Guardian of the Vale Page 4

  She nodded and turned. After a few whispered instructions to Marysa and Rachyl, twenty Clayborne students paired up in a line behind Alayne and Bryce Marshall, whom she'd insisted stay beside her. After the disaster in the woods, she didn't trust him out of her sight. Daymon frowned at him, his navy gaze staring at the mulish expression on Bryce's face. After a moment, Daymon growled, “One step out of place, and you'll wish you'd never woken up this morning.”

  Bryce scowled at him. “I wasn't doing anything, sheesh!”

  Daymon took a deep breath, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. “Sorry in advance for what I'm about to do, but it's just for a little bit, and I promise it won't hurt.” The elements twinged, and Alayne felt a knot of air pull her wrists together behind her, crossing her hands one over the other. Daymon notched the bend so the air restraints stayed put without his attention on the element. “Okay, guys, follow me. Keep your eyes on your feet. I need you all to look like Elemental Alliance prisoners.”

  Alayne frowned. “We've been on the media for weeks—”

  “No, you. You've been on the media for weeks. Twenty-four rogue students escaped from Clayborne, all the media outlets are saying, but you're the face on all of the reports. The girl who possesses the Vale. Chadwick Jones is obsessed with you.” He grimaced. “What a creep.”

  Alayne started to move forward, but Daymon touched her arm. “Hang on, Layne, I almost forgot. Hold still.” She felt his hands on her hair, and a few moments later, he'd loosened her braid, shaking it free from its twine. He circled to stand in front of her. His fingers massaged her scalp on either side of her head. Shivers raced up her spine; her breath caught in her throat.

  He pulled her hair up on top of her head, twisting, disturbing, massaging, until it hung in her face and around her shoulders like a wild ape's. “What the—”

  “You don't look much like Alayne Worth anymore,” he murmured as he put the finishing touches on his work. “Hide your blade, Layne.” Alayne glanced down at her new sheath where her knife rested. She grasped the elements and bent them so the light refracted in a body around the sheath, shielding it from sight. She notched the bend when the sheath had completely disappeared. Her fingers trembled. It was still hard for her, making things invisible. At this point, Daymon was much better at it.

  “Okay, all of you, follow me. Stay close, and stay in formation.” Daymon led the way out of the treeline, Alayne careful to keep just behind and to the side of him. In her peripheral vision, she kept a close eye on Bryce Marshall, a little nervous that he would attempt something stupid again as soon as they were within speaking distance of the guards. His piqued, white face betrayed no emotion beyond the sour smirk he always wore, but he walked behind Daymon with little or no trouble.

  Marysa had volunteered to stay at the back with Jayme, who was still wrapped in an air-sheath. She had covered his face with a jacket at the last minute. Alayne chewed on her lip. There were too many coincidences: Twenty-four young people showing up at the Capital? Twenty-three, she mentally corrected. Even with the absence of Kyle, though, such a close number would surely arouse suspicion. Daymon seemed to think he could get through, but Jayme would be thoroughly recognizable in the Capital as one of the top Commanders beneath Shane Beckyr for the last year. She would as well if anyone could see her face through her thick, straggly hair.

  “Daymon,” she hissed.

  He glanced to the side, showing her his profile.

  “Couldn't we try to enter in smaller groups? Everyone will be looking for twenty-four teens, and if Kyle's gotten through to them, they'll know we're down one.”

  Daymon shook his head. “It's a risk we have to take, Layne. We've got one chance, just one. We don't have the ability to sneak in multiple smaller groups.”

  It made sense, but Alayne was still filled with trepidation. She reached up to smooth her braid before she realized it was a wild mass of tangles. She glanced back at Daymon. His profile was serious, but he walked confidently in his uniform.

  “Where did you get it? The uniform?”

  “Some unlucky guard got too far from the base,” he murmured.

  “You killed him?” Alayne's voice rose an octave, and immediate guilt flushed through her. She was a good one to talk. Fifty or so EA soldiers were dead because of her.

  “I didn't kill the guy, Layne, keep your shirt on. I had to knock him around, though; I left him tied up with my element in the woods.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his tense neck. “Look, just don't talk right now unless you want to get us all arrested.”

