Chapter 4
Captain Benjamin Carmichael
I could not afford to have another sleepless night. But it took me a long while to drift off.
Too many distracting thoughts. Too much to plan and organize.
The ragmals had pushed further into this valley than they ever had before according to the trackers we met up with.
There was no doubt in my mind it had something to do with Miss Isabel Mason. If my theory was correct, and the wolf ragmals had smelt her charged blood... then I had to be extremely careful.
Keeping her safe would be made much easier if she were more like Miss Campbell. But Miss Mason was extremely disagreeable.
Disagreeable or not, it was now my sole duty to deliver her to Washington.
By the morning, I was sufficiently rested that I arose before the sun did.
I was surprised to find Isabel tending to the horses.
I marched up to her. “What are you doing?”
“Tending to your horses,” she turned around with one hand patting the muzzle of my very own horse. “They have a long journey ahead of them. And they did such a tremendous job of outrunning those ragmals yesterday.” She continued to pat my horse as she fed it hay.
“You should not have left the inn without my knowledge,” I remonstrated.
She shot me a look and shook her head. “I didn’t venture far. The inn is only a few feet behind us.”
I opened my mouth to tell her of the weight of her situation once more, but she brushed past me.
She hefted a large bale of hay on her own. “Make yourself useful, Captain. Don’t just stand there, I imagine we have a lot to organize before our trip begins.”
I pressed my lips together and raised an eyebrow. “I am organizing this mission, not you.”
“I know that. So perhaps you should begin organizing it. I’ve gone to the general store to pick out some suitable traveling clothes and a small satchel for sundries. The bill is waiting with the store owner.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t honestly expect me to travel all the way to Washington in one oversized buffalo coat and one dress?” She looked at me earnestly.
My chin jutted forward and my lips parted as I readied to tell her that yes I did.
Then I stopped.
She shot me a knowing look. She had only known me a day, and she still dared to shoot me a look that said she knew exactly what I was thinking. “Before you tell me off, pause to think. Do you really want me to wear the same set of clothes all the way to Washington? They’d be able to smell me before I arrive. Plus, if... as you say, the wolf can smell my blood,” her voice became so quiet it was almost impossible to pick up. Her gaze dropped too. She no longer stared at me with defiance, and rather stared at a patch of dust by my feet. “Then I will have to be careful to mask my scent. Which will mean washing my clothes regularly and keeping myself clean.”
I dearly wanted to ignore what she was saying, but I couldn’t.
Which was infuriating.
The fact that she had so many opinions was awful, but the fact that those opinions were sometimes valid was hell itself.
I sniffed. “Very well. But I will look over your expenses. This is not a holiday.”
“No, this is kidnap,” she said as she crossed her arms. “You have insisted that I come with you to Washington. The least you can do is ensure I’m not uncomfortable.”
I gritted my teeth together. Countless insults leapt to my mind, but I had the sanity not to utter them.
Do so, and I would draw her into another argument.
Instead I turned to head to the general store. Before I left I grumbled at her. “Do not move far. I expect you to stay with these horses until I’m back.”
“That I can manage,” she said as she fondly patted my mare. “I find their company far more agreeable than yours.”
I said nothing and walked away.
By the time I had returned with her satchels, she was where I’d left her, sitting on the edge of the porch, kicking her heels back and forth as she watched the sun rise over the town.
I dumped her satchels next to her.
“Thank you,” she said, tone free from any hint of derision. She even offered what looked suspiciously like a pretty smile. Then the smile widened and my stomach sunk.
“And what about a horse?” she asked.
“What do you mean about a horse?”
“You can’t really expect me to ride with you the whole way to Washington. I think that would make Miss Campbell and Mister Bates extremely displeased.”
Again I had opened my mouth to tell her exactly what I thought, but then I stopped.
For the second time in a row, that insufferable woman had a point.
“It is much better that I have a horse of my own. And don’t worry, I can ride quite well. I can also tend horses, and I will be sure to tend mine well,” she said earnestly.
This woman was turning out to be extremely expensive. Or was she? The handful of dollars I’d spend on clothes and a horse would be nothing compared to what she was worth. If Isabel’s ability could be studied and replicated... it could change everything.
Everything.
Peace itself was running in her blood, or at least the means to ensure it.
So I turned stiffly on my foot and walked away.
“You look much nicer when you smile,” she said from behind me. “Do try not to frown the entire ride.”
Not willing to let her get away with that, I turned over my shoulder and arched an eyebrow. “Miss Mason, I’ll smile for you when you deserve it.”
She spluttered.
I smiled.
…
Isabel Mason
I sat there watching him walk away. I stopped kicking my legs in and out. Instead, my hands tightened around the edge of the wooden porch.
I watched him intently. Eyes narrowing in as he walked away.
I felt sick and excited all at once.
I wanted to tell myself I couldn’t travel all the way to Washington, especially not with a man like him. I was a simple country girl. And I had to prepare for winter.
