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Renn gathered his courage because he knew he had to make a good show for these lesser guards. As wizard, he was the leader of this expedition. “I do not know, and it does not matter. If we gain the lore of Cliffwall and bring it back to Ildakar, then we can all rest under the shroud and not worry about petty outside threats.” His throat was dry, and he swallowed hard. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Take down those heads. We don’t wish the rebels to have any victory, even a small one like this.”
Trevor and two other guards knocked down the poles, jarring the heads loose and disrupting the preservation spell that kept them intact. The rotting flesh turned black and green, then oozed off of the skulls, exposing teeth. Jellied eyes ran in streams into the ground. Clumps of hair slid off, and the stench wafted up.
Renn sneered at the sight, intending to seem brave. “I never liked the Norukai either, and I am not overly sad that a few of them lost their heads.” He looked up at Trevor. “I would rather Mirrormask’s thugs killed more of them instead of innocent citizens … like Kerry. It makes the world a more beautiful place.” He snickered at his own joke, then gestured forward. “Up into the mountains! Let us find Cliffwall without further ado, so we can get home.”
“Agreed,” Trevor said, and the guards cheered. “It must be just beyond that next ridge, over the mountains ahead. It cannot be far. We’ve covered so much distance already.”
The guards muttered, convincing themselves because their captain was so sure. And because Captain Trevor was so sure, Renn let himself be convinced. They pushed onward, and as night fell, they bedded down in camp.
It would only be a few more days, Renn assured himself as he tried to fall asleep on the cold, hard ground. Only a few more days.
The next morning they continued into the wild and rugged mountains, still trying to find Kol Adair.
CHAPTER 42
The night in Ildakar seemed calmer and quieter now that the Norukai had finally departed, but Nicci again couldn’t sleep. She was disturbed by the connected feline dreams from Mrra as well as her own restless thoughts. She lay in her expansive soft bed, which seemed far too comfortable to endure. She stared at the ceiling, listened to the breezes outside, the whisper of gauzy curtains at the open windows.
Inside her mind, the subtle presence of Mrra flowed through her. She had not seen the big sand panther since they’d entered the great city, but she knew that the big cat prowled the streets, keeping to the shadows. Mrra would not leave her.
Impatient, Nicci swung herself out of the bed and dressed quietly, shook her blond hair loose, slipped on her boots, and laced them up. She walked through the grand villa, knowing Mrra was out there in the dark streets, somewhere.
Nicci was anxious for her sister panther, wanted Mrra to get out of this dangerous situation. The cat didn’t always understand Nicci in details or specifics, but she would try to convey her urgent message. The panther did not belong here … none of them did, but Nicci couldn’t leave. Not yet.
Mrra, though, belonged outside, roaming the plain, keeping herself safe.
Walking past Bannon’s room, Nicci saw it was dark, and with a glance inside she realized he had not slept in his bed, had not even been back to the villa in a day or two. She frowned, wondering where he might be. No doubt he was with Amos, Jed, and Brock. Although Nicci did not approve of three young men, Bannon could make his own friends and learn his own lessons, even if he burned his fingers in doing so. He had not convinced anyone to help free his friend Ian, though Amos had offered casual assistance. Nicci suspected that was just a ruse, a cruel joke.
She concentrated on a larger problem: if she could change Ildakaran society and free all the slaves, then Ian would be among them.
She saw that Nathan’s room was dark as well. She considered rousing the former wizard so they could search for Mrra together, but as she felt the tendrils calling her, Nicci decided it would be best if she went alone.
Moving with catlike grace of her own, Nicci prowled the streets, descending the upper plateau. She saw feral house cats loose on the city walls, staring at her with gleaming eyes. She passed darkened estates, large homes of wealthy nobles, sniffed the sweet perfumes of blossoming orchards.
Before long, she felt the swell of Mrra’s presence, a flood of joy. The blossoming fruit trees provided tangled shadows as well as tiny white flowers, and she was surprised to realize the big panther was up in the branches. Mrra leaped down and landed in front of her with barely a sound, muscles tensed, tail twitching. The panther curled back her whiskers and let out a growling purr of welcome.
Nicci stepped forward. “Mrra, I’m so happy to see you.” She stroked the big cat’s wide head, scratched behind the twitching ears. “You shouldn’t be here. You should leave this city.”
Mrra growled, but didn’t move.
Nicci heard a clatter of roof tiles, looked up to see one of the smaller cats scampering along the gutter, before jumping down into another alley.
Nicci lowered her voice, pressed her face close to the panther’s feline eyes. “This is not a place for you. It’s dangerous here.” She wrapped her arms around the thick, muscular neck and hugged Mrra. “I know you’re staying here for me—but you shouldn’t! This isn’t the wild. Ildakar is not your place.”
Nicci pushed the solid furred body, trying to shove Mrra away. “Go! Get out of the city before the sun rises again. I want to know you’re free. I can’t worry about you. There’s too much to do here.”
Mrra planted her paws hard on the ground, resisting as Nicci pushed.
She sighed. “I wish you could understand me. Somebody will find you here, and I don’t want you caught. You remember what the chief handler will do to you. You’ve fought in the arena before.”
Mrra snorted, then pulled away, turning about reluctantly. Her tail twitched.
Nicci put urgency in her voice. “Nathan, Bannon, and I will leave here as soon as we can, but it’s important that we stay, for now.”
Mrra looked over her shoulder at her sister panther as she took two steps away. She paused. Nicci raised her voice to a loud whisper. “Please go!”
The cat sniffed in clear defiance. Nicci’s heart felt heavy, knowing that Mrra would stay here for as long as Nicci stayed.
She let out a long sigh. “Dear spirits, then keep yourself safe. Hide where they will never find you, and only come out at night.” Another thought occurred to her. “And if you should see Bannon, protect him. I don’t know what he’s gotten into.” Nicci straightened, ran her palms down her dark skirts. “If I need you, I will call.”
Mrra lifted her large head, twitched her tail, then let out another confident growl before she bounded off into the night like a
tawny shadow, disappearing into the winding streets. Nicci hoped the cat would stay safe. She hoped they would all stay safe.
CHAPTER 43
The torchlight from outside the cell hurt his eyes. Everything hurt his eyes. In fact, everything hurt.
Bannon groaned and came back to consciousness looking at sandstone walls. The lumpy uneven surface bore rusty brown marks, as if someone had used bloody fingernails to claw notches into the rock.
Two stubby candles burned in little cubbyholes, and the ceiling was stained with black smears of soot from the guttering flames. Outside the cell, mounted torches cast a latticework of shadows across the floor from the bars that held him inside. His cell had a narrow wooden pallet for sleeping, but he lay curled up in pain on the floor where he had been tossed like a broken doll.
He remembered provoking the Norukai, fighting them, and how the three had mercilessly beaten him, no matter how hard he had tried to fight back. Sometimes, when he couldn’t control his rage, he became a wild fighting storm, but his attack against Kor, Yorik, and Lars was ill advised, poorly planned. He couldn’t help himself. If he’d had Sturdy with him, Bannon would have killed all of them, but without his sword, anger had been his only weapon, and the brutish raiders knew how to attack helpless victims. They fought with no finesse or honor, three against one, acting as bullies.
Bannon had lost. Badly.
He groaned as he propped himself up on the gritty stone floor. At first he thought they had thrown him into some kind of city jail, but then he heard female voices outside, listened to the clatter of bars and the clang of dulled swords. Arena warriors were fighting one another, practicing and shouting. The young man raised himself to his knees, reached out to hold the bars for support, and pulled himself upright.
