Fire Wolf Page 20

  “How do you know that?” Myah asked. He knew quite a bit about the negotiations for a mere soldier.

  “I …” Unease stirred in her stomach at his hesitation. “I think Phillip’s up to something.”

  “You’re either paranoid or intuitive,” Myah said. The city glowed past the tree line, across the large open fields. The torches on the wall blinked in the breeze. “How can you be sure? Phillip wouldn’t be the first diplomat to request something for himself, and he apparently wants me.”

  Garrett stopped walking and faced her. His eyes flickered to a glow. There was not any light to play off his eyes this time, and the sight unsettled her.

  “Lady Leicht—”

  A wolf howled.

  Garrett spun away from her, turning toward the sound. His arms spread wide, as if to shield her from whatever might lie in the darkness.

  Myah placed a palm on his shoulder. “Is that your friend?” she asked.

  Garrett shook his head. “Yes,” he whispered. “But something’s wrong.” He reached up and grabbed one of the swords crossing his back. Myah stepped clear as he pulled it upward, and brought it level it in front of him.

  The silence lingered four more beats of her heart.

  “Master Garrett—”

  The thrashing of the undergrowth cut Myah off. She could feel vibrations in the ground from something large. Then, a gray form emerged from the black. As it grew closer, the edges of the shadow became defined—large, the size of a bear. However, its lines were lean instead of bulky and cumbersome. When it stepped into the space between the trees, one not shadowed by the towering giants around them, the wolf’s white-gray face became clear in the blackness. Darker patches of gray framed his face and the yellow-gold eyes that had watched Myah when he came between her and Garrett in the woods.

  She gasped and clutched Garrett’s arm as the creature stopped in front of the Osten.

  “What is it?” Garrett demanded.

  ~TWENTY-THREE~

  Myah’s fear spiked at the panic in his voice. Had he just spoken to the animal? She peered around his shoulder at the beast. Its eyes glowed, dancing in shades of yellow, red, and gold, like fire—like Garrett’s eyes.

  The animal made a series of growls and whines and then tossed its head in the direction it had come from. Southeast. The river and the caves.

  “Are you certain?”

  The creature snorted and grumbled before bounding into the trees.

  “Where is your friend?” Garrett asked Myah.

  “That way.” She pointed in the direction the wolf had gone.

  Garrett pulled her through the trees—his sword braced in front of him. Her legs were barely able to keep pace as he moved. The wolf ran ahead, his paws crunching the frozen landscape.

  The roar of the river grew louder.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she demanded.

  “Do you know a man by the name of Allister Penhause?”

  “No.”

  “Lyulf’s been watching him.”

  Lyulf? “Who is Lyulf?” Myah yanked her arm free and stopped. She placed a hand on her stomach, trying to catch her breath. She was not going to run through the dark, following an Osten and a wolf, without some answers.

  Garrett spun around. “The wolf. Do you know Penhause or not?”

  “I have no idea who that is, and I’m not taking another step unless you tell me what is going on.”

  Garrett growled. “Penhause is a spellweaver. When I was with the Royal Guard—”

  “You were with the Royal Guard?”

  “Focus, Lady Leicht. When I was with the guard—as a child—Penhause served the Esparrows. He was a friend of my master, Oren Kendrick.”

  She knew of Oren Kendrick. He had served her uncle, Tristan, and he had always been kind to her on the rare occasions she and her mother had visited Oasisian. There were rumors that he was the mastermind behind one of the largest resistant groups in the four kingdoms, the one most capable of standing up to Elysia. But then, there were also rumors that Oren had died when the City of Kings fell.

  “And that’s a bad thing,” she hedged, not understanding Garrett’s concern.

  “It is when I believe he’s the reason the Ostens got into the palace the night Oasisian fell. He helped Elysia get past the city defenses and kill the Esparrows.”

  “And he’s here?” she shouted.

  “Near the river.”

  Garrett took off again.

  “Wait!” she called as he disappeared in the blackness.

