Piper Prince Page 7

  Pipers descended from the trees. Hundreds of them. A few eyed Maisy with more than a little speculation.

  “Will she be safe?” Larkin asked.

  Denan followed her gaze. “I doubt anyone would risk their lives to meddle with her.”

  Larkin looked at him. “Risk their lives?”

  “The penalty for rape is death,” Denan said. “The penalty for assault is castration. Jeering would earn them a whipping.”

  Her mouth fell open. In the Idelmarch, she’d been groped half a dozen times by various town boys and even a couple of the men. She’d never told anyone. What was the point when no one who mattered would have believed her? Instead, she’d learned to be careful where, when, and with whom she went.

  “In a place where men outnumber women three to one,” Tam said, “we have harsh penalties for harming a female.”

  And because the pipers could play an enchantment that made it impossible to lie, their guilt or innocence would be known without question.

  “All of us have taken classes on how to treat and care for women,” Denan said.

  “Who teaches these classes?” she asked in surprise.

  Tam shot her a confused look. “Our mothers.”

  The page returned with a stretcher. Tam settled Maisy inside even as she cursed him.

  Mama appeared, Brenna in one arm and Sela clutching the other hand. Sela took one look at Maisy and balked.

  Mama tugged on her hand. “Come on, Sela, what—”

  Sela broke away and scampered up a tree before anyone could stop her. They all gaped at her as she peered down at them between branches.

  “She’s got good instincts,” Tam said approvingly.

  Larkin rolled her eyes.

  “Sela,” Mama said in her best patient voice. “Come down.”

  Maisy began singing one of her dark songs. Sela ducked into the leaves.

  Denan motioned to Tam. “Put her under.”

  Tam played, the melody thick with the promise of dreams. Maisy’s eyes grew heavy, her song slurring to silence. Larkin gripped the dampener, grateful they had some protection against the pipers’ indiscriminate magic.

  “There now,” Denan said to Sela. “She’ll sleep for hours.”

  Sela peered at him. What did she see? The man who’d saved them from the gilgad and then tried to kidnap them? The man who’d kidnapped Larkin?

  Larkin gestured for Denan to boost her up. She settled next to her sister, who clutched the trunk in a death grip. “Come on, Sela.”

  Her sister shook her head.

  Larkin took a breath, calling upon her patience. “What will make you come down?”

  Sela’s gaze flicked to Maisy, and she trembled, her little body damp with sweat.

  “Tam,” Larkin called. “Take Maisy on ahead.”

  He looked to Denan, which stirred the embers of Larkin’s anger. Denan nodded his approval. Tam motioned for one of the soldiers to help him. Together, they picked up Maisy and carted her away. As they disappeared, Sela relaxed, slumping one backbone at a time.

  “Now will you come?” Larkin asked.

  Sela let Larkin help her down.

  Mama waited below, her foot tapping, but her ire wasn’t for Sela. “How could you leave your sisters alone like that?”

  Sela’s eyes were red-rimmed as Larkin deposited her into Mama’s arms. Mama held the baby out to Larkin. Brenna’s body was limp with sleep.

  “I was trying to save Maisy,” Larkin said.

  “At the risk of your sisters?” Mama said incredulously.

  “Talox left them with my men,” Denan said. “They were perfectly safe.”

  Mama glared at him. “And how do I know your men are trustworthy?”

  Denan considered her. “I suppose you would have to trust me.”

  “You—the man who kidnapped my daughter and married her against her will?”

  Larkin stiffened.

  “I have done my best to make that up to her,” Denan said softly.

  “That doesn’t discount the wrong you have done her,” Mama said. “Or me.”

  An hour ago, Larkin would have tried to intervene, to soften her mother. After what had happened with Talox, Denan had earned his own tongue-lashing.

  His shoulders slumped. “No, it doesn’t.”

  She appraised him. “In my experience—and I have more than most—power corrupts all men and women. Just look what you have done with your magic.”

  He frowned. “I will earn your trust, Pennice.”