  They had reached the dusty market. Alayne peered through her strands of hair. Children crowded on the road stared as the group marched by. Adults averted their gazes; no one seemed to want to get too close to the prisoners.

  The crowd naturally parted as Daymon led the way directly to the gate.

  “Halt!”

  Two officers stood at the closed gates to the Capital, one holding up his hand. The other stood nearby, his hands resting loosely on his hips, although Alayne could feel a quiver in the fire elements. She glanced at his armband. It reflected the light of the sun, but it was easy enough to see the Elemental Alliance symbol, and just below it, the symbol of his element. Flames leaped in an uneven pattern, confirming Alayne's suspicion.

  The first guard's attention moved to Alayne, and she dropped her gaze to the toes of her worn boots, careful not to call attention to herself.

  “What's this?” the first officer demanded.

  Daymon motioned behind him. “Prisoners.”

  The guard eyed the group suspiciously. “Brought here on whose orders?”

  “Kyle Pence's.”

  The guards glanced at each other. The Fire-Breather turned abruptly and strode into the guardhouse beside the gate.

  The first officer gestured toward the back of the group. “The one at the rear?”

  Daymon looked at Jayme, and then faced the guard, shrugging. “He's dead. Pence ordered that he be brought here for burial.”

  Alayne felt the guard brush the earth molecules. Alarm raced through her mind. He's suspicious.

  “Twenty-three of you,” the guard commented. “Interesting.”

  Daymon made no comment, though Alayne could see the tension in his arms. What are we going to do if this doesn't work?

  The other guard suddenly appeared. “They're cleared,” he announced. The first guard stared at him for a moment and then nodded. Two more guards appeared from the wings and bent the elements. The massive bars that held the heavy gates in place rose upward, and the gates swung inward with a deep groan.

  Daymon nodded once to the guard, who glared back at him. He led the way into the Capital, Alayne nearly running, half in relief, half in terror. The rest of the students followed her.

  The wide city streets were crowded with people. Daymon threaded his way along the sidewalks. They were in a high section of the city. To their right, a long wall lined several plazas in a row, and guards stood along the wall at regular intervals. The guards alternated facing out over the lower section of the city or toward the street and the buildings through which the group wended. Over the wall rose the towering, white pillars of the High Court and the atrium that peaked the entire structure.

  Ahead of the group, the wall's end appeared, and with it, the last of the soldiers. As soon as they had passed the soldiers and rounded a bend, Daymon ducked into a quiet alley, unnotching the bend that held their wrists together. Alayne pushed the hair out of her face, wishing she could twist it into its braid again but knowing it was too soon. They needed to find better cover first.

  Several of the students slumped against the wall, relief written in their postures. Ryanna, a curvy brunette who had decided since the start of their flight from Clayborne that Daymon was her hero and made no secret of the fact, scooted along the brick siding until she stood next to Daymon. She rubbed her wrists and sighed. “I've never been so scared in my life.” She nudged Daymon with her shoulder, trailing an apprecia
tive look over his soldier's apparel. “You look dangerous in that uniform.”

  Alayne scowled, irritated, but unsure why. Ryanna wasn't following her around. Daymon ignored her.

  Marysa pulled the cover off of Jayme's face, eyeing him with concern. “We need to get help for him,” she called to Daymon. “His fever is raging again.”

  Alayne started toward the limp, sweat-soaked body, but stopped at Marysa's frantic shake of her head. “No, no, Layne, it'll get worse if you come over here.”

  Alayne quelled the scream of frustration that rose in her throat. “Then what precisely are we going to do to help him?”

  “Find my uncle,” Daymon said. He shoved past Ryanna and approached Jayme, bending over him, his serious gaze sweeping Jayme's face. “That's his only chance at this point.” He glanced up at Alayne. “But Layne, even if we get him help now, I can't promise anything—”

  “I know.” Alayne's shoulders slumped. “He'll probably die. And it's all my fault.”

  Chapter 4

  “What do you mean, it's all your fault?” Marysa raised her head, her cheeks flushed. “It's not your fault you can't get near him, Layne. This is, and always has been, about the Vale.” She returned her gaze to Jayme's face, her fingers smoothing back his hair. “While he's still alive, there's hope.”

