Chapter 2
Chapter 2
A densely muscled arm slipped around his neck, and its mate secured itself around his waist. The two limbs crushed Sarn against a barrel chest. Where had that guy come from
?
Sarn cursed himself for not paying more attention to the corridor behind him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Gregori enunciated each word as if he spoke to an idiot.
But Sarn couldn’t drag in enough air to reply. His sight dimmed, and his knees jellied as he struggled to regain his footing. Before everything blackened, Gregori let go. Sweet air tinged with sweat and a hint of body odor flowed in as the darkness rolled back, releasing Sarn. Thank Fate for that.
Sarn blinked at the older and much stronger Ranger as he rubbed his neck. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what had just happened. The Rangers played rough, but not like this. Unless this was a lesson of some sort, but what was the lesson?
“Oh, stop it. I didn’t squeeze you that hard, and besides, you aren’t that fragile.” Gregori rolled his eyes heavenward.
Yeah right, but Sarn bit his lip to keep his acerbic comments to himself. He staggered until a ham-sized fist forced him to sit on a nearby bench. Uh-oh, Gregori’s angry eyes had zeroed in on a purpling bruise, not good.
“Who did that to you?” Gregori clenched his fists. The sight offended him.
Sarn righted his hood, so it covered the bruise in question and stood up. Indentured men had no rights. So what if a bunch of fools had jumped him? Complications made it better for all if Sarn kept his mouth shut. Besides, the incident had happened fifteen hours ago and had no bearing on the Ranger now glaring holes in his back. Maybe Gregori cared. What a frightening thought.
“Who hit you?” Gregori demanded.
Can’t have the Lord of the Mountain’s property damaged, oh no. Sarn swallowed the truth before it could pop out of his mouth. The truth had a nasty habit of doing that because his magic didn’t allow him to lie. But his situation was far better than most, so Sarn kept his mouth shut. He was managing just fine without interference, thank you very much. Still, he had to give the lout something—any explanation would do as long as it was true.
Gregori snapped his sausage fingers in front of Sarn’s face, dragging him back to the problem at hand. “Pay attention, boy. I asked you a question, and you’re supposed to answer it, not stand there like a fool woolgathering.” Gregori hardened his glare.
Sarn couldn’t slip out of this one. Damn. He had to say something, preferably something that wasn’t too damning, but nothing sprang to mind except the truth. Sarn studied the carvings under his boots. A long-vanished race had chiseled a seething mass of insects into the rock, but they didn’t offer any answers.
The wind tugged his green ankle-length cloak again, pulling Sarn toward the balustrade and the distant forest, and he walked toward that sweeping view while searching for something to say. He suppressed a shudder as he approached the decorative railing. From the other side of the meadow, the enchanted forest watched Sarn.
A voice whispered the same five syllables as before, "eam’meye erator." Was it a warning?
Jump
, urged his magic, sounding all too real as it repeated that word.
Jump. Jump. Jump.
“Why?” Sarn asked. “Why do you want me to jump?” But once thought, the idea wouldn’t go away. Why not jump for it? Sarn set his hands on the waist-high balustrade. All he had to do was throw his legs over the side and let go.
Why not jump? The ground was far away, but he was standing on the side of a mountain, and the balcony on the level below this one wasn’t far at all—perhaps forty feet at the most. Why shouldn’t he jump? Down was where he needed to go. Sarn felt the invisible pull of his master for the night, Nolo. He must go to him.
Jump. We’ll catch you if you fall
, his magic whispered in his ear.
Yes, it would do that. It always had in the past. The temptation was almost too much to bear. Sarn leaned out over the railing, craving that moment of total freedom in the fall, but it never came.
Gregori seized his arm and yanked Sarn away from the balustrade and temptation. “What the hell is wrong with you? First, you go all silent and brooding on me like a recalcitrant child, then you spout nonsense, and for Fate’s sake, are you trying to fall?” Gregori spun Sarn around to face him. The Ranger was red-faced and screaming now.
“Maybe I should have let you crack your foolish head open. The fall might have knocked some sense into you because nothing else has.” Gregori paused for breath and shook his head. His anger had abated as suddenly as it had come on. “I’ll only ask this once more. What the hell is going on with you?” His dark eyes bored into Sarn, leaving nowhere to hide. But Gregori had asked a valid question.
