Redemption (Book 6) (35 page)

Kendril looked over at Olan, then Yvonne. “The Great Fang, the chief of all these Jombard barbarians. He has a Soulbinder. I saw it.”

Olan uncrossed his arms. “A Soulbinder? That’s not possible.”

Yvonne narrowed her eyes. “I would call it extremely unlikely. Your choice is still before you, Kendril.”

“I don’t know the rest of this story,” Kendril said evenly, “but if Kara has had some dream or vision showing a Seteru coming to Redemption, then it fits with what I’ve seen.” He looked over at Olan. “You were at Vorten, Olan. You saw what happened when Indigoru manifested herself, when she managed to open a rift to the Void. If one of the other Seteru does that here—”

“Eru save us,” Olan whispered. He frowned, his face etched with thought and anxiety. He gave Kendril a piercing glance. “Is what you’re saying
true
? You’re absolutely certain it’s a Soulbinder?”

Kendril put a hand on the nearby desk, taking some of the weight off his right leg. “Believe me, I got a real close look at it.”

Yvonne’s face twitched. “You’re trying to save your friend.”

“Of
course
I’m trying to save my friend,” Kendril shot back. “But everything I’m telling you is still true. If there’s a Seteru coming to Redemption, it will be because of the Soulbinder hanging around the Great Fang’s neck.”

“Even if that’s true,” Yvonne said in a quiet voice, “Kara’s fate is already sealed. Her life is inconsequential compared to the risk of letting her live. You know that as well as I do, Kendril. As well as every Ghostwalker in this room does. Your choice is clear. I’m giving you ten seconds to do what you know is right.”

Kendril looked at Yvonne for a long moment, then slowly drew one of his flintlock pistols.

“I’m watching you,” Yvonne warned.

Kendril clicked back the hammer on the pistol. He pointed it right at Kara’s head.

Kara flinched. “Kendril—?”

Kendril’s jaw worked for a moment. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” Kara said.

“Who are you?” Kendril said. He tilted his head, looking at Kara’s eyes. “You
sound
like Kara, you
look
like her—” He took a deep breath. “But how do I know for sure that it’s you? How do I know that you’re not really Indigoru?”

“I’ve been with her for weeks, Kendril,” Joseph said. “Do you really think I could be that gullible and stupid?”

Kendril didn’t take his eyes off Kara’s face. “I believe that love might have blinded you.”

“And what about Maklavir?” Joseph said, his eyes flashing angrily.

“Him too.” Kendril rubbed a gloved hand across his stubble-covered face. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his skin pale from pain and lack of sleep.

“But not
you
, right Kendril?” Joseph’s words were tinged with venom. “After all, you shot her once before, didn’t you? Why should it surprise me to see you do it again?”

Kara lifted her head, but didn’t say anything.

“Enough talking,” Yvonne said. “Do it now, Kendril, or I will.”

Kendril looked hard at Kara. He slowly tightened his finger on the pistol’s trigger. The barrel of the weapon began to tremble.

“I’ve trekked halfway across Rothland looking for you,” Kara said at last. “I’ve had nightmarish dreams and visions, all about you, right here in Redemption. That’s why I’m here, Kendril. That’s why Joseph is here, because he believes me, even if this is the last place he wanted to come.” Her eyes fell down to the floor. “And that’s why Maklavir gave himself to those pirates to buy our freedom.” She glanced back up, her eyes earnest and glistening. “Maybe Indigoru is still inside me, Kendril. I don’t know. I can’t promise anything for sure. But I feel like myself again. My memories and thoughts are my own. I came here to save you, because that’s what I know I need to do.” She looked at the barrel of the pistol. “So I guess you need to do what
you
need to do.”

Kendril readjusted his grip. The gun was shaking visibly in his hand now.

“Do it now, Kendril,” Yvonne commanded.

For one, tense moment, no one spoke or moved.

Kendril lowered his pistol. He took a step back. “I
can’t
,” he said in a choking voice. “I can’t do it.”

“I see,” said Yvonne. She shifted her pistol towards Kara. “Then
I
will.”

Kendril jumped forward and lifted his own pistol.

Yvonne and Kendril both fired at the same moment.

