Call to War (3 page)

T
anner's thoughts returned slowly.
Firepos, where are you? I have to go. Find the mask.

Slowly, he blinked awake. He lay in a trestle bed with Hilda standing over him, pressing a wet cloth that smelled of cinnamon and lilac to his face. The scent made his skull tingle, and when he sat up, Hilda shook her head. “No,” she said. “You are still weak.”

Tanner sat up anyway. “Where am I? Where are my friends?”
Firepos!
Tanner thought.
Are you out there?

Her message came back to him:
I am still here, Tanner. Still waiting.

Tanner was wrapped in a fur blanket. Dim firelight flickered orange from a low fire pit on the far wall, where a cast-iron pot smoldered and gurgled. Shadows played across cluttered shelves, tables, and chairs. The tables were heaped with bottles, clay pots, jars of leaves, feathers, snail shells, and vials filled with colored liquids — orange, green, blue, and red.

“I am the village healer,” Hilda said, and she eased another pillow under Tanner's head. “You are in my cottage.” She went to a shelf, picked up a vial of red liquid, and returned to Tanner. “Drink this,” Hilda said.

Tanner wrapped his hands around the vial. “What is it? Is it safe?”

Hilda laughed sharply, picked up an iron poker engraved with animals — wolf, beaver, bear — and poked the burning logs, stirring sparks.

“Trust me or don't,” she said. “The thread of your life is thin and tangled.” She gave the fire a final stab. “Do you know what your bones say?”

Tanner felt his pulse quicken.
She's mad
, he thought. But her tone and the confident way she moved were subtly familiar. Esme had carried herself like this. He couldn't help asking, “What do they say?”

“That your future is made of blood and fire.” A shadow passed across her face, and she murmured, “You need more help than I can give you.”

Hilda stared at Tanner as if she could see straight through his skin, as if she knew every muscle in his body and could hear his mind. He dropped his glance and tapped the vial. “What is in this?”

“It is destined for you. I have seen it many times in the bones. You must drink it, or you will fail.” Her face was impassive, but her eyes were alight with emotion. “People may lie, but the bones never do.”

Tanner remembered Esme saying something similar. “You made this?” he asked suspiciously.

“No. Many winters ago, I bought it from a traveler: an old, bearded man, following the southern road.”

“Who was he?” Tanner persisted.

The woman's face colored and she turned her back on him. “I have nothing more to tell,” she said over her shoulder. She lifted another log onto the fire. “Does it matter where it came from? All you need to know is that it will help you fight the enemy growing in your heart.”

Tanner rolled his eyes.
Talking bones and magic potions
, he thought. The same nonsense Grandmother Esme had trusted. She may have been right about the threat to Avantia, but he still didn't believe that the world could be cured by flower petals powdered into bottles.

It was almost as though Hilda read his thoughts. She turned and gazed at him closely. A shudder of fear pressed over him.
Don't offend this woman.
It felt important not to make her angry. He found a cork stopper on the bedside table and pocketed the vial.

Hilda turned around. “You were not raised in these parts,” she said.

Startled, Tanner noticed Hilda's eyes reflected in a glass bottle on the rear mantelpiece. She had been watching him the whole time: Had she seen him roll his eyes?

Tanner weakly moved his body to perch on the bedside. “No,” he said. “I am from a village called Forton — many miles from here.”

“How many miles?” she asked.

Tanner thought. He had no idea. Flying so high above the land, without the aid of a compass and only rare glimpses of Gwen's map … it was impossible to calculate the miles. But he was far from home.

“I'm not sure,” he admitted. “But many days' travel.”

The woman's eyes widened. “I've only traveled that far once in a lifetime,” she admitted. “What did you do in Forton?”

“I worked at the bakery,” Tanner said. He remembered the smell of fresh-cut wheat and rising yeast. “I helped to grind the wheat, tend the ovens.”
And I saw all of it ruined
, he thought. “The village is destroyed now. That's why I'm here. General Gor came with his soldiers, and it wasn't … it wasn't a battle, it was a massacre. Derthsin ordered them to kill everyone.”

At Tanner's mention of Derthsin's name, Hilda's face whipped around. She was shaking, her eyes narrow and angry. “Those are lies,” Hilda snapped.

