Her Knight's Quest: A Warriors of the Mist Novel Page 23

  “Lavinia? Why aren’t you inside with the others?”

  Her eyes were wide with fear, but her voice was calm. “Because I’m waiting for Joetta to finish counting to make sure we found everyone. Once I’m sure all of the sisters are inside, I’ll join them and reset the wards. How are things outside?”

  The pressure in his chest eased. “The blasts have stopped for now, but there’s no way to know if they’ll begin again. Maybe they won’t because the duke’s men have started up the trail. Once you’re inside, promise you won’t open the door unless you know it’s me or Josup.”

  She licked her lips, her hands nervously clenching and unclenching. “I promise, and we will all pray for the safety of you and the guards.”

  “I’ll let the men know.”

  When he started back, she called after him, “They are connected to the duke through the emblem they wear on a chain around their necks. Remove those, and you break the link. Bring the talismans to me, and I’ll destroy them.”

  He nodded but didn’t tell her that he had no intention of letting the duke’s men get close enough for him to grab them by their necklaces. Even so, it was helpful to know the enemy’s weakness.

  Outside, the guards remained poised to fire. He rejoined Josup. “The sisters are all safely behind a stout door.”

  Knowing the guards shared his basic distrust of magic, he didn’t mention that it was warded. It was enough for the men to know that for the moment the women were safe.

  He did share the information about the duke’s emblem. “If you can shoot through those, it will weaken their connection to their master.”

  Come to think of it, that explained what had happened to the warrior who had nearly sacrificed his own life to save Murdoch and Lady Alina from Fagan. Destroying the two coins had caused enough of an explosion. He could only imagine what that backlash would do to a man’s mind.

  A movement on the trail caught his attention. The first of the troopers had reached the last turn.

  “Hold steady. Wait for my signal.”

  Josup passed along the order, each man whispering to the next one along the wall. It wouldn’t be long now. Duncan silently counted the men as they came into sight. Already two-thirds of the troop were on their final approach to the abbey.

  They rode in eerie silence, looking neither to the left nor to the right. Why weren’t they watching for an attack? Only their leader appeared to be aware of his surroundings. Duncan’s skin crawled at the realization that these men had been ensorcelled by their master, their free will taken from them.

  “What is wrong with them?” Josup whispered.

  “I’ve seen this before. The duke has taken possession of them through those necklaces they each wear. They will fight without question until they are dead. They don’t talk.”

  He shuddered at the memory. “They don’t even scream when wounded. To a man, they’ll bleed out and die without a whimper.”

  Josup immediately made a gesture meant to ward off evil. Duncan didn’t blame him, but now wasn’t the time for superstition. It was time to fight.

  “Fire!”

  The arrows flew and the dying began.

  * * *

  It didn’t take long. With the guards firing from above, it was more of a slaughter than a battle. The horses panicked from the sting of arrows and the smell of blood. Several of the duke’s men were unseated and died beneath the hooves of their horses, which were struggling to break free of the attack.

  A few riders, through luck or skill, made it to the top unscathed; Duncan, Josup, and several of the other guards waited for them. Normally, fighting from horseback gave the rider the advantage over a man on foot. But in the confined space, the horses had little room to maneuver.

  The captain dismounted while ordering his men to do the same. They formed up in a line, swords drawn. There were only six of them, but no one made it into the duke’s personal guard without being an accomplished swordsman. They had earned the right to act confident.

  But then none of them had ever faced off against one of the Damned before.

  Duncan offered the captain a mocking salute, and the fight began in earnest. The man was better than good; he was highly skilled with a real talent for reading Duncan’s intentions before he could carry them out. It had been a long time since he’d crossed swords with someone of the captain’s caliber. Normally, as an avatar of the gods, Duncan’s speed and skill far outstripped those of a mere mortal, but right now he was struggling to hold the man at bay. It niggled at him, but he had to keep his mind in the battle.

