Arine's Sanctuary (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

            
 
L
ogan watched Arine walk into the room. This meant so much to her. If only he could be there with her. But she had to meet Ian alone. There’d be time for him to get to know her brother on the way home.

              “Come on, Logan. They’re leaving us behind.” Cavon’s voice pulled his attention away from the closed door. “Stop thinking about your fiancée and let’s go.”

              He felt his face heat up. They’d shared the news with Mestra and Cavon that morning. But it was still new, strange to hear. “Yeah, I know.” He turned and followed his friend towards an open door.

              Bright sunlight bathed the courtyard. Sabine waited for them, but not patiently. “Keep up. Arine’s only got an hour in there and I’ve got to get things ready for after you leave. There’s an expectation of hosting during a celebration of this magnitude that I can’t hide from.” She walked briskly over to a tall gate to the right of the house. Unlocking it, she spoke quietly, “Stay close while we’re in the market. You can look around, but I can’t guarantee your safety if you wander too far. This is one of the better ones, but it can be rough some days.”

              Logan glanced over at Cavon, puzzled. “Rough?”

              Sabine turned to face them as she pulled the gate open. “Let’s just say that the women around here appreciate boys and aren’t shy about expressing it.” She walked through the portal, not bothering to look back to make sure they followed.

              Unlike when they’d arrived the day before, the market was in full swing. Dozens of stalls crowded next to each other, doing their best to tempt customers to come buy their wares. Vibrant bolts of cloth were displayed alongside exotic fruits that Logan couldn’t put a name to.

              “Hey, it’s a chandler. You should go talk shop.” Cavon pointed to a stall not far down the
row. Freshly poured candles hung from lines of hemp. The woman in the stall, clearly the shop owner, was watching a small boy intently as he carefully placed tapers for sale.

              “Something tells me she wouldn’t want to talk to me unless I was buying.” Logan turned, taking in the market as a whole.

              “If I had something that nice, I’d never let you out in public.” A female voice called out, followed by a long whistle.

              Logan whipped his head around, trying to pinpoint the speaker. She leaned against a wall, leering at him.

              “I can give you whatever your momma won’t, sweetie.” She winked at him.

              Someone tugged at his arm. Cavon whispered, “Ignore them, Logan. They’re only trying to get you to react.” He pulled him forward.

              “Aww, baby. Don’t be leaving so soon! Smile and decorate the world a bit longer.” The woman called out again.

              Another woman stopped in front of them. “Running away already? What’s wrong, little boys? Too good for the likes of us?” She stood with her hands on her hips.
Thrusting her chin forward
, she sneered, “Ain’t no one around here that’s gonna do anything you don’t want. We just gotta warm you up to the idea.”

              A black arm, decorated with gold bangles, dropped between Logan and the woman in front of him. Martine’s voice, still full of disdain, was low. “Back off, Dawn. These two are mine already. I’m talking with Sabine. So, unless you want to come to terms with me…”

              Dawn backed away, her hands raised.
“Didn’t mean no harm, Martine. Woman sees something fine come down the road, she has to express her appreciation.” The woman made an obvious show of looking the boys over from head to toe. Logan repressed a shiver as she leered at him.

              “Martine, I told you. They’re with me. Not for sale.” Sabine appeared out of nowhere, shoving packages at Logan and Cavon.

              Hurriedly, Logan reached out to grab the items before they fell to the ground. His hands shook, his stomach churned. Fear threatened to take hold.

              “I know that, Sabine. I’m thinking of leaving earlier than planned. Maybe even sailing tonight. Are you sure I can’t get you to give me a good price on these two? The Far Lands are always looking for healthy boys.”

              “No, Martine. They’re not mine to sell. Maybe you should look at the market by the East Gate. I hear they’re letting just about anyone in for the celebration.”

              Martine turned and shrugged. “Too crowded. West gate seems to be good, though. The big unveiling of the groom is tomorrow night. Should be even more arriving today than yesterday.” She strode off without another word.

              Logan managed to get the last parcel secured in his hands just as Sabine looked at him. “We need to go back. Now.”

              Without a word, the two followed their hostess back to the safety of her home.

