Keeper of the Black Stones (37 page)

“Who are you?” the boy suddenly asked again. “Have you heard of Lord Dresden? The lord of these lands?”

At his words, I suddenly realized why I felt as if I knew this boy. It was his eyes, the expression on his face, and the way he tilted his head when he spoke. I knew who he was. I glanced over at Tatiana, running my eyes quickly over her stance to confirm my suspicion. The young soldier stood in the same way, and I nodded to myself. He cast the same shadow as his grandfather and, in no small way, his half sister.

“Why exactly would that matter to you, Sloan?” The words shot out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

The boy said nothing at my question, though his frown deepened. He hadn't been expecting that one, I thought triumphantly.

“That's right,” I continued. “You may not know who I am, but I know exactly who you are. Your name is Sloan. Your father is Nicholas Fleming, or, as he's called in this land, Lord Dresden.” I knew I was right–I'd learned his name through Doc's notes, and his conversation with John Fleming. This boy had the look of his grandfather in his eyes, and the same arrogant expression as Tatiana. He would have been sent after us by Dresden, I thought, to bring us back alive–it all made sense.

Of course they never would have found us if it wasn't for the horses. That was incredibly bad luck. Still, there was nothing for it now. I glared at Sloan, who was staring back at me as though I'd just pulled out a ray gun and tried to shoot him with it. His expression had changed, if only for a moment. The cocky, arrogant look on his face had faltered and given way to confusion.

“My Lord?” the man standing next to Reis mumbled. He dropped his
sword to his side and stared at Sloan, confused.

I gulped, hoping I was right. As long as Dresden wanted us alive–which he must, under the circumstances–we would be safe. I just had to convince this boy that we were who we said we were.

“I've met your grandfather,” I continued, pressing my advantage. If I could keep him talking, keep him on board with the story…

“He's lying,” the soldier standing behind Tatiana said in a disgusted tone. He spat on the ground in disgust, then reached up and grabbed the rope that hung above her head.

“No he's not!” Tatiana shot back desperately, speaking out for the first time and tugging against the man.

“It's true, my Lord. What they say is true!” Katherine said in a surprisingly calm voice, as if injecting reason into an unreasonable situation was going to do any good. I shot her a surprised glance, and saw her eyes slide to the side. Reis' bags lay on that side of the clearing, I remembered, complete with his personal armory. I saw now that Reis had somehow managed to inch his way over there, on the pretense of painful writhing, and had almost reached the bags.

If we kept the soldiers occupied for another minute or two, we'd be in the clear.

I glanced back toward the group of soldiers, anxious that they not see me looking at Reis, and gasped. The soldier behind Tatiana had dropped the noose around her neck and was now tightening it. This could certainly complicate matters.

“I grow tired of these games,” Dresden was saying with a shake of his head. “If you will not answer my questions in a logical manner, I have no choice but to give you more adequate … motivation. String her up!”

“Dresden is looking for me!” Tatiana shouted just before the rope went tight around her neck.

Sloan turned to her, shocked.
Another point for our team
, I thought. “And
why is that?” he asked skeptically.

“Because I'm his daughter,” she said in a raspy voice, gasping against the pressure of the rope.

I would have bet all the tea in China that Sloan wasn't expecting that answer. He took a step toward Tatiana and released his grip on Katherine. She, in turn, staggered back and fell against my chest, wrapping her arms around my shoulders to catch her balance. Sloan studied Tatiana with cold intensity.

“Who are you?” he repeated softly.

Suddenly Reis had his guns. A roar sounded out across the clearing, and two of Sloan's soldiers flew backwards before crumpling to the ground, dead. I dropped to the ground, taking Katherine with me, and prayed that Paul had the presence of mind to do the same. The minute my knees hit the dirt, I began shuffling as quickly as I could toward Tatiana, who was still trapped by the rope wrapped around her neck. Katherine crawled next to me, her shoulder at my hip. I glanced up to catch Tatiana's gaze and saw her eyes flitting around the clearing, terrified.

Then the gunfire stopped. I paused to look for Reis and found him on the ground, a sword held to his neck. Three more soldiers appeared in front of Katherine and me, hustling us to our feet. Tatiana stood stock still, and I could see another soldier pulling Paul roughly to his feet.

“No more games,” Sloan snapped. “Tell me who you are, or you will all die, right now!”

I took a deep breath. Honesty it was, then. “My name is Jason Evans.”

“And where have you come from, Jason Evans?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took in my outfit–an orange and gray rugby shirt, battered blue jeans, and red wool socks. Evidently my attire didn't meet his approval.

“Lebanon, New Hampshire,” I proclaimed, shooting him a wry smile. Something about the situation made me want to taunt him, though a part of me realized it was probably a bad idea.

“Where is that?” he asked skeptically, leaning toward me. His eyes
glimmered in curiosity, and I wondered for a moment whether he actually believed me.

“About 5,000 miles east of here, across the Atlantic Ocean.”

“They're lying, your Grace!” one of the soldiers repeated, making me jump. Several others grunted in agreement, and the one holding Paul pulled my friend's hands farther behind his back. Paul yelped in pain and fell to his knees.

I gulped, thinking I'd pushed too far.

“Silence!” Sloan roared. He turned back to me, locking his eyes to mine. His eyes sparked again, and I let out the breath I'd been holding. That was it–I
had
seen what I thought I'd seen. Curiosity. He was fascinated, despite himself. He didn't like what we'd done, and he didn't know if he believed me yet, but he wanted to. Now I just had to find a way to use that against him.

For a moment no one spoke. The soldiers around us stirred restlessly, looking to their leader for orders. The soldier who held me tightened his grip, bruising my arms and cutting off the circulation, and I squirmed against him.

