or Astrid had been right about the matron she served being an acumen. A powerful acumen could incapacitate even a vampire.

“You cannot save her,” the woman said, craning her neck to look back at Knot. “She belongs to us.”

Knot didn’t respond. Instead, he leapt onto the roof of the carriage and made his way forward. The carriage barreled through the empty streets of Kirlan, rattling over cobbled and dirt streets alike. Knot had to be sure where he placed each step.

The Son stood, turning to face Knot, and drew his sword. That was a mistake on the Son’s part; there was not much space to swing a sword between them. The Son took an awkward defensive stance balanced on the bench as Knot approached. Glancing ahead, Knot saw the road shift from cobbles to dirt, and waited until the carriage careened over the change in terrain to lunge forward.

The Son swung his sword in defense, but between swinging the sword and the change of terrain beneath him, he lost balance, and it was easy to give the man the extra push he needed to topple off.

“Stop,” the matron said. The Goddessguard reined in the horses.

“Leave the girl with me,” Knot said.

“You still care about her, after what she did to you?” The matron raised one eyebrow. She was older than Knot had first thought, her face wrinkled and hair white under the hooded robe.

“Ain’t your business,” Knot said. Before the Goddessguard could turn, Knot propelled himself forward on his hands, ramming his feet into the back of the Goddessguard. The man fell from the carriage and crashed to the ground, his armor clanging.

“Get off the carriage,” Knot said, stepping up to the bench.

“You wouldn’t banish an old woman from—”

Knot pushed the matron and she fell, her robes flapping around her. Knot did not wait to see her response. Instead, he shook the reins, urging the horses forward.

“After him!” he heard the matron yell behind him.

Knot looked back, and swore. A group of Sons on horseback turned the corner. They would easily catch him, the same way he’d caught the carriage in the first place.

The horses picked up speed. Fortunately, the streets of Kirlan were not wide, and it would be difficult for the Sons to come up alongside him.

Knot glanced into the cage. “Astrid!”

The girl did not respond.

Knot gritted his teeth. He could have at least gotten a Goddess-damned key from the matron before he’d pushed her off the carriage.

The Sons gained ground on them, closing the distance quickly. Knot heard a thump, and looked back to see one of the Sons already on the carriage.

Knot guided the horses around a sharp corner, feeling the wheels on one side of the carriage lift from the ground as they turned. Fortunately, they lifted just enough to knock the Son who’d just leapt onto the carriage onto the dirt road with a yell and a cloud of dust.

The carriage barreled down a narrow road with homes on the right side, the city wall on the left—and this particular road seemed to run the entire length of the east wall.

Two more thumps. Knot glanced back to see two more Sons had leapt onto the carriage. Two more on horseback closed in behind them. He urged the horses on, biding his time. He glanced back again; the two Sons had progressed forward enough that they’d almost reached him, and two more were close enough to make the leap onto the carriage.

Knot took another corner, sharply, but the two Sons remained despite the wild turn. Ahead, the road was straight for a while yet. Then two more Sons leapt onto the carriage, and Knot made a snap decision.

He guided the horses even closer to the wall on his left. He stood up, preparing himself, then leapt from the carriage bench, running along the wall as the carriage moved past him. He pushed off the wall just in time to slam into the two Sons at the front of the carriage. One fell to the road in another cloud of dust, while the other barely held on.

Knot stamped his foot down hard on the man’s hand. He screamed, then let go as Knot punched him in the face.

The two remaining Sons on the carriage turned to face him, eyes wide, but Knot didn’t wait for their surprise to process. Knot moved on one of the Sons, whipping the dagger from the man’s own belt and stabbing it into his neck. While he fell, Knot turned on the other Son, dodging a blow from the man’s fist, and then ramming the dagger into his belly. The blade pierced chainmail, and another kick sent the man flying from the carriage.

Knot looked behind him. There were no more horses, no more Sons, other than the few writhing in the dust in the distance.

The carriage slowed almost to a stop, but Knot wasn’t ready for that. He leapt forward onto the bench once more and urged the horses forward.

He looked back into the carriage, saw Astrid was now face down on the floor. The jolting around must have knocked her down.

“Hey,” he said. “Astrid.”

No response. He still saw no nightsbane in the carriage; Astrid’s state had to be a result of the Black Matron’s acumency. Knot cursed. If he could get her far enough away, the matron’s hold would diminish. It was the only way he knew to break the hold she had on Astrid.

