Gone! Dacey Childers, gone!
The guard, dead.
Of all Nekfehr knew — along with the fact that his nameless vessel secretly cheered the prisoner’s escape — foremost was that Dacey Childers — blinded, locked behind a wall of his own making — had not made it out of this barn on his own.
One of the mules was missing; there would be tracks, tracks even he could follow. Nekfehr recalled the howling, on a ridge not far from here.
The women and children were already schedule to arrive, and shortly. Let them stay here, and wait. When Nekfehr returned with Dacey Childers, they would watch him die. And then they would feel the depth of cold, relentless Annekteh wrath, until Dacey Childers’ accomplices came forth.
And after that...there were reinforcements on the way — plains people long accustomed to Annekteh demands, long broken. It didn’t really matter how many of the rebellious mountain folk survived to welcome them.
~~~~~
When Blaine threw the tarp away from her head, she found a dull grey world, a pre-dawn coated with fog and drifting patches of mist. The dogs were curled up together in one damp pile beneath the fallen tree, although Mage had somehow insinuated himself into the shelter and was pillowing Dacey’s head. Dacey’s bruised face was worn; the Annekteh had left new marks, but not many. Only inside.
His closed eyes looked utterly normal.
She hated to wake him, but...traveling along the brushy bottom with a sightless man was going to take longer than the quick trip she’d been planning.
Dacey roused instantly at her soft touch on his shoulder; he sat, blinking hard.
“All right?” she asked.
“I reckon,” he said, and then stretched just like it was any other morning in their lives.
“I’ll be right back, an’ then we got to get gone,” Blaine told him, climbing to her feet and searching for the closest discreet bush — she didn’t care if he couldn’t see. She gave him time to attend to his own needs, too.
When she returned he had the canvas folded and tucked into the pack she’d brought with her. He was making to sling it over his shoulders, and she quickly put a hand on it. “No,” she said. “I’ll take it. You lose your balance with this thing and you’re gonna fall twice as hard. Leastways I can see what I’m tripping over, so I won’t have no excuse when I fall. Which I’ll do,” she added under her breath.
Dacey hesitated only a moment before releasing the pack. “You can shed it once we reach the river,” he said. “It’ll be easy to find there.”
Blaine pushed her arms through the straps and shrugged to settle the burden. It wasn’t that heavy, but it had been made for Dacey, and it hung down to bump against her bottom. She sighed. No complaints about it, not today — she couldn’t have him insisting to carry it.
Gingerly, she took Dacey’s hand. “Ready?”
“You take me into anything on purpose and I’ll see you regret it,” he warned her lightly, then surprised her with a slight squeeze of his hand. “Go ahead.”
Blaine did do her best to caution him of the sudden drops and the rocks in his way, and in fact when one of them fell it was her, watching so hard for him that she forgot to place her own feet with care. The ridge quickly dropped away, narrowing into a point only a few feet wide that dropped down and merged into the wide river bottom. The trees shrunk in size and number, and soon Blaine was leading them through a winding maze of low-crowned sumac with only an occasional willow or sycamore.
At one of the bigger sycamores she stopped and secured the pack, wedging it firmly into the low crotch of the tree. She passed a sleeve across her forehead to wipe away sweat that would never dry in this humid morning air, then turned to Dacey.
“It’s not far, now,” she told him. It came out like a warning rather than a reassurance. “We ought to run into those boys any time.”
“Take it slow, then,” he said. “I want you to see them first. I want you to see anyone before they see us. Step by step, Blaine. We got the time.”
She wasn’t sure they did. She took the advice to heart anyway, and their progress slowed. Twice Dacey had to stop to take a stern voice to Mage, who couldn’t seem to help growling. Chase and Whimsy stayed at the pack — or, at least if they left it to roam, they had accepted it as home. Blue had simply refused to stay — or rather, he had waited until Blaine and Dacey had gone some distance, and then showed up at their heels, his ears low but his face determined — and the leash chewed through. Mage’s mood infected him and he walked along on his toes, his hackles slightly raised, as he looked for something at which to growl.
