Guardian of the Vale Page 12

  Bars jutted across the doorway with an ear-splitting shriek. A grinding creak accompanied Manders's desk as it flipped under the floor, the carpet and the rocker in the corner doing the same. One of the men caught his foot in the turning stone. With a cry, he disappeared into the hole in the floor. A moment later, the floor sealed, and his cries were silenced.

  Kyle recovered quickly. “Layne, come on, enough is enough. You're outnumbered, and thanks to the bars on the door, no one is going anywhere. You may as well give up. Just—come with us before either you or Houser gets hurt.”

  Alayne's jaw locked around the furious tirade she wanted to unleash on him. She reached for the element strands, tempted to rip them from their pinnings and throw Kyle and the guards and the entire spire to chaos and destruction. The strands quivered beneath her fingers, but at her touch, they leaped far beyond their usual response. She dropped them for a moment. Her control was so tenuous, and she and Daymon had to make it out alive. She had to use the elements, but she needed all her concentration.

  Daymon backed toward her, his gaze spearing the remaining guards, his arms spread defensively. Alayne waited until he was close and grabbed his hand. At the same moment, she pulled three jets of water directly over the three Fire-Breathers. The flames that danced on their hands suffocated, and their cries choked in their throats as the liquid poured over them. Alayne mashed the rock button Manders had shown her the year before, fervently hoping that Manders hadn't been joking when he'd told her it was an escape hatch.

  Sure enough, there was another grinding creak, and a portion of the wall cracked open and rumbled inward. The entire wall spun on a giant axis, and Alayne braced herself against the cold stone as it pushed her beyond Manders's office. She gripped Daymon's hand, stumbling through the darkness until the grinding stopped. She lit her finger again.

  They stood in the adjacent stone room. In the corner, a large mirror stood, a banner of orange and brown painted wood in the shape of flames surrounding it.

  “The mirror, Daymon!” she cried. “Manders did move it here! Let's go.” She started toward it.

  “Alayne! You're not going anywhere.” Behind them, Kyle grunted with exertion as he ripped his sleeve free from where the panel had caught it.

  Alayne whirled, her heart in her throat.

  “Seriously?!” Daymon pushed Alayne behind him and slammed his fist across Kyle's jaw.

  Kyle's head whipped back, but he recovered, raising his arms in a protective stance. He spit to the side, and hatred sliced his expression. “I always knew it would come down to this, Houser. You and I having a throw-down for Alayne.” He threw a punch at Daymon's face, but Daymon caught it on his arm in a solid block.

  Alayne felt Kyle reach for the water element. Desperately, she grasped it first and yanked it away. The floor of the room flooded with water. Alayne could feel her control slipping, and she tightened her grasp. If she lost it here in this small room, she'd put herself and Daymon in danger, too. Concentrate, Alayne!

  Daymon twisted and aimed two kicks at Kyle's chest, one of which landed, and then followed through with a punch. It connected solidly with his shoulder. Kyle grunted and threw a return kick into Daymon's ribs. Daymon gasped for breath.

  Water sprayed in from the walls now, drenching all of them. Alayne's grasp on the element shook beneath the strain. It slipped farther and farther through her fingers. She could feel Kyle straining for it, but each time Daymon landed a blow, he lost his concentration. Even with that benefit, Alayne didn't know much longer she could hold out.

  Both boys slogged through the water, grappling with each other. Alayne could hardly see them through the spray. The door was still sealed, and the water had risen above their knees. Alarm bells clanged in Alayne's head. What if she couldn't turn the water element away? Her strength was diminishing, and all she could do was hold on. There was no give in the element; she couldn't take it back. The Vale wrestled inside her for the upper hand.

  So she watched helplessly, clinging to the element, as the boys exchanged hits and kicks. Daymon was taller than Kyle, with broader shoulders, and the fight turned his way.

  Sweat and blood and water intermingled on the boys' faces. Daymon gained the advantage and pinned Kyle to the wall. “The trouble with you, Pence, is that you,” he drove his fist into Kyle's stomach, “actually,” punch, “might,” knee to the stomach, “have made her love you.”