  Larkin sighed. The more powerful a person became, the less Mama trusted them. Larkin couldn’t really blame her suspicion of Denan. It had taken Larkin a long time to forgive him, even if she had understood his reasoning.

  She rested her hand on Sela’s back. “I had to help my friend.” Was Maisy her friend? Could anyone be friends with a madwoman, especially one who liked to throw rocks? “And it wasn’t safe for you.”

  Sela glanced toward where Maisy had disappeared. Her lower lip trembled.

  “The pipers have put her to sleep,” Larkin said. “She won’t bother anyone.”

  Sela ducked her head into Mama’s shoulder.

  “Give her time, Larkin,” Mama sighed.

  Larkin didn’t know what else she could have done, but there was no reasoning with four-year-olds—or angry mothers, apparently.

  Denan stepped up next to Mama with a clean bandage in his hands. “We need to cover Sela’s eyes.”

  Mama took a step back. “Why?”

  He shot a pleading look at Larkin. She didn’t understand. Then, all at once, she did. In order to leave, they had to wade through dead mulgars. “We have to go through the battlefield now.”

  Mama blanched. “Better put her to sleep.”

  “I can carry her,” Denan offered.

  Looking bewildered and afraid, Mama looked between Denan and Larkin. “I’ll do it.”

  Lips pursed, Denan nodded. He motioned to his men, who’d been waiting for them. They surrounded Larkin and her mother four men deep. One of them played, sending Sela into a deep sleep. Larkin stared at the large entourage and shot Denan a questioning look.

  “Just in case an ardent is pretending,” Denan said.

  “A what?” Mama asked.

  “Regular mulgars are all brute force and no finesse,” Denan said. “Ardents retain their cunning.”

  Larkin shuddered at the thought of an intelligent mulgar pretending to be dead while lying in wait for her.

  Denan let out a long breath. “Larkin—”

  “Don’t,” she said through clenched teeth. “Not now.”

  Larkin would never forget moving through the battlefield. Broken mulgars lay in grotesque positions, flies already attacking their faces, birds darting away as they approached. Pipers moved among them, gathering arrows from the bodies.

  Larkin tried to keep her eyes locked on Denan’s back. To breathe shallowly. To pretend she wasn’t stumbling over and stepping on hardened flesh. She almost asked one of the pipers to enchant her too. But if this was the life of a warrior, she’d better get used to it.

  As for Mama, she wore the same stoic expression as when she lost a mother or baby. Or both. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to pass through the scores of dead. Mulgars like Maisy had been. Mulgars like the one Larkin had killed the day before. There had been a person in there, behind the wraiths’ corruption, and Larkin had killed him.

  “What are they?” Mama whispered to her.

  “Mulgars.” She sagged in relief that the word had passed easily through her lips.

  “Are they the dark magic that hunts you?” Mama asked.

  “No,” Larkin said. Something much worse hunted her. “These are just their servants. Men and women turned to mindless monsters after being cut by a corrupted blade.”

  Had the man beneath the corruption realized he was dying? That she had killed him?

  Mama checked to make sure Sela was sound asleep. “I truly believed the druids would kill us if we stayed.
” Garrot, the Black Druid in charge, had threatened it enough. “Perhaps it would have been better. Cleaner.”

  “We’re safe, Mama. I know it’s hard. But when you see how magical and lovely and secure the Alamant is …”

  Mouth set in a grim line, Mama nodded.

  The other pipers dispersed, their mottled cloaks rendering them invisible within moments. Tam and Denan murmured to each other. Larkin was still furious with him, but now was not the time for a spat.

  Denan turned back to them. “Let me carry Sela, Pennice.”

  Mama sighed in defeat and handed her over. “How many soldiers do you have?”

  “We have two armies in this company,” Denan answered. “Mine and my uncle Demry’s. Each is a thousand men strong.”

  “And how many mulgars are there?” Mama asked.

  Denan hesitated. “Best guess? They outnumber us three to one.”

  Two thousand men were all that held back the mulgar horde? Larkin shuddered.

  “Denan.” Tam gestured to one of the pages, who ran through the forest toward them.