  Alayne didn't answer. She didn't want to admit that her own hope was waning. She shot a quick look up the alley, measuring the aura of anxiety that hung like a pall over the group. Alex Wynch had wandered to the end of the alley, peering out at the crowds on the busy main street. Sylvia and a short, freckled Fourth-Year, Brodie Taney, had joined him.

  Daymon left Jayme to Marysa's ministrations and straightened. He checked his knife as he walked back toward Alayne.

  Alayne fingered the tangled strands of her honey-gold hair. “Do you think it would be safer if we split up?” she asked, uncertainty tingeing her voice.

  “Mm, maybe.” Daymon slid his knife back into its sheath and readjusted the element so it disappeared from sight again.

  Ryanna erupted into view, grasping the swell of muscle above Daymon's elbow. “Not split up! What if something happens when we're in smaller groups?” Her big eyes stared up at Daymon. “If we have to split up, I want to be in your group, Daymon.”

  Daymon stepped back, unobtrusively shrugging his arm from her grasp. “We haven't decided who goes in what group yet, Ryanna.”

  “But—”

  “Daymon?” Alayne interrupted, her teeth on edge. “Can I talk to you privately for a second?”

  He followed her farther down the alley, leaning against a rotting wooden crate and folding his arms over his chest. Alayne glanced back at Ryanna, who stared after them.

  “Doesn't that bother you?”

  “Doesn't what bother me?”

  “The—way she just—I mean, she obviously wants your help.”

  “She's scared, Layne. Like we all are.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “I notice she didn't go ask to be in Alex's group. Or Lance's. Or Joe's. Or Bryce's.” Alayne didn't like the words as they came out of her mouth. They sounded petulant, but she couldn't stop herself.

  Daymon snorted. “Who would ask to be in Bryce's group? The kid's afraid of his own shadow.” He pushed away from the crate, dropping his arms to his side. “Anyway, what's this about, Layne? You sound a little... jealous.” A hint of a smile lurked at the corners of his mouth.

  “Ha! Jealous!” It came out louder than Alayne had intended, and a furious blush rose on her cheeks. “I just think she's... a little over the top. I mean, she hasn't left you alone since we fled Clayborne, and I thought she should maybe back off a little.”

  Daymon stared at her for a long moment, his smile widening into a grin. Alayne felt absurd as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. The silence smothered her, and the crowd's noises at the end of the alley sounded far away. Her face burned.

  At last, Daymon cleared his throat. “Don't worry, Layne. I can take care of myself. But I appreciate your concern. I'll try to keep Ryanna from throwing herself at me, but it might be difficult. She's hard to shake off. You'll have to kiss me or something so she lays off.” He looked absolutely delighted.

  If Alayne grew any hotter, she'd burst into flame. She changed the subject, irritated at Daymon's smug expression. “How did we get cleared to come in on Kyle's orders?”

  Daymon leaned his broad back against the building and ripped off a hangnail. “This uniform isn't just a random officer's. The man I took it from was an officer at the manifesto center near the southwestern barracks. Anything coming into or out of the Capital is required to be reported and put in the lists in the manifesto center, including prisoners. So when I went in to 'report' the twenty-two prisoners coming in on Kyle's orders—”

  “There are twenty-three of us.”

  Daymon shook his head. “Twenty-two. I'm an EA officer, remember?” He plucked at the Elemental Alliance badge on his uniform sleeve. “Anyway, I asked to borrow the uniform of the officer-on-duty. He was kind enough to lend it to me. And while I was there, I added the prisoners to the list.”

  Daymon's rare dimple peeped out as Alayne smothered a grin. “What a generous officer. I'm sure you were very polite.”

  “I was taught to always say please.”

  “We've established that you beat the poor guy up and left him a prisoner in the woods,” Alayne scolded.

  “Doesn't mean I didn't say please.”

  Alayne snorted. “Okay, wise one. I concede that you've earned your keep for today.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Bryce Marshall's stringent voice interrupted their conversation. “I hate to complain,” he began in a tone that said he actually quite enjoyed it, “but I'm hot and I'm thirsty, and I want a place to rest. This alley just isn't cutting it for me.”

