Chapter 32
The Escape

he dull evening light crept slowly over the cottages and at last began to die away into darkness. “Where are they?” asked Derek with excited nerves, as the three men stood awaiting their accomplices.

“They’ll be here soon,” answered Cade and rubbed his hands together briskly to keep them warm. He swore and sat down on the porch steps. “It would have to be the coldest night yet.”

Behind him stood Cedrik, who remained very quiet, very still. He knew it was a venture fraught with danger not to be taken lightly. At his hip was his sword. Cade shifted uncomfortably. He hated that everyone was so silent and yet did not feel compelled to break the silence himself.

Two young men came toward the cottage with swift purposeful steps. Cade rose to his feet, and the brothers went with him to met the arrivals. Carson, a sturdy boy of nineteen, had unkept brown hair and light blue eyes. His countenance, which was by no means unpleasing, was youthful in its expression and full of devilment. Bayne was a slender, swarthy young man of twenty-two. He had a good-looking face, with a straight nose and a full mouth, and eyes that spoke of trouble under the dark lashes. He wore an expression of pride, accompanied by a degree of hostility. He had an old scar from a nasty gnash on his left brow. Both exuded a great deal of self-assurance and daredevilry.

“We stopped by the alchemist and got some bang berries,” said Carson with a broad smile. “They won’t do any damage, but when hot they make a whole lot of noise.”

“What are we to use them for?” asked Cedrik, examining the pouch.

“A distraction,” said Bayne. “When it reaches a certain temperature—boom!” His sudden exclamation made Derek flinch. “It’ll sound like half the damned roof is coming down! Carson used to throw it into the baker’s oven when his back was turned—used to drive the old man into a fury of insanity.”

“Have you ever attempted this before?” Cedrik asked, fearing he was dealing with two foolish rogues.

“No, but we’ve thought about it many times,” Carson said.

“We’ve both been in the lockup before,” said Bayne. “We know our way round somewhat.”

Knowing he had little choice in the matter, Cedrik reluctantly stated his gratitude for their assistance.

“I just want to hurt someone,” replied Bayne. Cedrik frowned but said nothing.

Here they laid their plans as to how they were to operate and soon set off. Cedrik said uneasily, “We must first go down by the edge of the woods. There’s one other to join our party.”

None of them inquired whom they would be meeting. Among the shadows of the trees nothing could be seen but the vague shape of her long, slender form. She wore a close-fitting, black gown, which left her throat and arms bare. Her face was bent down as if she suffered some trouble of mind. Unwittingly Carson and Bayne approached. They slowed considerably in their steps, approaching realization, till they came to a complete standstill. Mistrust was in their eyes as they saw her, and curiosity too. Sensible of their presence, Magenta lifted her eyes with a steadiness of gaze which stole upon the hearts of her beholders and haunted them to their cores. There was no bloom on her cheek, but unearthly whiteness.

Shortly after his companions, Cade became aware of her and suddenly stopped, clutching Cedrik’s shoulder. “Hold a minute—a priestess?” Cade whispered harshly. “Have you lost your mind?”

Like a bunch of dazed fools, they stood and gazed upon her. A faded scent of flowers was in the air. The singular beauty of her aspect was not what held them enthralled, but some emotion aroused by the unknown and the deeper instinct of dread. From the shadow she came forward as unexpectedly and as soundlessly as an apparition, and the men were as truly startled as if she were. With evident reluctance they were forced to come forward and meet her.

They did not gather close but hung back and allowed Cedrik to address her. “There have been some alterations to the plan,” he said, looking back at his companions, as if seeking their assistance in explanation. Magenta waited, confusion on her brow.

Bayne said shortly, “They came to us for assistance. We devised a plan. That explains it.” She looked at Bayne, and his first impulse was to avert his eyes, but he resisted the urge and held her gaze. “Are we to go now, or stand the whole night here chattering?”

“Where are we to go from here?” she asked, without resistance.

“What?” said Bayne. “You’re not to come.” He said to Cedrik, “There’ll be some harsh things taking place, and I don’t want some delicate creature that I have to constantly survey along the way coming with us.”

“Tell us first what you had in mind, and we’ll compare our options,” Cedrik said to Magenta.

Bayne confronted Cedrik with one despairing word, “Fool!” then waited sullenly, arms folded. Magenta explained in the simplest terms what design she had meant to put into effect. Cedrik was not against it and saw that Carson was considering it, while Bayne, he knew from the shadow on his face, understood nothing of what was said.

