“Stop,” Toria ordered Fess as he pulled his sword. “You’ll only get in his way.”
“Toria Deel, there are seven of them.”
“Not anymore.” She pointed. “Look.”
Three of the soldiers were already down, and the other four were galloping away, toward Treflow. With grim efficiency, Wag ran them down from behind, leaping to take each rider from the back of his horse, his jaws crushing their throats.
She nudged her mount forward and stopped next to Fess where he stared as Wag loped back toward them. “This is why they’re the guardians of the forest,” she said, “and why Cesla’s first stroke was to kill them.”
He nodded. “Why not let him cleanse the area around the city, Lady Deel?”
“Because he’s the last of his kind,” Toria said. “And even a sentinel can be killed. We have to get Wag into Treflow. Cleansing the city is more important.”
Fess nodded. “Whoever betrayed us will have the smell of the forest on them.”
Onen’s ship slipped into the dock at Haefan’s small harbor. Because it was more of a fishing village than a trading port, their approach had been hampered by the deeper draft of their ship. The lights on the pier had barely been sufficient for them to find their way. Except for the harbormaster, the town slept, dawn still two hours distant.
“Will it work, Eldest?” Allta asked him.
It had taken them a day and a half, even with the favorable wind and an empty ship, to make the dash up the coast to Haefan. The time had given him and Elieve the opportunity to heal and gather strength. “Cesla and the Fayit intelligence within him will have no choice but to hunt for us along the routes from Cynestol. Even if he suspects we’ve taken ship to another port, he’s more likely to search for us in Loklallin or Vadras.”
Onen, lighting his way with a lantern, found them where they waited for the gangplank to be made fast. “That’s the fastest trip I’ll ever make, Master Pellin, and sure enough.”
“I hope so, Captain,” Pellin said. “There’s usually not much money to be made sailing empty.”
“True enough, that,” Onen said, “but it’s a thrill I wouldn’t have missed, racing across the sea that way.” He stuck out his hand. “Fair winds to you.”
“And you, Captain,” Pellin said. “Find whatever cargo you can and make for the southern continent.”
The light of Onen’s lantern cast the planes of his face in stark relief. “For how long?”
Pellin smiled. “You’ll know when it’s safe.”
Allta left to fetch Elieve and Mark, and they spent the time until dawn combing the town of Haefan for horses and supplies. By the time the sun crested the horizon, they were riding across the moors of southern Moorclaire.
Chapter 64
Two days after our conversation with Rymark, we came in sight of columns of thick black smoke that marked Treflow like a pyre. We crawled up the backside of a low hill and looked down on a city under siege. Treflow sat at the junction where the Darkwater River split into branches that flowed south, southwest, and southeast. The wall of the city encompassed the junction. Around the perimeter, a thick cordon of men and women in both soldiers garb and civilian clothes guarded every bit of land. Even more were concentrated on the roads going in and out.
“How come they’re not attacking?” Rory asked.
I knew and felt my stomach drop toward my legs. “Why attack during the day when you have the advantage in the dark? They can see better and fight almost as well as the gifted.”
“If Rymark has the advantage during the day, why doesn’t he come out and attack?”
“I can think of a couple of reasons,” I said.
“And neither of them good,” Bolt added.
“Rymark’s forces are so depleted he should have retreated,” I said. “He’s waited for us.”
“Oh,” Rory said in a small voice.
“How are we going to get into the city?” Erendella asked.
Bolt sighed and then turned to look at me. “You’re really not going to like this.”
I swallowed against a knot of panic in my throat. “I bet it has something to do with swimming.”
“Why is that a problem?” Mirren asked.
“He doesn’t swim so well,” Rory said.
She frowned. “Doesn’t Bunard straddle the banks of a big river?”
Rory nodded. “Oh yes. There’s water everywhere.”
She shook her head. “How can someone—”
“Stop,” I said. “Just stop. We can’t swim into the city anyway. They’ll spot us from the banks and fill us with arrows.” I looked at Bolt, expecting agreement. He disappointed me.
“I said you weren’t going to like it,” he said. “They’re not going to see us.”
I pointed to everyone in our group and then myself. Holding up seven fingers, I said, “They can’t help but see us.”
“Not if we go in at night.”
We traveled north until we were miles from the main siege and the heavy patrols of those who belonged to Cesla in both daylight and darkness. A few hours before sunset we found a burned-out farmstead and set our horses loose in the pasture. The ruins of the house and the barn we avoided entirely. I tried to keep from imagining unseen eyes watching us from their shadows as we made our way to an isolated copse of trees by the river.
Bolt nodded in satisfaction. “We’ll wait here until dark.”
Gael’s hand clamped on my arm, and I followed her point to the leafy canopy. The trees and river spun as I tried to draw breath. “Aer help us,” I breathed, searching for some prayer in the liturgy for the hopeless. “Bolt.”
Everyone turned to look first at me, then at the black-spotted leaves overhead. “It’s here,” I said. “The Darkwater is here.”
“Stop staring and move,” Bolt ordered.
“What do we do?” Erendella asked.
My guard looked at her, his face devoid of expression. “The basics,” Bolt said. “We don’t let the sun set on us while we’re in the Darkwater.” He turned and led us south along the bank of the river, but I