  Hands braced on his knees, the young man paused before them, panting, “Scouts report the mulgar army lying in wait ahead.”

  Denan looked to the east. “Alongside the river?”

  “Have Demry drive them off,” Tam said with a shrug.

  The boy shook his head. “They’ve a bunch of ardents leading them.”

  Tam and Denan exchanged a loaded glance.

  Larkin stepped closer. “I thought the mulgars wouldn’t fight your superior numbers without the wraiths to drive them?”

  “They don’t, usually,” Tam murmured. “But if they have enough ardents …”

  “We could cross the river,” Larkin said. Wraiths couldn’t cross moving water.

  “The only place to ford is the pool beneath the waterfall,” Tam said.

  Which would mean backtracking through the battlefield. Larkin shuddered.

  Denan passed his hand down his face. “It’s either that or let them drive us farther south—dangerously close to the Mulgar Forest.”

  “Mulgar Forest?” She didn’t like the sound of that.

  He looked down at her, a question in his gaze. “I don’t want to frighten you. Nor do I want to lie to you.”

  “I’m already frightened,” she whispered.

  He breathed out and seemed to come to a decision. “When the Silver Tree became evil, became the Black Tree, so did the forest around him. We do not go there—not if we can help it.”

  Picturing the magic that hummed through the Forbidden Forest, she could well imagine the opposite in the Mulgar Forest.

  She rubbed her sweating palms against her tunic.

  Denan turned to the page. “How far north do they extend?”

  “Three miles,” he said.

  Denan was silent, his brows furrowed with thought. “Have Demry turn and guard our rear—I don’t want them attacking us while we cross. We’ll ford the river here and head for the old road. From there to Ryttan.”

  The page set off.

  “What’s Ryttan?” Larkin asked.

  “An ancient, fallen city of ruins.” Denan didn’t look happy about it. “The wall still stands. We’ll be safe enough tonight.”

  “Why didn’t we head there before?” Larkin asked.

  “It’s out of our way. It will add another night to our journey,” Denan said.

  Two more nights of mulgar attacks. Larkin wasn’t sure she could bear it. Not that she had a choice.

  The river crossing wasn’t as arduous as Larkin had anticipated. While most of the pipers swam across the pool, others crossed on lines. The wounded were ferried over on a makeshift raft. Denan had tied Sela to Larkin’s middle and enchanted her asleep. Larkin had zipped across the river, Tam catching her on the other side.

  She hadn’t even gotten wet.

  Denan had rigged a pod to wrap the baby around Mama’s chest while she crossed over on the ropes. It had been so comfortable Mama left it.

  After they’d left the last of the dead mulgars on the north side of the river behind, Denan slipped a dampener around Sela’s neck. Larkin crouched down, and Sela climbed on her back. Denan had gone off with his Uncle Demry to work out logistics.

  Tam ranged ahead as Larkin and her family trekked through heavy forest. The thick undergrowth took all of Larkin’s attention, until suddenly it didn’t. Dirt-covered bricks peeked out from beneath her feet.

  Larkin glanced up in surprise to find they had come upon an ancient brick road wide enough for two carts to travel abreast. In places, the road was cracked. In others, bricks had shattered. Cut saplings wept thick globs of sap. The pipers obviously kept it cleared.

  Stretched out before her was the vanguard of Denan’s army. She looked behind her, to where the road shifted out of sight—a road that had once connected two cities. Tired, dusty people had once traveled this road to sell their goods or visit their families. People who were now ashes and dust—forgotten. As Larkin would someday be forgotten.

  Standing on that ancient road, Larkin felt small, a gasp of breath in a windstorm.

  “Larkin?” Mama paused to look back at her, a question in her gaze.

  Larkin let Sela slip from her back. “I think you can walk for a while.”

  Sela didn’t protest. Larkin took her hand. Together, the four of them continued through the day, only pausing at noon to rest and eat a simple meal.

  As the day shifted to evening, a hush fell over the entire army. Mounds of tumbled, pitted stones covered with vines flanked the road. At first, Larkin dismissed them as natural, until they approached a standing wall. It had sunk in places, the orderly rows and columns of bricks bulging like once-trim men grown fat.