The sun’s token appearance had faded behind the clouds before Blaine tightened her grip on Dacey’s hand, bringing him to a stop. The barely audible sounds of the meeting hall drifted to ear as the women and children gathered there, and Blaine crouched, tugging Dacey down with her.
“We’re behind the biggest sycamore you’ll ever see,” she said, putting his hand on it so he could appreciate the girth of the tree. “Three others are supposed to meet us here. I hope they don’t take too long about it.”
“I was about to say the same of you,” said a relieved voice from behind the curve of the tree.
“Blaine,” Dacey said reproachfully.
“Twenty-seven men can link hands around this tree,” Blaine said, unperturbed, “and I can’t see through it to know when someone’s on the other side. Besides, it’s Burl.” Burl and two others, all of whom came quietly around the circumference of the sycamore to join them.
“Dacey,” Burl said, both a welcome and a question.
“He wouldn’t stay,” Blaine said. “I guess...I don’t blame him none.”
Burl gave Dacey an even look. His doubt showed clearly, even before the one-shouldered shrug he gave Blaine. But Dacey was there, and there was little to say about it now. Instead he briefed Blaine. “They been strange about the dead guard, Blaine,” he said, ignoring Dacey’s start — Blaine had deliberately left out the details of his rescue. “They ain’t made no big fuss about it, ain’t even questioned the women — just letting ’em gather, like they were told yesterday. The leader has took off by himself, up the hill. Ain’t never seen that happen before.”
“Up the hill?” Dacey said. “The same hill you drug me up last night?”
Blaine’s throat went dry. Big ol’ mule feet making tracks, and she’d wanted to leave him there, alone.
Burl cleared his throat. “I take your meaning, Dacey. Guess I’m right glad to see you, at that.” He looked off at the hill a moment. “Estus has took his crew to warn the men what we’re up to, and Trey ought to start a fuss up the hill any minute. Most of the plainsmen are chewing their tongues outside the hall, but they’ll get a move on right quick, if things go as we reckon they will.”
It was about to happen. It hit her suddenly, deep inside. She leaned back against the dry, flakey bark of the sycamore, releasing Dacey so he couldn’t feel the sudden clamminess of her hands. Blue whined.
“You’ve faced ’em before, Blaine,” Dacey said, knowing her too well.
“Not when I knew what I was doing,” Blaine said ruefully.
“Just pretend they’re bears,” Burl offered — and then, checking to see that his friends weren’t looking, held out his hand so she could see it shaking.
“So Trey’s got the boys on the attack,” Dacey said, oblivious to the unspoken byplay.
“Yep. The plan was to catch the two guards on patrol and make sure one of them got away.” Burl moved out from behind the tree, exposing himself in order to get a good look at the meeting hall. Close behind him, Blaine discovered for herself that between this tree and the building there was only clear pasture; at the moment it held three mules and a pony. Not much cover to her mind, but no one even looked their way.
A single lone man lurched down the hill and into the hall yard. Even from this distance Blaine could see the blood streaming down his arm.
It had started.
They’re doing it. The boys are really doing it. Unexpected pride overwhelmed the fear for a moment.
A very short moment.
The other two boys — Burl’s companions, Blaine didn’t even know their names — joined them in the open, flattening themselves on the ground to watch the sudden swarm of activity. The tension Blaine felt showed in every line of their bodies, and no one said a word as the plainsmen and Annekteh-Took quickly armed and gathered themselves. Behind the tree, Dacey remained, crouched by Mage and stroking the softly snarling animal. When the noise from the Annekteh mobilization died down, he stood. “How did they leave it?”
“Only two on guard,” Burl said shortly. He returned to the cover of the tree — and Blaine with him — to string up his short, powerful hunting bow. “One of ’em’s hurt — betcha he’s got one of Trey’s arrow’s sticking out of that arm.” He tested the string with satisfaction, easing it back to a resting position with no apparent effort.