….
And yet I’d always yearned for travel. I adored trekking through the mountains, sometimes even camping on my own. That was virtually unheard of for a woman, but I always had my magic with me. Plus, ever since mam and pap died and left the cabin to me, there was no one to tell me what to do.
Now that had changed – there was Captain Benjamin Carmichael.
Yesterday I’d convinced myself I would never fall for his charms. Now I wasn’t so assured. He had a certain way about him that undid me in the most terrifying manner.
Shaking my head at that thought, I now pushed it far out of reach.
I refocused on my problems. And there were many.
I turned to examining the parcels beside me.
Surprisingly, Carmichael had purchased everything I had asked for. I was sure he would have bought me only the bare minimum. Instead, he’d purchased more than requested. Several sturdy changes of clothes, and even a new pair of boots.
Before I could wonder what that meant, I spied old John Black, the tracker I’d met yesterday.
He was walking his horse down to one of the stables.
I jumped up, pushed myself off the porch, and ran towards him. “John,” I called, waving a hand at him.
He stopped in the shadow of the bank.
“Miss Mason, what are you doing in Grangetown?”
“Oh, it’s such a tremendously long story, I wouldn’t know where to begin. But what happened with those... creatures?” I shivered.
He looked at me, his head dropping low but his eyes remaining locked on mine. “Never you mind,” he said again.
“Come now, John, I’m not a child anymore. I’m a mage. I don’t need to be protected from the truth.”
He considered me for a short moment. “They’re pushing closer to town. They’re called ragmals, creatures gorged on magic. O
rdinary wolves and bears and rabbits and raccoons that have come across too much raw ether and have been infested.”
“… Why do you think they are pushing close to town?” I asked, trying to hide my shivering as I clasped my hands tightly around my middle.
“They’ve been increasing their activity for the past few months. There are reports...” he trailed off, shooting me the kind of look that said he doubted I really would want to hear the truth.
I clutched my hands together nervously. “Tell me.”
“Very well, Miss Isabel. There are reports the Federations are to blame. Using them as a first wave to attack small towns just like this.”
Now I could not hide my shiver. It shot across my shoulders, down my back, and into my knees.
John watched me carefully. “You should not have asked.”
“No. I need to know these things. What are we to do? How are we to protect ourselves?” I was saying we, even though I knew full well I was leaving this town.
Still, even if I ventured away, this was my home.
And you never abandoned your home.
“We put in a request for an army contingent. Before it comes, we’ll be arming the able-bodied men of this town.”
I felt sick. While I’d always known of the rumors about the impending war, I’d ignored them. The war seemed so far off.
Now I couldn’t ignore it – for I could not dismiss the look in John’s eyes.
“Now I’ve told you that, how about you tell me what you’re doing with that cavalryman?”
I blushed, thankful that the shadow of the bank hid it as I rubbed distractedly at my cheeks. “I do not know him,” I said properly. “I met him yesterday. He came upon me when I was clearing a curse from one of the new mines.”
“Don’t know him, ha?”
“I know what you believe you saw,” I pressed my hands together and searched carefully for my words, “But I assure you, you saw nothing. He tripped, and he took me with him.”
“You want to be careful around men like that,” John suddenly warned. “They won’t treat you well, Miss Mason.”
I stuttered to a stop. “… What does that mean?”
“I know you can’t be that innocent, Isabel. A man like that will have no intention of wedding you.”
I blushed. “I... you are mistaken. I have just met this man, and I have no intention of...” I trailed off.
“You keep it that way. And you be careful,” he said gravely. Then he tipped his hat and walked away.
I stood there in the cold shadow of the bank trying to think over what I’d just heard.
To be honest, it was nothing I had not divined through my own observations. Of course a man like Benjamin Carmichael would never have any intention of wedding a woman like me. So why was that fact now so intractably locked in my mind?
I shook my head and tried to dislodge it.
I stood there shivering for a few more seconds, until I realized I had to return to the inn. If Carmichael found me away from it, it would only give him another reason to chastise me.
I quickly ran back, pulling myself onto the porch taking the exact same location and posture as when he’d left me, even arranging my parcels until they sat neatly by my side.
I clamped my hands into my lap and tried not to think of him.
A few seconds later, I heard heavy footfall behind me. I turned thinking it was him.
It wasn’t. It was Mister Bates.
He walked right behind me, until he loomed over my back. I was still sitting, and with him right behind me, my only option was to jump off the porch in order to stand. “Can I help you?”
“I don’t know what tricks you’ve played on that fool of a captain, but you will leave. Now,” he said in the lowest, most threatening tone I’d ever heard.
“I haven’t played any tricks,” I defended myself.
“How much will it cost?”
“What?”
“How much will it cost to send you away?”
“I’m not—”
He loomed right over me, face compressing with anger. “If money won’t work, I’ll find something that will.”
I recoiled, gaze widening with alarm.
