The Hungering Flame (16 page)

The mustached man spurred his horse forward past Sir Baelan, and the other Astorran knights gave way as he rode through the center of the column. He leveled a dangerous glare at Sir Kae who took a little too long to withdraw. The Chadiri warrior reached the wagon and jumped across, the wagon driver trying to get as far away from him as possible without leaping off.

Garrett stared at the man, trembling as he transmuted his fear into rage through sheer force of will.

The Chadiri warrior took stock of the caged boy before freeing the latch and climbing inside the cage with him. The Chadiri stank of horse sweat and honing oil. Garrett ground his teeth together as the man pulled back the hood to see Garrett’s face.

“
What’s he look like, Nochs?
”
Felix called.

The mustached man frowned, his eyes dark slits beneath his heavy brows. He seized Garrett’s jaw between the fingers of one hand and forced his mouth open.
“
They’ve had their fun with him, sir,
”
Nochs said,
“
but he still has his tongue.
”

“
The Inquisitor will be pleased, no doubt,
”
Felix said. The other Chadiri soldiers laughed.

Garrett winced, but restrained himself from crying out as Nochs grabbed him by the robe and dragged him from the cage. Nochs knelt beside him, his hands groping and searching. He found Garrett’s medallion and the little pouch of tender that Cenick had given him to wear beneath his belt and took them both. Finding nothing else, the sinewy warrior flung Garrett over his shoulder and carried him to the side of the wagon before slinging him across the back of his horse. Nochs dropped into the saddle behind him and rode back to the Chadiri lines. Garrett lifted his head to look at Sir Baelan as they rode past, but the big knight’s head hung low with his eyes squeezed shut.

Nochs fell into place again beside Felix’s horse. The lean-faced Chadiri captain tilted his head to study Garrett’s face with a disgusted curl of his lip. Then Felix shrugged and looked back at the Astorran contingent again.
“
Well then, noble knights, I thank you. Perhaps we will meet again in service against the enemies of the Empire.
”

The nickering of an Astorran horse was the only response.

Garrett shut his eyes, remembering the way Marla smiled, the way her dark hair fell across her eyes, and how much he wanted to brush it back again.

The horse moved again beneath him as the Chadiri wheeled and cantered back toward the cliffs.

He remembered the cool softness of her palm when she held his hand.

The horse broke into a gallop and all around the thudding of hooves and the jingle of mail filled the air. The wind on his face smelled of dry grass and the smoke of a distant fire.

Garrett’s mind drifted, disconnected from himself. He sat at his desk beside the window in Uncle’s house. Lampwicke grasped the bars of her cage in her tiny hands and sang. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. Her song was beautiful and, somehow, familiar. He could almost make out the words.
“
What does it mean?
”
he whispered.

The ground raced by beneath him, broken stones and pebbles, scattered by the horse’s hooves. Climbing them like steps. Men calling out.

He pushed a paper boat out into the water at the edge of the river. It floated on dark eddies, spinning in the current. It disappeared suddenly with a loud splash when his brother sank it with a stone.
“
Grahm! Why did you do that?
”
Garrett cried.

The hollow sound of hooves on a wooden plank. More horses pressed close, crowding together on the platform. Ropes creaked and the platform groaned beneath the weight of armored cavalrymen. The platform swayed, lifting free of the ground, and men steadied their horses. Shadow and light alternated, one after the other… sunlight through wooden scaffolds.

“
Do you think there’s gonna be enough light?
”
Garrett asked. Warren, standing beside the half-finished rock wall of the goblin’s garden, shook his head. Norris’s golden eyes watched him from the shadows beyond.

The platform lurched, and Garrett fell forward, sliding off the back of the horse. A strong hand caught him.

“
Cenick!
”
Garrett cried out, his feet dangling free over an abyss below, his hand outstretched. The fingers of Cenick’s right hand squeezed tightly around Garrett’s wrist as he held on to a crumbling stone archway with the other hand. A fiery orange glow illuminated his tattooed face. His lips moved without sound.
Hang on, Garrett!

“
I’m slipping!
”
Garrett screamed, but only a slurred mumble came through his cracked lips. The abyss opened below him and swallowed him up.

****

“
Wake up,
”
a voice spoke.

“
Wake up,
”
the voice repeated.

Something hot touched the back of Garrett’s neck, then searing pain that jerked him instantly awake.

Garrett saw a man standing over him, a burning oil lamp in his hand, just now pulling it back from Garrett’s face. The man was smiling, an olde
r man with hair like white lamb
'
s wool
, shorn close. He wore dark red robes with the symbol of a flame and twin hammers embroidered over his heart. The man’s face looked full and friendly, his genial smirk seemed natural to it. His eyes, however, shone with a casual cruelty.

“
Good, you’re awake,
”
he said, setting the oil lamp onto a rough wooden table. The rosy light of evening drifted in with the breeze through the flap door of the large red tent where Garrett sat on the dirt floor, chained to the center pole.