              Sabine set a brisk pace, surprising Logan. He and Cavon darted around people in the path, juggling packages while keeping pace. With each step, his alarm grew. What had happened? By the time they reached the gated courtyard, his mind was awash with theories. Was it Arine? Was the artist not Ian?

              A young boy waited at the door into the home, his arms outstretched for the packages he and Cavon carried
. Logan hurried, cursing at how tangled his fingers had gotten in the cords. He
darted inside just as Sabine went into the room where Arine last was. Mestra followed on her heels, closing the door behind them.

              His mind raced. Something happened, and it probably had to do with Arine. He no longer cared about what was and wasn’t allowed in this city. He reached out for the knob.

              “Logan, what are you doing? We can’t just walk in there.” Cavon’s voice hissed the warning. “Who knows what’s wrong. But this is Sabine’s house, it’s not Sanctuary. Here were can’t just…”

              Logan turned, leveling a steely gaze at his friend. “I know. But I also need to know what happened. You saw Sabine’s face, how fast she pushed to get back here. I need to make sure Arine’s not
hurt. I--”

              The knob twisted beneath his hand. Startled, he let go and stepped back as the door swung open. Mestra looked at him, her face a mask. “You can come in. She wants you to meet him.”

              Logan nodded and moved past Mestra into the room. His eyes scanned the room, searching for Arine.

              She sat on the edge of a sofa. Across from her were two strangers. He had no idea who the woman was. The boy, though--there was no mistaking the family resemblance.

              “Logan, come here and meet Ian.” Arine’s voice was low. Excitement played across her face, with something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Still, he moved closer as she reached out her hand.

              “Ian, this is Logan. Logan, this is Ian. And his wife, Caroline.”

              That’s when he caught it. The slight tone of disappointment, of loss. The meeting had not gone as she’d hoped. As they all hoped.

              Sabine stepped forward, “I hate to interrupt, but things are in motion. They need to leave now, Arine, if they’re to make it.”

              Logan looked from Sabine to Arine, puzzled. “Leave now? Why?”

              Arine smiled at him. “They’re heading back to their ship for the night, Logan. And we’ve been promised the chance to see the best beach you can imagine. But we have to leave now, if we’re to get back before the gates close for the night.”

              He nodded, the knot in his stomach tightening. Her words didn’t ring true, but he knew she’d not say anything different if he asked. If, when he needed to know, she’d tell him. And not a moment before. That secrecy was part of her job, of her.

              “Well, then, do I need to go change?” he
asked, hoping that
Sabine thought he believed the lie. For all their sakes, he had to convince anyone that asked.

Chapter Twelve

            
 
A
rine embraced Ian one more time. “I’m glad we met again, Ian. Even if it’s to say goodbye.” Without a look back, she turned and walked from the room. As she did, she let go of the last decade and all the uncertainty. He may not be coming home with her, but she knew he had a good life where he was. In that way, it wasn’t a wasted trip.

              Inside, frustration warred with reason. He had a good life, and she was glad for that. But she knew it would take time before she stopped wondering if she could’ve said something else to change his mind. Ten years of hoping, searching,
was not something she could let go of easily.

              Then there was the look on Sabine’s face when she entered the room. The whispered conversation to Mestra. Something had happened. And they had to move. Now. The information Sabine had given her was no information at all.
Nothing more than a hasty, “You leave now. No questions.” And she had to abide by that. Mestra’s slight nod was enough to tell her the situation was dire.

              Without glancing back, she strode from the room. Further instruction was needed, but Arine chafed at the idea that she wasn’t in charge once again. No wonder Mistress Bryn sent her out alone so often. Second fiddle was not a position that sat well with her.

              She waited with the others for Sabine and Mestra to join them. Logan’s face was flushed. Had something happened in the market?
Goddess, I hope he didn’t use his magic
, she thought. The whole mission was lost if he did. Even if Talia didn’t know they were there yet, that would surely get back to her. And faster than a flame on a field of dry grass.

              Mestra approached them. “We’re heading to the gate. Sabine’s getting horses ready for us now. No time to grab gear. It’s already been sent ahead and will be waiting for us.” She paused. “If the guards ask, we’re taking the boys to the beach. Sabine’s going to do most of the talking, so just act like you want to get there. Don’t overthink it.”

