The Second Siege (42 page)

“That belonged to Flamma,” grunted Cooper, pulling the nanomail over his torso and tucking his wisps of blond hair back into his cap. “He was Rome’s greatest gladiator. That blade was the emperor’s own, till it was given to Flamma to honor him after a string of victories.”

“This will do,” said Max, sheathing the sword in its black scabbard.

Max heard a shuffling sound behind them and turned to see Lucia, Cynthia, and Sarah peering at them from the dark corridor. Cooper shone his lantern upon the trio, and Lucia scowled.

“We heard you came back,” offered Sarah, rubbing her arms for warmth as she ventured into the cool alcove. She gave Cooper a wary glance, but the Agent said nothing. Sarah looked long and hard at the gladius in Max’s hand. “Are you going off, then?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Max, looking down. “I am.”

“I see,” said Sarah. “Have you told your father?”

“I can’t,” said Max, refusing to meet her gaze. “He won’t understand.”

“Max,” said Cooper, “we must go.”

Max nodded but reached forward to give Sarah’s hand a fierce squeeze.

“Will you tell him for me?” pleaded Max. “I’d rather he hear it from you.”

Sarah hugged him close, her voice barely a whisper in his ear.

“I will,” she said. “Nick, too. And we’ll see you when you get back.”

Max and Cooper left the alcove and quickly made their way to the platform, whose pulleys and ropes lowered them slowly to the ground. As they descended, Max gazed across the plain at the slender gorge carved within the mountains. Beyond those peaks, an oily smoke rose lazily into the sky before it broke apart and drifted on the wind. Cooper said nothing, but the Agent set a swift pace as soon as the platform touched ground.

“They didn’t bring anything modern,” said Max, scanning the assembled army. “No guns, no tanks . . .”

“The Demon needs no such toys for little Rowan,” muttered Cooper.

“It’s more than that,” whispered Max, thinking aloud. “I spoke with him in the Sidh—he doesn’t approve of the modern world. I think he wants to turn back time.”

“Good for him,” said Cooper. “Coming here without guns and tanks. Shows dash.”

Max grinned at the Agent’s black humor as he watched small groups of dark shapes creep from the warmth of the campfires to head off in all directions—just as Cooper had predicted.

“There are our scouts,” muttered Cooper. “Remember, Max—absolute silence. And, whatever happens, do not lead them toward the gorge. Direct any pursuit toward the dunes or the western range.”

Max nodded, and the two dropped silently from the tree. They padded off through the forest, a pair of twilight shadows that stole quickly toward their quarry. Twenty minutes later, they intercepted their first patrol—five vyes and a bottle-nosed imp that crept along an old path. Max slipped the blackened gladius from its sheath.

There was a soft thump, a choked-off gurgle, and then silence. Max had dispatched the Enemy so quickly that he had not even frightened a nearby nest of sparrows into flight. One peered at him curiously while Max wiped the gladius clean on the matted fur of a stiffening vye. Cooper crouched nearby and set to work on the unpleasant task before them.

Minutes later, Max surveyed the six grisly bodies piled near the edge of the clearing. Cooper had propped them against a tree, taking care that the shock and horror frozen on their faces was made apparent to any passersby. Cutting a thick branch from the tree, Max carved in the wood the ancient Ogam runes he had learned from Scathach. The runes were a series of cryptic slashes, and Max knew they would be taken directly to Astaroth.

Be wary, those who walk these woods. The Hound of Rowan walks them, too.

“What is this?” whispered Cooper, glancing at the stake.

“A message for Astaroth,” said Max, examining his handiwork.

“This is not a game,” said Cooper, disapproving. “The bodies are enough.”

“But it
is
a game,” said Max, thrusting the stake into the ground. “And
we
have to make the rules. I’m letting Astaroth know I’m here—that I’m here and I defy him. Astaroth is prideful, Cooper. He can’t resist such a challenge. The Demon will hunt for me, and that’ll buy us time.”

Cooper nodded, peering closer at the Ogam runes before following Max into the wood.