Tanner shook his head, surprised. “You must know that Derthsin's evil is spreading. His men butchered my entire village.”

“No more!” She clapped her hands. “Why do you blaspheme? I saved you. You owe me your life.” Hilda grabbed her skull-staff and rapped the floorboards.

Tanner backed off the bed and raised both hands. “I don't understand….”

“You will not spread lies about Lord Derthsin, not here! If you say one more word against him, I will cut out your tongue and nail it to the door plank — then hand you over to Worrick. Lord Derthsin protects us. Don't you see? The threat to Avantia comes from the witches that plague the land. They tear down walls and transform men into animals. We are helping Lord Derthsin to clean the land of witchcraft! Only he keeps us safe.”

I don't believe this
, Tanner thought.
Derthsin's agents must have created these lies to control the villages he can't immediately seize. The people are being divided. They've been turned against one another — neighbors suspecting neighbors — so Derthsin doesn't even have to use his troops.
Paranoia and rumor were tearing communities apart, making them turn on one another, and even on strangers.
I have to get out of here
, Tanner realized.
Now!

The door banged open, and Tanner and Hilda both jumped. Castor and Gwen came in, bundles of firewood tucked under their arms. Their faces were red, and Castor's hair dripped with sweat. His dagger's handle could be seen poking out of his belt and Tanner threw him a warning look.

Gwen smiled at Tanner. “You're up!” She put down her firewood and ran to hug him.

Castor dumped his wood by the fire. “My fingers are full of splinters,” he grumbled. “Anyone would think I was a pack mule.” He adjusted his tunic so that his dagger was hidden again. “Where do you want these? On the floor, Hilda?”

Hilda watched them, her eyes shining with pleasure. “So I have you all together, finally. In private,” she whispered, almost as though she was speaking to herself.

Tanner shared a glance with Gwen and Castor. “What do you mean?”

She didn't respond, but smiled at some secret. “Ready, master,” she hissed. Then her eyes rolled back, and her shoulders began to twitch. The air sucked in around Hilda.

Tanner said, “We have to —”

Green fire exploded around Hilda's feet, jolting the room. Tanner caught Gwen's hand. Bottles and pottery smashed, and the wooden wall supports groaned. The green flame was spreading, curling around Hilda's legs, then higher, up to her waist. There was no heat. This wasn't natural fire. Without thinking, Tanner reached for his sword, but it wasn't there.

Her hands clasped on the skull-staff, Hilda closed her eyes as the fire rose to blanket her torso and shoulders.

“Tanner!” Gwen shouted. “What do we do?”

G
et out of there!” Castor shouted to Tanner and Gwen.

As the fire consumed Hilda's face, it flared white, blinding Tanner. He felt the vial grow warm inside his tunic. He pulled it out and saw the liquid glow bright red.
Not river water, then
, he thought.

The firelight rose and grew, touching the ceiling, and Hilda's outline contorted through the glare. She groaned softly as the fire hissed and bellowed louder, making the walls tremble. Her shoulders popped, her arms bulged and gave, and her body swelled like a tree sprouting too fast.
She's been taken over
, Tanner realized.
Someone or something is inhabiting her body. But who?

The white-green flame flowed out, swallowing the walls and licking at the edges of the windows and doorframes around them. The entire cottage was alive with hissing, cool flame, and as the light dissolved around Hilda, Tanner saw that she was gone. In her place he saw a tall man in a dark, hooded cloak, his face barely visible beneath: Vendrake, Derthsin's servant. Tanner remembered him.

Vendrake's skin was bloodless, white as bone around the sneering scar that disfigured his lipless mouth and snaked down his neck. His eyes glowed pale yellow, and now, as the fire cleared, Vendrake's voice rose like a hyena's cackle. He raised a long barbed whip and looked down to the floor, his grin revealing blackened teeth.

There was a boy at Vendrake's feet, cowering and shielding his face. Ragged and bloody, one of the boy's legs had been twisted backward. The thorns in the whip dripped blood across the floorboards. Vendrake snapped the whip onto the boy and yanked it, ripping skin from his back. Castor winced.

“Get up!” Vendrake shouted, and he struck the boy with the barbed cord again. He pulled the whip, flipping the boy onto his back.

