Oathbound (The Legendborn Cycle #3)

Chapter 29

29

William

THE CAR BESIDE us blows apart in a blast of heat and silver-blue light that sends us flying backward. Lark and I land at the same time, but he recovers first—pulling me to my feet as an aether bolt zips by us both.

We turn to see two Mageguard spill into the lot from the far side of the forest, fighting two Morgaines. Our own vehicle is still in one piece—for now.

“Shite,” Lark curses.

Our attention snaps to Nick and Ava, who appear just as shocked as we are at the appearance of the Mageguard.

“Go!” Lark shouts, waving at Nick. “Cestra must have sent them! Run, now!”

Ava’s eyes dart around the scene, from her two Morgaine companions to the Mageguard in full tactical gear to me and Lark across the lot and back to Nick, who is shouting for us to run.

But when Ava sprints into the forest, Nick hesitates.

In a moment, I know what he’s thinking. That there was a time, not that long ago, when he ran from Bree and Sel. I see it in the set of his jaw and the flash of his armor as he builds it around his body. I know this Nick—and this Nick will risk his mission, whatever that mission is, to save his friends. To save us. And I know, in that exact moment, that I can’t let him do that.

That I have to trust him.

“Nick!” I scream over the fray of the Guards and Morgaines. “Go!”

Nick freezes mid-step, shock clear across his features.

“Go!” I say again, waving him away. “We’ll cover you!”

Nick opens his mouth to argue—just as the sun reaches its zenith overhead.

We look up with shared understanding. When our eyes meet again, Nick nods, dips his chin in thanks, and disappears into the woods in a flash of aether.

I lift my face to the sky to meet the cool, familiar power of Gawain. As it always does, wherever my inheritance touches me, only a calm, certain clarity is left behind.

The world turns pale green in my sight.

Lark is watching and waiting. “You ready?”

I spread my fingers wide, then ball them tight, feeling the familiar strength in them once more. When I open my hands, Gawain’s twin daggers appear in my palms.

I nod to Lark and step forward. “Let’s go.”

The power of Gawain makes me a healer, but there are times when healing is simply not enough. For me, those times are noon and midnight.

Our unspoken first objective is to subdue the Mageguard.

Not because we want the Morgaines to win but because we want Nick to get his chance.

As soon as the Morgaines realize that we’re attacking our own, they drift away from the fight and melt into the woods in silence—no doubt to avoid the risk of the tide turning against them.

Once we’re left to focus on the two Guards, we knock the first one out easily—and discover the second is someone we know.

“Thompson,” Lark growls, his hands still alight with aether. “Should have known Cestra would send you.”

Thompson, the Mageguard Nick defeated at his curia, scowls up at us from where he had been knocked to the ground. Beside him lies the other Guard—a young one—unconscious and sprawled awkwardly in the gravel.

“You’re just gonna let the Morgaines get away, Douglas?”

“Nick’s quest is to hunt Ava,” I say. “Not random Morgaines. Explain why you attacked her companions just as he was making strides toward his goal. Were you trying to sabotage him?”

Thompson eyes me warily, the green power of Gawain enough to make even a seasoned Mageguard apprehensive. I’m stronger than he is right now by many orders of magnitude—and he knows it. Even if he could break out of the quick-chained cuffs that Lark forged around his wrists, he’d have to get past me to escape.

“Answer the Scion’s question, Thompson,” Lark snaps. “We’re in the field, and in the field, the Legendborn outrank us both.”

“The Mageguard aren’t Oathed to protect the Legendborn,” Thompson retorts.

“Doesn’t mean you don’t have to answer his questions,” Lark replies with a smile.

Thompson shakes his head. “I don’t have to answer to anyone but the Regents. I’m here on Regent business, not Legendborn business.”

“So the Regents sent you to sabotage Nick?” I ask.

“Davis thinks he’s so clever,” Thompson says with a sneer. “But the Regents are always two steps ahead. No one trusts him to complete the mission, which is why they sent me.”

“But you didn’t attack when we first encountered Ava,” Lark says, looking at the destruction around the lot. “You waited until her subordinates peeled off from the group.” He jerks a chin at the tree line where they’d first emerged. “Why?”

