“Yes, but how, without alerting the others?”
Raith thought for a moment. Then he motioned to the wardstone embrasure just visible from where they crouched in the underbrush. “In a few minutes they will need to set the shield. The embrasures toward the back might allow us to capture one out of sight of the others.”
Dal frowned. “What about the barrier? If it doesn’t go up . . .”
“I’ll complete the spell,” Raith said. “They’ll never know. But we should get into place now. We’ll need to get behind our own wardstone barrier soon after. My people are waiting not far from here.”
“How many did you bring?” Corwin asked as they slowly retreated from the wall, moving toward the rear.
“Twenty-six,” Raith answered.
“So few?” Corwin glanced at the man.
Raith’s expression was impassive. “There would’ve been more, if not for the raid. But they’re all wilder or magist, and they are all willing to fight, which will have to be enough.”
Yes, it would. Corwin’s mind whirled with plans and possibilities, working out scenarios of how they could get inside, get to Kate and the others, and get back out again. It wasn’t going to be easy. First make sure she is indeed inside, he told himself.
Reaching an isolated wardstone, they had to take up position well away from the wall, the only place with enough cover to shield them.
“I will take the gold down the moment he reaches the embrasures,” Raith said. “But be ready to move him as soon as I finish the spell.”
Dal raised his hand. “One problem. Won’t they notice when one of them doesn’t come back?”
Raith shook his head. “Not at first. By the time they do notice, it’ll be too dark to venture out.”
With that settled, they hunched down to wait. It didn’t take long before a gold appeared, carrying a glowing wardstone between his palms. Corwin sank down even lower, breathing shallowly. The sweet smell of the everweeps covering the ground filled his nose, a strange, pleasant comfort in this tense moment. He needn’t have worried; the gold was oblivious to his surroundings. Clearly he’d performed this task so often, he’d become indifferent to danger.
Just before the gold reached the embrasure, Raith rose from his hiding place, uttered a spell, then raced forward as the gold collapsed. Picking up the stone, he whispered a few words, invoking the warding once more, and slid the wardstone into its place. Corwin and Dal rushed toward the gold and picked him up by the arms, dragging him away as quickly and quietly as they could manage.
In moments, they were well away from the Hellgate. They stopped to get the horses, all three of them. When Corwin and Dal left Norgard, Corwin had brought Firedancer with them, saddled and ready for Kate. Dal had brought Lir as well. The falcon remained perched on the front of his saddle, a hood over her head. They tossed the unconscious gold over Nightbringer’s back, then headed for the encampment.
Raith led the way. Unlike the golds at the Hellgate, sentries guarded the perimeter of the wilder encampment, three blues standing watch near the wardstones. The camp inside the magic shield was still and quiet, the people huddled in groups on the ground or standing watch. They stirred at the sight of Corwin and the others, hushed whispers breaking out like a wind gust.
Corwin eyed the people, his heart sinking at the sight of so many women and children among the men. Some of the youngest were barely old enough to be left unattended, let alone go into battle. Several of the women had infants with them. Another looked ready to give birth at any moment, her belly swollen and heavy with child. How will we ever take the fortress with such a small group? For surely the pregnant women and the children couldn’t be put in such danger as they would soon face. Then again, Corwin reminded himself, this was Raith’s army to command, not his.
That became clear within minutes of their joining the camp. Raith issued orders, selecting several of the men to help interrogate the prisoner while sending the rest as far away as the barrier would allow. Corwin understood. There was nothing pleasant about forcing a person to divulge secrets. They laid the gold on the ground inside a cluster of trees, the best buffer to muffle his screams.
Retreating as far as he dared, Corwin leaned against a tree to watch and listen. Raith did most of the work, using the spells in his magestones to inflict pain, while a wilder named Francis held the gold up, arms pinned behind his back. To Corwin’s relief it didn’t take long, such was the power of Raith’s magic. Corwin closed his eyes during the worst of it, the man’s screams like the crack of a whip. But finally, at last, the gold began to talk, and Corwin moved in closer to hear.
“Yes, the wilders are inside,” the man said, panting. “Some of them.”
Behind him, Francis slowly lowered the gold to the ground, then retreated a step, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of one meaty arm. Even still his face glistened in the light of the torches nearby.
“Who?” Raith said, squatting in front of the gold, who seemed barely able to remain upright by his own strength.
“Kate Brighton, the gunsmith Bonner. That’s all.”
Standing opposite Corwin, Dal took a step forward, fist clenched. “What about Signe?”
The gold glanced up at him and nodded once. “The Eshian’s there, too.”
Francis stooped toward the gold, and the man cowered away from him. “And the others taken during the raid on the Sacred Sword?”
The gold covered his face, his words muffled behind his hands. “They were here but they’re gone.”
“Where?” Francis wrapped a large hand around the man’s shoulder, right at the base of the neck, and squeezed.
“They’re on a ship from Penlocke, on the way to Seva.”
Corwin’s spine stiffened at the news. He stepped nearer the gold. “Why Seva?”
The gold raised his gaze to Corwin, the whites of his eyes smeared with blood from whatever Raith had done to him. “Weapons for the Godking’s army.”
“An army of wilders,” Raith said, rising to his feet. He glanced at Corwin, fear etched across his face.
Corwin felt the same fear echo through him. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but surely never this. The golds were serving Magnar Fane? Despite his incredulity, it wasn’t impossible to believe that Seva was involved. The Godking had been a young man when he sent his army to invade Rime all those years ago. It was his first taste of failure, a defeat he’d never gotten over. It was only a matter of time before he tried again. And now thanks to the golds, he would have magic to help him.
“The daydrake attacks,” Corwin said, his mind making a new connection. He turned to Raith. “Most of them were near rivers and waterways, allowing easy transport to Seva.” He’d missed the pattern all along, but now it seemed obvious.
“That explains why they would attack Thornewall, as well,” Dal said. “The smuggling caves lead right to the river. With wilder magic it would be easy to open them again.”
“And he has Signe and Bonner, too,” Corwin said. “All he needs to give Seva the revolvers.” Again, he felt as if the pieces of the puzzle were sliding into place. All except for the most important one. Corwin knelt before the gold as Raith had done a moment before. “Who leads you? Is it Grand Master Storr?”
The man laughed, his lips parting to reveal bloody teeth. “Storr is just a pawn in the game of a god.”
Francis grabbed the man around the neck again. “Leave the riddles out of this.”
“Who then?” Corwin stared into the gold’s eyes, desperate for the answer.
“I serve the Lord Ascender. He is god made flesh.”
Worried the pain might’ve driven the man mad, Corwin said, “Even gods have names. What is his?”
“He was once the Nameless One,” the gold replied. Then he laughed again. “But he’s had many names. Too many to count.”