Gwen screamed. “No!”

It was Geffen, Gwen's brother. His eyes stared lifelessly as his mouth hung open.

“You belong to Lord Derthsin, alive or dead,” Vendrake said, “and you're most definitely dead now, boy.” He spat viciously onto Geffen's body. “Where is it?”

“Leave him alone!” Gwen lunged at him, her rapier already aimed. Vendrake spun, and a curl of green flame blasted her back. Gwen hit the bed hard and went down. Tanner grabbed her hand, and Gwen murmured, “I'm all right.”

Vendrake only smiled, his expression terrible and crooked, and turned back to Geffen. Geffen's arm moved. Slowly, his joint twisted and he pawed the ground. As he started to sit up, cuts were made visible on his back and chest.

“Where is the third piece of the mask?” Vendrake demanded, and, as Geffen's head rolled forward, Vendrake knocked him back down with the whip.

Geffen moaned, spluttering blood. Vendrake beat him again, laughing as he did it. “Tell me where it is or I will bury you to the neck.” He paused and turned to face Tanner, his eyes glowing and empty. “Do you understand? This is what happens to anyone who stands against Lord Derthsin. He wanted you to see for yourself.”

Tanner tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Vendrake raised his whip again.

Gwen screamed, “Stop it!” and when Tanner tried to hold her back, she shook him away.

Vendrake cracked his whip at Gwen; she dodged but lost her footing, and Vendrake grabbed her wrist, yanking her toward him.

“No!” Tanner shouted. He swiped his shard of flint at Vendrake, who ducked as Castor stabbed him in the back. Vendrake snarled blood, and as he turned on Castor, Tanner caught Gwen's hand and pulled her free. Castor backed away, his dagger still ready.

His breathing wet, Vendrake glared at Tanner. “The next time we meet, I will break you. This world belongs to my master. Next time, you will die.”

The room flashed white: Vendrake and Geffen were gone. The flames sucked back into the floorboards at Hilda's feet, scattering pots and bottles. Hilda was crouched at the bedside, the skull-staff shaking in her hands. The room was suddenly much darker. Tanner grabbed a table to regain his balance. Castor was poised near the fireplace, his hair slick with sweat.

Tanner felt unsteady.
If Derthsin's agents had
this
kind of power to possess people, they might be anywhere,
he thought,
or anyone. Who could they trust?

With a trembling hand, Gwen found her rapier. “Geffen … what are they doing to him?” She scrambled toward the old woman, ready to lunge. “You'll tell me, or I swear your blood will stain this floor!” Just in time, Tanner managed to grasp hold of Gwen's cloak and draw her back into his arms.

“That woman's dangerous,” he whispered in her ear, gripping her to him. “This whole place is. Don't attack, not yet.”

The fight suddenly left Gwen and she fell to her knees. “Why?” she asked. “Why is Geffen being tortured so? He should be dead! We saw him die.”

Tanner's glance met that of the medicine woman. She was climbing stiffly to her feet and her lip curled in a sneer.

“Good question,” he said. Then, in a louder voice: “How does Vendrake have a hold over you? Why do you allow him to inhabit your body? Don't you care about what's happening to that boy?”

A muscle twitched in the corner of the woman's eye. “How does he control me? How do you think — through magic!”

“You haven't answered my other question,” he said. “Don't you care about that boy being tortured, even beyond the grave?”

The woman shook her head impatiently. “Not if it's in the name of Derthsin. His will is iron, and it is our duty to bend to his wishes. That boy must have been disrespectful. Vendrake is only giving out the punishment he deserves.”

Gwen whipped around, the blood rushing to her face. “You want to know about punishment?” she said, her voice dangerously low. Tanner helped his friend pull her cloak across her body, sending her a silent message not to use her rapier. She looked at him, then sent him a reluctant nod of understanding.

Castor broke the mood. “We have to get out of here — now,” he announced. “We don't know what Geffen will tell Derthsin, even in death.”

Hilda's face twisted, and her eyes flashed wide and angry as she drew herself up. “You!” Hilda struck Castor with her staff, knocking him backward. “How dare you slur Lord Derthsin!”