“Do you require assistance Mister Bates?” Someone suddenly asked.
Carmichael approached.
I turned to watch him walk up the wooden porch steps, his footfall heavy and deliberate like blows from a hammer. He wasn’t watching me. He was watching Bates.
“You appear to have quite a stoop there. Do you require Miss Mason’s hand to help straighten your back? Or would mine do?” Carmichael’s voice dipped to a growl.
Bates took several steps back, gaze narrowing with hatred as he stared at Carmichael. “Good morning to you, Captain. I was simply welcoming Miss Mason.”
Carmichael’s gaze flicked to me for a brief moment. “I’m sure she feels extremely welcome now. Will that be all? You’ll be missing your breakfast if you don’t go now.” Carmichael gestured his head towards the inn.
Bates took several steps back, smoothing down his vest with one stiff hand before he turned and walked towards the door.
I placed a hand on my chest, willing my heart to settle now the threat was gone.
Or was it?
I was to travel in a party with Mister Bates all the way to Washington. Ignoring Carmichael completely, I turned to lock my wide eyes on the now closed inn-door.
That flash of anger in his eyes, I’d seen it before. It was the kind of look a man gave when he was truly capable of violence.
“Do not think of it.” Carmichael walked up to me, his gaze locked on the door until he reached me and finally swiveled it down to me. “Mister Bates is capable of little more than complaining.”
I didn’t answer and it took me a few seconds to drop the hand from my chest.
Carmichael cleared his throat. “I have your horse, as requested. Will there be anything else? A train perhaps? A house? Why not request an entire country?”
I ignored him and stared at my hands.
Though I’d cowered from the danger of the ragmals last night, what had just transpired was different.
It made this feel strangely real.
I clutched my arms around my middle, flattening a hand on my stomach. And then I stared distractedly at the dusty ground, brows knotting with concern.
I was about to travel to Washington... and when I was there, God knows what would happen to me. But there was one thing that would be certain – I would be alone. With no friends and no allies.
“Miss Mason, I’m not accustomed to being ignored. Especially not when I have just spent an alarming sum on clothes and a horse.”
“Thank you,” I said distractedly, immediately returning to my disruptive thoughts.
I heard him grumbling behind me. “You know, I quite like you when you’re silent – you’re pleasing to the ears,” he began, then he trailed off.
I didn’t look at him. Instead I brought two hands up and pressed them over my face.
“Go and get some breakfast,” he said in a completely different tone. Gone was every hint of an insult. “And make it a good breakfast. We’ll be traveling all day.”
I didn’t respond.
I heard him hesitate behind me, one foot resting on a squeaky floorboard.
Then he moved off and entered the inn.
As soon as he was gone, I let my hands drop, and then I looked around town.
I wondered what would happen if I tried to leave. I could take one of Carmichael’s horses, choose the fastest, and quietly escape before he had a chance to notice.
I was positive I knew these hills better than him. I could escape into the mountains.
… And then what?
Become fodder for the ragmals?
I shook my head, pressing the palm heavily into an eye as I felt an almost overwhelming desire to cry.
I was trapped.
…
Captain Benjamin Carmichael
I paused
by the door, letting it open a crack and angling my head just right to stare at her.
For a few seconds she stared around town, and I was alarmed she was trying to escape.
But when she continued to sit there, one hand pressed over her eye and her shoulders hunched in, I relaxed.
I turned right around and let my muscles tense back up again.
I headed for Bates.
Whatever he’d said to her, he’d rattled Miss Mason. Something that appeared to be quite hard to do. She’d fought off that cursed miner without a single hesitation. And she’d held up surprisingly well as the ragmals had pursued her.
A few words from Mister Bates, however, and she looked crushed.
I latched a hand to my chin and let my fingers brush through the few fine bristles of stubble that remained from my morning shave.
I found Bates eating breakfast.
It was now my turn to loom over him.
Slowly he put his fork and knife down, placed his hands either side of his plate, and tilted his head back to stare at me. “Yes, Captain?”
“Let me make something clear. You are in the employ of Mister Campbell.”
“A fact I am already perfectly aware of,” he said, lips moving sharply around each word. “I do not need for you to state the obvious, Captain.”
“But you do seem to require that I do state this: you will stay away from Miss Mason. You will ask no questions, and you will make no trouble,” my voice dipped low on the word trouble. “Mister Campbell may be important and may be very wealthy. But, Mister Bates,” I stepped towards the table, leaned over, and placed a hand down on it, fingers spreading to reveal white, tensed knuckles. “Mister Campbell isn’t here. I am. Do you understand?”
His fat smile stiffened and momentarily Mister Bates looked a little unsure of himself.
“First and foremost, I protect this country. First and foremost,” I reiterated emphasizing each word carefully. “If you choose to get in the way of that, I will not allow you to stand.” With that, I straightened up, letting my tense hand relax and drop to my side. Then I turned sharply on my boot, the heel digging into the dusty worn floorboards. Glancing over my shoulder I added, “Enjoy your meal, Mister Bates.”