Unfortunately, it was the one question Sarn couldn’t answer truthfully, or he’d lose custody of his son. Which left Sarn with a dilemma because he had to say something. Gregori couldn’t let this go. It had gone too far now.
The wind died, and so too did the strange spell that had overtaken Sarn. He no longer felt like jumping. Sarn turned away from the hard eyes boring into him. What the hell had he just been thinking? Now that he was free of his magic’s mad mutterings, Sarn stood there, dazed, confused, and unable to form a reply. What could he say that Gregori would believe, let alone understand? Nothing, because the big lug didn’t share his body with a power that wanted him to use it as often as possible.
Gregori took his silence the wrong way, as usual. “Look, Kid—”
“I’m not a kid anymore.” Sarn folded his arms over his chest until Gregori seized his shoulder and shook him.
“You can tell me what’s going on, or you can tell Jerlo, but you’re telling someone. Do you hear me, boy?” The fortyish bruiser looked ready to plant himself in front of something in need of guarding. But nothing on the balcony required such protection.
“I turned twenty last November. I’m not a child.” Sarn clenched his hands into tight fists.
“Then don’t act like one.” Gregori shook him one last time to make his point.
Sarn rolled his glowing eyes skyward. But there was no help from that quarter, just the first stars of the night. A unicorn statue with a broken horn gave him the stink eye as Gregori spun on his heel and headed for the arch, marking the entrance to the arcade that ran along the balcony. Even the statuary had an opinion tonight.
“Bind your eyes, so you don’t cause a panic, and let’s go. They’re looking for you.” Gregori fished a blindfold out of his pocket and thrust it at him.
Sarn took it with nerveless fingers. “Who’s looking for me?”
“Don’t be an idiot. You know who.” Gregori looked to the sky for patience, but it didn’t seem to help him.
When Sarn continued to stand there, the big Ranger grabbed the blindfold and covered his eyes with it. After that humiliating experience, his muscular hand landed on Sarn’s arm again.
He doesn't trust me to follow him. He acts like I have a choice in the matter.
Sarn seethed, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
Tonight was off to a fine start, and Sarn hadn’t even started work yet. He suppressed a sigh of frustration. Things could only get worse from here. Gregori’s heavy boots beat a metronome of doom as he towed Sarn toward the trouble his magic had sensed.
Gregori was a man on a mission. Sarn wished he wasn’t part of that mission, but he was, so he plodded along next to the Ranger when traffic allowed and tried not to step on his heels when it didn’t. All the while, Gregori maintained his death-grip on him. Sarn felt like a rag doll as the big lug dragged him through the evening crowd. Everyone headed somewhere tonight.
“Let go of me,” Sarn said for the fifth time since they’d left the balcony. “I’ll follow you on my own.” If his magic complied. It was a sullen green star parked in front of his eyes. His magic extruded green rays and poked at the blindfold, cutting it off from the world.
Sarn tried to ignore it, but it was hard to ignore all that green light right in front of his face. With the blindfold on, it had no choice but to shine back into him through his eyes, and that wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Heat felt like it was building up under the blindfold, and it might be. A strong enough light could heat an object. Could the light his magic produced cook his eyes in their sockets?
His magic stopped testing the blindfold, but it didn’t answer his question. Maybe he should stop thinking about such things and hurry Gregori along.
“Just keep walking,” Gregori said finally, startling Sarn out of his thoughts. He’d forgotten he’d even asked the man a question.
But Gregori was still angry at Sarn for not answering his questions. He tightened his grip on Sarn and increased his already relentless pace, but Sarn had no trouble matching it since he was two inches taller than big, brawny Gregori, who plowed through the crowd as if he had every right to.
But people didn’t get out of Gregori’s way. Didn’t they sense the man’s restrained fury? It was dying to break free, and Sarn was its target since he’d pissed the Ranger off.
Too bad Gregori didn’t have any magic to part the crowd. Sarn did, but his magic had no interest in the people in their way. Its sole focus right now was the blindfold. His magic hated confinement, but it was all too happy to dwell within him if it could look out at the world around him. “Stop that,” Sarn muttered under his breath as his magic stabbed the blindfold with another green ray.