  His own men were caught up in a vicious battle against the enemy, but he couldn’t help them, not yet. From out of nowhere, Kiva swept past Duncan to attack the duke’s men from above. Even with his gods-enhanced strength and speed, the bird must have nearly killed himself to have completed the trip to Gideon that quickly; he had to have flown day and night, not stopping except to deliver Duncan’s message. Yet here he was, doing his best to lend his aid to the battle. Duncan sent his gratitude as he dodged another attack himself. If he didn’t concentrate on his own opponent, the captain might get past him. The man was capable of slaughtering Josup and his men, leaving Lavinia and the sisters at his mercy.

  That was not going to happen—not while Duncan had a breath in his body. He feinted to the right and then back to the left, drawing the captain off balance long enough for Duncan to score a telling hit, drawing first blood. Just as he feared, his opponent ignored the wound, ignored the pain, ignored everything except his desire to kill Duncan.

  As the man lunged toward Duncan in another attack, the necklace around his neck swung out from his chest, momentarily drawing Duncan’s attention. Mayhap he should consider Lavinia’s suggestion and attempt to sever the connection between Ifre Keirthan and his men.

  He caught the chain with the tip of his sword and yanked up hard. The maneuver left him open and vulnerable, and his sword slid free of the chain just as the captain’s blade connected with Duncan’s right side. Unlike his ensorcelled opponent, he had a harder time ignoring the painful blow to his ribs.

  He aimed at the chain again. This time it slid down to the thicker portion of his blade. Putting all of his power behind his effort, he yanked up and away from the man’s neck once, twice, and again. On the third time, the chain snapped, and the talisman fell to the ground as the captain stumbled backward, trying to regain his balance. Duncan retreated several steps to see what would happen next.

  The captain stumbled to a halt, his eyes blinking slowly as if he’d just awoken from a heavy sleep. Maybe he had, but he woke up angry and ready to fight. One glance at the horror that surrounded them, and he screamed out his fury and charged Duncan.

  All finesse was gone, and victory would be a simple matter of stamina and luck. So much for hoping that the man would lose the will to fight when his connection to the duke was severed.

  This would be a fight to the death. Duncan forced the man to retreat several steps. Pressing his advantage, he kept the man on the defensive. He stumbled back into one of the horses, which were still penned in by the fighting. When the animal tried to lunge out of his way, the impact sent the captain flying forward right onto Duncan’s sword.

  His eyes widened in shock as he sank to his knees, staring down at the sword stuck into his chest. He grasped the blade with his hand in an attempt to drag it back out, probably hoping to undo the damage that had been done. Duncan helped him with that, yanking his bloody blade free. Leaving the captain to finish dying, Duncan turned his attention to aiding his own men with the last two of the duke’s guards still standing.

  For a few seconds, there was silence, broken only by the low moans of the wounded and the dying.

  Josup’s arm dripped blood where it had been sliced open to the bone. Duncan ripped off a piece of his tunic and used it to bind the wound until Sister Berta could treat it. One of Josup’s men had been killed, but the rest were more or less whole.

  Duncan took charge. “Some o
f you, gather the bodies and cover them with blankets. We’ll decide what to do with them later. The rest of you, catch the horses and see to them. Store their tack in the stable and turn them loose in the corral.”

  One of the guards reached for the captain’s necklace. Duncan caught his arm and then picked up the chain with the tip of his sword.

  He lifted it high. “Do not touch any of these. They’re tainted with Duke Keirthan’s magic. I’ll collect them myself.”

  The guards backed away. Even if Duncan wasn’t immune to the Duke’s magic, he wouldn’t have risked his men being ensnared by the talismans. When he had all twenty chains hanging on his sword blade, he pounded on the door for the remaining guards to let him in.

  Inside, he went into the kitchen to find a rag or sack to put the talismans in. Once he had them safely stowed, he debated whether he should stop to clean up before letting Lavinia know that this wave of attack had been soundly defeated for now. No doubt Duke Keirthan was already aware it had failed.