“That’s the complicated way. We’ll do it our way,” said Bayne. Carson agreed, followed shortly by the others. Silently Bayne exulted in their decision, all the while watching her with distrust. “We’re in no need of your help, priestess.”

“Nevertheless, I will remain with you.” As she moved forward he threw out his arm as if he would catch her. She halted and looked to him.

“I said you’re not to come,” he insisted. He didn’t back away but quailed under the intensity of her offence.

“Think not to intimidate me!” she said with cold fury. “You may come, or you may remain, but you cannot prevent me.” A foreboding breeze played through her hair, and the insidious scent of flowers unnerved him. Faltering in his courage, he lowered his arm, and with some muttered, scornful remark allowed her to pass.

“Let us make haste,” said Cedrik, feeling they had lost enough time.

From here they went through the streets of Cheydon, lighted at intervals by open-flame lamps, until they came to a broad, austere structure but a short distance from the mages’ guild. Concealed among a cluster of small trees, the companions observed their objective, the whole bearing a most fort-like and unhospitable appearance.

“Many pass through the entrance without being subject to scrutiny,” said Bayne. “We’ll stagger our approach so as not to draw attention to ourselves and meet again once inside.” He motioned to Derek and Carson. “You two go first with Cedrik. Cade and I will follow after with her.” He looked at Magenta, his gaze lingering with curious interest, but she, feeling he was against her, would not look toward him.

All manner of people passed in and out of the entrance at various times. Taking advantage of this, Cedrik and his two companions blended with others and remained unperceived. When Bayne saw that they had entered unchallenged, he turned to the two left with him. “That went off without a hitch,” he said, with an insufferable smile.

Once inside Bayne broke from Magenta and Cade toward the administration quarters, while they continued left round a bend to their awaiting fellow-conspirators. In this area Bayne sought to put into effect his scheme of distraction. Close by the door, where several guards stood posted, he sighted a large open flame in a cast-iron plate. To this he made his way with purpose till, coming toward him, he glimpsed a face that he recognized, and he knew the person would recognize him. Swiftly and without breaking stride, he redirected his step, turning and walking with his back to the known individual, keeping his face down. Only when the threat had passed him by, did he turn and redirect himself toward the flame. Leaning over the plate, careful not to catch himself on fire, he set down the heat-sensitive pouch, trying to arrange it in the ideal place so as not to heat too quickly. Try as he did to remain inconspicuous, his manner did not escape the shrewd notice of one of the guards.

Bayne continued in his task when a male voice came from close behind. “What are you meddling with there?” He rose sharply, as if caught in the perpetration of some questionable act. Facing the guard he stuttered some excuse that came first to mind, feeling beneath his tattered cloak for the hilt of a dagger which was hidden there.

The guard eyed him suspiciously, then, evidently taking him for a fool, turned away. Bayne breathed a sigh of relief, making certain that in his distraction he hadn’t placed the pouch too close to the flame. He didn’t want it to set off prematurely. The guard catching this over his shoulder saw that he was at it again, swung back and confronted him forcefully: “Leave it alone or so help me, I’ll beat you an inch from death! What’s your purpose here?”

“I’ve just been released,” he lied.

“Then be on your way before I toss you back in.” The guard took hold of him roughly and shoved him in the direction he ought be going. Bayne stumbled off in the path he had been propelled, hands raised to show he meant no harm. The guard looked after him a moment and bent to see what the mischief-maker was so intent upon. From over his shoulder Bayne watched to see if he would be discovered in his crime, and with a quick, subtle motion of his hand, caused the flame to flare, almost searing the guard’s face.

The guard withdrew from the flame and convinced there was nothing there, moved on. Bayne smiled to himself, left the entrance area, and rejoined his companions who awaited him round a bend. All six companions stole down the corridor that led to the right apartment. Before reaching the door, however, they paused, pressed against the wall to make certain no one was coming round the corner.

Already feeling the strain, Derek whispered to Bayne, “Can you not make us imperceptible to the eye?”

“No.”

“What kind of mage are you?”

Annoyed by the chatter, Cedrik whispered harshly, “One that can hurt you. Now be quiet.” He peered round the corner. He saw no one, but the sound of boots came to his keen ear. There was no doubt some one was approaching. Cedrik slowly drew his sword and indicated someone was coming.