“They shut the hall doors,” reported one of the boys. “Everyone’s inside, an’ the men ain’t paying no attention to anything but that tore-up arm.”
“We can take ’em out from the pasture fence,” the other youngster said. “Burl can shoot that far easy, an’ I can likely make it — so I’ll aim for the hurt one. Iff’n I miss, you can get ’im with your second shot — you think, Burl?”
“Yeah,” Burl said slowly, looking back around the tree to confirm his team’s assessment. Both the younger boys, their faces pale and their fingers clenched too tightly around their bows, eased out toward the pasture. “But there ain’t no use in taking chances, so you wait till they’re both down before you go ahead, Blaine.” He looked back at Blaine, who quit twisting her fingers and stuck her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t start again.
“No,” Dacey said. “That hall’s got to be warded quick. Unless those men got bows at ready now, we’ll go to the pasture behind you, an’ Blaine’ll take me up to the hall as soon as you start in.”
“You can’t defend yourselves,” Burl protested.
“They’ll be too busy with you to care. The hall’s got to be warded or none of this is any good.”
“C’mon, then,” Burl said abruptly, following the curve of the tree behind the smaller boys. Blaine took Dacey’s hand, walking him around the tree and then guiding him down to his stomach and elbows in emulation of Burl. They moved along so closely together she could guide Dacey with their touching elbows; occasionally she stopped to shove aside a rock or stick directly in his path. Mage trotted ahead, taking Blue with him.
Slow. They were so slow. She was so certain they’d be caught.
Blaine nearly dizzied herself, watching the ground before Dacey and the hall and the boys in front of her all at the same time. By the time she reached the boys at pasture fence, Burl had already risen to a bold stance, his hand still in position behind the bow as his arrow buried itself in his target — the uninjured plainsman.
The man had just enough time for an amazed look down at the arrow in his chest before he toppled. That was all Blaine cared to see, and she pulled Dacey up, placing both his hands on the top of the split-rail fence as she negotiated it herself. Another glance at the enemy showed that the smaller boys’ arrows had fallen short — and that the man’s attention had riveted on the two closest intruders.
Blaine and Dacey.
“C’mon, Dacey,” she muttered, fairly dancing in place. But a moment’s panic was enough for her to realize the plainsman didn’t have a bow and Burl would certainly have him down before he could reach either her or Dacey, so she waited until Dacey had his footing and grabbed his hand, pulling him as fast as she dared toward the hall.
She wanted to run, to sprint her fastest as they crossed that exposed pasture, but Dacey stumbled and she kept herself slow. She looked back to see Burl and his two boys coming over the fence after them; her steps got out of synch with Dacey’s and their hands tore apart. Dacey skidded back, his expression wary, touched by wild fear. Gut-level fear...alone in his darkness. Blaine instantly reversed course, plowing through Mage to snatch up Dacey’s hand again.
“Almost there,” she said breathlessly, and he followed her after only the merest hesitation.
They reached the rough log walls of the building just before the first of the boys, and Blaine put both Dacey’s hands on the wall. “Stay put,” she panted, and ran to the corner of hall to peer around the edge.
Two bodies sprawled near the door; there was no one else in sight. Burl done good. Back to Dacey she went and they both ran, around the corner and to the thick, center-set door of the hall. Thinking hurryhurryhurry and nothing else, Blaine yanked the latch free and pulled the door open.
Mage erupted with a savage sound.
“Get down!” Dacey shouted, just as savagely, pushing Blaine to the ground. Most of the air grunted out of her lungs as flung himself on top of her — shielding her — and all she could see was dust and big padded warrior boots. Burl’s wordless yell sounded above the horrible snarls of the dogs. The boots pivoted before her nose, both dogs fell on her head, and a much heavier weight pushed Dacey into her back until the rest of her breath squeezed out and couldn’t find room to return.