By dawn, many such stakes ringed the clearing. Max and Cooper chose a different perch and listened alertly as howls and horns began to sound in the chill morning. Their message had been discovered. Black crows—witch familiars—flew high into the air and wheeled about the sky as they searched the open clearing and the forest roof below. When the birds dipped lower to scour the trees, they found naught but bark, branch, and stone.

The Enemy’s patrols became larger, but it made no difference. For three nights, Max and Cooper terrorized Astaroth’s army, which searched in vain for both them and the hidden gorge. During the days, Max and Cooper managed whatever sleep they could and lived off berries and roots and rabbits when they could get them. As March progressed, Max felt himself getting stronger, but he also knew that Cooper was growing fatigued.

“I’ll go alone tonight,” he said. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” replied the stoic Agent. “And it is too dangerous to go alone. They’ll increase the size of the patrols.”

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Max, and he knew it to be true. “The patrols could number a hundred, and it wouldn’t help them.”

“Don’t get cocky,” growled Cooper, applying balm to a superficial wound he’d sustained on his shoulder. “It’s foolish to tempt a broader battle, Max. Stealth must be our way.”

“It’s foolish to hunt half asleep,” replied Max. “You know you need rest.”

Cooper gave a reluctant nod and sat in silence for several moments. “And where would you lead them?” he asked reluctantly.

“Back toward the dunes,” said Max. “That’s where the last patrols thought we were hiding.”

“A good plan,” said Cooper, closing his eyes with meditative calm.

Max saw that a thin sheen of sweat now covered the Agent’s forehead, and it worried him.

“You’ll feel better tomorrow,” said Max, shooing a fly away from Cooper’s chin.

“Of course I will,” whispered Cooper before dozing off.

Max watched the Agent for a moment, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Pushing up from the rough bark, Max dropped from the tree. He stalked through the woods feeling powerful and predatory, winding his way through the forest toward the flickering firelight of the clearing. He stopped there a moment and peered out at the many tents, siege engines, and witch carriages that littered the open space.

A twig snapped behind him.

Max whirled and unsheathed his gladius in a blink. Its lethal point quivered at a pair of luminescent eyes several feet away. A deep growl sounded in the darkness, but the creature was no vye. Lowering the gladius a fraction, Max peered closer at the creature, whose dark coat rippled like a bolt of silk.

At first, Max thought it was a larger version of his mother’s charge, Isis. But on closer inspection, he saw it wasn’t so. The creature before Max looked like a blue-black tiger except that its legs ended not in paws but human hands tipped with hard, curling claws. He had never seen such a thing in the Sanctuary before and knew it was a wild charge. Max saw there was blood on the creature’s claws and could further smell it on the animal’s breath, which came in slow pants from its wet muzzle.

“I’m on your side,” whispered Max, gripping the gladius tightly.

“S-s-s-si-ide,” said the creature, repeating the word and stretching out its syllable in a sibilant hiss as though rediscovering it had the power of speech. Cocking its sleek head at Max, the creature backed into the forest. Its yellow eyes narrowed to blinking slits and then it was gone. Taking a deep breath, Max continued on his way.

It was some time before he encountered his first patrol; the soft clink of metal was a giveaway amidst the natural surroundings. Leaping into a tree, Max waited as the first of a dozen dark shapes emerged from beyond a thicket. A thin shaft of moonlight showed the telltale ears of many vyes, bent and wolfish with their long jackal snouts pressed against the ground. Something else, however, stood in the midst of them, and Max felt an unnatural cold seep into his body. He peered curiously at the hidden figure. An unnerving thought entered Max’s mind, but he dismissed it—revenants could not venture aboveground. When the figure spoke, however, its hollow voice erased all doubt.

“What does the earth tell?” demanded Marley Augur.

“Shhh,” hissed a vye. “Begging pardon, but we must be quiet! The Hound may be about.”

“You should hope he is,” replied Augur, turning to reveal cold pinpoints of light in his sunken sockets. “Our lord’s pets would welcome a little Hound to fill their bellies.”

“Do not tempt him here!” hissed another vye, licking its needle teeth. “He took Thera and Myxll near this very spot! As wicked as a wraith, he is—I stood within a stone’s throw and heard not a thing! Let us find their secret place and hurry back to camp!”