Pressed against the wall, gripping the weapon, he awaited his moment. No sooner had the unsuspecting man passed them, than down came the hilt of the sword effectively and sharply on his head. He staggered against the wall, half-stunned. Cedrik, grabbing him roughly by the collar, followed the blow with another from his fist, which knocked the man completely insensible. Derek stood over the limp body where it lay. “I think you killed him,” he said, horrified, though not without some admiration.

“He has not died,” said Cedrik impatiently.

“He’s just messed up,” said Bayne. “But he’s going to wish he were dead when he wakes.” He had taken enough blows to the head to know what it was to come to after a particularly nasty one.

“Help me move him,” said Cedrik and stooped down. He and Derek dragged the body back round the corner, away from the main corridor.

“Someone’s bound to come upon him here,” said Carson.

Further on one of them discovered a small storage room. Here they determined to hide him, leaving him crumpled on the floor. Then they went back down the corridor. Without warning the very door they approached swung open toward them. Quickly, while still blocked by the door, they turned and went back round the corner, keeping close to the wall. Several men clad in red robes passed from the chamber and continued away from them.

Presently, Cedrik bent his head round, and upon seeing the way was clear, hastened forward, followed by the others. At the door he tried to draw the bolts and received a painful, jolting charge through the hand and arm that buckled his fingers. A startled oath flew from his mouth, and he withdrew.

“It’s charmed,” said Bayne, pushing past. He hovered his palm over the lock, focused his attention, and received a charge that knocked his hand back. Carson gave a snorting laugh. Bayne wanted to beat the humour out of him, but knew there was no time. Again he tried and received the same painful result. He cursed it and, using his other hand, was about to try again when Magenta’s voice of warning came.

“Should you fail a third time, an alarm will be set forth,” she said, coming forward. He backed swiftly out of her path, so she needn’t touch him. She poised her palm over the lock—there was a flash of light and it jolted open.

“Lock your valuables,” said Derek and threw an impressed look back at his brother.

Bayne reached and opened the door for her. “You may go first,” he said. “I don’t like you at my back.” Without a second thought of him, she passed through and continued ahead of them, with Bayne directly behind her. The sound of movement reached his ears more swiftly than it did hers and, swifter still, he caught the skirt of her dress, to prevent her from continuing forward and alerting the individual of their presence. Around the jutting out of the wall, in a small recess, he glimpsed the shoulder of an off-duty guard, sitting at a table, upon which was a bottle of wine and a loaf of rye bread.

With a jerk of the head Bayne indicated for her to fall back. She did this while he crept forward. He stole warily up to the guard. In his hand he gripped the dagger he drew from his cloak, and, as the hapless man rose up, the point of that keen blade plunged soundless into his back, through his heart, at the same instant that Bayne’s free hand swung up and covered his mouth. There was no struggle, no sound. Bayne clenched the convulsive body, then with a callous push, pitched it forward to the floor. Magenta winced at the reckless brutality, but she had gone too far to pull out now.

The room which they entered had doors on three sides. They required no door, however, but rather the wall to the far right, through which they meant to get at the holding cells on the other side. Carson at once set to his task. He was to transmute the mortar around each brick into mud, thereby allowing the loosened brick to slide out freely. While he did this, the others gathered apprehensively about his crouched form.

“Go listen by that door,” Cedrik said to his brother and instructed Cade to watch the second door. Bayne took himself over by the third and listened. Cedrik stood with his back to them, watching to see how Carson fared in bringing down part of the wall. It was a slower process than Cedrik would have liked. He felt anxious they would be discovered, and several times he turned, convinced he had heard steps.

The faint sounds of clanking armour would come to Derek’s attentive ears at intervals, never close enough to think they were coming to the door, but soon he heard quick, yet heavy steps approaching louder and louder, till there was no doubt someone was about to enter. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered urgently.

There was a sound—a drawing of bolts. Cedrik turned hastily just as the door opened, and kicked it closed, smashing it into the guard’s face, who staggered backward, half-stunned, with a bloodied nose. Cedrik wasted no time before bounding onto the man, grappling him to the ground. There was not a large disparity in weight between the two men, but in the dominant position Cedrik easily overpowered him, pressing his forearm down across the throat, choking him unconscious.

While he did this, Derek attended to the guard behind. Taking advantage of the surprise, he landed a sharp blow to the guard’s jaw with such a hard knock he felled him on the spot. Derek could easily have killed the man, had such been his desire, but he could not bring himself to the point.