Dacey’s sharp command was the first thing she sorted out, although it didn’t make much sense. “Don’t touch them!” he said firmly as he shoved the dogs away from her head and commanded them to stay. Blaine opened her eyes to a limited view of the dusty earth as Dacey shifted on top of her and finally hoisted up his hands and knees, supporting himself on either side of her ribs. Blaine took the hint and quickly pulled herself out from under him, flipping around to get a good look at where she’d been.
To her astonishment, both Burl and the unexpected guard were draped over Dacey; his back bowed up against the weight of them. Once he no longer felt her beneath him, he tilted to one side and dumped the bodies to the ground. “Don’t touch them,” he admonished — her? The boys? — again.
“But — Burl!” the youngest said, and something about the way he said it made Blaine look again at Burl, realize how still he was.
How dead he was.
“What happened?” she blurted, crawling to them, unable to keep from reaching out to Burl — although she stopped herself before she actually touched him. “What happened?”
“Nekfehr,” he said. “I don’t know if he’s dead. So don’t touch until I’m sure.”
“Nekfehr,” Blaine said blankly, and then realized what he was saying. Taken. The guard had been Taken. The guard had touched Burl. And Burl had almost landed on — she shuddered — me.
“Blaine, bring me Mage.” Dacey’s voice brooked no hesitation.
“He’s safe,” Blaine said, reaching for Mage’s collar and to draw the dog over to Dacey.
His hand met hers on the collar, tightened briefly over it. Under his hand, Mage snuffled at Burl in a disinterested way; Dacey felt Burl’s arm, followed it to his chest, let his hand rest there. “He’s dead. It’s safe.”
“The guard behind the door,” the smaller boy said, looking — and sounding — far too young to be part of this. “Burl saw you go down and he come right into it all, and him with just his knife.”
“If Burl hadn’t died he’d have been Taken,” Dacey said quietly. “Which do you boys think he’d’ve chose?”
Neither of them answered. They didn’t have to.
“All right,” Dacey said. “Burl done himself proud. Now we got to carry on. We got three bodies that need to be drug off and one to put careful in the barn.”
He climbed to his feet, moving slow — like he still, somehow, carried Burl’s weight. After a moment, the oldest boy wiped his nose with the back of his hand and exchanged a newly determined glance with his partner. Together, wordlessly, they began moving the bodies.
“The wards?” Dacey asked.
Blaine barely heard him. Still on her hands and knees, she stared at Burl; he’d had so much strength in him that she hadn’t considered he’d be the first of them to go. There’s no sense to it, she realized. Just chance. Any one of them could be next.
“Blaine?” It was a tentative voice, one that should have been familiar — if it hadn’t been so changed. She looked up into the pale and haggard face of her sister Lenie. “Blaine, is that...how can it be you?”
“Lenie!” Blaine lunged to her feet and grabbed her sister in a hug. After a startled moment, Lenie hugged her back, but there was no strength or conviction to her embrace. Blaine hardly noticed; she caught sight of her mother and tore away from Lenie to rush into the hall. “Mommy!” she cried, and would have thrown herself at the woman, had she not seen the strange wariness in those eyes. “It’s me, Mommy, it really is!”
The woman who stared back at her was hardly the mother she’d left. That woman had been tired but striving anyway. This one was lank-haired, skinnier than her wayward daughter — doing as she did because someone else held her to it, and not because she had any drive of her own. Blaine saw no hope in those empty eyes, and she stopped short of the hug she’d been aiming, her hand trembling as it reached for the side of her mother’s face.
“Blaine,” Dacey said sharply from the doorway.
Hastily, Blaine dug into her pocket for the wards, settling for a quick touch on her uncomprehending mother’s arm. “You watch,” she said. “I really am here. And them Annekteh are gonna rue it.” She turned, quick, jaw set —
And left her family. Again.
“Here,” she said to Dacey, taking his hand and turning it palm up so she could empty the leather pouch into it. In return he held out his other hand, offering her the hunting knife and hand both.