Thompson smirks. “No reason.”

Lark kneels before him. “I think there’s a reason. And I think Will and I are gonna—”

“No, we aren’t,” I mutter, flipping my dagger to catch it overhand. I lunge before Thompson can get to his feet, striking his temple with a short, quick blow.

He falls face-forward onto the pavement.

Lark’s jaw drops. “What did you just do?”

“They don’t teach temple blows at the academy?” I murmur.

Lark gapes at me. “Of course they do!”

“It was a precision tap,” I say, kneeling beside Thompson’s hip, “with enough force to knock him out but not do any serious damage.”

He looks down at his fellow Mageguard. “I was interrogating him.”

I shake my head. “No, you weren’t. He was toying with you. Buying time, likely, until reinforcements show up or until Gawain’s power times out. He wasn’t going to give us anything more than he already had.”

“So, you just… knocked him out because you got tired of hearing him talk?”

“No, but that was a bonus.” I shift Thompson to the side slightly and start pulling at his black outercoat. “Help me get his jacket off.”

Lark kneels but complies. “I have no idea what you’re doing right now and no idea why you’re doing it.”

“And yet you’re following my instructions,” I say wryly.

“I’m questioning my life choices, is what I’m doin’,” he mutters. “Here, turn him over, get this sleeve, then the next.”

We work together quickly to take the Merlin’s jacket off. Lark sits back on his heels as I rifle through the pockets.

“Here we go,” I say as I dig around the inner left breast pocket. After a moment, I pull out a zippered-shut, semihard case about the size of my hand.

“What is that?” Lark asks.

“Let’s see.”

I unzip the case, laying both sides open and down on the pavement between us. I recognize its contents immediately: two capped syringes, snug in their molded compartments.

“Syringes?”

I nod. “Not just syringes, but syringes meant to travel.”

Lark peers closer. “They’re empty.”

“These aren’t used to inject solutions into someone; they’re used to draw samples away.” I look up and around the lot. “Wherever the guards parked, there are likely labeled vials and a cooler inside the vehicle for safer, longer transport.”

Lark picks up one of the syringes carefully, avoiding the capped end. “There are labels.”

I pick up the other—and my blood chills. “?‘Morgaine S1—Enthralled.’?”

“Mine says ‘Morgaine S2—Out of thrall.’?”

“Sample one, sample two. Possibly labeled to avoid contamination,” I murmur. We stare at each other. “Thompson wasn’t following us to find Ava; he was following us to find a Morgaine… perhaps any Morgaine. Or two.”

“But what does it mean to be ‘Enthralled’ or ‘Out of thrall’?”

I frown, thinking. “No clue. It sounds like a state of being like Bree’s possession. Or maybe… maybe like her blood walks?”

Lark places the syringe back in the case. “But Bree can’t control her possessions. You couldn’t expect to catch her in one state or the other.”

“No,” I say, churning over the ideas. “If the Regents sent Thompson and his companion into the field to take these specific samples, they’d do so with the assumption that the guards could find a Morgaine or two in both of these magical states. Not happenstance, but expectation. And these labels indicate confidence and knowledge in the Morgaines’ abilities.”

I place the syringe in my hand back in its place and pick the case up, zipping it before I pocket it myself. “We need to get on the road.” I’m already walking toward the car. At my side, Lark is pulling out his keys.

“You’re going to confront the Regents?” he asks. “We don’t know where they are right now, Will. They don’t stay in one place long, and they usually don’t travel together. They could be at the Keep, the Institute, Pembray, or somewhere up North or West. They could be back in Cardiff, for all we know.”

“Toss me the keys,” I order as I get to the driver’s side. Lark throws them over the top of the SUV into my waiting hand. “I know where we need to go.”

We climb into the car together, and I’m starting the engine and peeling back out of the parking spot as my mind races.

“Where?” Lark asks.

I pause, both hands on the wheel, and nod to myself. Circumstances have changed and, apparently, I have changed with them, because I am already steeling myself to return to a place I swore I would never set foot in again.

“The Institute. We need to go back to the Institute.”