  He stood back as Kyle sagged weakly against the wall. “But you just had to buy your mommy's affection instead.”

  Alayne trembled by the door where she had watched the fight. Slowly, she sagged into the water, her back against the rough stone, as every last bit of strength seeped from her legs. In a daze, she watched Daymon step back from Kyle, his gaze burning as he stared at the other boy.

  The water level surged at Alayne's chest where she crouched and at Daymon's waist where he faced Kyle. It continued to rise. Kyle leaned against the wall, panting for breath. He threw a weak punch, but Daymon easily blocked it.

  Alayne gave up trying to tame the water element and pushed to her feet. She waded to the mirror, sliding her wet hand across the surface. It was gaining buoyancy in the water. She grasped its side, anchoring it to the ground.

  Daymon pounded one final punch into Kyle's jaw. Kyle slid down into the water, where his bloody face bobbed just above the surface. Daymon turned, striding through the water toward her. She knew her exhaustion and weakness were fully evident; he compensated, lifting her again into his arms. “Enough of this. Let's get out of here,” he muttered. “Mirror, take us to my uncle Manders.”

  Kyle groaned over the noise of the spraying water as the mirror lit up. Instead of showing the Last Order headquarters as Alayne had expected, the mirror revealed a river rushing through a thick copse of trees. A fire flickered nearby. Four sleeping rolls lay next to it. It was a campsite, though void of people.

  “I thought—”

  “Alayne, move!” Daymon threw her toward the mirror, frantically grasping her arm. She heard him grunt as they rolled onto the floor of the forest, and the sound of splintering glass and gushing water exploded around them. Reflective shards surrounded their bodies. A tidal wave of water dissipated slowly into the forest floor.

  And a black steel knife jutted from the side of Daymon's neck. Her knife—Alayne recognized it immediately.

  “What—how did—” Manders's voice cut the air as he stared at them from the edge of the clearing where he had obviously been plucking some berries.

  “Manders, help!” Alayne screamed as she watched blood—too much blood—pulsing from Daymon's neck. This was too familiar; all her nightmares were raising to life in horrific, black form.

  She'd missed the knife that she'd thought had killed Jayme, and she'd spiraled into self-blame and depression for the entire next year, berating herself for being too slow to stop it.

  It was happening all over again, only this time, the knife was hers, and it was bathed in the life-blood of her Guardian, the one person she needed more than anyone else.

  She reached for the blade, and laying her hands carefully on the skin around the blade, she pulled the dagger from his body. Far too slowly, the blood flow lessened to a trickle before stopping.

  “Please, help, Manders! It was too much blood. I—I can't get him to wake up.” Panic sizzled through Alayne's mind. She smacked Daymon's cheek. “Please, Daymon, wake up. Wake up, you idiot!”

  Manders helped her roll Daymon onto his back. He slid his fingers into the groove in Daymon's neck, feeling his pulse. A moment later, he relaxed. “Weak, but steady. He'll survive.”

  Both of them watched him anxiously, Alayne stroking his hair away from his forehead. “Wake up, Daymon.” Tears snaked down her cheek; what would she do if she lost him? “Please.”

  Daymon's fingers twitched in Alayne's hand. A moment later, his eyelids fluttered open. He stared at the trees above him and then over at Alayne and Manders. “Uncle?”

  “You had a narrow miss
, boy.” Manders flipped a piece of broken mirror up in front of him. “Care to tell me what you all have been up to for the last two weeks?”

  Two weeks. Alayne couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that she had been sitting in her black hell-hole for two entire weeks. She glanced across the fire at Manders and the others. Eryc Connel was one of them. The tall boy poked at the rabbit leg on his plate, tearing off the meat with his teeth. As he chewed, he wiped the grease from his chin and smiled shyly at Alayne.

  Alayne didn't know the other two men. They were older, around her parents' ages. Their faces were hard, and battle was etched into the lines on their foreheads. They introduced themselves as Kary and Bard. Both had a sense of humor that made Alayne smile as they cracked jokes at each other.