“I'm not lying,” I finally said. Waiting wasn't going to get us any closer to Doc.

“Why are you here?” he shot back.

The truth, Evans
, I thought.
It's your best weapon right now
. “I'm looking for my grandfather.”

Sloan studied me, trying to gauge if I was telling the truth. I looked steadily back at him, refusing to drop my eyes. Either he would believe me or he wouldn't. If he did, we had a shot at living, at least for now. If he didn't … I looked past him toward the two ropes that swung effortlessly in the breeze. Well, better not to think about that at all.

“This boy and the girl are coming with me,” he said finally, gesturing to Tatiana and me.

“But my Lord–” one of the soldiers muttered, stepping toward him.

“Do as I say!” Sloan thundered. “I do not take questions from the likes of you! I was sent by my father to find these very people, and I will see it done!”

“And the others?” another soldier asked softly.

“Tie them up, throw them in the back of the cart. Take them to Lord Bryer's estate in Nottingham. I will ride ahead of you with these two.”

One of the older men frowned, but nodded quietly, and the soldiers began to manhandle Tatiana and me up onto our horses. Sloan mounted his own horse, and then turned to glare at his men.

“Do not harm them, or it will mean your lives. I do not know what my father wants with these prisoners, but he wants them alive.”

I looked back at my friends and shared one long, tense look with Reis, who nodded bravely at me. Then we were galloping away, prisoners of Sloan Dresden and his father.

Reis watched Jason and Tatiana vanish into the forest, sending a silent prayer after them. Then he tamped down on the rage that had been building for the last half hour; for now, he had to keep his cool and wait for his opportunity. At some point, the soldiers around him would slip up. He just had to be ready to take advantage of them when they did. He took a deep, measured breath and tried to think clearly.

Then the soldier in front of him aimed a blow at his face, bringing Reis sharply back to the present. He ducked, his mouth grim. Evidently these men didn't believe in a peaceful capture. Not that he could blame them. He had, after all, shot two of them already. A couple of the others threw some punches, but he didn't think they'd do much damage. Sloan had ordered that the prisoners arrive unharmed, and they weren't putting up a fight. Katherine was cooperating, of course, and Paul was obviously no threat. He was already trussed and laying on the ground, having taken a punch to the face and crumbled.

“Tie them up and throw them in the cart,” one of the older men snapped. Reis watched carefully, filing information away in case of need. This man was the leader, then. Noted.

“What about their belongings?” another soldier asked.

The first man walked toward the duffel bag on the ground and kicked it. The soldiers had taken some of the clothing out of this bag and thrown it around the forest, but hadn't found anything of interest, and had decided not to go through the other bags. The only weapon they'd recovered was the assault rifle Reis had used in his escape attempt.

The man who had spoken lifted the rifle up now, looking closely at the safety and trigger mechanism. “Like nothing I've ever seen, though it seems to work like Dresden's weapons,” he muttered quietly. Suddenly he looked up, shoving the weapon toward Reis. “How exactly does it work, stranger?” he demanded.

Reis' battered mouth stretched into a grin. “Untie me and I'll show you,” he offered, lifting one eyebrow. If he could just get one more shot, now that he knew their weaknesses…

The other man lifted both eyebrows in response, his expression cold. “I think not.” He slung the rifle's strap over his shoulder and turned abruptly toward his men. “Throw them and the rest of their things in the cart. Our orders are to take the prisoners to Nottingham, and that includes their baggage.”

The soldier behind Reis tied a rope at his wrists, then lifted him to his feet and shoved him into the waiting cart. He fell face-first into a bag of grain and turned his face to the side, gasping. Katherine and Paul appeared next to him, tossed into the vehicle willy nilly.

“Well this is really terrific,” Paul muttered darkly. The side of his face was bruised and swollen, forcing him to speak out of the corner of his mouth. “Jason and Tatiana on their way to who knows where, and we're back in a wagon, destined for another charming ride through the country to see the man we're supposed to be stopping. Only this time we're trussed up like chickens.”

“I don't know, Paul, it might not be as bad as you think,” Reis murmured, smiling. The soldiers had tossed the rest of their baggage into the wagon and slammed the gate shut, leaving Paul's backpack closest to Reis' face. The bag, Reis knew, was stuffed full of Paul's clothing, extra socks, and robe, along with the other pair of shoes he'd insisted on bringing.

And, of course, Reis' own 9mm Browning semiautomatic, all his daggers, and the compass, which he'd stuffed in there the previous night.

Looking up, he saw that fate was truly on his side today. The leader of the pack had evidently decided to drive the cart himself, and sat just in front of Reis. As they lurched into action, the assault rifle–loosely slung across the man's back–began swinging on its belt, mere inches from Reis' nose.

A plan began to form in his mind, unbidden, and he smiled again. This might not take as much effort as he'd thought it would. Which was lucky, considering they were on a rather tight deadline. They didn't have time to go gallivanting across the countryside. And he didn't particularly want to meet this Dresden character as his prisoner. The man seemed prone to threats, torture, and other unsavory activities. None of which Reis wanted to experience.

If this was going to work, though, they needed to move. Now.

He turned back toward the teenagers at his side, glancing from Katherine to Paul. The boy had taken the brunt of the beating, and looked miserable. Katherine, on the other hand, met his eyes with a clear, knowing gaze. After a moment she looked away, blushing.
More to that one than we realize
, Reis thought suddenly. She knew exactly what was going on. Putting that thought away for future use, he raised his voice over the cart's rattle.

“Are you two okay?” he asked.

Katherine nodded wordlessly, her eyes wide.