I may have just made an enemy, but it was inconsequential. Mister Bates had never liked me, so I was simply solidifying our enmity. Plus, I could not leave this man with any illusion that I would not protect Miss Mason.
… Which would of course lead to questions.
Unfortunately they were unavoidable.
Even my men wanted to know exactly why we were now shepherding Isabel Mason. I had told them it was critical we get her to Washington, and being good soldiers, they did not question.
But they would nevertheless wonder.
All of them would wonder.
I gritted my teeth as I walked away, for the first time truly considering how hard this may be.
It was of the utmost importance that I keep Miss Mason’s ability secret from as many people as possible. Especially people like the odious Mister Bates. Who knew what he would do with such knowledge.
No, I had to hold this secret as close to my chest as I could until I reached the Captains of the Whites. Only then and only there would I relax.
But they were a considerable distance away.
The further we travelled, the more questions would likely be asked.
There was another option though, wasn’t there? Leave Miss Campbell’s party behind. I was confident I had the skills to get Isabel to Washington on my own.
Yet abandoning this mission could mean the end of my career if Mister Bates had his way. I had been hand-picked for this task because of my proficiency. Though I was confident the rest of my men would be able to protect Miss Campbell with ease, I would, however, be negligent if I relinquished this mission.
But... wouldn’t I be far more negligent if I should let anything happen to Miss Mason?
Miss Campbell was an important heiress, granted, but Isabel Mason quite possibly held the future of the country in her hands.
Whatever decision I would come to, I could not make it yet. For now, it would be safer to travel as a party. Additionally there were many things still to be organized.
I set about organizing them quickly, ordering my men until finally our group was ready to leave.
I found Isabel outside already in her saddle. She wore one of the new dresses I’d bought her, and I had to acknowledge it was far more pleasing on the eye. All her possessions were neatly packed in saddlebags, and she’d done an efficient job arranging them.
She clearly hadn’t lied – she was used to traveling by horseback. You could tell that by the ease with which the beast carried her.
Isabel looked at me expectantly. “Are you ready, Captain?”
Rather than reply, I shot her a long look as I walked past her horse and then swung myself up into my own saddle.
Soon enough Mister Bates came out of the inn with Miss Campbell in tow. “I do not see why we have to ride by horseback again. Where are our carriages?”
“The next leg of this journey cannot be executed in carriages.”
“I planned this journey perfectly. It is only because you have altered our itinerary,” Mister Bates said as he stared straight at Isabel.
She shifted, blinking uncomfortably.
“Are you particularly fond of Miss Mason’s dress?” I suddenly asked.
Mister Bate’s cheeks reddened.
“Then I suggest you stop staring at her,” I said pointedly in a low tone that could not carry to Miss Campbell.
“Whatever you are doing here, I will make sure you will pay for it,” Mister Bates threatened as he walked past me. “As soon as we make it to Pine Lake, I will send a message to Washington,” he warned.
“Be sure to send my respects to Mister Campbell.” I smiled. “Now mount your horse, Bates. It will be a long ride ahead of us.”
“Miss Campbell is not up for another ride on horseback,” Mister Bates stated flatly as he drew to a halt and curled his hands into fists.
I looked directly at Mister Bates. Then I smiled. And I put a lot of effort into that smile. “Miss Campbell, is this true?”
She blushed. “Oh no. I... found the horse ride yesterday quite... ahh, energizing,” she stammered.
“You understand that it is unavoidable that we do the next leg of this journey on horseback, I hope.” I kept smiling, cheeks pushing high into my eyes.
“I guess I do....”
“It is for your own protection, Miss Campbell,” I said seriously. “With the ragmals pressing in on this area, we must get you to a proper population center as soon as we can. Pine Lake has magical fences. You will be safe there. Then we can plan the next stage of this journey.”
She nodded firmly. “We are all indebted to you, Captain, for keeping us safe.”
I nodded politely.
I noted that Miss Campbell was wearing considerably less eccentric garb this morning and one much more appropriate for horseback.
For just a flickering moment I felt sorry for her. She was being dragged into a much more complex journey since Isabel’s inclusion in our party.
Once we reached Pine Lake I would have to reflect carefully on my next actions.
For now, I had to concentrate on getting there.
Our party rode out at 7:45 sharp.
It would be a long day.
…
Isabel Mason
I hadn’t slept a wink last night. My mind had been too busy with every possibility.
Now I struggled to stay awake on my horse.
It was a relatively pleasant morning, and the sun was invitingly warm. It shone down on my chest as we were riding into the morning sun, its gentle warmth sinking deep into my body and lulling me to sleep.
My eyes kept closing, only for me to jerk them open as my head dropped.
Fortunately my horse was smart enough to stay with the group.
Carmichael kept shooting me wa
rning glances though. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came over and threatened to put me on his horse with him.
