Chapter 20

Careful to stay away from the open but warded doorway, Dacey leaned gratefully against the wall — solid, supportive, and easily pictured in his mind. Outside, Blaine’s footfalls grew faint, merged with the two boys’, and faded.

It should have been her in this building — safe, away from Annekteh, and convincing her family that she was still alive. It should have been him out there — not weak from Annekteh drugs, not blind. Not still reeling from his time behind the seer’s wall.

But he’d done this to himself, as he always did. Pushing into places he hadn’t been asked, rescuing a people who didn’t even know he existed. All for the sake of some seeings, and the fear of facing the feelings he’d had when his stubborn ignorance meant his mother’s death.

No. For more than that. For the sake of Blaine and her family, for all the others who didn’t deserve life under the Annekteh. He’d done it to himself, but with reason. With purpose.

He just wished he hadn’t also done it to Blaine.

The air turned close and stuffy despite the open door. The hall was crowded, no doubt about it — it didn’t take Annekteh-dulled eyes to perceive it. And except for the breathing, they were silent, incredibly silent for a group that included children.

He knew what they were looking at. Him. The blind outsider who had worked magic in front of their hall.

“We’re safe from the Annekteh now,” he said, and that, at least, he could announce without question. No one would breach those wards, Annekteh or not. But unliving objects — like arrows — surely could. Unfortunately, in order to close the hall door, someone would have to break the wards. One of those details lost in the panic of the moment.... Better simply to block the thing. Then someone might see out more easily, as well.

No one seemed to have moved; he found it unnerved him to address a crowd of silent, unseen strangers. But he kept confidence in his voice. “If any one of us leaves, those wards will have to be reset.” It was a process that might take only a single word, if the teeth had not dried completely, or precious moments, if they had. “That includes reaching out for that door. Is there ary a table in here?”

Silence followed his question, long silence. He drew a deep breath. “I know you don’t have a full understanding of what’s happening. But...I need your help.”

Finally, he heard a rustle, and then a quiet, hesitant voice. “There’s tables.”

“We got to block this doorway. Annekteh can’t get in but arrows an’ such can.”

“Table on end will do it,” offered another voice, one that took on a little confidence. Always helps to give ’em something to do.

“They’re heavy,” protested yet another voice.

The first came right back, firmer now. “There’s enough of us here for it.”

After that, speech died down to grunts of effort and mutters of direction; Dacey stepped aside, moving down the wall, and listened as they dragged the table to the doorway. “Here,” he said. “I’ll tip it on up.”

Strange how he encountered no one on the way, brushed no arms, felt no swish of skirt. Their retreat had been quick and unanimous. He found the end of the heavy plank table and saw right away why they’d been hesitant; it was huge, with thick, heavy boards. He ran his hands over the age-polished wood, learning the shape of the thing, and searching for the right handholds. Not at all sure he could actually do it, he dipped his knees and lifted, straining against the weight. It moved most grudgingly — until, abruptly, it lightened, raising almost easily under his hands. Someone — or more than one — had come to some sort of decision about him, and pitched in. His smile was more inward than outward as the table rocked into place, but it marked a definite victory.

“It covers near the whole doorway,” someone declared, and there was no dissent. Dacey ran his hands around the edge of the table and found only a small gap between it and the door frame. He nodded to himself.

“And what now?” said the first voice that had spoken to him. “Now we just sit and wait, wondering what’s happening in our hills?” The woman stepped close, close enough to touch, for Dacey to feel her breath on his face as she peered at him...challenged him. “Dacey Childers, is that you? The Childers that traded for food? Has my Blaine been with you all this while?”

“Yes’m,” Dacey allowed. “She’s been a good hand, Missus Kendricks.”

“And you didn’t see fit to bring her back to me?”

“What I saw fit,” Dacey said gently, “and what I could do...those were different things. If I’d ’abrought her back, it would’ve put her in the trouble you all were already in. As it is, she’s done helping get rid of them.”