“That chanting gives me the creeps.” The militiaman shifted the old musket on his shoulder, looking back over the tops of the nearby buildings towards the eastern side of Redemption. “What is a
Harnathu
, anyways?”

The second militiaman shrugged. He huddled against the one relatively dry patch against the palisade wall. “Their chief, maybe? Some kind of god?”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter,” said a dragoon on the rampart above them. He looked down over the edge, adjusting the carbine on his shoulder. “And both you blokes are supposed to be watching for danger, not jabbering away.”

“Oh, come on,” said the first militiaman. He sat down on a broken rocking chair that had been dragged out into the mud by the wall. “All the action is going on over by the eastern gate. We’ve got nothing to worry about over here.”

“Famous last words,” the dragoon growled. He stepped back to the edge of the wall and looked out over the broken woods that covered the southwestern approach to Redemption.

The second militiaman glanced nervously over at the locked and barred postern door in the palisade wall. “You don’t think they’d make a try for this little entrance, do you?”

The first militiaman spat onto the ground. “What would be the point?”

The dragoon glared at both men standing down on the ground. “Both of you shut up.”

“No one put you in charge,” the first militiaman sneered. He reached for his belt and pulled out a large metal flask. “Something to chase the chill away.”

The second militiaman licked his lips and looked longingly at the liquor. “Don’t suppose there’s enough to share?”

The first militiaman swallowed and wiped his mouth. He handed the canteen over. “Knock yourself out.”

The dragoon looked down again at both men and shook his head. He turned back to the wall, pulling his coat up against the cold breeze.

“First chance I get,” the first militiaman said, “I’m on a boat to Archangel.”

The second militiaman coughed, pulling the canteen away from his mouth. “We could still win,” he said in a small voice. “Hold the howlers back long enough for—”

“That ain’t gonna happen.” The first militiaman kicked his feet up on a log. “Redemption is finished, and the General knows it.”

The second militiaman handed back the canteen. “I heard the mayor is dead,” he said in a near-whisper.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” the first militiaman grunted. “I told you before, there’s—”

“Quiet,” the dragoon hushed. He pulled the carbine off his shoulder. “I thought I saw something out there. In the woods.”

The first militiaman chuckled. “A deer, probably. Or a squirrel.” He glanced over at the postern door. “Stop worrying. That door’s solid oak. The Jombards would need a battering ram to get through it.”

“That’s right,” the second militiaman said with a nervous smile. “A battering ram.”

“And you know something else?” The first militiaman leaned forward conspiratorially. “There’s talk that—”

“Jombards!”

Both the militiamen jumped to their feet. They grabbed their weapons.

A young, beautiful woman, her cloak torn and muddy and her dark hair in disarray, came running out from between two of the buildings. “There!” she cried, pointing back behind her. “In the town! A band of them!” She reached the second militiaman, and fell fainting into his arms. “Oh, Eru, help me please, please!”

The first militiaman stepped forward and raised his musket. “Where are they? How the devil did they get inside the walls?”

The dragoon crossed over, his carbine up at his shoulder and ready to fire. “I don’t see anyone,” he called down.

“Neither do I,” the first militiaman called up over his shoulder. He glanced behind him. “Where did—?”

His mouth dropped open.

The second militiaman was face down by the wall in a pool of his own blood.

The first militiaman swung his musket around, ready to fire.

The dark-haired woman was already, somehow, beside him. She gave an apologetic smile. “I lied,” she whispered.

The first militiaman felt ice down his spine. He opened his mouth to say something.

Bronwyn drove her dagger sideways into his neck, cutting his major artery. She stepped back deftly to avoid getting blood on her dress as the man fell.

The dragoon on top of the wall glanced down at them, his carbine still pointed back towards the town. “What on Zanthora is—?” He stopped mid-sentence, seeing the two bodies on the ground beneath him.

Bronwyn had already pulled out a small hand crossbow. She lifted it and shot the dragoon just under the chin with the bolt.

He gurgled, clutched at the projectile, then fell off the ramparts and into the mud by the other two bodies.

Bronwyn gave a sigh and brushed some dirt off her robe. “
This
is why I need my own assassin.” She pulled up the hood of her cloak and walked over to the postern door. With a grunt she lifted the heavy wooden bars that locked it shut. Then she stepped back and pulled the door open.