  Alayne snatched another joint off the rabbit. She glanced over at Daymon, who had piled his rabbit bones in a miniature skeletal mountain by his knee.

  “Eat up,” Manders broke the silence. “We killed several.”

  Alayne's famished stomach took him literally. This was her fourth helping, and she still felt empty.

  “You might want to slow down a bit, though, Layne,” Daymon murmured beside her. “You've been hungry a long time.”

  Alayne ignored him. “So how long have you been looking for us?” she asked, lifting the neckline of her shirt to her lips and wiping the grease from her mouth.

  Manders set down his last bone and kicked his booted feet in front of him. “Since you disappeared. We searched the city first, sure that you had been taken to one of the NRCs. Took us another week to get hold of the lists.” He found a forked twig on the ground and raised it to his mouth, sliding one pointed end between his teeth. “You weren't on any of those. So we had to form a search party for you.”

  He picked his teeth for a moment before tossing his stick behind him into the woods. He pinned Alayne with a fierce stare. “Young lady, we all spent a good deal of time worrying about you in the last two weeks, Marysa Blakely probably more than anyone. You should never have left the Last Order premises, or if you absolutely had to, you should have laid out your plan to me.” His gray eyes regarded her sternly. “I'm a reasonable man, Alayne. I will always hear what you have to say, no matter how far-fetched your ideas are. Sometimes the most insane notions are the ones that make the most sense. Either way, you should have checked with me.”

  Alayne dropped her gaze to the rabbit in her hands, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I'm sorry, sir.”

  Manders wasn't done. “It almost cost you your life as well as my nephew's, and it very nearly put the Vale in the hands of the Alliance. The Vale is not to be trifled with, Alayne. You cannot dance your way through the Capital without extreme caution, and I don't consider a midnight stroll with only Daymon as company to be cautious, no matter how excellent a Guardian he is.”

  “Sir, he did try to talk me out of it—”

  “I don't want to hear it. Daymon shoulders his share of the blame as well.”

  “Yes, sir.” Shame rankled her conscience. Daymon studied his plate with intense concentration, refusing to look up. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he tossed aside another rabbit bone.

  “Are we clear on that, Alayne?” Manders's voice still held the sting of reproof.

  The meat in Alayne's stomach twisted her insides into painful cramps. Too much food too quickly. She tossed her unfinished bone onto her plate. “Yes, sir. It won't happen again.”

  “I should hope not.” A glimmer of a smile appeared at the edges of Manders's goatee. “Though one good thing came of this. We now have access to the mirror.” He motioned to the pile of broken glass that rested next to one of the packs. “Not as a whole, of course—we can't travel anywhere with this one, but we'll have more and better ability to spy. We do still have access to the one we commandeered from the High Court, however.”

  “Traveling through the mirror's still hard, though, right Kary? Sometimes they put up blocks,” one of the men, the one called Bard, muttered to the man sitting next to him. “It's hard to get past a good block.”

  “Not too many people know how to block a Guardian mirror,” Kary muttered, settling his back against a log and lacing his hands behind his head. “We'll still be able to use it.”

  Manders pulled another plate, full of berries, closer to him. He passed it over the fire to Alayne. “Berries? They're plentiful in these woods.”

  Alayne took the plate and stared at the berries, her stomach no longer content to digest food normally. It roiled and heaved and pitched, and a moment later, she dropped the plate and ran for the stream.

  The small company followed the stream east for the next two days. Alayne searched the sky between the trees, realizing they would have to turn north soon, or they would miss their destination. When she'd asked Manders about it, he'd nodded.

  “Water is a life-line, Alayne. You of all people should know that. We'll find other water, yes, but not only is the stream our source of cleanliness and hydration, it's also a form of defense. Eryc, Kary, you, and I are all Water-Wielders. We can pull water from anywhere, but where it is most abundant—such as near the stream—it's easiest to defend ourselves.”