A dozen voices echoed his words, a wash of hope running through the building. Disbelief clamored on the heels of that hope, until at last they saw he would not try to speak above them and grew silent again.

“It ain’t won yet — though we got a good start, getting you in here and warded off, safe from Takers. But we’ve got a chance. Our only chance, before more of ’em get here.”

“How?” Lottie said. “What kind of chance can any of us have, against a Taker?”

“I been working with your boys, your hunters. They can do it.” They better.

“Our children?” That was another woman, her voice rising above the gasps of the others.

“They’re men after today. Best you remember when they come back home.”

“What if they don’t come back?” Lottie’s voice was hard, accusing...telling him plain she couldn’t afford to lose another.

He didn’t answer right away, looking for some way to soften the words and finally opting for his characteristically direct manner. “Reckon some of ’em won’t. Blaine told me that you — and they — would have it that way before settling in to the Annekteh. Was she wrong?”

The question drew another moment of silence. Then, someone’s voice, strong and clear, said, “No. She weren’t wrong. We all feel that way.”

“We’ve done talked about it,” another agreed, and then there was a general murmur of consensus; it grew into louder conversation, and the whine of a child wanting food, and a general rustle of activity.

Dacey was glad for the reprieve. Facing these women was almost more difficult than standing up to the Annekteh, and that...that didn’t bear recollection.

As if his thoughts would give him a choice. Outnumbered. Set upon so sudden, so completely, by the plainsmen searching for the owner of the hound with the wild howl. He warned off the dogs, too late to save Chase from a heavy, flat-bladed sword blow to the face. Mage, ever obedient — crouching at a distance while Dacey rocked from the blows of the plainsmen, one on top of another — rending the air with his angry snarls. Maidie, ever independent, charging in to take Dacey’s part.

His distraction at her broken body was the last thing he remembered before he awoke in Annekteh hands.

He pushed aside such memories with desperation, remembered Blaine’s touch on his eyelids instead, and her horrified wonder. Did it hurt? No, not at the time.

But it did now.

