Chapter 35
Malachi awoke to find that he lay in the spare bed, alone. He lay still for a moment, fighting with confusing chunks of memory that told him a little less than nothing. Something had happened. He wouldn't be in bed otherwise. But the details were lost, mixed up in what was left of the soup of his mind.
His stomach growled. At least that part of his body seemed to be working right.
When he climbed out of bed, he almost fell, his legs wobbling when he tried to stand. He made it as far as the door before sagging against it and closing his eyes.
Wasn't there a better way to do this? Couldn't he call his Master through the bond they shared?
The bond that was gone?
He had not noticed its absence until now.
Someone died, his memory supplied, a quiet little voice in the back of his mind. You almost died. You probably shouldn't be out of bed.
But he was too hungry to lie in bed and wait for someone to appear.
No one met him when he walked down the hall to the kitchen. Emle's pot of stew had been put away, but it only took a moment--well, more than a moment, since he had to stop and rest after each step--to warm up a bowl.
Part of his mind wondered where the others were. But the largest part of his mind was only concerned about the food, and the fact that some of the fog began to seep away once he had remembered how to use a spoon.
It was difficult to eat and keep his eyes open at the same time, however. And the kitchen wasn't as warm as the bedroom. He shivered.
"If you were hungry, all you had to do was ask." Gabriel's voice was more relieved than angry. "I left you alone for five minutes."
The spoon dropped from Malachi's fingers. "I am--"
"Don't apologize," Gabriel said. "You've done nothing wrong." With exaggerated care, he picked up the spoon, wiped it off, and placed it next to Malachi's bowl. "Would you like something to drink as well? Tea? Something else?"
"What happened?" Malachi asked. His mind refused to obey his demand for knowledge. "I feel strange."
"You should be in bed," Gabriel said. "You are not yet fully healed."
"I--" Malachi closed his eyes. He didn't realize his head had fallen forward until his Master gently lifted him up. "I'm so tired."
"Then rest," Gabriel said. "I'll help you back to your bed."
"No." Malachi couldn't find enough strength to open his eyes, but he realized--somewhere deep down inside--that he needed food. For whatever reason, he had to eat. "I--I need to eat."
"Then let me help you," Gabriel said.
He vanished for a moment, and Malachi almost fell asleep with his head pillowed in his arms. The gnawing hunger in his stomach would not let him rest, though, and he pried his eyes open long enough to accept a mug of piping hot broth--a much easier meal than the stew. The warmth of the mug seeped through his hands as he raised it to his lips.
When his strength failed, his Master's hand caught the mug and tipped it up again so he could drink.
And slowly, some of the desperate hunger faded.
He drank another batch before he felt strong enough to hold the mug again. "The bond is gone between us." He shivered, only now realizing what that meant. "Who--"
"I don't know," Gabriel said. "Not yet, at least. There are three Hounds missing, and one is dead."
"Josiah--"
"Seth, and Nathaniel." Gabriel glanced towards the kitchen door. "Thomas and Zechariah are in the cave on duty. Sennet is still here--she's sleeping in the other bedroom. I told her I would watch over you."
"I--I was--attacked," Malachi whispered. That felt right, at least.
"Yes. By Stefan's Hounds, as far as I can tell." Gabriel studied him. "Do you remember anything at all?"
Malachi frowned and closed his eyes. His memories were still in pieces, but some of something had fallen into place. "I remember--" His mind obediently supplied a piece of memory. "Althea's truthspell. She wanted to know if Lucas knew we could shift shape."
”Althea?" Gabriel asked.
For a moment, Malachi couldn't even remember what he had said. "My lord?"
Gabriel stood. "You said--You said that Althea cast a truthspell and wanted to know if Lucas--"
"Knew we could shift shape." Malachi rubbed his throat. "Yes."
"Althea was there?"
"With Magdalen and Stefan," Malachi whispered, trembling as the memories swam to the forefront of his mind.
"Althea Dunning," Gabriel stressed. "A member of the Council."
"Yes. I--I did not expect to see her there." Malachi closed his eyes. "I tried not to answer their questions, my lord--"
Gabriel's fury washed over him like a wave of boiling lava. Malachi shrank back into his chair even as he realized that none of his Master's anger had anything to do with him.