Cedrik meanwhile rose from his unconscious foe. The chivalry he would usually abide was disregarded, and he plunged his blade through the man’s chest. He then did the same to the other at Derek’s feet, while Derek, who had never taken a life nor witnessed his brother take the life of man, stood breathless and overwhelmed.

Cedrik clutched his brother round the back of the neck. “Are you holding?” Derek nodded hurriedly, as if numbed by a chill. Cedrik looked over at the companions and saw that enough of the wall was down for them to pass through.

“This is going better than I thought,” said Cade with relief.

“It will not go so easy when we come nearer to the holding area,” said Carson as he ducked through the narrow aperture he had produced, leading the way.

In his cell Deacon stood aimless. He was shackled in wrist irons, made of a particular alloy that had negating properties. These bonds did not render him entirely useless but made it exceedingly difficult for him to draw on any amount of strength. The holding cell was isolated from the others, situated in the middle of the chamber, entirely closed in with no windows but for the one set in the iron-bound door, equipped with thick bars.

A single man stood posted in front. He was not a city guard but one of the rangers who worked for Orsious. Further down from here several guards were posted at the entrance; they could not be seen from the prisoner’s view. Deacon leaned his brow against the cold bars, hanging his arms limply through the spaces between them.

“You cannot keep me here. I’ve done nothing wrong!” he said, his voice rising in agitation, but the guard paid no more attention to him than if he had not spoken at all. Deacon’s hands were hanging down near to the lock. He made a subtle gesture, and for its attempt was inflicted with a charge. He swore and withdrew his hand. He had known how it would be, but had done it merely to satisfy his own knowing and to test the effect of his hindered strength.

The guard took a step forward and said, “Damn you, do not tempt me!”

From their unusual entry point, the perpetrators passed behind Deacon’s cell. To their left more holding chambers extended, forming a narrow corridor with cells on either side. These they swiftly passed, determining that Deacon would be held in the centre chamber, which was used for interrogation. Coming round the side of his cell, they came upon several guards posted at the entrance. The first guard to see them came to attention, startled, his hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. His violent start caused the others to do likewise. Out flashed the swords from their sheaths. No words were exchanged; the perpetrators’ intentions were too clear to necessitate any conversation. Bayne, with a single movement, snatched the concealed knife from his boot and hurled it into the throat of the first guard before the blade was fully drawn—he rushed forward to retrieve it mere seconds after it had left his hand. With that the two sides fell upon each other.

As yet unaware of his companions’ proximity, Deacon remained leaning, his brow pressed against the bars, his hands hanging limp through them, suffering the lull of inaction.

“Pull your arms back in before I break them off,” threatened the guard. Even with the restraints he didn’t trust the prisoner’s abilities. He stepped forward but then was distracted by the sound of conflict. There was a commotion at one side of the room. In that moment of distraction, just as he turned his face, Deacon made a sharp, sudden gesture which dashed the guard’s head against the wall and rendered him consciousless. The man laid sprawled, inert upon the floor.

Out from the corridor where the other cells where situated came three armed guards, hastening to the side of their associates, who still offered resistance against the perpetrators. Cedrik was so ruthless it seemed he was determined to disarm the whole party on his own. Magenta passed ahead of the hostilities and went toward Deacon’s cell. One of the defending guards, determining her intent, hastened to intercept her, but Bayne was after him a few seconds later and broadsided him. Both men fell and smashed into the floor. Only Bayne rose from the struggle. Seizing the guard’s sword, he cut the exposed throat and, thus armed, followed Magenta.

Deacon, after hearing the commotion, was aching to get out. Even with his heavily restrained energies, he tried to break the chain that served as a tether. When Magenta suddenly appeared at the door, he drew up straight, as if she were the last person he thought to see. “Are you hurt?” was the first thing she said, touching his face through the bars. She placed her hand over the lock. He caught her wrist.

“It’s difficult,” he said.

“Let her,” came Bayne’s ruthless voice. “She’s a criminal.” Deacon released her, wary of the unfamiliar face. Magenta at once attempted to release the lock. Bayne planted his feet either side of the unconscious body of the ranger, and stooping down, he felt for the keys. Cedrik and the others had managed to subdue the resistance and stood at the entrance on guard, waiting for any who might venture through.

Cade came to stand by Bayne, who found the key-ring, attached still by a chain, and tore it free. He held it up. “Damn me!” His heart sank at how many keys there were. “Who is this man?” Before stepping away from the body, he gave the insensible guard a good, sharp kick in the side. “He’ll feel that when he wakes.”