“Stop what?” Gregori probably hadn’t meant to swing Sarn into a hapless passerby. But the poor sap collided with him anyway, striking Sarn right in the chest with something hard—possibly the poor guy’s head.
“Watch where you’re going, you big—oh,” the irate fellow broke off when he saw the blindfold. He stepped aside.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t see you. Otherwise, I’d have steered the Kid around you,” Gregori said to the man as he dragged Sarn away.
The Rangers never used his name in public if they could avoid it. Hence the whole ‘Kid’ thing. Sarn knew he should let it go, but he just couldn’t. At fifteen, it was fine, but he was a man now. “I’m not a kid.”
“You’re whatever I say you are. Now, let’s go. We’ve got somewhere to be, and for Fate’s sake, try not to run into anything or anyone else.”
“How can I do that when I can’t see a bloody thing?” But that wasn’t true. Sarn had other ways of seeing. They just weren’t working because his magic had quit paying attention to anything except the blindfold.
Will you stop poking it and help me?
Sarn directed that thought at his magic as something caught his foot. He fell forward, but Gregori yanked him backward, and he didn’t fall flat on his face.
“What is wrong with you?” Gregori leaned in close for a face-to-face chat. His breath reeked of onions. “Can’t you walk five feet without falling? This isn’t the first time you’ve come through here. Use your mind for something.” Gregori tapped the spot between Sarn’s eyes with a thick finger, then set off at a brisk pace. But he was right.
Sarn had an extra set of senses thanks to his magic, and Gregori had just told him to use them. If only it were that easy. Sarn squelched the part of his mind that counted the number of times he’d taken this crowded corridor. He didn’t need to know. “I’m trying.”
“Don’t try. Just do it.”
Because time was running out. Gregori didn’t have to say it. Sarn felt time sliding away from him as he stumbled again over something in his path. But he didn’t know what he was hurrying toward.
Hurry, hurry. No time to tarry. No time to talk. Hurry, hurry, time seemed to say. Though Sarn was probably imagining that to explain the terrible urgency that had gripped him.
Time beat a metronome on his skull, counting down the seconds until the bells of Mount Eredren would speak the hour, declaring him late.
But I’m never late,
a small voice whispered inside Sarn. Belatedly, he realized it was his voice shrinking in fear at the very notion.
“No, don’t ring. Don’t ring.” Sarn broke into a run and pulled a spluttering Gregori in his wake. Somehow, that burly Ranger avoided running into people.
“What the devil’s gotten into you, boy?” Gregori must have clipped a passing woman because she shouted curses at him.
Not good, not good at all, but Sarn couldn’t slow down. Time wasn’t on his side. If only he could clear a path through this crowd. The thought summoned his magic, and it pushed out of him as he ran, encasing Sarn in a bubble of green light only he could see. As that luminous bubble swelled, it pushed the people he was hurtling toward aside.
Sarn could see them now. A sea of amber people icons parted on the map unfolding inside his mind. If they ever discovered what he was, they’d kill him. But Sarn ignored that for now. If his glowing-green eyes stayed covered, his secret was safe and so was he.
A bell tolled twenty times, startling Sarn out of his reverie, and he tripped over something—a dropped parcel maybe as his head map vanished suddenly, leaving just the usual glow of his magic behind. “No, no, no, I’m never late.” Sarn shook his head to negate that as the echoes of those bells faded away. Sure, he’d come close many times, but Sarn had never been late. Not that he could remember anyway, but his memory was full of holes.
“There’s a first time for everything, Kid.” Gregori squeezed the arm he was still holding. His hand was long enough to encircle Sarn’s wrist like a fleshy manacle. “Now, put it away before it shines through the blindfold.”
Gregori meant his magic, of course. All the Rangers avoided using that dreaded m-word whenever Sarn was within earshot. “But I’m never late. I can't be. My magic doesn’t allow it,” Sarn protested.
“Don’t say it. Don’t say that word.” Gregori shook his arm in case his words hadn't gotten through. “Keep walking. Nolo’s waiting for you.” Gregori took the lead as the crowd filled the corridor again.
“But—” Sarn felt like a fool for repeating the same thing. Lateness was a whipping offense, and the promises he’d sworn would punish him for disobeying a direct order. But they weren’t.
Did being in Gregori’s custody count as ‘on time?’ To his magic, which enforced his oath to serve the Rangers, it must because that oath lay quietly inside him. “Am I on time? I’m with you, and you’re a Ranger.”
