Magda chuckled, lapsing into a fit of coughing, clearing her throat several times before she could speak again, nodding her thanks to Abigail when she offered another cup of water.
Lady Raban returned with a tray of food. “The castle is abuzz with your waking,” she said, carefully setting the tray over Magda’s lap. “If it weren’t for Myron standing watch over your door, I fear you’d have a roomful by now.”
“Myron?”
“The man who killed his own wife,” Abigail said. “He’s been guarding the door since we brought you in.”
“I don’t know if the poor man will ever forgive himself,” Lady Raban said. “I fear something inside him has broken.”
“He wants to come with us when we go after Peti,” Abigail said.
Magda sighed. “So much tragedy.”
Lady Raban offered her a spoonful of broth.
“Oh, that’s good,” Magda said with a warm smile. “I’m suddenly very hungry.”
By evening two days later, Magda was almost fully recovered and the entire keep was brimming with anticipation. Abigail and Magda shared a smile when the warning horn blew and they saw four wyverns floating overhead. Everyone came outside to watch them land as they carefully set down on the towers and the gatehouse, folding their wings and settling in for a rest while their riders conferred with Abigail and Magda. The children squealed and laughed with delight, while the adults were a bit more dubious about the new arrivals.
Amelia strode up to Abigail and Magda, bowing respectfully. “Mistress Magda, Lady Abigail, Master Grace dispatched us within an hour of receiving your letter. We had just returned to the city and I’m happy to report that Kallistos is healing nicely. He should be back in the air within the month.”
“Thank you, Amelia,” Abigail said. “I’ve been worried about him.”
“Mistress Magda, has Taharial fallen?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Magda said, withdrawing the figurine of her wyvern. “The witch transformed him into this. I’m hoping that I can reverse the effect, but I suspect it will take some time and study.”
The other three wyvern riders arrived a moment later, lining up behind Amelia. “Per your instructions, Master Grace has sent four witches: Bree, Dalia, Kat, and me. In addition, he sent message riders to Ruatha via the fortress island to pass word of this new threat and to seek assistance or advice from Mage Gamaliel and the Wizards Guild.”
“Good,” Abigail said. “The Guild Mage might be able to send something that could even the odds.”
“Also, Master Grace wished me to deliver a report on the battle for Irondale,” Amelia said. “Prince Conner has taken the city with minimal casualties. The few enemy soldiers who survived have fled into the forest.”
“That’s welcome news,” Abigail said. “How did he manage such a decisive victory with so few losses?”
“As I understand it, an elderly woman living in one of the nearby villages that had been pillaged by Zuhl’s horde came to him with knowledge of a nonlethal, yet highly debilitating toxin made from a locally available type of moss. Prince Conner led a small team into the keep and poisoned the cistern. Within a day, most of the entire population was too sick to fight. Mage Dax breached the wall and our soldiers flooded into the city, killing the barbarians without mercy or quarter.”
Abigail sighed, nodding to herself. “Well done, Conner,” she whispered sadly.
“Unfortunately, the Ithilian Navy didn’t fare as well,” Amelia said. “Zuhl’s five ships engaged them along the northern coast and sank half the fleet before they scattered. Some that survived reached Irondale and we presume more fled to Elsmere. We have scouts looking for them.”
“I see,” Abigail said. “Did they sink any of Zuhl’s ships?”
“No, their weapons were no use against his shields.”
“Thank you, Amelia,” Abigail said, falling silent and nodding to Magda.
“Ladies, we face a most dangerous adversary. This Sin’Rath witch has bested us three times, killing one wyvern, injuring another, transforming a third, and nearly killing me with one of her dark spells. Abigail put an arrow through her eye and out the back of her head, yet she lives. We must find her, we must kill her, and we must preserve Prince Torin’s life in the process. I’ve placed a tracker spell on the prince. When last I checked, he and Peti were already on the water, many leagues from shore. When we overtake them, we will disable the ship without sinking it, board the vessel, and kill her. The men aboard will resist us-use what force is necessary without killing them, if at all possible.”
All four of the witches nodded.
“Excellent,” Magda said. “Abigail will ride with Amelia and I’ll be riding with Bree.”
Abigail turned to their hosts. “Sir Raban, Lady Raban, your assistance and hospitality has been invaluable. We are in your debt.”
“If you are ever in need of safe haven, our home is always open to you, Lady Abigail,” Sir Raban said.
“Thank you.”
Myron pushed through the crowd. “I would ride with you. I have a score to settle with this demon-witch.”
“I know you do. And if it were any other enemy, I would welcome your help, but this is beyond you … she would just use you against us. Stay here and protect these people.”
He swallowed his emotions with a visible effort, then bowed formally.
A few minutes later, four wyverns launched into the evening sky, gaining altitude for the journey to Sochi.
Chapter 18
At first Wren had been timid about venturing out into the city without Isabel, but after several afternoons of cautious exploring, she came to understand that the soldiers would ignore her … at least most of the time. The first day a few gave her challenging looks, but she just kept her head down and tried to stay out of their way.
One soldier did bother her though. She caught him staring at her in the market. He looked familiar, though she couldn’t place where she’d seen him. The thing that really bothered her was the look of recognition on his face when she looked directly at him. He was gone a moment later.
On her third day of exploring, she decided to be bold and tried to enter the black tower. The big, armored man guarding the door just shook his head when he saw her coming. She didn’t press the issue.
Isabel had sent her to the market nearly every day with lists of things to buy. Phane had told the merchants that Isabel was to be given anything she wanted, with the exception of weapons or armor, and by extension, Wren was given nearly anything she asked for.
Mixed in with several new dresses for them both, Wren had obtained everything on Isabel’s list: packs, bedrolls, waterskins, belts, pouches, boots, cloaks, and two changes of sturdy clothes for each of them, along with cooking utensils and a bag of dried food.
She’d explored a portion of the city between their manor and the nearest wall. Most of the buildings were barracks, some were residential buildings with floor after floor of identical living quarters for workers, while others were warehouses and businesses.
She’d found a few places to hide and even a couple of abandoned passages, both leading to unused basement rooms under barracks buildings. From the decaying weapon racks lining the walls, it looked like the basements had once been used as armories. She had chosen a broken old cabinet within one of these rooms to hide the equipment that she’d gathered, adding to it a bit at a time to avoid suspicion.
She’d managed to steal a knife from the house kitchen, and although it was small and ill-suited to fighting, the blade was sharp and it fit neatly inside her boot.
Isabel had told her to keep her efforts a secret from everyone, even her, and Wren had dutifully, though reluctantly, obeyed. She wanted to tell Isabel about her progress, describe the musty old basement where she’d hidden the gear … she wanted to hear Isabel tell her that she’d done well, but she told herself that this was part of the growing up that Isabel said she needed to do. So she kept her work secret.