Stripped of everything but the habit of his confidence, he stood in the darkness of a transom-lit hall and waited with a large group of people who weren’t sure they trusted him, and were almost sure they blamed him. He missed Mage’s pressure against his leg, and the head that was just the right height to receive his habitual caress. He hoped the dog was doing Blaine some good.

~~~~~

Both hounds fell into place at her heels, and Blaine joined the boys at the head of the path into the woods. They led her upward, and her feet followed, bypassing the fear in her heart. Up the hill, Burl had said. Trey had started the fuss, had chosen the spot — killing one of the Annekteh-Taken warriors on patrol, the boys told her, and thus instantly rousing them all — and it wasn’t far, just below the ridge south of the meeting hall.

Just a few panting, never-ending, too-short minutes.

They heard the fighting before they saw it. Below them, the hill had a gentle slope, and rhododendrons thickly blanketed the area. There was plenty of cover for boys — but not for men. Trey stood uphill of the conflict, directing his young warriors. Blaine’s companions ran ahead to him, exchanged a few quick words, and peeled off, taking position on the upper side of the struggle.

It must have been a perfect initiative for the boys, Blaine thought, trying to decipher what she saw, feeling strangely removed from the fighting even though she was completely out in the open. The plan had been to concentrate the first fighting on the known Taken — those men who now sprawled between the bushes, dead or dying.

But the Annekteh had Taken more plainsmen, Blaine was sure. And those linked by the Annekteh fought with incredible teamwork, worrying and working the boys with frightening precision, seeking to trap them within range of the long blades. One of Burl’s teammates narrowly scrambled away from a blow that would have cut him in two. They needed help.

They needed help.

Blaine tried to get Trey’s attention, but he was in the thick of it; he loosed an arrow even as he scrambled out of blade’s reach. Scooting beneath a rhododendron to safety — or as safe as he was apt to get, for the moment — he emerged and finally sighted Blaine.

“Get out of here!” he hollered, waving her off in a broad and violent gesture.

She shook her head at him, and sprinted through the fighting, throwing herself up into the waiting arms of the tree that towered over the battle. “I’ll watch for you!” she hollered to him as she reached for the next branch, well out of the way of the men below her.

As Blue and Mage curled up at the base of her tree, Trey flung her a nod and nocked another arrow to his bow, burying it in the man who was still trying reach him through the bush.

This wasn’t going to be hard at all! She could spot all the warriors from here, or nearly all of them; she wasn’t even settled before she’d waved two boys away from trouble. If she could keep them away from the Annekteh, no one would have to face killing kin or friend — no one would be Taken. And that’s what the warriors were trying to do, now, she was sure of it; they’d started herding boys into Taking distance — or trying to.

But the men were dying and the boys had no casualties, taking every advantage of size and their nimble young limbs and slowly gaining the advantage. Finally the men gathered their wits and grouped together, shielding themselves, behind a bush near Blaine’s tree — she could see them all from above, note who had lost his helmet, spot who was balding.

None of them so much as glanced up at her; they were busy enough protecting themselves — although against arrows, they had little defense. Several of them had shields, but not enough — and not of a size to protect them from arrows. The fight had become a slaughter — but a slaughter with no regrets.

It all changed in an instant.

The timberers, buoyed with their freedom, came charging off the ridge and straight into the huddled warriors. Snatching bladed weapons from the dead, betting their lives that they could kill their enemies without being touched by them, the men plowed through the battleground before they even realized that victory of a sort had already been achieved. Frantically, Blaine tried to shout them off, tried to keep track of who touched whom, but it was impossible.

The fight, nearly won, was suddenly just as close to lost.

“Fan out!” Trey bellowed, motioning his boys back and away. “Don’t touch anyone!” Ducking, weaving, sliding to safety — the boys were in constant flight, with no chance to pick out targets of their own. Blaine felt herself slipping into panic — she had no idea who was Taken and who was not.

And suddenly she was seeing from her eyes and her head at the same time... flying.

A dream, that had been a dream — !

But she found her gaze lingering on a plainsmen she clearly remembered as bearing a bruised purple aura.

Hadn’t she dreamt about Willum? Hadn’t she dreamt about Dacey, worn and haggard and standing blankly — blindly — in the woods? And had she been flying in her dream, or just high in a tree, higher than she was now?

And hadn’t Dacey called her dreams seeings, and said the magic was coming back to the hills?

The plainsman crept up on one of the boys — and his weapon pointed back behind him. Not an attack. The stalk of Annketeh looking to Take, clearly marked in her memory.

“Trey!’ she hollered, waving her arms, pointing at the man. “Trey!”

But all Trey’s attention was wrapped up in escaping the plainsman who recognized him as the boys’ leader. There was no doubt what was on that one’s mind, and a simple touch had nothing to do with it.

Or maybe not all his attention. For when Blaine rearranged herself in the tree to bring him back into sight, Trey carried an extra bow and quiver. He was coming straight at her tree, losing ground with the effort but determined enough that when he ran beneath her and flung the stolen weapons upward, she was ready to receive them. She hooked her ankle through the crotch of a small branch and flung her arm out to its very limit, snatching at the bow and intertwined quiver strap.