“Quickly, quickly,” said Cade.

In the opened doorway to the cell, Deacon waited, unable to move further out. He said to Magenta, “I wish you hadn’t come.” Beneath the concern was something decidedly cold and impersonal. Pain came into her face, so subtle that only he could have noticed. “Are my cousins here?”

“They wait down the hall,” Magenta told him. From his view he could not see them. She wanted to throw her arms about him and hold him close, but the strangeness of his manner kept her away. Bayne broke in rudely on their exchange and grabbed Deacon’s wrists. “Hold still, sweetheart, we’ll get you out.” He winked and proceeded to try different keys. Cade stood next to him, trying to determine progress, his gaze lifting occasionally to see how his companions far down at the end fared.

Cedrik, Derek, and Carson stood on either side of the entrance, out of view from any who might come down the hall. Cedrik nursed several nasty sword-gashes and regretted the absence of the armour to which he was accustomed. The other two were also well-beaten, but no wound required immediate address. Carson observed the younger brother’s ashen face—blood that was not his own smeared his cheek. “Don’t feel remorse,” he said. “These guards are miserable sons-of-dogs. I have scars still upon my body from their hands.”

“Hush, do not speak,” said Cedrik. He wanted to listen for anyone coming. Moments after, they heard faint steps approaching. The instant the individual entered, Carson came forward. Seeing it was a woman, not a guard, the blow he meant to deal swiftly changed. Instead he caught her by the shoulders and dashed her against the wall, throwing his weight against her. He clapped his hand over the startled mouth, but not before a faint cry had reached the ear of a man who followed. It alerted him and gave time enough to ready himself. Sword drawn, he blocked the first attack. He retreated up the hall and sent forth sharp, alarming calls. Cedrik went after him, and in a moment disarmed and silenced him, but it was too late. Nearby guards had heard the alarm and were at once rushing forth. Cedrik turned and ran.

The woman Carson had pinned against the wall remained helplessly passive. An intensified fear showed on her brow when her gaze fell upon the dead guards who lay behind him. Carson, not knowing what else to do with her, drew the strings from his leather pants and bound her hands. He pushed her to the floor in a corner and was threatening her into silence when Cedrik ran into the room in a mad haste, his sword drawn. Carson and Derek heard the heavy clanking of armour, which left no doubt a number of well-armed men were coming after him.

While all this went on, Bayne worked at freeing the prisoner. Cade hovered anxiously, urging him to be quick with the task. “You tried that one already.”

“No. I did not,” answered Bayne, undaunted.

The commotion at the entrance caught Cade’s attention. Panicking, he bent close, so he spoke right to the other’s ear and said with emphasis, “Hurry up.”

Bayne turned to him, provoked. “I will stick you with this key!” In that same instant they both turned and saw their companions engaged in fending off the impending onslaught of guards. Seeing them begin to falter under the weight of the attack, Cade began to lose his nerve and said, “Are you sure we shouldn’t have gone with the first plan?”

“Sh-h!” said Bayne, hurrying to unlock the prisoner’s bonds. Just as a barrage of guards came through the entrance, Deacon stepped free of his cell, sending out a pulse of electricity that stunned and collapsed their bodies. Before they could recover from the paralysis, the companions regrouped and hastened down behind the cell to where they had secretly infiltrated. Instead of turning left, out through the door by which they had entered, they continued through, stepping over the two guards Cedrik and Derek had previously brought down. Leading the way, Bayne turned their steps toward an outer wall. As fortune would have it, they met no resistance on their path.

“We are to go through there,” Bayne said, pointing to the wall ahead. Before Carson had a chance to hasten forward and set to the tedious task of removing each brick, Deacon threw all his will against it. As if hit by some tremendous force, the stone burst and shattered, leaving a gaping hole. The fugitives halted briefly, stunned by the startling force, then continued through. Outside, in the limited space between the structure and outer city wall, Bayne asked Deacon, “Can you seal it back up?” He knew everyone in the place would be on their heels in less than fifteen minutes.

Deacon shook his head, bent over as if out of breath.

“It matters little,” said Bayne, turning to the wall. Focusing his attention, he deformed the surface of the stone, producing indentations and protrusions suitable for foot and hand holds. Deacon set his boot on the first step and set all his weight on it. It was a only a fifteen-foot wall, but it would not do for any of them to fall and break a bone.