There came a sudden, sickening sound.

Max watched as the vye staggered forward and collapsed against a nearby tree in an awkward splay of limbs. Its head had been bludgeoned from its body. There was another clinking of metal, and Augur emerged into a patch of moonlight. The undead blacksmith leaned upon the long handle of his hammer and gazed thoughtfully at the severed head. The other vyes backed away on all fours, their eyes gleaming white with terror.

“I fear nothing that runs and hides and preys upon the likes of you,” said the voice. “Who else wishes to run back to camp?”

The vyes said nothing but whined deep in their throats and lowered themselves to the ground in a display of trembling subservience. Augur turned slowly about the moonlit clearing, looking at the vyes, who could not help but retreat on their bellies, slinking away from the undead creature. Max held his breath as one of the vyes came to a stop at the base of his tree. His throat was within arm’s reach, and Max took full advantage.

“Astaroth grows tired of this game,” said Augur, straightening. He beckoned at something large that had been camouflaged among a thicket of trees. The blacksmith’s skeletal horse trotted forward, its metal barding clanking on bone. Swinging stiffly up into the saddle, Marley Augur stabbed a mailed finger at the vye slumped beneath Max’s tree. “You there, take up point.”

The vye did not respond, but lay motionless while a dark pool spread beneath him. Another vye loped forward and lapped once or twice at the pool with her long tongue before giving a whine of terror.

“He’s dead, my lord!” she hissed, her eyes darting about the dark underbrush.

With a sudden twitch of her ears, the vye looked up, straight into Max’s eyes. The gladius stabbed forward and the vye gave a surprised grunt, toppling onto her back.

Max sprang from the tree into the midst of the clearing. The vyes howled at the sight of him and seemed poised to flee until Augur’s great voice rose above the din.

“Seize him!” roared the blacksmith, turning his mount and hefting up his murderous hammer.

Spurred by terror, the vyes converged on Max, who stood ready. Suddenly a dark shape darted from the woods and cut the vyes down in a blur. With a grimace, Cooper let the last vye fall from his grasp, its matted body sliding to his feet like a bearskin rug. The wavy-bladed kris leapt from the base of the vye’s skull, flying to the Agent’s hand as he turned to gaze upon the revenant.

“I see,” intoned Augur, looking from Cooper to Max. “Lord Astaroth will be most disappointed. I can imagine what he’ll say: ‘The Hound is but a pup and needs others to do his business.’ ”

In one seamless motion, Max sprang at Augur’s steed and swung the gladius down. The undead creature gave a dreadful cry as Flamma’s weapon sheared through its ancient barding to split the bones beneath. With its forelegs severed, the horse collapsed as abruptly as a broken table. Augur was thrown from his saddle, landing heavily on the ground.

Before the revenant could stand, Max sprang again.

Sparks flew and Augur staggered back against a tree with great gashes in his armor. He grasped wildly about, but it was several seconds before the revenant realized Max was well out of reach, already crouched and waiting in the clearing’s center. There was a grating sound as Augur’s undying steed clacked its bones together and made a pitiful attempt to stand.

“And what will Astaroth say when he finds
you
at the clearing’s edge?” said Max, wiping his blade on a nearby vye before rising once again.

The possibility seemed to weigh heavily on Augur. Instead of hefting his hammer, the revenant grasped unsteadily for a signal horn at his side.

“I already knew you were a traitor,” hissed Max, “but you’re a coward, too.”

“A change in days is coming,” said Augur coldly. “Rowan will not write my history, boy.”

Laughing grimly, Max called to his comrade. “I don’t think he likes our chances, Cooper.”

But the Agent did not answer.

Max glanced where Cooper had been standing only moments earlier. Now, however, the Agent was slumped against the trunk of a nearby evergreen. Even in the dim light, Max could see sweat pouring off the man’s face as he took slow, laboring breaths.

Augur laughed.

“Don’t speak to me of shame and cowardice. Rowan brought this upon herself.”