Garrett tugged at his bonds, finding his wrists shackled behind him with metal cuffs. At least the leather cords that the Astorrans had bound him with were gone. The cords around his ankles had been cut as well, leaving them free, though his boots had been removed. He saw them lying atop a crate nearby, along with his hood. The spot on his neck where the hot lamp had touched his skin pulsed with little waves of pain.

The robed man fingered through some papers on the table with a bored hand, not looking at Garrett.
“
They say you killed the king of Astorra,
”
the old man said,
“
I suppose you think your life well spent?
”

“
I didn’t kill him,
”
Garrett said. Looking around the tent. It seemed more like a supply depot than living quarters. Crates and sacks were piled all around, and a large rack, cluttered with weapons and bits of armor stood near the doorway like some disarticulated guardian.

The old man chuckled.
“
That hardly matters to me. Your fate was sealed the moment you sold your soul to a false god.
”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about,
”
Garrett said, trying to press his shoulder against the burned spot on his neck, hoping to sooth the throbbing pain.

“
Your cult will follow your dead goddess into the pit of hell soon enough. You, my friend, will feel the fires much sooner.
”
the old man emphasized his words by wagging his finger at Garrett.

“
I’m not with any cult,
”
Garrett said,
“
I’m just a necromancer.
”

“
Hah!
”
the old man said, raising his hands and looking around as if Garrett had just confessed to a crime in front of a dozen witnesses,
“
just a necromancer!
”

“
My name is Garrett, and I didn’t do anything wrong!
”
The chains rattled behind him as Garrett tried to lift his hands.

The robed man shook his head emphatically and pulled something from his pocket. The horned skull medallion that Uncle had given Garrett, the mark of the brotherhood, dangled from a chain in the man’s fingers.
“
You’ve done enough to earn damnation, just by putting this on.
”

Garrett hung his head and did not speak.

“
That’s right, hold your tongue,
”
the man laughed,
“
You’ll be talking soon enough. You’ve got a long night ahead of you, necromancer, and you’ve got a fire waiting for you in the morning. I can promise you it will be a slow and smokeless one. Your Templar friends found out just how slow a man can burn. You’re going to sing the same song they did, come the dawn.
”

“
At least give me back my necklace!
”
Garrett shouted, his voice breaking with rage.

The old man feigned a comical expression of shock.
“
Give this back to you?
”
he said, dangling Uncle’s gift in front of Garrett’s face. He yanked it away with a sneer.
“
No, I don’t think so.
”

“
Why not?
”
Garrett sobbed.

“
Because I don’t want to have to dig it out of your ashes to make certain that it is destroyed,
”
he said,
“
I think a quick, hot fire should do for this dirty little trinket.
”

“
I hate you!
”
Garrett spat through clenched teeth.

“
Not as much as I hate you,
”
the old man whispered, his voice cold and hollow,
“
Not as much as God hates your perversion of His laws, you twisted little freak.
”

“
I wish…
”
Garrett said, fighting to control his emotions,
“
I wish I could be there to see when my friends finally kill you!
”

The old man cracked a thin smile.
“
Your friends,
”
he said, picking up the burning oil lamp once again,
“
Yes… you’re going to tell me all about your friends.
”
He took a step toward Garrett, the flickering glow of the lamp glistening on his yellow teeth.

“
Prex!
”
A hoarse voice shouted from the doorway.

The old man turned to face an enormous man in red plate armor. Silhouetted against the dying light of day, the warrior wore a horned helm that covered most of his face. His icy blue eyes shone from the shadows of his visor with deadly rage.

“
Skyhammer Graelle,
”
the old man greeted him, the slightest hint of un
certainty in his voice,
“
G
ood of you to join us. I was just about to start questioning the prisoner.
”

The warrior’s eyes fell on Garrett, and Garrett’s skin flushed hot with the memory of flame. He had never seen the man without his dragon before. He seemed even larger somehow. Graelle’s eyes turned back to the old man once again.

“
Your services are not required here, Inquisitor,
”
Graelle said.

Inquisitor Prex’s eyes bulged, and his jaw tensed.
“
I have a job to do here, Skyhammer,
”
Prex said,
“
It would be better if you didn’t…
”

“
I do not repeat myself!
”
Graelle said, his voice like steel on a grindstone.

Prex’s lips thinned to a flat line, and he set the lamp back on the table with deliberate care. He glanced once at Garrett, contempt on his face.
“
I will see you in the morning, necromancer.
”

Prex walked stiffly to the doorway, waited a moment in vain for Graelle to move aside, then squeezed past and out of the tent.

The dragon rider stepped inside, letting the tent flap drop closed behind him. Garrett’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light of the oil lamp. Graelle had his back turned to Garrett, unbuckling the broad leather harness that girded his waist and shoulders. He hung it on the weapon rack near the doorway and walked toward the table with a slow, stiff gait.

He looked at Garrett again. Garrett stared at him, feeling only a cold numbness inside now.

“
Dragon fire,
”
Graelle said,
“
You’ve been washed in it.
”

Garrett flinched, his eyes going to where his hood lay nearby.