A few arrows spilled out as the quiver skewed around in her grip, but Blaine hauled in her catch and pressed her body back against the tree. Those few seconds had taught her the fear of exposure — and driven home how much Trey had risked to respond to her. Anxiously, she searched for him, and finally spotted him slithering along on his stomach at some speed while the foiled warrior fought to disentangle his scabbard from a gnarled old rhododendron branch.

Reassured, Blaine looked at the weapon still clenched tightly in her hand. The bow grip was slick with fresh blood, making her wonder which of the dead — which of their own — had dropped it. She pulled her shirt from her skirtband and carefully cleaned the grip. Without contemplating the evolving sequence of her actions, she pulled an arrow from the quiver and nocked it.

Then she looked below.

The boys were still running, their expressions nothing but fear. The men around them were parents, brothers and uncles, and some of them were Annekteh. But without someone to point out who was enemy and who was still kin, not a boy could bring himself to attack.

But Blaine knew.

She spotted the plainsman from a moment before and raised the bow. She could come nowhere near a full draw on the short bow, but she pulled until her arm trembled, and released. He was close, and it took him in the lower back — astonishing success.

She looked out on the battle with new eyes, eyes with a dream memory imprinted like double vision, flickering visions that made her blink, made her eyes water. Then suddenly it seemed to settle, and make sense. Men and boys mixed in intricate, familiar patterns, and Jason abruptly drew her focus. She knew him as a young man who hunted with her Daddy, and saw him as nekfehr, lying in wait for one of the youthful fighters.

Blaine raised the bow and shifted so there was room to pull back at this new angle, then carefully sighted to the center of Jason’s chest. She wondered if his pretty wife had had their baby yet, and she let the bowstring roll off her fingertips. The arrow wavered, but hit its target —

With barely enough force to cause a shallow wound. Jason bellow in surprise rather than pain, searching for his attacker —

And then another arrow thunked home, a solid and fatal attack that had certainly not come from Blaine. Confused, she twisted around to discover three boys just outside the melee. Estus was lowering his bow, and he found her in the tree, gave her a little nod.

The runners, Blaine realized. The ones who had been chosen for size and stealth to reach the timberers. The men must have outrun them on the way back, and now they wisely held back at the edge of danger — until Estus realized what Blaine was doing. He couldn’t have known how — but he had followed up on her attack anyway.

For that, she almost forgave him the blow to Dacey’s head.

Now he spoke quickly to the boys with him and they separated to cover three points of a triangle, moving quietly across the hill until they were in position to see Blaine and take her direction — and act on it.

Blaine took advantage of them immediately. The other boys were tiring, and their game of slither and dodge would not last much longer. She found a man she didn’t know, closing on a panicking youngster. Him, she thought, remembering clearly. But there was no response when she pointed.

When she looked, she found Estus spreading his hands in perplexity, frustration on his face. He can’t tell!

Of course he couldn’t. He was at the edge of the action, she was in the middle of a tree, pointing down into a roiling rhododendron patch. As quickly as she could, Blaine notched another arrow and sighted on her target — missing him completely, but marking him for two swift arrows from beyond the battleground. Without hesitation she found another dream-marked man, sighted, and guided Estus’ arrow to his heart. When the third man went down, the boys in the melee began to comprehend; they never thought to question how she knew, and there was no doubt on her face to make them wonder.

For them Blaine could point, and between the pointing and her badly aimed arrows, the enemy fell. In moments the boys and timberers regained their confidence, and the Shadow Hollers men turned savagely on the invaders.

And on their own. At Blaine’s gesture, one youth took grim aim on his uncle — only to be shoved aside by a friend who had no blood ties to stain his hands.

She was crying, Blaine realized suddenly. Tears splashed on her wrist, and even the dream vision wavered. But she never hesitated. And as she took aim at another of her neighbors, she realized the Annekteh had caught on to her. They were coming up to get her.

Just like the dream. The dream that had ended...now.

Blue stood at the base of the tree, his hackles raised, his intent clear. But Mage gave a particularly vicious snarl and drove him away, and one of the nekfehr reached the tree, stretching for the lower branches, making the trunk tremble under her white-knuckled grip. A second joined him, stopping in the lower branches, waiting. Blaine froze, entirely unable to move. The dream ended —

You can take care of yourself, Dacey said in her head. Her own inner voice chimed in, annoyed at her surrender to fear. You outclimbed a bear, Blaine Kendricks. Now get going!

Blaine climbed. Skinny Blaine reached up for the next branches, thin arms hauling her relentlessly upward. Angular Blaine — covered with nothing more than stringy muscles and not an ounce of pleasingly curvy fat — shinnied up a spot bare of handholds and found herself swaying in slender branches. How much further before the tree broke and dumped her? The quiver banged against her back and she dropped it on the head of the man closest to her, spewing arrows into the bushes below. The bow had fallen unnoticed moments before, and was hung up just above the ground — the same ground where tiny chicken-sized people ran around.

Way down there.

Blaine gripped the slimming tree trunk tightly as it swayed in ever increasing arcs, caused more by the nekfehr than herself. She dared not stop climbing. She closed her eyes and stole height, hand over hand. Better to die in the fall than be Taken. Burl had already made that choice, and she could make it, too.