  Vicious tyrants like Lavinia’s brother wouldn’t give up easily. The bastard had already shown himself to be wildly reckless in his attacks. If he’d had a little more control, those bolts of light could’ve easily destroyed the abbey and everyone inside. A man willing to kill innocents so indiscriminately had to be stopped. Surely now Lavinia would agree to come with him to Lady Merewen’s keep.

  Duncan marched through the abbey, heading straight for the workroom. He barely noticed Lavinia’s wards as he pushed through them. The door opened just as he raised his fist to pound on it. When Lavinia peeked out at him, his temper flared.

  “What are you doing opening the door without asking who is out here? What if it had been the duke’s men?”

  She frowned at him. “I knew it was you. No one else could’ve gotten through my wards without setting them off.”

  That did little to reassure him. “The fighting is done, and Sister Berta is needed.”

  She stared at his bloody tunic. “Are you injured? And what about our guards?”

  He ignored the question about him. “We lost one. Several of the others are wounded. Josup’s arm will need to be stitched up.”

  “And Duke Keirthan’s men? Do they need their wounds treated as well?”

  When Duncan shook his head, her fair skin paled. “How many?”

  “Our lookout counted twenty as they approached. It seems unlikely any escaped.”

  There was nothing to be said that would make Lavinia feel better or ease the sick knot in his stomach. They both knew those men were as much victims of Keirthan’s greed as their own men.

  “These are the medallions they wore. I’ll leave it up to you what to do with them.”

  She accepted the bag. “We’ll say prayers over the men who wore these.”

  That was as much as they could do for them, and they could not spare a moment for regrets. It wouldn’t take long for Keirthan to regroup and plan his next move. But before he could strike out at Lavinia and the abbey again, Duncan planned on robbing him of his intended targets.

  “Once the guards have been seen to, tell the sisters to pack their things.”

  Lavinia stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her. “I’ve already told the younger sisters they will be moving to the abbey where the mother superior resides. Sarra knows that she will be leaving with you.”

  All of that was good, but it wasn’t enough. “Tell the rest of the sisters they will be leaving as well.”

  “But—”

  It was time to lay it all out for her. “Your brother attacked an abbey full of defenseless women, Lavinia. Soon he will know his men have failed to capture you. Do you really think a second failure will make him any less determined? If those bolts had hit the abbey any harder, we would’ve been digging your bodies out of the rubble.”

  He crowded closer. “It’s your decision, Lavinia. But I’m telling you right now that if you don’t leave here soon, this place will no longer be your abbey; it will be your tomb. Order your friends to ride to safety, or tell them to say their final prayers and make peace with their gods.”

  There was nothing left to say. Either she’d listen or she wouldn’t. If she didn’t make the right decision, he’d do what he could to convince the sisters himself, but he couldn’t expend much time doing so.

  He’d already sent Kiva to tell Gideon he was heading back to the keep with Sarra. Those plans hadn’t changed, with one exception. If Lavinia wouldn’t come with him of her own accord, he’d tie her across the saddle and drag her back with him that way. He’d rather she came willingly, so he’d give her a chance to make the right decision.

  “Tell Berta that her patients will be waiting in the infirmary.”

  Resisting the urge to kiss her one last time, he walked away.

  Chapter 25

  Lavinia stared at Duncan’s back, her mind numb with pain. So many dead. She prayed for their souls; she prayed for wisdom; then she prayed that this nightmare would end.

  What had she done to make Ifre hate her enough to risk killing so many innocent souls to come after her? Even the men who had chosen to serve him might have done so out of loyalty to Agathia without realizing their ruler had been corrupted by a driving need for power.

  She had to clear her head. Important decisions had to be made. Now. She retreated back into the workroom where she was quickly surrounded by the comforting presence of the other sisters. They all had questions. She didn’t have many answers.