              Arine nodded in understanding. Explanations now would take too long. She’d been in a hurry to leave somewhere too often not to recognize the signs.

              Without further delay, they made their way to the courtyard. Sabine was already on her horse. Three more mounts, saddled and with grooms beside them to assist, waited for them. Sabine’s face welcomed no questions. Silently, Arine prayed that Logan had an idea of how to ride. He grew up on a farm, yes, but that was a lifetime ago.

              Sabine kept a
slow but steady pace
, threading their way through the crowded streets. Arine kept alert, but relaxed. Her eyes darted about, never staying on one thing or person for long. Running now would not guarantee anything but attention being brought to them.

              Mestra rode next to her. Her voice, quiet, barely reached Arine’s ear. “There was an incident in the market. Nothing more than Cavon could handle, but Logan was uncomfortable. Martine was there. Sabine wasn’t thrilled with what she said, knew it was time to get us out. Before it was too late.”

              Arine replied, her eyes focused on Logan’s back as he rode in front of her. “Too late for what?”

              “Too late to get out. The gates are being sealed at dusk. If we don’t leave now, we’re going to have Talia and the Domine’s personal guard at our throats by midnight.”

              Arine nodded once. If Sabine said it was time to go, it was. Her thoughts moved to Ian and his wife. She made a silent prayer to the Goddess to guide them safely back to their ship. And that the captain was a good woman who wouldn’t hand them over at the first sign of trouble.

              It took them longer than she liked to weave through the throngs of people. Time wasn’t on their side to begin with, not if the guards would believe the outing ruse.

              By the time the gate came into view, Arine’s muscles ached from the tension. Outwardly, she knew she appeared relaxed. Calm. Everything was normal. Only her companions knew she was ready to defend or run at the first sign of trouble.

              A guard, her hair damp from the afternoon heat, raised a hand to halt Sabine’s progress. Arine stopped as well, close enough to hear.

              “My Lady, it’s late for an excursion.”

              Sabine sighed, “I know, Elewys. It’s the boys. They heard about a beach and have no idea what that is. They’ve been nagging us all morning to see one. You know how whiny they can get. I finally gave in just to get some peace. We’re heading over to Melisandra’s Point. It’s not far. We’ll be back before the celebration tonight.”

              Arine kept her eyes on the guard, waiting. Logan’s voice carried past her ears, “Why aren’t we at the beach yet?” His petulant tone had her lowering her head to hide the grin threatening to appear.

              The guard grinned. “Just be sure to watch the time and don’t let the boys talk you into staying too long. Domine Grace wouldn’t be happy if you weren’t there tonight.” She stepped aside, waving off the other guards, and allowed them to pass through the gate.

              Sabine kept a stately pace until they rounded a bend and left the sight of the gate. At that point, they spurred their mounts into a gallop. And headed towards the hill and hidden tunnel.

              A small knot of people waited near the opening. Arine changed the reins over to her left hand before reaching into her boot with her right. The hilt of one of her throwing knives slid into her palm. Just in case.

              A dark figure moved out from the center of the
gathering. “About time
you got here,” Martine smiled at them as she reached for Sabine’s horse. “I was starting to get worried.”

              Sabine didn’t share her grin. “We moved as fast as we dared. Even then, we were questioned at the gate.” She turned in her saddle. “Everyone dismount. Martine’s associates will take care of the horses.”

              Arine started, her hand still on her blade. “Martine?”

              The woman smiled at her. “Good to know my ruse worked so well. If you didn’t suspect, I’m almost certain we’ve fooled Talia. I work for Mistress Amelia. She runs the Moreja in the Far Lands. I have to speak with Mistress Bryn, on matters we could not trust to be written down.” She turned to Cavon and Logan, both of whom had eased off their horses. “My apologies if I offended you earlier. Sabine and I long ago figured out a way for me to pass information to her without it being intercepted. My words were for her, not because I thought poorly of you.” She bowed in respect.

              Arine dismounted, handing over the reins to one of Martine’s guard. “If it’s all a ruse…”

              “Your brother is fine, Arine. He and his family came across on my ship, under my protection. They were back on board and raised anchor before you reached the gate. If things get unpleasant tonight, as we fear they will, they will be well out to sea and out of harm’s way.”