  “Oh, isn't it?” Alayne turned to face him. “I'm so sorry, Bryce, that we've put you out of your comfort zone. Hey, Rachyl,” she called to her friend who sat on a flight of crumbling steps nearby, “why don't you take Bryce over to the barracks and let him ask for lodging? I'm sure they've got a few extra beds available, and that would knock our number down to twenty-two. The farther we are from the dreaded 'twenty-four' that's been all over the media outlets for the last few weeks, the safer we'll be. Thanks, Bryce, that's nice of you to volunteer to make an easier path for us.”

  Rachyl stood, her mouth hiding a grin. She swept Bryce a scornful glance up and down. “I don't know, Layne, I've heard they don't tolerate complaining in the barracks. Likely, they'll send him straight to the disciplinary committees.”

  Bryce shoved his hands in his pockets, a scowl furrowing his forehead. “You can both quit threatening me. I'm not going to do something that stupid. But at least can't we find something to eat? I'm hungry.”

  “We all are.” Daymon pushed himself off the wall. “We'll find a place as soon as we can, but in the meantime, pipe down. You're getting on everyone's nerves.”

  “Yeah? Well, you get on my nerves. Who put you in charge, anyway? Why don't you go take a flying—”

  “Let's just all take a break, shall we?” Alayne broke in, flicking her gaze to the mouth of the alley where crowds milled. Two Elemental Alliance officers in uniform marched past in double-quick step. Alayne rubbed her neck muscles, kneading out the tension. “Daymon, you said you had a plan to find your uncle?”

  Daymon shifted, his steady gaze suddenly trained on the dirty pavement of the alleyway. “All I know is that he's sent me three messages while he's been gone, and one of them mentioned his close-up view of the steps to the High Court.” He shrugged. “That's all.”

  “That's all?” Rachyl's lips turned down in dismay. “Have you seen the High Court steps? Four sets of them, and the whole structure takes up an enormous portion of the center of the city. You're talking literally hundreds of blocks of possible hiding places for Manders.”

  “It's all I've got, okay?” Daymon snapped. “Sure, there's not a hig
h likelihood that we'll find him, but it's our one chance. That, or turn around and march back to Clayborne and ask Tarry if she'll let us stay there while we look for our friends and families. Would you rather do that, Rachyl?”

  “No, because that would be stupid, Daymon,” the normally placid Rachyl shot back. “But there are other options.” She crouched on the steps, interlocking her fingers in front of her. “What if I went to the High Court and talked to my uncle, persuaded him to hide us somewhere safe? We'd probably have comfortable lodging, food, all the stuff we've been without since we left Clayborne.”

  Bryce's eyes lit up at this.

  “No.” Alayne shook her head. “It's no good, Rachyl. You know it's not safe.”

  “Uncle Dean loves me. He'd never betray us, not even if Petyr Pence tries to persuade him.” Even as she said it, doubt clouded her eyes.

  Alayne barked a bitter laugh. “You think just because someone loves you that they won't still betray you for something they want just a little more?” She didn't spell it out for them, but Kyle's name hovered unspoken in the alley. “Your uncle wants the Vale, Rachyl, and Tarry holds him in her manicured hand. He's her puppet. Would you test his love for you against his wish for the Vale and the power it holds? The Vale would raise his political career beyond anything he's ever dreamed.”

  Rachyl dropped her gaze back to her hands and said nothing.

  Alayne called the students back from the mouth of the alley, motioning for them to gather around her where they could hear without her needing to raise her voice. “Okay, guys, obviously we can't stay here. We have to find Manders, and we have to do it fast. We're going to separate—”

  “I vote to go with Daymon!” Ryanna screeched, grabbing Daymon's arm again. “I called it first.” She turned big, limpid eyes up at him, hugging his arm to her chest.

  A twinkle appeared in Daymon's eyes as he met Alayne's gaze. He raised his brows in a silent question. Well?

  Alayne flushed, pulling her mind away from the kiss he'd mentioned only minutes before. She returned her thoughts to the subject at hand. “We'll separate into two groups of four and five groups of three. You're going to search the area around the High Court and see what you can dig up. If someone finds Manders successfully, he or she will also be responsible for finding each of the other groups and telling them where to go. There's little doubt that Manders has heard of the EA's takeover of Clayborne. He'll know we're heading this way and will likely have Last Order spies watching for us.”