Castor was right. It was too dangerous to stay here. Any more of this hysteria and they'd be executed. Tanner pressed between Castor and the woman, his flint shard raised. “Step back, Hilda. We're leaving!” He pushed away from Hilda and out the door. “Now.”

Castor and Gwen followed, but Hilda was right behind them.

“Witches!” Hilda screamed. “Evil blasphemy! Stop them!”

Tanner pointed at the village gate at the end of the street. “That way!” he shouted. It was a long way off, but they could make it. Tanner could feel his strength returning and the pain behind his eyes subsiding. “Run!”

Hilda's shouts brought the villagers out of their houses. They sprinted after the companions, swords already drawn. “Bar the gate!” someone yelled.

Worrick strode out of a side alley, blocking their path. He pivoted and raised his ax with both hands as they ran closer. When they reached Worrick, Castor broke right as Tanner ran up to him. Worrick swung for Tanner's throat. Tanner dove to the left. The ax missed and, as Worrick spun to follow, Gwen clipped him from behind, knocking Worrick into a stumbling somersault.

But the villagers had blocked the gate. A pair of dogs charged, their fanged mouths slavering with foam.

Firepos
, Tanner thought.
Now! I need you!

The dogs were closing in on them, the villagers right behind, and Tanner glimpsed Worrick getting back up. In another moment, they would be surrounded.

Gwen drew her rapier, directing the point at a villager with a spear who lunged toward them. Castor took out his rock shard and spun it sideways, as if he were skipping it on a pond. It hit the war dog between the eyes, and the dog recoiled backward, yowling.

The villagers formed a circle, pressing Tanner, Gwen, and Castor back-to-back in the center.

Worrick stepped to the front of the circle and steadied his ax. “Kill them!” he yelled.

As the villagers surged, there was a jolting cry. Wind buffeted the people back, and Firepos dove into the street beside Tanner. She screamed again, opening her wings in a blast of red, orange, and yellow feathers that flashed hot in the sunlight. From the gate came two roars. Gulkien flew over the wall with Nera right below him. The villagers scattered, jamming the alleys, backing against the walls of houses, as the Beasts came to their riders.

Nera flashed her teeth at Worrick, ready to pounce. Worrick's ax trembled as he slowly backed away. “Not so tough now, huh?” Castor shouted.

At the end of the street, Hilda screamed, “No! Stop them!”

Tanner leaped onto Firepos's back and Castor jumped up on Nera. As Gwen picked her way up Gulkien's fur, his wings cast long shadows over the terrified villagers.

Firepos and Gulkien took off, and Nera bounded over the villagers onto a rooftop. As the roof collapsed under her weight, she leaped high, clearing the outer wall, and landed on the nearby hillside. As he rose higher, Tanner saw the mob regrouping. The villagers were headed for the gate. The Beasts had frightened them, but the townspeople were armed and angry.

“We have to find our weapons,” Tanner said.

They landed at the rocky outcropping, and when they had rolled the boulders aside to recover their swords, Gwen pulled her axes from the nearby bushes. Tanner saw Worrick at the village gate: He was leading the villagers after them.

“We can beat them,” Castor said.

“Not now,” Tanner said, and he pulled himself onto Firepos's back again.

“Tanner?” Gwen said, pointing to his tunic. “What's that?”

The vial of red liquid in his pocket was glowing. It had started to do that when Vendrake appeared, Tanner recalled.

“I don't know,” he said. “Hilda gave it to me. She said it was my destiny to drink it. I don't know whether to trust her or not — she might have been telling the truth before Vendrake possessed her.”

As Firepos and Gulkien took off and Nera raced down the hill, Worrick shouted after them, “This isn't over! You will suffer before the end! This is Lord Derthsin's land! Hartwell stands with the Lord of Avantia, and we will punish anyone who stands against us!”

A moment later, his voice was lost in the wind as Tanner soared high into the clouds.
Derthsin's evil is growing
, Tanner thought.
We are running out of time.
He guided Firepos beside Gulkien and Gwen.

“Do you know which way we're going?” he asked.

Gwen opened her locket again and unrolled the parchment map, working with the gauze film, as a breeze fluttered it in her hands. “The Southern Caves,” Gwen said, and she checked the rolling hills and river, where Nera kept pace below. “We're going the right way.”