  Myah muttered under her breath and followed.

  When she reached the Nordlingrace River, the shale rock slick and icy, Myah slowed her pace, searching for the Osten and the wolf. The ward cast a blue-green hue on the black water as it frothed with foam and ice. She sucked in the cool, humid air as she trekked south toward the caves, watching her footing so that she did not end up in the river. She found no sign of the Osten, but if there was trouble, she needed to get to Owl, to bring him safely into the city and away from this Penhause.

  Myah’s boots slid on the ice. Her arms flailed before she landed on the cold stone, her hip hitting hard. She sucked in a hiss of pain. Rolling into a seated position, she rubbed the sore spot before struggling back to her feet. She had not planned to spend her evening this way, she thought, then stilled.

  Hooves on wood.

  She oriented herself. The caves were a mile south still, which meant— She was near the bridge.

  A branch snapped.

  First one, then more. The rustle of movement through the forest and the whine of horses echoed the noise.

  A hand latched her bicep while another covered her mouth, stifling her shriek, and pulled her away from the embankment and into the safety of the trees.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Garrett hissed near her ear, releasing his hold on her. He pointed toward the river.

  A figure stood in the center of the bridge, arms raised. Blue magic extended from the man’s palms, mingling with the blue-green of her uncle’s. The blue peeled back the ward like a curtain, exposing a gap. Men and horses moved across the bridge.

  “He opened one of the breaks in the ward,” Myah said. She moved, determined to stop him, only for Garrett to jerk her backward.

  “Don’t. There are too many,” Garrett whispered. He gestured to the men, the army, gathering on the Nordlin side of the river. Countless horses and soldiers; wagons—pulled by oxen, carrying trebuchets. And that was just by the river. More lingered deeper in the forest, away from the river. She could hear them now—the crunch of snow, the occasional cough, the hushed laughter. Penhause had opened Nordlin to the Osten army.

  “These are the friends you were meeting?” she gritted out. Fury, raw and untamed, stirred her magic. The pink stone around her neck softly glowed.

  “No, I was meeting Lyulf. This is Penhause’s doing.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “I don’t care what you believe. Stay here and don’t let them see you,” he barked, and then let her go.

  She grabbed his arm, keeping him from leaving her again. “I have to close that gap,” Myah seethed. “I have to warn the city.”

  “Fine.” Garrett stuck his head out from their hiding spot, checking the area. “Can you hit Penhause with your bow?”

  Could she hit Penhause with her bow? Who did he think he was talking to? “Of course,” she countered, offended that he thought otherwise. “Are you going to cover me? Or should I expect your sword in my back?”

  His fire-lit eyes held hers; his features stern and unyielding. “Stay behind the trees,” he murmured. “If you run into trouble, yell for Lyulf.” He backed away from her.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “Hunting,” Garrett answered and pulled his double blades. He disappeared into a dark patch.

  Myah sucked in a breath, not believing she was actually going to trust an Osten with her life. Lords, she wished Skye and Cal were h
ere. She grabbed her bow from over her head and an arrow. She nocked the arrow and adjusted her gripped on the shaft of the weapon. She took in a breath, and then blew it out as she let the arrow fly. It soared straight toward the man on the bridge.

  It struck Penhause in the right shoulder. The blue magic flickered out as he stumbled to his knees with a shout.

  “Who shot that?” A soldier forced Penhause to his feet. “Get it open,” he demanded of the spellweaver, and then, “Someone is here. Find them!” The Osten flailed his arm as he issued orders.

  Myah drew another arrow and took aim. She had to close the opening.

  No matter what.

  She drew back the bowstring, notching her elbow down slightly, and let her magic flow from her. Bright pink lit up the night, encircling the arrow, and then soared with it when she let it fly. It cut through the air in a wave of pink magic.

  A solider crossed behind Penhause at the last moment, and the glowing arrow struck him square in the chest. He fell over the low, stone wall and hit the river with a splash.

  “There!” the commander shouted. “Get her!”