  A utilitarian gate of beams and metal braces stood open to admit them. A jumbled heap of large stones stained black and covered in vines was piled on either side. Giant, carved gilgads stood above them on their hindquarters, tails wrapped around their legs, faces frozen in a snarling rictus.

  Larkin’s heart raced in her chest. She and Sela had been attacked by a gilgad the first time they’d entered the forest. Denan had saved them. Worried for her sister’s reaction, she glanced over her shoulder to check on Sela. She’d fallen asleep again, which explained the damp spot on Larkin’s shoulder.

  Before they reached the gates, Denan strode out to meet them. Larkin tensed with every step that brought him closer. He glanced at her once and then was careful not to look at her again.

  “What is this place?” Mama asked him.

  “Ryttan—one of our cities that fell to mulgars after the war.”

  “What war?” Mama asked.

  “The Alamant—my ancestors—was at war with Valynthia—your ancestors—when the curse fell.”

  “And who began this curse?” Mama asked.

  “The ones with the dark magic,” Denan said. “They were men once. They are not anymore.”

  “The real beast of the forest?” Mama asked softly.

  “Yes,” Larkin said.

  Beyond the wall, crumbled domed buildings littered the forest floor like upright, broken eggs. A long line of headless statues lined the path—men with swords and shields and women with some form of flute, each with sigils still visible on their skin.

  “Who were they?” Larkin asked.

  “Defenders of the city,” Denan answered. “There’s a hill near the center. We’ll spend the night there.”

  “I thought the pipers only had tree dwellings,” Larkin said.

  “Not always.”

  Beyond the statues was an open square, an empty fountain beyond. It was packed with soldiers. Cooks had set up enormous pots of stew that smelled of gilgad meat. As the soldiers passed through, they filled their bowls, ate, and washed the bowls in a nearby stream before returning them to their packs. Captains directed men to the healers’ tent or into position along the top of the wall, where they were to rest until sundown.

  Denan led them to the shade of a large tree
and turned to Mama. “You and the little ones rest. Larkin and I will fetch supper.”

  He still wasn’t looking at her, as if he could sense that her anger had been carefully packed away to come out later. Which it was.

  Denan lifted Sela from Larkin. The breeze felt wonderful against her sweaty back. Sela shied away from him to curl up against Mama’s side where she’d settled inside the wide roots.

  Larkin and Denan hadn’t taken two steps toward the crowd when one of the pages came running. “She’s awake, sir. And she’s mad.”

  Maisy. Had to be.

  Denan frowned and hurried after the man, Larkin on his heels.

  “Larkin!” Mama called.

  “I’ll be right back,” Larkin answered without looking back. Not two dozen strides later, Larkin lost Denan in the crowd. She turned about and rose up on her tiptoes, unable to see him over so many tall, bulky men in armor.

  A sudden bang, shout, and hiss had her turning to her right. She shoved her way to the opposite side of the fountain. Maisy had backed up to a tree and hissed at Talox like a feral cat. She’d drawn a crowd; easily a hundred soldiers watched with interest.

  Working together, Denan and Talox hemmed her in. Maisy was cornered. She would attack for certain. Someone was bound to get hurt. Larkin broke into a run.

  Maisy drew her knife. Denan and Talox both took defensive stances, shields out.

  Larkin launched herself in front of them. “Maisy,” she snapped. “Stop it! All of you, stop it!”

  Maisy’s mad, accusing glare fell on Larkin.

  Larkin forced her voice to calm. “No one is going to hurt you.”

  “They’ve already hurt me,” Maisy hissed.

  “You were scaring Sela.”

  Maisy ground her teeth. “You abandoned me.”

  Larkin set her jaw. “I’m sorry, but Sela is terrified of you, and my family needs me.” Her family would always, always come first. “Do you understand?”

  Maisy’s voice turned soft, childlike. “Please don’t leave me again.”

  Ancestors. Larkin couldn’t be two people. She couldn’t be Maisy’s keeper. “Maisy, put the knife down.”