“Do it,” he said.
Blaine just gave him a startled look. Dacey had told her about this, about how the wards needed to be immersed before they were placed, an act which bound them and made them seek out one another. Immersed in anything but water — which left nothing when it evaporated. Preferably in blood, the living substance of which lent strength to the wards.
He had told her about it, prepared her to handle it herself. But he now obviously intended for her to cut him, and she had never even considered such a thing.
“Blaine, I don’t aim to lose any fingers trying it myself. Now do it, before the Annekteh get here!”
Galvanized, Blaine snatched the blade and pressed it across her arm, cutting deeply enough that the blood welled freely, running into her palm and spatting through her closed fingers onto the ground. She upended her cupped hand on Dacey’s own, which was still waiting to feel the knife. “I couldn’t do that to you,” she said, her voice as pale as her face. She took his other hand and tipped the teeth into the little pool of blood.
His expression went from surprise to understanding to frowning regret, but he said nothing. Finding the tiny grey lumps with his finger, he stirred them around to make sure each was completely covered with her blood. “Take me around the building.”
She did so without hesitation, still dripping blood. Moving quickly but without fumbling, Dacey felt out the end joints of the logs and deliberately pushed the wards, one at each corner, back into the dovetailing. Blaine winced. She’d been planning to put them on the ground, and she suddenly realized how easy it would have been to scuff them aside — even a strong wind might have done it. Their nerve-wracking run across the field together had not been for nothing, that was certain. If only he wasn’t...
No, that wasn’t even worth thinking. Even blind, he was the best chance they had.
“Southeast,” Dacey muttered over the last ward, naming it as he had named the others. Blaine led him back to the doorway, and put his hand on the doorjamb in a quick, silent explanation of their position. From the crowded room within, Lenie watched her, standing right up front. Lottie was nowhere to be seen. Blaine wanted to find the words to tell her sister things would be all right, but she just stared, her throat on the edge of speech and no words to fill it.
Unaware of her distress, Dacey stepped away from her, just inside the doorway — but when Mage tried to follow, he gently but firmly pushed the dog back out. “Listen,” he said to Blaine — that voice that meant he knew, that he needed her to hear him — “Take those boys and follow the path behind the hall. When you get there,” and she had no need to ask where there was, “hang back. Watch. See who’s touched by who, and let Trey know. Them that’s fighting won’t have the concentration to do it, Blaine — you got to keep track, the best you can.”
Blaine’s mouth was open, her mind blank. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave her family, or Dacey — or the safety of this hall. But he was right, and she knew it. The boys needed all the help they could get, even if it was just her.
Dacey dropped his hand to Mage’s head. “Take Mage,” he said, more words with intensity behind them.
Blaine forged right over it. “Dacey, not Mage! He’s your —”
“Take him!” Dacey repeated sharply, hesitating, his head held at an angle that let her know he was thinking about all those behind him, choosing his words. “And watch him — watch him close.” With that he took possession of her still dripping hand and closed his own fist over it, holding it in the air above her head.
“Seek,” he commanded in a perfectly ordinary tone of voice which in no way prepared Blaine for the sizzle of energy that raced around the outside of the log hall, flaring at each concealed tooth and ending at her own fist with a soundless blast that knocked her back and almost knocked her down.
“Dacey,” she pleaded, staggering back to regain her balance. But it was done; Blue and Mage were outside the warded building, and although there was no longer any sign of the energy, she knew its protection could be broken only from the inside.
Dacey shook his head at her, his face resolute. “Go,” he said.
Blaine stared for a scant moment longer — one last look at her mother, who had joined Lenie, still almost lost in the group crowded behind, but not against, Dacey. At last she saw the realization in Lottie’s eyes, the slow recognition that her girl still lived. At that, Blaine turned away.
“Blue, Mage,” she commanded, “with me!”
~~~~~~~~~~