  Penhause startled at the shouting and spun around. For the first time, Myah saw his moppy gray-blond hair, willowy form, and thick glasses perched upon his nose.

  Her heart nearly stopped. “Owl?”

  Owl had betrayed them.

  ~*~

  Garrett slipped in and out of the shadows, eliminating men on the edges of the gathering army. He took them from behind, cut their throats, and then dragged them into the shelter of shadows. He worked his way along the perimeter toward the head of the invading beast. The span of soldiers trailed almost all the way back to the edge of the forest closest to the city. The lamps in the refugee camp and the torches from the walls speckled the night and illuminated the gray stone rising up to fortify the ancient city.

  Not a single Nordlin guard had spotted the monster coalescing in the night. No one suspected the Ostens were near.

  And why would they? The blue-green wards protecting the kingdom still danced in the distance, effecting a false sense of security.

  Elysia had this arranged. She had agreed to Garrett’s plan to have him in place in case Penhause could not open the ward. Only, she had not revealed her plan to him. She had not included him on her secrets.

  That could only spell trouble for him.

  Curses still on his lips, he checked on Lyulf and Myah through his connection with the wolf. It was not as strong as when he touched the wolf, but he drew enough information. She had fled, back toward the city. Lyulf followed, taking down the soldiers that pursued her. He could hear the shouting and stirring of the ranks.

  Garrett trusted the wolf to protect her.

  He kept moving, searching for the commander. Was Malcolm here somewhere? Had Elysia trusted this mission to him?

  If that snake was here, Garrett would end him before the night was over. He was finished with that reptile.

  A horse rode hard from the city gates, its rider angled low. Cloak and mane and tail trailed behind the racing equine. The rider slowed the animal as he approached the trees, and stopped when finally beneath the shelter of the spindly canopy.

  A man emerged from the milling soldiers to meet the rider. He grabbed the halter, keeping the animal from dancing about.

  “My lord,” greeted the man, possibly the commander. Broad shoulders, short hair, and he bore a long sword at his hip, the hilt peeking from the folds his cloak. Garrett couldn’t see his face, though. “My men await your orders.”

  The voice did not sound like Malcolm’s.

  “Are they in position?” The sickly sweet voice made Garrett’s stomach roll—Phillip. The rider was Phillip.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Our refugees are in place,” Phillip said through a laugh.

  Refugees? What did this have to do with the refugees from Namir? From his brief visits through the camp, it was mostly women and children and— The girl with the bright blue eyes. Lyulf had showed him the little girl. Garrett knew he had seen her before. From the village Malcolm had insisted they burn weeks ago. The man holding her, though, was a member of the Elite Guard, one of Malcolm's favorites.

  Garrett hadn’t recognized him because, like fool, he did not interact with the men often.

  Lords, he cursed. How had he missed that?

  “They are securing the city guard as we speak,” Phillip continued. “And the rest of the Elite Guard is in the castle. They will take care of the high lord and his family. Your men are free to attack.”

  ~*~

  Skye unrolled the piece of parchment and skimmed the scribbled writing on the page, before tugging the scroll into his saddlebag.

  “Are we really going to leave without saying goodbye to Myah?” Cal sat on Skye’s bed next to the leather bags.

  Skye glanced up at him, and then rolled up one of his shirts to place in the satchel. “I’m not her favorite person right now.”

  “So, you’re going to take the coward’s way out?”

  “Cal,” Skye barked. “Just let it be.”

  “Eh, sorry,” Cal said. “Can’t do that, my friend.”

  “Why is that?” Skye turned his back on Cal and went to his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of leather gloves, wool-lined, and the thicker winter trousers that serve him through the colder nights in the wilderness.

  “Because it is my duty as your oldest friend to remind you when you are being imbecilic.”

  Thwack. Skye jumped as a knife handle bounced off the wardrobe doors. He glared over his shoulder at Cal. His dominate arm was still in a sling.

  Skye limped back to the bed, the muscles in his thigh stinging with each contracted muscle. “I’m not discussing My with you, Cal.”