"My lord, please--" He did not have enough strength to defend himself from his Master's anger.
"I sent Emle and Eri with Lucas," Gabriel whispered. "Thinking they would be safe." He stared down at Malachi. "Is there more? Was Lucas there?"
"No," Malachi whispered. "And I would swear to that. Lucas is no traitor."
"But Althea is." Gabriel closed his eyes, but only for a moment. "Would you--Are you strong enough to tell this to Lucas?"
"I do not know much else," Malachi whispered. "Only that she was there--the first time. Not the second." He hesitated. Was he strong enough to walk to Lucas' house? "I don't know if I can make it, but I am willing to try, my lord."
"If Althea discovers that Emle is in Lucas' house--" Gabriel stopped then, staring blankly, as if he, too, had lost his mind. "Oh, Josiah."
"Not dead--" Malachi whispered, and watched his Master's face blur through sudden tears.
"Why would they leave him alive?" Gabriel asked. "For ten years? Why?"
"But we felt--"
"This is worse than I thought," Gabriel said. "Much worse." He hesitated, as if unsure whether or not to share his revelations with Malachi. "Do you remember what happened right before Josiah vanished?"
"He was chosen to be tutored by Lucas Lane," Malachi whispered. He could remember that just fine.
"Lucas had to take a name off his list before he could add Josiah's name to it," Gabriel said. "I thought nothing of it, in truth. I truly did not suspect."
"Whose name was taken off the list?" Malachi asked, even as he suspected he already knew the answer. "Althea's?"
"Yes," Gabriel said. "Whatever she did--whatever she agreed to do--" He paused. "No. More like whatever Magdalen gave her--I felt Josiah in Faerie, somewhere--"
"Lucas needs to know this," Malachi whispered. "And I am well enough for travel." He braced himself, then slowly stood. This time, at least, he managed to stay on his feet without swaying.
"I am not sure of that," Gabriel said. "But you are correct. Lucas needs to know."
"What does Lucas need to know?" Sennet asked from the doorway. "I looked in on Malachi, but I got a little worried when you weren't in your bed."
"I was hungry," Malachi said. "Did I thank you for healing me?"
"Seeing you standing there is thanks enough," Sennet replied. "What happened?"
"There is a traitor in the Council," Gabriel said. "And that is what Lucas needs to know."
"And you intend to take Malachi with you?" Sennet frowned. "He shouldn't be out of bed, Gabriel."
"He got out of bed himself," Gabriel replied. "And yes. Malachi is my proof. Lucas will be able to tell who cast the first truthspell."
Malachi shivered. "Will he--will he have to cast another one to tell that I am telling the truth?" The thought was almost too much for him to bear.
Gabriel must have seen something on his face, because he gathered Malachi up into his arms before replying. "No. I won't allow it. Even if he doesn't believe you," he said when Malachi would have asked.
Malachi nodded and closed his eyes. He let his head fall against his Master's chest. For the first time since he awoke, he felt--almost--safe.
"He really isn't well enough to travel anywhere," Sennet murmured.
With an effort, Malachi roused himself, pushing the weariness away. "I will live."
Sennet smiled. "I daresay you will. I can stay here with the others if you wish."
"That may be for the best," Gabriel said. "If Nathaniel returns--or Seth--"
Or Josiah, Malachi wanted to say, but he held his tongue.
"I will find a way to contact you," Sennet said. "At the very least, I can contact Lucas."
"Thank you," Gabriel whispered. "Truly, I cannot repay you for what you have done."
"Go." Sennet briefly touched Malachi's shoulder, feeding in a bit of strength to help him on the journey. "And be careful. I don't need any more business tonight."
"It is not far to Lucas' house," Gabriel said. "Malachi? Are you ready?"
"Yes." He would make it to Lucas' house. But after that--
"Then let's go, before something happens and we are too late."
Chapter 36
The door at the top of the stairs opened at Kyren's touch, but he could see nothing beyond it. For a moment, he stood there, trying to force his eyes to adjust, but then he realized that this absolute darkness was not a natural occurrence.