That thought sent such a shiver through my stomach I woke right up.
This was bad. I shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this about a man like Carmichael. He was trouble, my sensible mind tried to tell me.
A captain in the cavalry, every action he undertook was for his country. I was a means to an ends for him, and nothing more.
I imagined he would abandon me at the first chance he got.
I sighed glumly.
Sure enough, Carmichael angled his horse towards me. “Fall asleep and fall off that horse, Miss Mason, and I will strap you to the back of mine.”
“Why do you insist on calling me Miss Mason all the time?” I suddenly asked as I turned my weary gaze on him.
His brow compressed. “It is your name, is it not? Are you that fatigued that you have forgotten? Or is your true lack of intelligence finally showing?”
“You can call me Isabel,” I said choosing to ignore his insult.
He considered my request. “I’m not your friend, Miss Mason.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Never a truer statement was uttered. You’re a man who intends to use me for a purpose and then walk away. The old tracker John Black already warned me about men like you.”
Carmichael slowly arched an eyebrow. “And what did he warn you, exactly?”
“Not to get involved with a cavalryman,” I said as I grabbed hold of my reins and angled my horse away.
Carmichael followed, but before he could bother me again, Miss Campbell caught his attention.
She was welcome to him. I thought mutinously.
While he was distracted, I surreptitiously brought up my finger and checked the cut. It had scabbed up nicely, a fact I confirmed as I ran a fingertip over it. But as I loosened the scab at the outer edge, a few flecks of blood oozed to the surface and a few magical crackles accompanied them.
I immediately closed my hand and shoved it into my pocket.
Then I turned to note that Mister Bates was staring right at me.
Surely he was far enough away that he hadn’t seen that slight crackle of magic. But there was no denying the intensity with which he stared at me.
I tried to ignore it, but it was impossible.
Unconsciously and quite horribly, I found myself angling my horse towards Carmichael. I may detest the man, but at least he was effective at putting Mister Bates in his place.
I listened to Miss Campbell’s inane chatter, and tried not to nod off.
The day was horribly long, and by the time we saw Pine Lake in the distance, I was almost dead in my saddle.
It was a struggle to stay on my horse, but I did manage to.
When we arrived in town, everyone was quiet from our long journey. Even Miss Bates.
Once the horses were tethered, we headed straight to the main inn in town. It was much larger and much grander than the small one in Grangetown.
I sleepily walked up the stairs to my room, glad I had one to myself. Then, without changing my clothes, I fell onto my bed face first.
I didn’t even bother to undo my hair. I let my messy plait tumble over my shoulders, and I tried to fall asleep.
Try being the operative word.
For about 10 minutes later, my door opened without an invite.
I pushed myself up to see Captain Carmichael walk in to my room and close the door without a word.
Then he stood there and shot me a judgmental look. “I did not buy you those clothes so that you could rumple them up on the bed.”
“Did you just walk into my room without knocking?” I pushed myself up, a shot of indignation chasing my fatigue far away.
“Clearly.”
“And what if I had changed into my night clothes?” My voice squeaked high.
“Then I would have knocked,” he said with a superior look as he clasped his hands behind his back.
I opened my mouth. This man was insufferable.
“Before you launch into another argument, pause. Please. I’m here to discuss the plan.”
Despite myself I stowed my anger. “What plan? I thought the plan was to head to Washington?”
“How we will get there is what we are to discuss.”
“I thought we would travel with Miss Campbell’s party. Wasn’t that what you intended?”
Carmichael looked at me. After a considerable pause he continued, “That may not be wise.”
I shivered and thought of Mister Bates.
Carmichael watched me carefully. “We need to get to Washington as soon as we can. The rest of the group will slow us down.”
“You can’t rightly abandon your men, can you?” I protested.
Suddenly he laughed, his whole countenance changing. “Yesterday you tried to point out that I could not sleep on the floor of the storeroom and rather had to take your own bed because you were worried I wouldn’t get enough sleep to do my duty. Now you are questioning my right to abandon my men. You do not need to worry about my duty, Miss Mason; I will attend to that myself. And I won’t be abandoning them,” he said in a stiff tone. “This is more important. And there are five of them, and they are all strong, well-trained men. They will be more than up to their task,” he said earnestly.
I suddenly became uncomfortable, and found my hand latching onto my messy plait. I suddenly realized it must look like a last season’s bird’s nest.
Then I started to think about what he’d said. “Hold on, but if we leave the group, that will make it just the two of us.”
One half of his lip curled up. “Ah, so you can count too.”
“Why do you take so much pleasure in insulting me? Is that how a proper Captain of the Whites should behave? I thought you were all meant to be gentlemen?”
“I am a gentleman. But not all ladies deserve a gentleman.”
I sneered at him. “And not all gentlemen deserve a lady,” I snapped back.
That curl to his lips grew. “Are you confusing yourself for a lady?”