  “Fine,” Cal hummed. “Do you at least know where we are headed?”

  “South.”

  “Huh, anywhere specific?” Cal shoved Skye’s arm, pushing him off-balance as he tried to cram the trousers in the bag. It put more weight on his wounded leg. His wounds from his fight with the Osten had not fully healed, leaving his arm tender and his leg smarting.

  “Yes, Lord Marc has a contact in Rhine.” Rhine served as the southern-most port of the four kingdoms out of Morgensol. All the imports and exports from the southern islands, Cal’s birthplace, came through the city, which the house of Rainecourt controlled. “I have instructions on where to find him. From there, we should be able to find Oren Kendrick’s men.” Skye grabbed the bag and slung it over his good shoulder. “You ready?”

  “Always,” Cal chimed as he stood. He grabbed his bags off the bed and followed Skye into the corridor.

  The air smelled of snow and frost, cool and clean and crisp. Skye would not miss the chill of the north, but he would miss Myah, the way her kisses warmed him, the way she believed in him. For the hundredth time, he second-guessed his choice to leave, but ultimately, he believed she would be safer without him here.

  It would also give him and Cal more opportunity to end the war, to fight back in a more meaningful way.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her first?” Cal asked.

  They were in the corridor that led to her rooms. In a matter of feet, he could pull her into his arms and kiss her one last time, if she would forgive him enough over the debacle with Alena to speak with him. Alena’s kiss still clung like acid to his lips.

  “I left her a note in her room earlier. Letting her know we were leaving tonight.” He slapped Cal’s back. “Come on. Owl’s waiting for us.”

  From the windows, the glow of the city spanned out below them.

  “Skye, you seriously need—” Cal grabbed his arm. The alarm bells sounded, and it was accompanied by a secondary sound, a high-pitched whine. “Do you hear that?”

  Skye leaned out the window, searching for the source. “I don’t see—”

  A boom, like thunder, exploded in the west end, and on instinct, Skye ducked. Fire immediately bloomed in the city; black and orange plumes rose up i
nto the night.

  Cal shot off a string of curses. “What in the lords was that?”

  “We’re under attack.” The building fires illuminated the area beyond the city walls. Torches and soldiers emerged from the tree line. The blue-green wards still shone at the border. “Cal, get to my family. Get them out of Nordlin.”

  “Where are you going?” he demanded, grabbing Skye’s arm.

  “I’m going to find Myah and Lord Edgar. Just get my family out, okay? Take them south. We’ll meet up in Rhine.”

  “Yes, of course,” Cal said.

  Skye took off toward Myah’s rooms. People emerged from the bedchambers along the hallway. They converged on the windows, expelling gasps of horror and pointing out at the horizon, at the army forming outside the city.

  Skye shoved passed them.

  “Skye!”

  He slowed down and glanced back at Cal.

  “Be careful,” his friend ordered.

  “You too. I’ll see you soon.”

  Skye had to find Myah.

  ~TWENTY-FOUR~

  Your men are free to attack.”

  “No,” Myah gasped from her hiding place. She threw her hand over her mouth, trying to catch the word before it fell from her lips.

  Both men turned in her direction. Myah drew back, trying to hide further behind the tree. Her fingers curled into the bark, scratching her nails into its flesh.

  Where were Garrett and the wolf?

  “What was that?” Phillip asked. Had this been the plan all along? And Owl?

  Her mind reeled. How could Owl betray them? Had he set them up? Got their men killed? Allen?

  Allen was Owl’s closest friend.

  Hot tears started down her cheeks. She could not lose Nordlin City tonight.

  The soldier snapped his fingers, and the two men lingering closest to her position moved toward her location.

  Myah spun around, pressing her back to the trunk. She grabbed one of her arrows and gripped the shaft as tightly as she could. They would not take her tonight. She had to get back to the city. She had to warn her uncle, warn the guard. She had to get the gates closed before the army made it past the outer walls.