              Sabine’s
horse danced nervously, and she
brought him back under control. “I need to return now. I dare not be gone much longer. The gates are being sealed tonight, and the army will march through the city. Few won’t be conscripted by morning.”

              Mestra looked at her. Arine took note of the hard line her jaw was set into. “The rumors were true, then?”

              “Yes. Elsa talked Grace into joining her forces. Talia’s told them everything. They’ll move on Sanctuary before the end of the week. Move fast, through the tunnels. Get word to Bryn- -”

             
Her voice broke off. Arine watched in horror as a dark red stain began to seep across her bright yellow tunic. She slid sideways off her saddle,
exposing the crossbow bolt sticking out of her back as she fell lifelessly to the
ground.

              “Inside! Now!” Mestra ordered. Arine took up a defensive posture as she scanned the horizon. Talia stood, surrounded by armed guards, fifty feet away.

              “Best run, Arine! Or I’ll put you each down one by one!” Talia’s voice dripped hatred.

              Arine stepped forward, her eyes fixed on her target. “You’re the one that needs to run, Talia. Just like you did back in Sanctuary!”

              Another crossbow bolt whistled past her shoulder as she made her advance. Arine didn’t bother to see where it landed. Talia was close, and that was all that mattered. She was going to end this, once and for all.

              “Arine!” Martine called out to her, but she continued her march forward.

              “She’s mine!” Talia growled, knocking away the crossbow being aimed her direction.

              “Arine! We need you…please!” Logan’s voice penetrated the rage that overtook her body.

              She glanced back, and saw the bolt that now protruded from Mestra’s shoulder. Cavon and Logan were holding her up, while Martine waved at her to join them. With a final glare of hatred towards Talia, she sprinted towards the cave.

              Crossbow bolts shattered against the walls as they dove for cover. Arine led the way, knowing the best place to make their stand. The passageway narrowed and made a sharp bend, just enough for single combat. That would give them the advantage over Talia and her troops.

              As they rounded the bend, she called out, “Cavon, there’s a small crystal chamber fifteen feet further up. On the left. Take Mestra. Do what you must to heal her. Martine, you and I fight in rotation. Logan”
,
she paused
,
“take Mestra’s sword. If they get past us, you’ll at least be able to defend yourself for a few moments.”

              She turned back towards the bend, her heart cold. There were only two of them, really. And she had no idea how skilled Martine was. She was a Moreja, yes. But so was Talia at one point.

              She looked over at the dark-skinned woman. Her hands held the curved blade, the point low. Her face wore the same grim reality that Arine knew. This could be their final fight.

              A hand touched her shoulder. Glancing back, she saw Logan standing there. “It won’t come to that, Arine. I won’t let it.” He squeezed past her, moving towards the switchback.

              She reached out to stop him, but he shrugged off her hand. “Stay back. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He smiled, then turned his head back to the wall of the tunnel. He reached his arms out to each side, a massive palm splayed out on the rock face.

              “What’s he doing?” Martine whispered.

              Arine shook her head, “I don’t know.”

              A low rumble reached her ears, followed by the ground shaking violently beneath her feet. Both grew in intensity, causing her to brace herself against the closest wall. The tunnel in front of Logan began to collapse. Massive rocks fell from the ceiling, kicking up dust and cutting off the feeble light filtering in from outside. She threw her arm across her face in an attempt to keep from breathing in the dust as the tunnel shuddered one final, massive time. The darkness became absolute.

              She could hear Martine coughing when it was over. A spark in the dark near where Logan had been, followed by the rushing sound of flames eating at the ends of a torch. The light blended with the still settling dust, but she could see his face. He was tired, and there was fear in his eyes. She knew that look. Cavon had it after he’d healed her.

              “By the Goddess, what did you do?” Martine’s voice, barely above a whisper, carried both awe and anger.

              Arine knew what he’d done. Whatever Sabine had told Martine about the boys, it probably wasn’t the magic. “He did what he had to do to save us, Martine. As is Cavon. It’s nothing to fear.”

              She reached out a hand, pulling Logan to her. Even with her own stomach threatening to revolt, she wouldn’t let him see her fear. This was part of him, and she had to accept it.

              “Let’s go find Cavon and Mestra. We’ll talk then. No one’s going to come this way again for a long time.”