Firebrand

“All of it? Are you sure?”

“You will need it.”

There was about a third of a flask left, and when she drank, this time it tasted of the deepest, coolest of mountain springs. Exhaustion slipped away, and she was filled with a sense of peace and well-being. The pain ebbed. She wondered how long it would last.

The plan was for Karigan and Enver to ride into the Lone Forest on Mist, accompanied by Midnight, while Nari waited for them at this temporary campsite with Coda and Condor.

Karigan rode behind Enver, the belt of her saber looped around the saddle’s pommel. She had left her greatcoat behind as too painful to wear and a hindrance to what must be accomplished. Midnight vanished into the dark as she padded somewhere alongside them. Enver had told Karigan that he and Mist would be able to sense traps and avoid them. Human guards would be dealt with. The bare glint of the fingernail of a moon allowed them to melt into the concealment of the dark. It was agreed that Karigan would not use her ability until they reached the encampment proper, unless some necessity required it before then. He did not wish for her to drain her energy unless she had to.

He rode with bow and arrow at the ready, his quiver strapped to his hip. Mist traveled at a jog, her hooves light on the rocky terrain. Anxiety knotted Karigan’s insides, her tension worsening the pain in her back, especially when they entered the subdued world beneath the eaves of the forest. Enver did not speak, and if he saw traps, he did not point them out. She certainly could not see any. Sometimes she was aware of Midnight, darker than shadow, slipping through the underbrush.

She lost all sense of time. Sweat dampened her brow, whether from fever or anxiety, she could not tell. At one point she was sure Midnight transformed into her larger form and darted off in a different direction. Enver turning to look confirmed it. Farther on, Mist picked up her pace, and Enver raised his bow with arrow nocked. He loosed two arrows in quick succession. Karigan could not see a thing, but she heard the cracking of foliage as bodies fell to the ground.

Mist veered in a new direction, Karigan wrapping her arms around Enver’s waist to keep from flying off the mare’s back. Doing so wrenched the wounds of her back, even as she felt the muscles of Enver’s own back tense and flex as he drew the bowstring taut and released another arrow. The white arrow soared silently into the dark as though its quarrels were the flight feathers of an owl.

Elsewhere, she heard a snarl and a man’s scream cut short. Midnight.

“They are expecting us,” Enver said, “as we believed they would. There are more armed guards in the woods, and new traps.”

“Do you need my ability?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

Mist ran on without falter, careening through the woods. Whether her erratic path was to evade traps or guards, Karigan could not tell. All her focus was tied to hanging on to Enver and trying not to think about how much her back hurt. After an interminable passage of time, Mist slowed to a walk, then a halt.

“From here we will continue on foot,” Enver said.

Releasing Enver hurt just as much as holding on to him had. He slid to the ground, then Mist obligingly knelt to make it easier for Karigan to dismount. When this was done, the mare rose to her feet and Enver pressed his hand to her forehead and whispered softly in Eltish to her. Her ears flickered; then she turned on her haunches and trotted off, melting into the dark like the mist that was her name.

“She will come when we need her,” Enver said. “Are you ready, Galadheon? Are you able to continue?”

She nodded. Enver’s cordial was holding her in good stead.

“The keep is not far. We will need the use of your ability.”

The plan was to infiltrate the keep because that was where she had seen the king and Lord Fiori. It was a place to start. She held out her hand, and he took it. Reassured by the strength and warmth of his grip, she called on her ability and they faded into the dark even more thoroughly than Mist.

They walked through the woods, Midnight padding somewhere behind them. When they reached the edge of the woods, they halted. The keep, and its wall, stood in a clearing. Fires, torches, and lanterns flickered here and there among the shanties, and even in an arrowloop of a tower. The light was gray to Karigan, not bright.

“We must stay away from the light,” she reminded Enver.

The encampment appeared quiet. Most of the civilians must be asleep, but she saw guards on watch, some nearby. There were also a few dogs prowling about.

“What about the dogs?” Karigan whispered.

“Not to fear,” he told her.

They walked across the clearing, steering away from the guards and light. When a dog seemed to catch wind of them, Enver . . . She wasn’t sure what he did, if he sang, gave a command, or whistled; it was beneath her hearing. The dog lay down and rolled onto its back.

They edged past darkened shanties toward the gate opening. This would be the most lighted space outside the keep. Enver found the deepest shadows as they slipped past yawning guards. It seemed to her that he also enhanced her ability, making them fade more completely, and alleviating the drain on her.

They crossed the courtyard and around another guard who stood sentry before the keep’s entrance. They slipped behind the blanket that served as a door. They’d made it into the keep, the domain of Grandmother.

RETURN TO NYSSA’S WORKSHOP

The keep was still and dark. It was a simple structure of ancient days with few rooms. It was not difficult to locate the great hall. A fire glowed in the hearth, dimly illuminating the sleeping forms on the floor huddled beneath cloaks and blankets. Karigan hoped Grandmother was not one of them.