Rise of the Seven (The Frey Saga, #3)(37)

I couldn’t believe I’d neglected to sweep the skies this morning, knowing that the fey were aware of our plans. I fell in behind Grey and dropped quickly to the horse’s mind, urging him to keep pace before finding the hawk. It was perched on a castle wall, tearing meat from a rodent beneath its claw, and I had to force it to flight.

I had intended to make a broad sweep of Camber, but when it took wing, everything fell apart. I froze at what I’d seen, and then heard the clatter of rocks the instant before I opened my own eyes to find Chevelle and Rider had been forced from the path, nearly tumbling into my horse when we went from full run to abrupt stop without warning.

I swallowed hard, unsure what to do as they stared at me, waiting.

We shouldn’t split up, it could be another trick. The elves at Camber could handle the fey, would likely have it done before we arrived. But it wasn’t right to leave them to it, either. I cursed myself for not having more animals at the castle. It would be all I needed to resolve the issue in a matter of minutes. The cats had ended badly and I’d not wanted a repeat.

“Frey,” Chevelle called and I grimaced, knowing I could wait no longer.

“Council trackers are stealing up the mountain. They are almost to the castle.” I glanced at the others, who had backtracked when they’d heard the commotion of the sudden stop. “Anvil, Chevelle, with me. The rest of you go on, we will join you as soon as the castle is secure.”

No one looked happy with the idea, but they nodded their assent.

“Rhys,” I added, surprised at the intensity of my own voice, “save one for me.”

They turned back to the path, resuming the run with a new drive. I dropped from my horse and ran, knowing Chevelle and Anvil would follow. They were faster, but I knew the secret paths and tunnels. We hadn’t ridden far before I’d found the intruders, but hopefully any spotters they had thought we were well gone.

I cut from the path and through a narrow pass between boulders, climbed a rock wall, and slid behind a tattered group of thorn bushes before stopping to check the trackers’ progress.

“There are four,” I whispered. “One is scaling the north wall. Two outside the east wing... they appear to be waiting for a signal. The fourth is farther down, hiding among the rocks.”

The instant my eyes opened, I was running again, darting through crevices and climbing over stone. I would lose the tracker once he was inside the castle walls, but I couldn’t stay with him and keep moving. I had to figure out where he was going, what he wanted within. They knew we were gone, surely. They had waited for this opportunity. But why?

I slipped on a loose rock and narrowly caught myself in time. Cool moss beneath my palm signaled we were nearly there, and I glanced up, searching the wall for the entrance. I nodded, confident now, and Chevelle pulled a dagger from his belt as we began again. We were through the entry and sprinting down the dark corridor when I realized where the tracker was headed.

“The vault,” I said, breathless from running.

Anvil cursed. “I’ll take the two on the east wing. We’ll catch the fourth before he swings back around. There’s nowhere for him to go.”

I nodded. “Here.” It was the only warning I gave before throwing myself through the end wall where the corridor turned. I felt Chevelle and Anvil falter at my use of magic, as it was, but they recovered quickly, Anvil splitting from us toward the east wing as we kept on for Asher’s vault.

The hallway was too quiet. The pad of our boots seemed to scream in the silence. But that didn’t matter as soon as Chevelle busted the door to the vault. The seal had been broken, so he must have expected the tracker to replace it with a new one.

I couldn’t worry about who the tracker had killed to get here, where the fallen might be, because once the door was open, flames burst into the hallway. They died down after a moment, and I could see Chevelle again, forced to the opposite side of the opening.

He gave me a look. I thought you said they were trackers. I turned my palms up. They had been dressed as trackers. And they had moved like trackers. Someone with this kind of power shouldn’t have bothered learning stealth.

The wall beside Chevelle blew out, large chunks of stone flying into the corridor, and he jumped back, pressed farther from me. Had council been cross-training their strongest fighters all along, or had we given them too much time to regroup? The next blast opened the wall beside me and I leapt out of the way, flinching as pieces of rock pelted my side.

I glanced back at Chevelle, whose expression left no doubt he was about to pummel this nasty interloper. But just as he shifted to move on the entrance, a cyclone of paper, Asher’s precious documents, swirled into the corridor. I bit down hard. This was one man. And we were wasting time.

I stepped in front of the opening in one swift move, just as Chevelle did the same. The documents parted, Chevelle’s magic, and the tracker’s arms and legs broke at the bicep and thigh, mine. He fell back against a shelf, gritted his teeth, and threw a vicious strike toward me, which met my power and dissolved to nothing. He threw another, and then another, to no avail. I stepped forward, ready to question him, and recognized his face. Archer Lake.

He smiled at my recognition. It was an ugly, hate-filled smile and I wanted to destroy it.

Flames returned with the memory. I felt the heat surround us as I watched her burn. He had been the one who’d finally overtaken her. They had all killed my mother, but this man had possessed the strength to overwhelm her, an energy of legend. He had burned her.