How cruel was it to keep a young child bound and locked in a closet with no way to shout for help and under a spell of darkness?
And yet he did not dare banish that spell. Not yet, at least. Magdalen might not notice the destruction of a small spell like the gag, but she would notice something like this.
Blind, Kyren knelt in the doorway. "Child? Are you here?"
Something shifted against the far wall, a small, furtive movement as quiet as a mouse.
"I am not here to harm you," Kyren whispered. "I saw you--when the Hound died. My name is Kyren."
Before he could continue, the closet door opened--a heartbreaking glimpse of Beth's room before Magdalen hauled the boy out and closed the door again. Kyren stayed stock-still, unable to believe that she hadn't noticed his presence. He had no wild chameleon talent that allowed him to blend in.
Had they discovered his absence already? Was Magdalen intending to try to force the boy to find him somehow?
Or worse?
He heard murmured voices, and then the sound of a slap against flesh. The boy made no protest until Magdalen removed the gag--he was crying by then, and only sobbed for a long moment as Kyren inched closer to the door to listen.
"She wants to betray me, doesn't she?" Magdalen hissed, her voice carrying enough for Kyren to hear her clearly.
"I--I don't know!" The boy's voice rose. "I didn't know she was here--"
She who? Kyren wondered. Althea? He shrank back as the door opened again, but Magdalen only shoved the boy inside. Perhaps--and this was almost too much to hope for--she couldn't see past her spell of darkness either.
The boy wriggled to the opposite side of the closet--as far away from the door as he could get--then whispered, "Are you still there?"
Kyren reached out in the darkness and found the boy's bound legs. "What is your name?"
"J-Jordan." His voice hitched. "I saw you too--when the Hound died."
"Why is Magdalen keeping you here?" Kyren worked at the knots on the ropes that bound him, wishing he had more talent so he could magic them away.
As soon as his arms were free, Jordan tried to help, but every movement sent him hissing in pain as the circulation returned to his arms and legs.
"I--" He was crying again, silently, but Kyren could hear the tears in his voice. "I have a wild talent."
"That is no reason to keep you locked in a closet," Kyren said.
"I can read minds." Jordan rubbed his arms and flexed his fingers with Kyren's help. "Human minds. Not yours."
"You were wounded, before," Kyren said, storing this information away for later. "I have no healing talent, but if I can get us past Magdalen's spell, are you strong enough to run through the forest?" He didn't dare travel through Faerie, not so close to the house. That meant--That meant he would have to find another place for sanctuary. "Do you know where the Healer Sennet lives?"
"Yes." For the first time, Jordan's voice held a thread of hope. "I know where her house is. I've seen it before."
"Can you find it in the dark?" Kyren asked.
A damp, fetid stench rose up from the basement--the spell had slipped again, and the water had returned. Quickly, before it vanished, Kyren tugged the boy up, half-carrying him to the top of the stairs.
"The house you see is a spell," he said. "Can you swim?"
"I don't know," Jordan whispered, staring down at the lapping water. It wasn't very far up the stairs, but a strange luminescence had appeared--moonlight?--that reflected off the dark water below.
"The true house has burned," Kyren said. "Magdalen's spell slips from time to time. If we--if we find a place in the water, we may be able to escape." He would figure out how to escape from the drowned basement later. He could not whistle a tune for both of them, and he refused to even consider leaving the boy behind. "It may be our only chance."
In the dim light, the boy's face was gray, the patch over his eye hanging askew. "Then I will try to swim," he whispered, and shivered.
On that note, Kyren helped him down the stairs. As before, the water was full of debris--but a coating of slime covered everything now, and Kyren bared his teeth as he waded through it. Jordan's breath escaped his clenched teeth in a steady whine, but he made no true protest; he seemed to realize that this was their only hope for freedom.
The water kept rising, knee-high at first, chest-high as they reached the center of the room where the furniture moldered in the dampness. Kyren lifted Jordan up onto a pile of wood--it would not do as a perch if the water reached the ceiling, but they could try to swim then, at least.
The stars appeared again--and the moon, shining down into the hole that had once been a floor.