“No, Captain Carmichael, I wouldn’t dare. I’m an object, remember? One you must deliver to Washington and then abandon,” I snapped tersely, turning from him as I crossed my arms and walked over to the door that led onto the balcony. This inn was much grander than the one in Grangetown. A wooden balcony led from my room and offered a stunning view of the town.
Carmichael cleared his throat from behind me. He didn’t appear to know what to say.
I kept my back turned to him and tried to ignore his presence.
“I suppose I can trust you to sleep here tonight without any trouble?”
I waved a hand at him.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Good night, Miss Mason.” He turned, but he stopped before he reached the door. I heard as he pressed a hand to it, and then turned over his shoulder, the floorboards underneath him squeaking from his shifting weight.
“Are you going to wait there by my door until I say goodnight to you?” I finally turned over my shoulder to face him.
He was staring at me. “Understand that everything I do....” He suddenly dropped his gaze and looked at the floor.
“You do for your country?”
“… Yes. Good night, Miss Mason.” With that, he walked out.
For a good long while I stood there and stared at the closed door. All sorts of thoughts chased their way through my mind.
What a strange man.
What a strange man.
Finally I walked over to my bed, took off my coat, undid my boots, and climbed under the covers.
For a few moments I lay there with my eyes open staring at the scar along my finger.
Then I went to sleep.
…
Captain Benjamin Carmichael
I retired to my room and poured myself a whiskey.
I’d earned it.
In fact, I had the feeling I would be earning more than a few whiskeys before I successfully delivered Isabel to Washingt
on.
She was such a curious and infuriating woman.
As I sat there on the foot of my bed, swirling my whiskey around my glass, I hunched my shoulders and locked my elbows on my knees.
My jacket was half undone, a few buttons of my shirt beneath were open. My scabbard lay on the bed beside me, my Colt next to it.
I stared at the wall. This inn was generous enough that there was a small room adjacent to the bedchamber which had a bathtub. I’d already ordered a hot bath.
An indulgence, maybe, but one I needed to draw out the tension from my muscles. If I really did split from the rest of the group, I would need to have my wits about me.
Keeping Miss Mason safe on my own would be a challenge. For one, I would have to keep myself safe from her.
She had a talent for arguments, and an even greater talent for drawing me in. She brought out a side of my personality I’d been barely aware of until I’d met her.
I suddenly closed my eyes, tipped my head back, and swirled the whiskey in my glass again before taking a sip.
I forced myself to my feet and started pacing around the room.
As I paced, I put down my glass, and turned to face the door.
There was more I had to discuss with her. Much more. I still had to impress upon her how important this was. How everything counted on this.
She could not afford to be foolish. She had to keep her ability hidden from every soul.
And she had to help me, for without her assistance, it would be hard to keep her safe.
The more I paced, and the more I faced that door, the more I got the inclination to go see her right now.
She was just next door.
She would be sleeping though.
And yet this was important, wasn’t it?
Deathly important.
…
Isabel Mason
I slept eventually. But even when I was as tired as I was now, I was always a light sleeper.
So I heard the creak as the door to the balcony opened. I felt the slight breeze too.
Frowning, I pushed myself up in bed.
And that’s when I saw it. The outline of the figure looming over me.
Black, with two yellow eyes.
I shunted back, screaming. But the figure snapped forward, slamming a rag over my mouth and grabbing my wrist, plunging its fingernails deep into my arm.
I struggled, head banging into the wooden wall, feet slamming into the man as I tried to push away.
Then something happened to my fight. It died.
Because something shifted through me.
A spell.
It was only the rag and in the nails that dug into my wrist. I had just enough awareness left to realize that as my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
I fell unconscious immediately.
…
Captain Benjamin Carmichael
There was a bang on the wall. Subtle, quiet, but there. I wouldn’t have noticed it had I not been standing in the middle of the room in total silence as I struggled with my thoughts.
As the hairs rose along the back of my neck, I realized where the sound had issued from – the wall I shared with Isabel’s room.
My room did not have a door that issued onto the balcony, so I had to thrust open my door, run down the hall, and open hers.
By the time I did, I opened it to an empty room.
Her bed was a mess, the covers and pillow on the floor.
My eyes swiveled to the left, and I saw the balcony door wide open, shifting slightly in the wind.
I launched towards it.
Just as I reached it, I saw a rustle of fabric to my right. I stuck my head around and up to the roof above.
There was movement.
Footfall.
I’d climbed many a tree in my time, and I did not find it hard to launch myself up onto the railing of the balcony, then follow the roof around and up.
Like many buildings of its kind, this roof was sloped and made of large, solid wooden beams.
Unlike many roofs of its kind, it was currently occupied by a shadow maker.
A shadow maker.
I was not mistaken. I recognized the two beady yellow eyes immediately. And if those would not suffice, then the general feeling of the man would.
Shadow makers were practitioners of dark magic, creatures who had once been men but had turned themselves into something perverse.