Then the tree shuddered. Blaine peered down over her shoulder, astonished to find the closest man toppling backwards out of the tree. As he twisted and fell, breaking branches all the way down, a tiny Trey figure below gave a salute of his bow and darted back out of sight.

Blaine rested her forehead against the tree. Selfishly, she wanted to stay right there, safe in her perch — or, as safe as she was likely to get. She no longer had the bow and arrows to guide the boys. She didn’t know how else she could help.

A child’s death shriek cut right through her; her eyes sprung open. She could join the fight, that’s what she could do. Go down and grab another bow — for even if she couldn’t guide the others as well from the ground, she would know what she was aiming at — Taken or not.

The renewed trembling of her tree nearly changed her mind again — the second man — and she got ready for another chase...but he was descending, not coming after her.

Descending? Blaine blinked and took a better look. The Taken — hillfolk and plainsmen alike — were gathering up to defend each other’s backs. Weary little boys and their fathers dotted the trampled, body-strewn hillside, warily eyeing those three remaining warriors — and the few local men with them. Taken.

Anxiously, Blaine searched the faces on both sides, and discovered her father and Rand not only standing, but standing apart from the nekfehr. Rand’s arm seemed to be bleeding, but that was all. The only sign of hurt on either of them. She found herself ambushed with a wash of emotion — they’re alive, they’re safe — and hid her face against her arm, blinking away tears. She made them quick ones, though, smearing them away as she felt for the branches beneath her feet. Time to come down.

The two groups stared at one another, prickling hostility. Slowly, Trey brought his bow up, arrow ready. A ripple of movement spread around the clearing, boys and men following his lead. Ready to cut the nekfehr down in cold blood.

The silent stand-off lasted only an instant.

The annektehr ran — leaving their vessels, returning to the Annekteh whole, so far away — if they even made it. The effect was barely noticeable, a strange wavering of the air; Blaine fancied she saw a tinge of purple. The small circle of former nekfehr separated into confused hill men and three panicked warriors, abandoned by the Annekteh — and reacting with instant, unthinking hostility, turning on the dazed hill men standing with them. For that they died, pierced by a dozen different arrows.

The Shadow Hollers warriors stood another long moment in silence, until one triumphant whoop filled the air, followed by a dozen others. Blaine dropped out of the tree; Blue instantly accosted her. “All right, all right,” she told him absently, trying to spot her father and brother from this new angle. She found Cadell easily enough; it was his practical voice that cut through the noise.

“It’s too early for that,” he said. “There may be more of ’em hiding in the woods. They ain’t all here, that’s for sure. We know some of ’em are dead by the timber, but we got to get an accounting of ’em all.” His calm words stopped the back-slapping cold, and exchanged it for apprehension. No, they weren’t done yet.

“They might could try for the meeting hall,” Wade agreed. “Do a search between here and there. And we need to get some of the women up here, to tend the wounded.”

“Cadell.” It was one of the five, the once-Taken, who still held themselves apart from the others; Blaine didn’t know any of them by name, though she’d seen them all at dances and meetings. “It seems to me you might best keep us separate, and under watch. I feel myself again, but I ain’t taking no chances.”

Cadell nodded thoughtfully and turned to Rand. “See to it,” he said. Then, when Blaine thought that he had looked right past her and not recognized her, his gaze came to rest squarely on her. His voice was quiet but clear as he said, “Blaine. Estus said you was here... You done good, Blaine. Hang here until we make sure it’s finished.”

Blaine gave a single nod. You done good, Blaine. How long had she waited to hear those words? She wanted to run up and hug him.

She didn’t.

She stayed with Blue and Mage, while Trey teamed up with Cadell to direct the mixed force in a sweep pattern of the hill. If there were annketehr still out there, she wanted to be no part of delaying their demise.

When the last of the searchers faded away, there was awkward quiet beneath the ash. The five men clustered together under Rand’s watchful eye, but his attention was clearly torn, his gaze flicking often to Blaine. Leaving Blue behind, Blaine went to join him.

Rand gave her a small smile and shake of his head — but no invitation to tuck under his arm like she’d expected. “I told Daddy you were all right. I just knew you’d gone on with that Dacey feller.”

“I didn’t have any say at the time,” Blaine told him, feeling rebuffed.

“I don’t see how you done it. How’d you get this planned? How’d you tell who was Took just now?”

Blaine shrugged. “It’s an awful long tale, Rand. Maybe some day I’ll get around to telling it all.” Rand took a good look at the fatigue on her face and held out the arm that was not bleeding, a belated invitation. Relieved, grateful, she moved to accept it.

Mage slunk between them, snarling. Blaine stopped short at the sight of him; the dog’s ears were laid flat back, his lips wrinkled up an ugly face.

“Mage?” she said hesitantly, wondering if the dog had somehow been Taken. Mage crept closer to Rand, his low-slung posture accenting his lurching gait, his snarling loud and constant.

“Blaine, call him off,” Rand said uneasily, slowly dropping his arm. The five men beyond him moved apprehensively, shifting away from the dog.

“Mage, no!” Blaine said with as much authority as she could muster. “Sit, Mage!”

The dog ignored her, continuing to stalk Rand — although he wasn’t, Blaine suddenly noticed, getting any closer to her brother, just circling.

Circling Rand.