"Can we climb out?" Jordan asked, shivering as he stared up at freedom.
"I don't know." Kyren had intended to stay in the basement and wait until the spell stopped struggling, but it made sense to try their escape now. The stairs were gone--only jagged hunks of charred wood remained. But surely they could climb up onto a pile of debris--
Jordan had already begun to climb. Kyren followed him more slowly, trying to ignore the splinters that snagged his skin, or the slippery rot that already covered the remains of Jacob Daulton's house.
Jordan slid once--at the very top--and lost his eyepatch. His ruined eye was scar tissue, nothing more, but the moonlight cast shadows across his face that showed the track of his tears.
Kyren hauled him to his feet and held him for a moment until his shivering subsided. "Who did that to you?"
"My--My father," Jordan whispered. "He--He thought my talent would fade if I couldn't see." He pushed away from Kyren's grasp and stumbled across the field of destruction, intent on the forest--and freedom.
At the very edge of Magdalen's dampening spell, Kyren tripped over something and lost his balance. When he fell, he twisted his ankle and heard something pop--the pain left him breathless, unable to call out to Jordan to wait.
As Kyren watched, a shadow detached itself from the forest and approached the boy. At first, Jordan tried to run, but the shadow spoke--and whatever it said must have made sense, because Jordan turned and pointed back to the ruined house.
Another shadow joined the first. And then a third--clearly this was not some force of Magdalen's, but someone else's scouts watching the perimeter.
Had Amalea left them there?
Kyren crawled forward, sinking in ash, tearing his hands and his clothes on melted glass and chunks of wood.
He managed to stand just as someone's hand appeared in his line of sight to help him up.
"We thought you were dead."
Kyren knew the girl by sight, but not her name. "I thought I was dead," he said. "Is Jordan--"
"He'll be fine." The girl hesitated. "We can't bring him back to the castle, you realize. Amalea said nothing about a human child."
"Do you know where the Healer Sennet lives?" Kyren asked, grateful for her assistance as he limped across the grass to where Jordan waited with the others. "We'll go there. I think--I think it would be best if I don't go back to the castle just yet."
"We will loan you a horse, then," the scout said. Kyren knew she wouldn't argue with him--in the peculiar hierarchy of the elves, he outranked her by blood alone.
"Thank you." He hesitated. "I am sorry; I know I've seen you before. I do not remember your name."
"My name is Iria," the girl said, and smiled at him. "It was--It was good of you to save the boy, Kyren."
Kyren closed his eyes and leaned back against the nearest tree. "It was the only thing I could have done," he whispered.
Iria touched his arm a moment later, and he opened his eyes to find that she had brought him a horse--a stately steed of elvish stock, as gray as ash. It knelt so he could mount--and even that was almost beyond his strength.
Jordan climbed up behind him. "We are going to Sennet's house?"
"Yes." Kyren waited until the other two scouts had melted away before addressing Iria again. "I owe you my thanks for the horse," he said. "And the aid." And then, because he had forgotten, he asked, "Where is Amalea?"
"She went back to the castle," Iria said. "But she is not there now. The last time I spoke with her, she was on her way to deliver Josiah to his Master."
From the way she said that, Kyren doubted Amalea had told her scouts of Josiah's origins.
"I thought Josiah disappeared," Jordan whispered at his back.
"Yes, but we found him again," Kyren said, keeping his voice low, just in case the scouts were listening. "And I know where Amalea is headed."
"Where?"
"To the Hunt's lair." Kyren closed his eyes for a moment and tried to decide if he had enough courage to go there instead of the Healer's house. He had Jordan to think of now, after all, and he did not want to frighten the boy.
"Josiah is a Hound?" Jordan asked.
"Yes." Kyren tried to flex his foot to work out the sprain, but it throbbed in time with his heartbeat, drowning out everything else.
It would take them all night to reach the Hunt's lair at this pace. Perhaps that was a good thing.
"Are we going to the Hunt's lair, then?" Jordan asked.
"I think we should." Kyren whispered the new instructions into the horse's ear. Then he settled back, closed his eyes, and tried to conserve his strength for the battle ahead.
(Next Update: October 12th)
House St. Clair Home
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