It was the witches’ curse, coming home to roost at Rowan’s hour of need. Raising a mailed hand toward Cooper’s helpless body, Augur clenched his fingers shut. Roots and branches snaked about the Agent, pinning him to the trunk and binding him fast. Max darted to the Agent’s side as stinging pine needles flew in his face. Several branches had already found their way about Cooper’s neck, but the man could merely tug feebly at them while his eyelids fluttered with fever. Max sawed frantically at the branches with the gladius.

Behind them, Marley Augur sounded a great blast on his horn.

With a determined cut, Max severed the branches and wrenched Cooper from the tree. Hoisting the Agent upon his shoulder, he turned just in time to see the blur of Augur’s hammer arcing toward him.

Max twisted away, but the blow still caught him beneath the ribs. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby tree and caused him to lose hold of Cooper. For a moment, Max lay stunned. Breathing was painful and he became dimly aware that, despite Señor Lorca’s shirt, several of his ribs had been broken.

He heard sounds all about—birds calling through the air. There was a rustling, and Max felt something dragging along his foot.

Turning his head, Max saw Cooper being pulled away from him. Marley Augur held the Agent by the ankle even as he raised his hammer high for another blow at Max. Max rolled away as the hammer crashed down in a spray of bark and earth. Springing to his feet, Max ducked another blow and slashed the gladius across Augur’s face.

The revenant released Cooper and toppled backward, clutching at its mouth, which had split from ear to ear. Gasping from pain, Max snatched up Cooper’s kris and hoisted the Agent on his shoulder once again as he scanned the forest.

The surrounding trees were filled with crows—witch familiars—sitting perfectly still among the branches and watching the scene with glittering eyes. One opened its sharp beak to issue a hoarse croak, followed by another and another until the forest erupted into a mocking chorus. Max knew only one option remained.

He turned and ran.

Despite Cooper’s earlier counsel, Max made straight for the gorge. He had no choice: Cooper was sick and the only help lay in that direction. Gritting his teeth, Max hurried through the woods, doing his best to keep the jostling Agent steady on his shoulder. Behind him, he heard the echoing call of horns and booming drums while the crows wheeled above, croaking with their sharp black beaks.

Pursuit came quickly.

Dark shapes flitted through the trees on either side—vyes. Some of the creatures ran on two legs, others on four; all were very swift. Max dashed over a narrow stream and ducked into the thick stand of fir trees that marked the entrance to the gorge. The vyes funneled in after.

Max had nearly made it through the dim gorge, his lungs afire, when he realized that he could no longer outrun his pursuers. Gasping for air, he stopped and turned. Some thirty feet behind him, their yellow eyes gleaming in the gloom, were hundreds of tall vyes, lanky as greyhounds and clearly bred for speed. One rose on two legs and beckoned at Max.

“Leave us the man and we’ll let you run a little longer,” it chided with a cunning smile.

Max did not reply, but caught his breath and backed away, running his hand along the sheer rock wall until he felt it begin to narrow once again. The vyes hissed and laughed and crept forward, some wholly wolfish in appearance, others displaying decidedly human noses and lips and ears in a hideous, slavering visage.

Where the canyon pinched to a breadth of less than ten feet, Max ventured a look behind him. Just ahead were the hidden plains, an open space of gloaming gray. Once there, he knew they would surround him. Keeping his eyes locked on the vyes, Max slowly lowered Cooper to the ground. The Agent moaned and slumped against the rock while Max rose with a weapon in each hand.

“Nowhere to hide, little Hound,” said the closest vye, baring its teeth and bringing up a short spear meant for stabbing. The other vyes rose on their hind legs and howled until the canyon walls shook and pebbles rained upon the hard-packed riverbed.

Despite the howls, Max’s world became eerily silent. Standing to his full height, he walked forward to face his enemy and offer the curt soldier’s salute that Scathach had taught him. The vyes hesitated, talons twitching as they squinted and balked at this unexpected turn. When Max’s hands began to shake, his pursuers came into sharp focus—every hair, tooth, and glittering eye visible in the most marvelous detail. The lurking presence within him began to boil and rage and this time he did not fight it. The Old Magic gathered force and rose within Max like a spring flood, so swift and dreadful that all would be swept away before it. When it burst its banks, Max screamed and the canyon erupted in a sudden flash of blinding white light.