CHAPTER 45
Fidelias woke in somewhere dark, cool. He ached everywhere. He opened his eyes.
“Good,” Odiana purred. “You’re awake.” She leaned over him to rest fingertips lightly on his temples. The cool, pale metal of a discipline collar gleamed at her throat. “No more bleeding.”
“What happened?” Fidelias asked.
She watched his mouth very closely as he spoke, then answered, “I found my Aldrick, and then I found you. We’re not out yet. We need you to help us.”
“Where are we?”
“In a warehouse in Garrison. My love is running an errand, and then we’ll go.”
“The dagger?”
“In your hand. You wouldn’t let it go.”
Fidelias lifted his hand and saw the dagger there. “Where are the men?”
“Already gone.”
The door to the warehouse creaked open, and Aldrick, wearing the tunic of a Rivan legionare, entered. “There isn’t much time,” he said, voice tense. He limped to Odiana and tossed down several bloody scraps of flesh attached to sweeping manes of fine white hair. Scalps. “The Marat are sweeping the buildings for any stragglers.”
“There’s one more circle to close,” Odiana said, smiling, and lifted the scalps. She began to hum to herself and walked over toward a pile of fallen crates and spilled junk in the dimness of the warehouse.
Fidelias rose and wavered on his feet, gasping. He looked down to find himself wearing a Rivan tunic as well.
Aldrick caught him, though the swordsman himself seemed none too steady. “Easy. You were hurt pretty badly. Odiana stabilized you, but you’re going to need some serious attention.”
Fidelias nodded. He tucked Aquitaine’s dagger into his pouch and tied it shut. “All right,” he said, “How do we get out of here?”
“Everything’s still in chaos out there,” Aldrick said. “The Alerans are confused, there are many wounded, and some of the buildings are on fire. The Wolves fled and left the Herdbanes to rot. Most of them fought to the death, and they’re still flushing them out of attics and basements.”
Fidelias nodded. “The men?”
“Banged up pretty well. We’re going to be paying off a lot of death benefits. If we can get out of Garrison, we should be able to rendevous with them. Can you stand?”
“Yes.” Fidelias squinted over toward Odiana and limped toward her.
She crouched beside the nearly still form of a huge, grimy holder. Broken crates lay all over him, along with spilled slate shingles. The man was obviously crippled, and he was not conscious.
Odiana was touching his hair with gentle fingers and smiled at Aldrick as he and Fidelias approached. Then she leaned forward and touched the man’s head. “Wake up, Master Kord.”
Kord shivered, and his eyelids fluttered open. After a moment, he shivered and focused on them. Fear touched his features.
Odiana leaned down, smiling, and kissed his forehead.
Aldrick rested the tip of his sword lightly against Kord’s cheek. “Take off the collar,” he said. “Now.”
Kord licked his lips and whispered, “Why should I?”
Aldrick pressed the tip of the sword into Kord’s skin. The man cringed away. “All right. All right.” He reached up and fumbled at the collar. Odiana shivered as it came free, holding it and staring at it.
“We should go,” Fidelias said.
Odiana murmured, “One thing more, Master. I have a gift for you before I leave.”
“Wait,” Kord stammered. “I did what you said. I took the collar off.”
Odiana leaned down to look into Kord’s eyes and murmured, “Isana is too kind a person to kill you, Kord. She’s too good a person to kill you. And, you poor thing.” She kissed his forehead again. “So am I.”
She took the scalps Aldrick had brought, and draped one of them over Kord’s arm. Then tucked one through his belt and left the third wrapped about his wrist. “These are scalps of the Horse Clan,” Odiana said. “They take scalping very seriously. And they’re emptying the buildings one by one, looking for enemies. They should be here any moment, poor Master. They’re going to tear the heart from your chest and eat it while it still beats. You’ll get to see part of it.” She let out a sigh and turned to Aldrick. “But we won’t?”
He shook his head. “But it’s a pretty morning at least. Time to go, love.”
Odiana watched his mouth, then thrust out her lower lip, but stepped to Aldrick’s side and rested her hand on his arm.
Fidelias grimaced, glancing down at the scalp-draped Steadholder. Then he turned to walk away.
Kord clutched at his ankle. “Wait. Please. Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here for those animals.”
Fidelias paused long enough to grind his heel down on the man’s fingers and then walked away, wearily pulling up the woodcrafting that would shelter him, Aldrick, and Odiana from view while they slipped out of the battle-ravaged fortress.
They left the warehouse and saw a half dozen of the Horse Clan dart inside, weapons in hand. In less than a minute, Kord began to scream. Long, drawn out, agonized, terrified, horrible screams.
Odiana leaned her head against Aldrick’s shoulder and murmured, “You’re right, my lord. It is a lovely morning.”