  Raising her hand for silence, she drew a deep breath and told them what she knew. It didn’t surprise her that their reaction was a volatile mix of relief, distress, and fear. Berta immediately left to care for the wounded, taking the two sisters who served as her apprentices with her.

  Lavinia envied them their clear sense of purpose. Margaret started to follow after them to see what could be salvaged of the food that had been left on the fire.

  “Please wait, Sister. I have a couple of announcements to make, ones you should hear.”

  Once again, the room grew quiet. Lavinia took a few seconds to study the women assembled in front of her. She knew them all by name; some she’d known since she was a child; others she’d met when she’d returned to the abbey. Each was dear to her.

  “The attack is over, but Duke Keirthan will come at us again. At me, really. I’m the one he wants. The reasons aren’t important right now, only that you are safe before he tries again.”

  The women exchanged worried looks. She didn’t blame them. “Here’s what we’re going to do for now. Sister Berta is taking care of the wounded. She will need help dealing with the large number of dead. If your own duties don’t require you to be elsewhere, please seek her out to offer your aid.”

  She moved on to more pleasant subjects. “Sister Margaret and her helpers will put together a meal for all of us. Again, please assist her in any way that you can.”

  Finally, she turned to her own role in all of this. “I will be returning to my office to seek the guidance of the gods and to make plans for what should come next. Unless it’s an emergency, I would appreciate not being disturbed until I join you in the dining hall.”

  Thank goodness for Sister Margaret’s ability to take charge. In seconds, she’d shooed everyone out of the workroom except for Lavinia herself. When they were gone, she set the bag Duncan had given her on the table and stepped back to reset all the protective wards.

  Once their soft glow surrounded her, she spilled the talismans out on the granite tabletop. Their pulsing darkness beat at her senses, the blood magic’s filth making her feel unclean without even touching them.

  How best to destroy them? One by one or all of them at once? She suspected the release of the power her brother had fed into them would cause a backlash, weakening him at least for a short time. Would destroying them all at once cause him irreparable harm?

  What kind of person was she that she hoped it would? The answer was easy. She wanted to be the kind of person who would do whatever it t
ook to stop his attacks on the people of Agathia.

  Using the cloth bag to protect her hand from having to touch the talismans directly, she quickly laid them out in a circle on the table with the largest in the middle. When they were arranged to her liking, she raised her hands in the air, palms up and fingers spread wide.

  “Lords and ladies, guide me with your strength. Let those whose blood was spilled to form these abominations rest in peace.”

  The air around her thrummed with a pulsing power that shone brightly with a pure light, slowly consuming the darkness carried by the talismans. When all of the darkness was centered over the one in the middle, she clapped her hands as hard as she could and called on the power of the rocks and earth and air, and then invoked the secret name of the goddess.

  As the last word rang out, the smallest of Ifre’s sigils burst apart, but the black stone in the largest one continued to flash brightly. Lavinia paused to draw a deep breath and then shoved a final pulse of power into the talisman, crushing it into a fine powder. The effort left her feeling as if she’d been running a long-distance foot race.

  She waited a few seconds to make sure the talismans no longer had the ability to work their evil. When she was satisfied the danger was past, she lit a small brazier and swept the dust into it, letting the heat of the fire destroy any last connection to Ifre’s magic.

  The flames burned hot, first blue, then green, and finally a fine healthy red and orange. She waited several minutes before dousing the fire. Exhausted, her work finished, she released the wards and dimmed the mage lights in the workroom. The spells had left her tired, but she still needed to seek the guidance of the gods, and that meant scrying again.

  After filling a pitcher with fresh water at the well, she walked down the hallway, soaking in the comforting sounds of life within the abbey walls. She was relieved to see that Sister Margaret had put Sarra to work in the kitchen, keeping her busy and distracted. As Lavinia made her way through the familiar surroundings, it seemed as if she were saying good-bye to her life here at the abbey. She wasn’t sure why. Until she attempted to hear from the gods through her scrying, nothing was decided.