He spurred the horses onward, racking his brain for a solution. There was no way they’d be able to get out of the northern gate; it was under the constant guard of the Sons of Canta. He might be able to get out on the southern side, but that meant he’d be cut off from the Odenite camp, and that still didn’t solve the problem of getting Astrid out of this bloody carriage. The thing was too bulky; it only slowed them down. He—

His horses spooked as a half-dozen more riders charged at them from a street that ran perpendicular to theirs. The carriage shot past the opening just in time.

“Shit.”

He looked behind him, and sure enough another dozen riders at least were coming up behind him, Goddessguards among them.

“Why can it never be easy?” he muttered to himself as he tried to regain control of the horses. But between the exhausting ride and their recent spook, it all seemed to be too much for them. They barreled forward at full speed, heedless of Knot’s attempts to steer.

The horses widened the gap between them and the approaching Sons, at least, but it would not end well. Another sharp turn rapidly approached ahead; apparently Knot had ridden the entire length of the wall, and the wall turned sharply to the west about two hundred rods in front of him. The road took a slight downhill turn here, too, which did not help their unsafe speed.

Knot would not regain control of the horses. Not in time. Even if he could, there was no way he’d be able to outrun his pursuers.

He looked back into the carriage, then forward at the wall ahead of them. One hundred rods.

He reached for the knife he’d taken from the Son on the carriage, and leapt forward onto one of the panicked horses. He cut the reins for both horses, then the tug line that attached the other horse to the carriage. The horse bolted, leaving Knot and the carriage behind. Finally, he cut the tug line attached to his own horse, which did the same. Fifty rods. The horse sped off, although the carriage was rolling so fast, now, that the horse could barely outrun it. Knot leaned forward, stroking the beast’s neck, and then guided the horse sharply right. It leapt into an alley, as the carriage rumbled past. Moments later, he heard a monstrous crash.

Knot patted the horse’s neck, whispering soothing sounds. Fortunately, the horse already seemed to be calming. He rode out of the alley and towards the crash site. As he had hoped, the carriage was in ruins. The pursuing Sons were close, now, one hundred rods out themselves, but they, too, were now slowing. They had cornered their prey.

Astrid lay on the ground, her body trapped beneath the roof of the carriage, which had completely detached from the rest of the body. Knot dismounted, keeping hold of the horse’s severed reins. With one movement born of desperation and adrenaline, he threw the carriage roof off of Astrid. He lifted the girl, placing her on the horse. He secured her there as best he could, tying her on with what was left of the horse’s reins, and then slapped the animal on the rump, sending it running off into the city. Hopefully, the horse would take her far enough away that she’d regain consciousness and escape before the Sons found her.

Knot turned to face the oncoming horsemen. For now, he had to make sure he gave her that time.

To his surprise, all of his pursuers stopped, surrounding him. None of them broke off to go after the horse that carried Astrid.

Had they not seen him place the girl on the horse and send her away?

“Any of you going to say anything?” Knot asked, as the Sons and Goddessguards circled him. Fifteen Sons. Four Goddessguards. All on horseback. The odds were not in his favor.

“I suppose I will take that honor.”

The men on horseback parted, making way for a woman. A woman clad in the white and red robes of a Cantic matron.

“Canta’s bloody bones,” Knot muttered. “Didn’t I push you off of that carriage?”

It was the same woman, there was no denying that. The wrinkled skin, white hair, now fully revealed with her hood down. The same blazing, intelligent eyes.

“You did,” the woman said, frowning. “I’ve seen almost eighty summers, you know. That’s bad form no matter who you ask.”

“You telling me you didn’t deserve it?”

The woman burst out laughing, bending over, clutching her stomach. She went on for a good minute. Knot kept a straight face. He hadn’t been joking.

“You might’ve lost the girl,” Knot said. “I’d like to say I’m sorry about that, but…”

The Black Matron waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m not worried. That girl always turns up, even when she doesn’t want to be found, somehow. Besides, she was never our final target.”

Knot blinked.

The woman chuckled again. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s just that we’ve pursued you for so long. You cannot know how good it feels to finally have caught you, and yet here you are making jokes.”

Astrid had told him they were using her to get to him. That was exactly what they’d done here.

“How long have you been after me? Were you after Lathe, too?”

The matron shook her head. “We never had much interest in Lathe, my dear. But when you became… well, you, my superiors took a sudden interest.”

“And your superiors are?” Knot was surprised at how calm he felt. He had no way out, not now. That was all right. Astrid had made it out, and somehow, despite her betrayal, despite her lying to him, knowing that she was safe was enough.

“Oh, you’ll find that out soon enough. Very soon, in fact.”

“Forgive me if I’m not impressed.”

The woman’s smile faded. She sighed. “Our conversation ends here.” She signaled to the men around her. “Take him.”