This shadow maker, dressed in a long black jacket that fell down to his boots, held Isabel.
She was unconscious, her head lolled to one side.
For a few seconds the shadow maker did nothing. He stood there and stared at me, a flick of yellow as his tongue sliced across his teeth.
With a sudden burst of speed, he ran to the edge of the roof.
Before I could do anything, he half threw Isabel off it. Muttering a spell under his breath, crackles of magic shot along her body, plunging into her feet until her boots locked onto the edge of the roof.
The shadow maker held Isabel by the wrist. Isabel was still unconscious, her long loosened hair falling untidily behind her, the skirts of her dress billowing in the cold night air.
“Another step,” the shadow maker warned.
“Let her go,” I said through stiff lips.
“Very well.” The shadow maker let go of her wrist, grabbing the slim fabric of her sleeve instead.
It couldn’t support her weight, and it tore, the sound renting the night air. Before I could throw myself forward, heart pounding in my throat, a small charge of magic sunk into the fabric of her sleeve, stopping it from tearing any further. It was a spark of bright white-blue against the dark night.
A gust of wind caught Isabel’s hair, sending it chasing over her face and shoulders.
“There is nothing you can do, Captain.” The shadow maker smiled, his lips curling to reveal a row of tarnished metal teeth. “Retreat inside. If you don’t—”
There was a tear, more of her sleeve ripping further. Just before the fabric could be torn clean off, a final charge of magic sunk into it.
Isabel was now being held by a mere thread.
I felt cold, through and through. Up and down my back, the iciest chill raced. It sunk into my stomach like someone had sliced right through my belly and poured snow into the hole.
I swallowed.
“Retreat inside, Captain,” the shadow maker sneered. “It is a long way down to the ground.” His yellow tongue whipped over his thin lips as he glanced from the ground below then back to Isabel’s sleeve.
I only had one chance, and it certainly wasn’t to walk away. Leave this roof, and the shadow maker would kidnap Isabel.
There was only one option.
Wake her up.
I was sure the shadow maker had cast some kind of the sleep spell on her. If I could rouse her, it may be enough of a surprise for me to claim the upper hand.
I always carried a very small vial of pure ether on a chain around my neck.
Slowly I turned to the side, thankful for the dark night.
“Get off the roof, Captain,” the shadow maker hissed, leaning over the edge and letting Isabel’s comatose form dangle further into the night air.
My heart beat so fast and hard in my chest it was a wonder it didn’t tear right through my shirt.
I called on my training, though, and my grit.
Surreptitiously, I grabbed a hand around my small vial of ether.
“Turn around now, Captain.”
“Very well,” I muttered. I slowly walked to the edge of the roof where I’d clambered up. It gave me a chance to pour the contents of the ether onto my hand.
I closed it into a fist.
Ordinarily it was almost impossible to practice magic on somebody from a distance like this, not unless you intended to hurl a bolt of power towards them. I did not intend to kill Isabel. And waking her up would be a delicate process.
I was a Captain of the Whites, so I was up to it.
“Hurry,” the
man said in a hiss.
I intended to.
Just as I turned around to jump off the roof, I brought my cupped hand up, and blew into the ether.
As I did, I muttered the words of an enchantment that would counter the sleep spell.
As long as even a single particle of ether landed on Isabel, the spell would take hold.
A cloud of ether puffed out at my move, shifting up into the air like dust motes.
The brisk breeze took it, and blew it towards her.
My heart in my throat, tension locking my body, the next few moments felt like eons.
Then there was a crackle. A few particles of ether drifted onto Isabel’s skin, and charged across it with an electric blue spike.
Her eyes opened.
And she screamed.
It was a risky wager, but I was willing to bet that the shadow maker had no intention of letting Isabel go. She was far, far too valuable.
I was making another risky wager too – that Isabel was smart enough, strong enough, and together enough to fight back.
I was right.
Barely a half second passed, and she brought her free hand up and latched it over the shadow maker’s arm. A few sparks of magic erupted over her palm.
I ran across the roof. Now was my opportunity.
Shifting low, I rounded my shoulder and I slammed into the shadow maker, pulling him backwards, and shoving him onto the roof.
I assumed he’d bring Isabel with him – not willing to let her go. But he didn’t.
He lost his grip on her wrist, and she lost hers on his.
….
But she didn’t fall.
Her boots were somehow locked onto the edge of the roof by magic. Her skirt spun around her in the wind, and her arms flailed back and forth, but she couldn’t move her body. She still hung in the exact position in which the shadow maker had left her.
The shadow maker reared on me, bringing his hands around, his long yellow fingernails glistening with magic. From experience, a particularly potent kind of purified ether would be lodged under the nails. Get it in your blood, and the shadow maker would be able to cast a powerful spell on you – such as it had done with Isabel.
I had no intention of letting the shadow maker’s fingernails anywhere near me.