~~~~~

“Dacey?”

The voice was hesitant, and Dacey felt that if he made the wrong move it would whisper back into the gathering. It reminded him of Blaine somehow, and he took a chance.

“Lenie?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, relief evident. “Won’t you tell me what’s happening? Are you...all right?”

“Not many here are that, I’d say.” Dacey looked straight at the direction of her voice. “The boys have organized and hope to free the men. They’re going to fight the Annekteh. We...we just have to wait and see how it turns out.”

“But there’s no seer. All the older folks said we couldn’t do nothing without no seer.”

“You can’t do but what you try to do,” Dacey told her. When she didn’t respond, he added, “In the Annekteh Ridge fight, the folks were spread out, and never got a chance to use the wards like we done. We got all the children, and you women, safe. It’ll make the difference.”

“And Blaine’s been with you this whole while?” Her voice said she wasn’t sure if that was admirable or scandalous.

Dacey nodded. “I’m real sorry you all thought she was kilt. It was safest for her that way.” He blinked then, and hard. His obsidian vision seemed to have greyed. Distracted, he said, “She’s done good, Lenie. She’s held things together at times when we would have lost all chance otherwise.”

Suddenly she was there, directly in front of him, blurred and dim, a blonde-headed face of worry. Dacey took a startled step back and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Dacey?” she said, sounding a little wary.

Cautiously, he took his hands away. She was indistinct, but she was there. Her hair was drawn tightly back, her dress wasn’t clean, and her face was smudged, but to him she was beautiful.

“We’re winning,” he said under his breath. Winning, and weakening the Annekteh magic.

She just looked at him, obviously teetering on the edge of trust.

“Look,” he said holding his hand up and following its motion with his eyes. “The Annekteh magicked my eyes, but the spell’s fading.” He blinked, trying to erase the grey veils that still dimmed his sight. “They’ve done lost strength. Some of ’em’s gone.”