“Let your woman go before us,” said Bayne, in the tone of an order, thinking if anything should go wrong she would be the first to suffer it. Deacon paid no attention and commenced his ascent. He scaled the wall effortlessly and without fear.

Magenta started soon after him. When she neared the top, her wrists were grasped from above, and she was hauled up the rest of the way. Standing precariously atop the wall, Deacon held her close. “Hang down to the full length of your arms before you let go,” he instructed her. He went first, stepping off the edge and landing steadily upon his feet.

Carefully Magenta slid over the side, hanging with her body flat against the stone, arms fully extended. Deacon stood at the base waiting for her. As she dropped, he reached up and caught her round the waist to lessen the fall. In his arms she caught her balance and turned to him. When he determined she was unharmed, they swiftly moved out of the path for others who followed quickly behind. Bayne was the last. He landed hard and scrambled to his feet. “Your horses are tied over in those trees,” he said, wincing with a pained ankle. He indicated the thicket of trees a small distance away.

“Where are you going to?” asked Cedrik. He knew the search would be on and that none might traverse the streets of Cheydon without being subject to interrogation.

“There’s a tavern not far from here,” said Carson. “We’ll wait it out there and head back into the front gates with the morning trade.”

“You’d better clear off, then,” said Bayne. After farewell handclasps the Cheydon boys broke away in the other direction. Magenta went with Deacon, Cedrik and Derek. They slipped quickly into the trees, looking to retrieve the horses, of which were only three. They had not realized that she was to come with them. Without a word, Deacon held back, gently drawing her to a standstill with him. He turned only partly to face her, his eyes downcast. She was pressed softly against him, wondering. He waited while the brothers continued on ahead of them before he spoke.

“You cannot come with me,” he said in a low, firm voice, so only she could hear. He did not lift his eyes. Her heart sank within her and seemed to die. She could endure cold, wet or hunger, she had even borne Infliction, but the thought of being forever divided from him was as utterly unendurable as being asked not to breathe. “Return to your father,” he said quietly. She stood silent as if she could not move. He suffered. He was going to move.

A sob rose in her throat. “Deacon—” He had begun to turn, but her plea arrested him. “All that I hold dear will be torn away with you.” She pleaded so softly no other ears heard. She sought his hand plaintively and pressed close against him. Though her touch was light, he felt as if she were hanging off the edge of a precipice and his strength alone would keep her from falling. He could feel himself being dragged down with her. Unable to endure her face as he let her slip and fall, he stooped down to whisper. She felt his smooth cheek brush her own, his lips against her ear, the words rapid and almost senseless, succeeded in a suspension of consciousness. She hadn’t a chance even to apprehend the meaning before she drooped in his arms. Gently he lowered her to the soft earth.

“What did you do to her!” came Derek’s voice of alarm. Cedrik and Derek both went over to Deacon, bringing the horses with them. “Don’t do your accursed magic on her!” said Derek, crouching down to see if she was all right, but he couldn’t make her stir.

“Let us move on,” said Deacon, taking the reins of his horse from Cedrik. “It’ll not be long before we are discovered here.”

Cedrik frowned. “We can’t just leave her here,” he said. He felt it would be wrong to leave the young woman to such a fate, especially after she had risked herself for Deacon’s freedom. “You cannot just leave her here in this state.” Glancing down at her, she looked very vulnerable. “Anyone who comes along may do what they will with her.”

“She is a priestess,” said Deacon. “Guards that will be here all too soon will take her back to her father and us with her if we don’t move.” Cedrik looked at him, hardly convinced. “They would fear any other action,” Deacon said.

“And I suppose going back to her father, after disobeying him and freeing you, is not going to go bad for her? I met the man only briefly, but he left a vivid impression. Do you really wish to bring his anger down upon her?”

They were quickly running out of time, and Deacon knew Cedrik would have his way.

“She comes with us,” Cedrik persisted. “She can decide for herself where she goes thereafter.”

Deacon hesitated a moment then lifted her dead weight into his arms. “She’s in your care,” he said, bearing her to Cedrik’s horse. The latter assisted Deacon and between their efforts, successfully secured her. Cedrik pulled himself onto the horse behind her, supporting her in his arms. Deacon briskly mounted his own horse. “It will be a wearisome journey for you, till she wakes.”

Cedrik glanced at him angrily, then with a sharp kick to the beast’s side made off. They had not travelled far when Deacon drew rein and, leaping down, created behind them an airy mass. Any sign of their tracks disappeared as if they had vanished into the blowing night like a confusion of dust.