The Outcast (Summoner #4)(40)

“Whose did you think it was then, you stupid fool?” Zacharias roared, raising his fingers again. Edmund knocked his hand down and shoved him again. This time, Zacharias shoved back.

“Boys, no!”

Beyond the pair, Alice, Josephine and Prince Harold had arrived on the scene.

“I thought it was an orc’s demon … or a wild animal,” Arcturus said lamely. The words were unconvincing in his ears.

“You were being cruel to Elaine,” Edmund said, and it was strange for Arcturus to see the happy-go-lucky boy so angry. “It seems to me you deserved this.”

Zacharias raised his fist, but then Alice was standing between them, her chest heaving with exertion.

“Don’t … be … so … stupid,” she managed. “You’re … supposed to be … friends.”

“What gave you that idea?” Zacharias spat.

He turned and stalked away, his back stiff with anger. The demon followed, but not before one of its heads hissed threateningly in Arcturus’s direction. Josephine stood for a moment, undecided.

“Wait up, Zach!” she yelled, jogging behind him.

As Zacharias walked out of earshot, Edmund deflated, and ran a hand over his face.

“That was unfortunate.” Prince Harold shook his head, a grim look on his face. “Arcturus, over here please.”

Arcturus approached him, wincing as the soles of his ragged, stable-boy shoes sizzled in the still-burning grass.

“I’m sorry, Harold … I wasn’t thinking,” Arcturus muttered.

“Well, why don’t you try thinking next time,” Harold snapped. Arcturus stared at his feet, kicking at the sooty ground.

Harold sighed.

“Forgive me. You have to understand, Zacharias is…”

Then he stopped, staring past Arcturus, his eyes widening.

Arcturus spun, his heart racing at the thought that Elaine might be hurt. But she was fine, sitting cross-legged just a few paces behind him, wiping at her tear-streaked face.

No, it was the figure staggering toward them behind her, his face and uniform covered in blood.

It was Rotter. Even as he neared them, he fell to his knees.

“Help me,” he gasped. “For heaven’s sake, help me.”





CHAPTER

22

IT TOOK ONLY A few seconds for Alice to heal Rotter, wiping away the deep cut in his ashen forehead like wine spilled on a table. But in that time it seemed the world became darker, the sun halfway through its descent beneath the horizon.

“What happened?” Prince Harold asked, handing a flask of water to the exhausted soldier.

“Men from the north,” Rotter gasped after a deep draft. “A few hundred of them. Came at us with swords while we set up camp outside Raleightown. I was on the edges, played dead … waited till they’d moved on.”

For a moment the group stared at him in shocked silence.

“Did any of your comrades survive?” Edmund asked, gripping Rotter by his shoulder.

“Aye, Sergeant Caulder,” Rotter said, his eyes darting furtively behind him. “Sarge fought like the devil, but there were too many. One snuck up from behind, knocked him out with a club. I think they kept him alive for interrogation.”

“Is the town being pillaged?” Edmund demanded, his eyes turning in the town’s direction. “I don’t see flames.”

Arcturus could see the glow of the town’s torchlights in the distance, suddenly visible in the growing darkness.

It didn’t seem real. It was so quiet. Were there dead men over there, cut down in the dusk light?

“What are they doing here?” Alice murmured. “No pillaging … and there are too many of them to be bandits. A dwarven uprising?”

“They were no dwarves,” Rotter growled. “Too tall. But they wore matching cloaks and covered their faces with scarves. Like they were organized. Like someone might recognize them.”

Arcturus felt a chill take hold of him then. Could this be what Crawley had been talking about?

“The riots,” Arcturus said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“What of them?” Zacharias snarled from behind him, making Arcturus jump. He had not heard Zacharias and Josephine return. The boy’s demon was gone—infused into Zacharias’s body.

“Arcturus is right,” Prince Harold said, holding up his hand. “They are here for us. This is an uprising. Just not a dwarven one.”

“It’s the commoners,” Edmund said, his face filled with sudden understanding. “The ones who started the fire in Corcillum.”

“What are you saying?” Josephine asked. Her voice quavered, and Arcturus could see her face was pale in the dim light.

“They are here for us,” Edmund explained, loading his crossbow with grim determination. “The prince, the nobles. All of us.”

“No!” Elaine gasped and rushed over to grip Arcturus’s hand.

“Why?” Alice asked. “What good are we to them?”

“Because we are weak,” Prince Harold said. “Weak enough to capture. All of us are novices, with our first demons and the most basic grasp of spellcraft. We have not had the time to grow our summoning levels, or capture more powerful demons. With their numbers … they could defeat us without too much trouble.”