“Some of ’em?” she repeated. “I thought it was all One, that just spread.”

“More than one, all connected.” Dacey’s attention was on the blocked doorway and the silvery nimbus beyond the table. He hadn’t actually seen the ward when he was practicing with Blaine, and distracted, he added, “Lenie, girl, I can’t explain it now. You just take my word for it — them boys have got the upper hand.”

Confused, Lenie nodded. “I don’t know about you, Dacey Childers,” she said. “Don’t know how much to trust you. Don’t know how much of this is your fault. But...I guess you’re doing what you can to get us out of it.” She took the hand of the little girl who had been by her side — Sarie, if Dacey recalled rightly — and led her away.

Dacey looked at her straight back a moment, suddenly able to imagine Blaine sparring with this young woman, and the struggle between them — so different, yet with the same kind of fire. He shook his head and put the thought behind him, leaning up against the smooth old wood table to peer out the door, squinting through the silver glow to focus on the hill opposite the hall.

His eyes narrowed at what they saw there. Shades of shifting purple centered on the side of the hill, pulsating, oozing — and fading. The leaves, a sickening shade of green overlayed with violet, brightened into fresh spring colors.

He turned and laid his back up against the wall. He’d never seen such things before, but he knew instantly what it was, and that knowledge didn’t come easy. The talents of his blood, wakened by the tampering of the Annekteh.

Seer’s eyes. Seer’s responsibilities.

And no one to teach him. No one of the old blood left to show him the ways — and a spirits-damned time to learn, on the hills against the Annekteh. The wavering patterns of light over the mountain should have meant something to him, he was sure; it could have been anything from magic in process to mere indications of Annekteh presence. There were shades other than purple adorning the mountain as well, and for those he had no name.

Dacey suddenly realized the women were all watching him again, staring at his odd behavior. For the moment he couldn’t respond to them; he was caught up in seeing. Seeing the frightened and apprehensive faces around him, some of them brighter than they ought to be, given the transom light. The great stone fireplace at the end of the hall, which somehow radiated its sturdy construction; the minute detail of the black smoke stains tracing their way up the wooden logs at the sides of the fireplace, which he shouldn’t have been able to see at all from here.

His restored sight meant he should be up the on the hill with the others. His new sight meant he had to be there. He could make sure all the annektehr had been driven away, and that none were hidden amongst the men, playing possum till it was too late to stop the spread again.

To go out was to break the wards, and if he hesitated long enough for them to dry he would have to go through the complete procedure to reset them. He had to go now.

Dacey turned back to the table and placed his hands against it, using all his strength to move it just enough so he could slide sideways through the space he’d made.

The silvery light flickered out. Immediately, he turned, holding up his fist — unwashed, it might yet have some trace of Blaine’s blood. “Seek,” he muttered. For an instant there was nothing; he waited, tense at the sluggish response. Silver light sizzled and blinked, evanescent and uncertain — and snapped abruptly into place, strong against his touch.

“You’re not leaving!” Lenie protested through the narrow opening by the table; her words drew a tumble of objections behind her. They might not completely trust him, but they wanted him here.

He ignored the objections. “I reset the wards, but nary one of you go through or they’re broke for good. Have you got that?”

“Yes,” she said, taken aback.

“And should any men come back, you stay where you are. Don’t come out for none but me or Blaine. Do y’hear?” He stared fiercely at her until she nodded, and he hoped he’d frightened her enough that she would ensure their compliance.

He turned away from her and ran from the hall. The path up the point was distinct, pounded out by Annekteh patrols, and all the steep places were marked with great gouges of dirt stepholds. Dacey, unarmed and unmindful of it, barely slowed to take them. He was seized with a sense of urgency, and he felt Mage’s anger course into his thoughts and become his own. He didn’t take the time to question such feelings, but pushed himself on. Pushed himself hard.

There was trouble on the hillside, and Blaine was in the thick of it.

~~~~~~~~~~