Nancy Berberick - Prisoner of Haven

Dunbrae growled. “Damned knights should have every way out nailed up tight. I don’t like this.”

“Me either,” Dez said, “but I’m not liking the idea of running back into the city any better.”

No one argued, and Usha said, “I can’t imagine he’s left this one way open in hopes that we’d run straight here to it and be caught by lurking guards.” She looked back at the burning sky. “Something else has Sir Radulf’s attention right now.”

“Wouldn’t mind knowin’ what that is,” Dunbrae muttered.

Dez snorted. “Yeah. We can send someone a letter asking once we get home. For now, let’s get home.”

Usha followed Dez. Aline and Dunbrae came next as they slipped through the shadows to the river gate. Like all the gates of Haven, this one was two broad oaken doors that would swing wide against the walls to allow unloading ships and carting good into and out of the city. It had a smaller door or wicket at ground level, and Dez led them right to this. With Usha and the others looking out for guards, she unbarred the door and swung it open. The docks and wharfs of Haven lay before them, and it seemed to Usha that the stars shone brighter for the gate having been opened.

They slipped out the wicket and ran along the outside of the wall, hugging shadows until they came to a shabby street of tall warehouses. Running now, they skirted piles of rubbish, then stacks of lumber in the shipyards where the river spread out before them like light flashing, wide and bright.

Usha looked back and saw the wall like a thick, looming darkness. Smoke hung over the city, driven by the wind. No dragon flew, though Usha saw flashes of orange under the black smoke.

“Is he burning the city?” Aline whispered.

Dunbrae shook his head. “Not by the look of it. I don’t think he’s even burned very much of it.” He caught Aline’s eye and nodded sympathy. “Rose Hall, mistress. That’s gone fer certain, and likely the homes of yer unlucky neighbors. That about it.”

“It’s enough,” Usha said bitterly. She paced the riverside, looking up and down the current She felt a prickling between her shoulder blades. “There are no guards. Why not?”

From the darkness behind them, a low voice said, “Because I told Sir Radulf where you were, and he needed his men there.”

Usha whirled to see Loren Halgard walk out from behind a stack of lumber. She had seen him white with grief and pale with rage. She had never seen him like this-hollowed. Usha took a step toward him.

Dezra’s sword hissed from the sheath, the blade running with starlight.

The high song of steel answering steel screamed on the night. Aline cried out as Madoc Diviner’s sword checked Dezra’s.

“Madoc! You’re safe! I-”

Out of the corner of her eye Usha saw Dunbrae get between Aline and the steel.

“Put up your sword, Dez,” Madoc said.

“Not while I’m among traitors,” she spat.

“Dez,” Usha said, “stand down.”

Without moving her head, Dezra cast a scornful glance at Loren. “You heard him. He put Sir Radulf onto us.”

Dezra held, Madoc wouldn’t give, and a large, knob-knuckled hand closed firmly over the cross where the blades met.

“Put up your sword, Madoc Diviner,” Aline said.

Her command hung for a moment unanswered, then Madoc bowed like a knight heeding his lady’s will and put away his steel.

“Lady Usha,” he said, “Loren did not betray you. There are some things you need to know.” He looked past her to the city, the smoke, and the fire. “And you don’t have long to learn them.”

Usha’s heart was like a storm sky. Feelings flashed like lightning as she watched Qui’thonas mount its last rescue. At Aline’s order, Dunbrae, Aline herself, and Dezra went quickly and quietly downriver, looking for what Aline ominously named the doorway to the eastern catacombs. To her question and Loren’s, Madoc gave only an evasive answer. Usha didn’t press.

“And no time for that anyway,” Loren said.

He put an arm around her waist, walking close beside her in the shadows while Madoc loped ahead. Warehouses lined this part of the river, casting shadow out to the water. In that darkness, the mage ran like an outrider.

The sky above Haven glowed red. Usha felt a shudder of dragonfear as one of the great winged beasts flew near. Loren’s arm tightened around her as though he felt it too.

“My love-”

Usha’s pulse quickened to hear him speak the endearment she thought she’d never hear again.

“My love,” Loren said, “you’re being hunted.”

“ I am? But… Qui’thonas -?”

“Yes, they know about Aline, too. It’s why they descended on Rose Hall so quickly. The man Sir Radulf tortured-”

His face went white. One eye on Madoc as he slipped in and out of shadows, Loren told the tale of Rowan’s treachery.

Anger mingling with sorrow, Usha said, “But how did you know this? Loren, you said Rowan was killed.”

“He was. Madoc told me he was hanged on the idea that if he betrayed one master, he’d betray another. Sir Radulf took the information and killed the messenger.”

Again, the shiver of dragonfear; this time stronger. Loren moved Usha deeper into shadow and pressed her against the silvering wood of a tumble-down shed. From the sky, no one would see her. From the other side of the river, she would be invisible. Over his shoulder, Usha saw the sky. No dragon flew there, but one was near. Across the river no one moved, no mounted knight or foot soldier.

“How did Madoc know about Rowan?”

Loren’s answer startled her. “Sir Arvel told him.”

“But-”

Arm around her again, Loren led her downriver. “The knight isn’t all you imagined him to be, Usha. Madoc says Sir Arvel is a man who can play both sides of the street-and patches in the middle if those suit him. Sir Arvel is one of his best informants. Not for ideology or because he thinks the dark knights have the right of anything. Sir Arvel likes to live well; simple as that. He never seems to earn enough from his service to his master’s cause.”

Usha shook her head, remembering how Dez had railed against Madoc, the man who served no master but his own need. What would she say about Sir Arvel of Kinsalla? Usha didn’t like to think about it.

Small figures emerged from the shadows far down the river. Two went together-Aline and Madoc, surely. They ran, quickly but not as though pursued.

Loren whispered, “Usha…”

Usha, it’s time to go. Usha, it’s time to say good-bye. He didn’t speak those words, yet Usha heard them, the understanding of parting breaking over her suddenly.

“Loren, I don’t-”

He shook his head. “You have to go. Right now.”

As though to underscore his insistence, the sound of shouting and the thunder of horses swelled. Knights galloped through the city, and the cold terror of dragonfear touched her heart again.

“They’ve found out that Aline is gone from Rose Hall, Usha. They might have learned you were with her.”

“You said you told Sir Radulf where to find me.”

“I did.” Loren’s was a rueful smile. “He’s probably figured out by now that you’re nowhere near the gate to the Seeker Reaches.”

The thunder of horses sounded closer, crashing down the narrow alley to the wharf. Usha stepped out of the shadows then turned back swiftly.

“They’re here! Mounted knights!”

She looked again and saw a banner flying from the top of a lance. No one carried a banner in Sir Radulf’s talon but one knight. Lady Mearah separated from the troop and sent her mount plunging out onto the river bank.

Down the strand, Madoc stopped, and Dunbrae turned. Words passed between them, drowned by the thunder of hooves. Dunbrae turned back toward Aline. He would never leave her. Madoc would never permit it.