“How should I know? I’m just supposed to fetch you,” Gregori said as they shuffled forward only to stop because the crowd had. That wasn’t encouraging. “Make way. Rangers on an errand. That’s right. Make a hole. We’ve got important business to attend to.”
People must have stepped aside at Gregori’s request because the barrel-chested Ranger strode more quickly toward his goal, pulling Sarn along in his wake, hopefully not toward a whipping.
If that muscle-bound Ranger vouched for him, then maybe he’d get away with just a warning. Sarn chewed the inside of his cheek as he considered his chances of that happening. Given the man’s current attitude, Gregori probably wouldn’t vouch for him. Damn.
Sarn picked up the pace. They needed a faster route, and his head map usually had one. Sarn yanked it into view, and his map routed him around the statues directly in front of him.
Thanks for that
. Sarn sent that thought to his magic. But it didn’t reply, it was too busy probing the blindfold for a way out until a snatch of conversation caught its attention.
“They’re moving around,” a man said in awe, but he wasn’t Gregori.
“Who’s moving around?” Sarn turned toward the voice. It was an amber man-shaped icon on his map, but Gregori dragged him away.
“They’re not letting anyone through—” another man said as they passed him. He sounded deeply concerned and a little scared, but scared of what?
“It just isn’t natural—” another passerby added in that ‘what are you going to do’ tone everyone adopted when something weird happened.
Sarn almost stopped in his tracks again. His magic had made a similar claim right before Gregori had shown up. But Gregori just kept cutting through the crowd, putting his height to excellent use, and Sarn had no choice but to follow. They were both well over six feet tall, and their long strides soon left the crowd far behind.
But those snatches of conversation stayed with Sarn as he veered around another statue, his magic helpfully pointed out on his head map. What exactly had he overheard? Enough to prove what he’d sensed earlier wasn’t a fluke. Something was going on, and the Rangers must be hip-deep in it. No wonder Gregori was so short with him.
“What were they talking about?” Sarn asked. Perhaps he could goad Gregori into talking. That muscular Ranger couldn’t stay silent for long. Gregori would burst if he didn’t talk to someone.
“Never you mind,” Gregori said.
The ground vanished under Sarn’s feet, but he’d expected that. Thank Fate for his head map. Without it, Sarn would have tumbled down into the bowels of the mountain instead of stepping lightly onto the first itty-bitty step. Sarn touched the wall enclosing the staircase to steady himself because there was no railing. Information kept pouring into his skull. It boiled over onto his map and updated it while Sarn reeled from the sudden deluge.
“Stop that. I don’t care if you found an interesting frieze to investigate. Show me the damned steps, so I don’t fall,” Sarn whispered to his magic. He didn’t care if Gregori heard him. His head was too full of information. Sarn couldn’t focus on anything else.
He needed to concentrate. These steps were smaller than his feet. One misstep could send Sarn hurtling down into the bowels of the mountain if he wasn’t careful, especially since he couldn’t see them. His map wasn’t helping either. It careened wildly as each additional detail appeared on it.
Sarn had caged his magic for too long. It spread through the stairwell until a familiar archer icon appeared below, promising answers, which Sarn probably wouldn’t get because the Rangers never told him anything unless they had to. Maybe they’d have to tonight. It felt different from other nights and more sinister, but Sarn might have imagined that because he wanted things to change.
Then there was no more time for such woolgathering. His magic focused on the staircase, and Sarn rushed down them to the next landing, taking them three at a time before his magic looked at something else.
Sarn had a feeling nothing good awaited him as Gregori fiddled with the catch to a secret door, but Sarn couldn’t turn back now. He’d given his word five summers ago, and there was no taking it back. A promise was a promise and never mind the consequences. His nights belonged to the Rangers. He must do whatever they told him to do. But Sarn had an awful feeling about tonight that he just couldn’t shake as the mechanism that operated the secret door made a grinding sound.
Just when the echoes of metal rubbing on metal became unbearable, they stopped. Fresh air flowed into the dank stairwell laden with pollen and a hint of something darker, lending the night an ominous tone. Sarn hoped he’d imagined that as a hand landed on his shoulder and pushed. But he didn’t think so. The night felt wrong in some undefinable way.