Odgar stepped through, his body covered with war paint and fresh battle scars. Behind him were a score of Jombards, with more emerging from the woods.

Bronwyn gave a mock bow. “The town is yours, oh mighty chieftain.”

“Save it for the Fang,” Odgar growled. He glanced indifferently at the bodies by the postern door. “You didn’t break a nail or anything, did you?”

“Getting into Redemption with the rest of the refugees was more challenging than this.” Bronwyn gave a cutting smile. “You’d better hurry, Odgar. Your men will be spotted any moment.”

“All I need is a moment,” Odgar said with a predatory grin. He hefted his battleaxe. “To me, Jombards! Redemption is ours!”

He ran forward.

The twin blasts were deafening in the enclosed room. Smoke and sparks spat out from both pistol barrels, filling the air with clouds of gunpowder.

Yvonne gave a cry. She lurched back and crashed against the wall near the front door.

Kendril barreled into Kara. Both of them tumbled to the floor in a tangled heap.

Renaald turned, his eyes on Yvonne. He opened his mouth to say something.

Joseph batted away the tip of the Ghostwalker’s rapier with the back of his arm, then punched the man full in the face.

Renaald slammed back into a potted plant near the wall.

“Kara!” Joseph yelled. He started forward, one and on his rapier

Yvonne tried to struggle to her feet. Blood flowed freely from a gunshot wound in her arm. She clamped her free hand over the injury, her face pale from the strain. “
Ashes
,” she cursed. She started to lift her wounded arm that held her smoking two-barreled pistol.

Beckett stepped forward, his sword out and in his hand. He stomped on Yvonne’s wrist hard with his boot, pinning it and the pistol to the floor with a bone-grinding crunch.

Yvonne gave out a blood-curdling scream. Her twitching hand let go of the pistol.

“I don’t much take to hurting a woman,” Beckett said as he brought his sword up to Yvonne’s neck, “but you are sorely tempting me, ma’am.”

“Kara!” Joseph said again. He moved quickly over to Kara’s side.

“I’m fine,” the red-headed woman sputtered. She got to her feet with Joseph’s help. “I’m alright, Joseph.”

“Olan,” Renaald said. He got to his feet, a hand over his nose. His eyes darted between Yvonne and Olan. “Sir, what should I—?”

Olan looked over at the man and lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, so
now
you’re following my orders? I thought you were taking orders from
her
.”

Tomas opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Tomas, take Yvonne’s weapon.” Olan stood still, his arms still folded.

“Yes, sir,” said Tomas with no little satisfaction in his voice. He bent down and snatched the pistol off the ground.

“I’m still-still in command,” Yvonne said, her voice choking and sputtering. “Renaald, Tomas, I order you both to kill the abomination!
Now
!”

Neither man moved.

Kara took a step forward, her eyes flashing. “I told you before, Indigoru is gone. Killing me won’t help anything. If we don’t—” She turned her head, and her words died in her mouth.

Kendril was face down on the floor, unmoving. A slow puddle of red was seeping out from beneath him.

“Oh, Eru,” Kara breathed. “Oh Eru no, please no.” She threw herself down at Kendril’s side, and rolled the man over.

Kendril’s eyes were closed, his face drained of color. A bullet hole was torn into his vest on his lower right side. His shirt and trousers were already wet with blood.

Kara looked up. “
Joseph
—”

The pathfinder was already on the ground beside her. He threw off his herb satchel, tossing it next to Kendril’s body. “Hot water and clean bandages,” he ordered to no one in particular. “
Fast
.” His hand moved in a blur, pulling items out of his satchel.

Callen leapt down across from Joseph. He pressed both his gloved hands over the bleeding gunshot wound. “Exit wound?”

“I didn’t see,” Joseph said. “Can you see any blood? A hole?”

“Let the traitor die, Callen,” Yvonne croaked. She had pulled out a long scarf and was pressing it against her bleeding arm. “Can’t you see what’s happening here? Indigoru will return through that woman and destroy us all. Just like at Vorten. Just like—”

Beckett brought the edge of his sword close enough to Yvonne’s neck to cut off the rest of her words. “Seriously,” he snarled. “Shut. Up.”

“The bullet’s lodged,” Joseph announced as he got to his feet. “We’ll have to get it out. He might be bleeding internally. I don’t know.”