  At Manders's mention of cleanliness, Alayne had squirmed. She'd felt disgusting and dirty after two days of hiking through underbrush, briars, and sap-sticky pines. It was hot, and sweat had soaked through her clothes several times. She'd kept herself as clean as she could by plucking the dirt and moisture from her clothes and skin, but she longed for the powerful shock she always felt when she submerged herself in water. She'd asked Manders then if she could wash in the stream, but Manders had lifted his eyebrow when she'd first mentioned it. “You may bathe, Alayne, but we're in the woods, on the run, and there are bounty hunters everywhere. Since you just managed to further anger Tarry, there will be higher rewards out there for you, and if you are seen by anyone besides the five of us, you will be in extreme danger.”

  “So—you're saying I can't bathe unless someone's with me? What if you just scouted out the area really well?”

  Manders had shaken his head. “Sorry, no, Alayne.”

  “I'll wait for the Last Order headquarters,” Alayne had muttered.

  After another two days of travel, Manders had reconsidered his verdict. He pulled her aside. “Alayne, I've had Kary and Bard do a thorough sweep of the stream here, and if you still want to bathe, I think it would be okay to do so.”

  Relief flooded Alayne; water acted as an ebullient force for her. She felt its life-giving shock every time she touched it. She anticipated the vitality it would give her as soon as she could fully submerge herself in it. Providing the element isn't out of my control like it was in the tunnels at Clayborne.

  Mid-morning after Daymon had left the group to go hunting, Alayne walked through the trees toward the stream and meandered along the overgrown edges of it, searching for a deeper area. She knew the men were nearby, although Manders had taken care that she should be completely obscured by the trees.

  She hadn't told Daymon about her wish to bathe; framing the words and telling her primary Guardian seemed so silly every time she thought about it, and a blush rose to her cheeks when she tried to mention it. Daymon was more protective than the rest, and she knew he'd make a big deal about it, anyway. It felt like a whimsical trifle, and she didn't want him to laugh at her.

  Ahead, past a jutting boulder, she could see a set of rapids, a small waterfall, and then a deep pool beyond that. Perfect. She smiled as she sat down on the boulder and stripped off her boots and her socks, wincing at the smell. Daymon's jacket, her jeans, and then her t-shirt came next, followed by her underclothes. She unbraided her hair, grasped the soap she'd borrowed from Manders, and took a flying leap into the pool with a splash.

  The cold water shocked her skin and her lungs. She felt alive beneath the surface of this element, her element, without respect to the Vale. She felt that she had come home, and after her two-week imprisonment when she thought she truly was dying, the life th
at pulsed through her skin through contact with her element was like being awakened from a long, long sleep.

  She broke the surface with a gasp of exhilaration and flung the water from her hair in an arc of sparkling, splashing liquid. It rained down across her, and she lifted her face to meet it. She wiped her eyes, laughing with sheer joy.

  She froze, her laugh choked to silence.

  A man stood beneath the rock from which she'd jumped, a bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, his own face frozen in surprise, followed quickly by speculation. Before Alayne could react, he notched an arrow in his bow and raised it to his shoulder, sighting along the shaft.

  Alayne sank down into the water, extremely aware of her lack of clothing. She raised her hands above the surface, conscious of the harp of elements at her fingertips. The man pulled the bow taught when her fingers neared the element harp.

  Manders's warnings rang in Alayne's ears. How had Bard and Kary missed this guy?

  She cleared her throat, forcing strength into her voice. “I'm sorry to bother you,” she said, speaking clearly. “I didn't know you were standing there or I wouldn't have jumped in.” She fought the urge to cover herself, though her body was submerged in moving water, and she knew it would be difficult to see. “If you'll put down your bow and turn around, I'll go grab my clothes and go somewhere else.”

  “You're not going anywhere.” The man's arm didn't flinch; his aiming eye never moved.

  Alayne dipped lower in the water, making sure it was up to her neck. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she wanted to flee the water and the man's careful gaze, but even more pressing was the urge to reach the element harp and yank the water up and over the man, washing him far downstream.

  But her control. Alayne had never doubted herself as much as she had the last few weeks when the Vale had taken her grasp on the elements and turned it into a monstrously epic freak-show.

  She had no doubt that she could slam the man senseless against the rock, hurl him downriver with a surge of water, drop the boulder on his head, even light the man's clothes on fire.