I doubled back, kicking backwards as I rolled onto my feet. Then I dodged to the side just at the shadow maker launched towards my ankle.
I timed my move just right, and brought a powerful kick swinging towards his shoulder. It connected, and he was thrown backwards.
I didn’t have much magic left – I’d used most of it to wake Isabel up. But there were still a few particles of purified ether on my hands, and I intended to use them.
I balled my hands up into fists, and I got ready.
The shadow maker made it to his feet, hissing and sneering into the night, muttering some low powerful curse onto the wind. I could feel the effect of the magic as it crawled up my spine, making me shiver with every hissed word.
I acted. Darting forward just as the shadow maker sunk his hands into the round beams of the roof.
He slashed towards me with his fingernails, even bringing up a powerful charge of magic between them.
The bright blue white of the powerful spell shone through the night, lighting up the underside of the shadow maker’s face. His sneering, compacted, ugly expression was seared into my mind.
Contorted with so much hatred, he looked like a demon. And in many ways, he was. Practice too much dark magic, and you lose your soul. There’ll be no Heaven for you, laddie. Just an eternity of Hell on earth, tortured by an unquenchable need for ether.
With a cry that split the night air, he launched towards me, pushing one hand into the roof for purchase. The white blue charge along his hands suddenly sliced towards me. I managed to dodge it, but only just, and it blasted through the upper right sleeve of my heavy jacket, the wool singeing and charring in the air.
I shifted backwards again, dodging to the side, keeping both hands pressed into tight fists, not wanting the few particles of precious ether trapped in my palms to escape. They were my only means to win this.
With teeth gritted, eyes blazing, and sweaty tendrils of hair stuck against my forehead, I finally acted.
I saw my opportunity.
Just as the shadow maker reared back, preparing another charge, I snaked towards him.
And struck him as hard as I could on his jaw.
There was a clunk, and he fell.
For just a second I allowed myself to stand over him and stare at him.
What was it doing here? Had he been sent for her? Had news of her ability spread? Already?
As those thoughts tumbled through my mind, I leant down on one knee next to the shadow maker. Wary in case he moved again, I plucked up one of his hands.
As a Captain of the Whites, I knew how to gather ether when I needed it. You had to be resourceful, otherwise you would lose.
So, ensuring the shadow maker’s sharp fingernails came nowhere near my flesh, I carefully scraped out a few particles of ether from under his nails. It was dark black and sludge-like. Yet it would still work.
Pressing it between my fingers and rubbing it back and forth until I generated sufficient heat, I tipped my head back and stared up at the slither of moon in the night sky.
I started to chant. Low, melodic, rumbling, like a faraway storm, it grew and grew until with a shout, I finished the spell.
Silver white ropes burst out from the magic between my fingers, snaking towards the shadow maker. They wrapped around his hands and feet, binding him in place.
I checked the ropes to ensure they would hold, and finally I stood.
I turned to Isabel.
She was still locked to the roof, her body at an almost 30° angle from the vertical. Her arms were slack by her sides, her hair and skirt still buffeting around her in the wind.
She’d also fallen back asleep. The small spell I’d managed to cast on her had not been enough to completely counteract the sleep enchantment still running through her veins.
I approached her quickly. Then I carefully leaned a hand out and grabbed her wrist. As soon as I had it, I paused.
She was strangely serene as she leaned suspended there, the rustle of her skirts like a wind through leaves. The silvery moonlight caught her milky white skin, making it glow. And her sleek long ebony hair drifted around her head like a halo.
… I could not stand and stare at this strange scene forever.
Locking my feet into the roof and reaffirming my grip on her wrist, I pulled.
At first I couldn’t break through the spell. But I grit my teeth, locked my feet even harder onto the wood, and pulled with all my might.
There was a crack like a large pane of glass breaking.
The spell shattered.
Isabel fell forward, and I fell backwards.
She fell on top of me, her hair dropping over my chest and around my face. Soft like spun silk, it smelt of rose soap.
The sleep spell was still coursing through her veins, but as her eyes fluttered, she started to wake.
Then, with a snap – as if she realized where she was and who was underneath her – her eyes sprang open.
Before she could scream and bring out the town, I cupped a hand gently over her mouth, a few strands of hair sticking under my thumb and fingers.
“It’s alright Miss Mason. Now, I’ll help you to your feet. That is, if you be a good girl and don’t scream.”
I watched her gaze crumple on the term good girl.
Fortunately, however, she did not scream as I tentatively removed my hand.
Then, with a grunt, I shifted her up, closing an arm around her own warm arms and helping her up.
The scent of rose soap lingered on my collar and breast, but I ignored it as I stared at her through the half dark. “Do you remember what happened?” I began.
I realized her gaze was locked on the slumped form of the shadow maker. The exa
ct fear washing over her pale cheeks told me she did, indeed, remember.
I still held her shoulders, and I tightened my grip and ticked my head down and to the left to block her view.
After a few nervous breaths, she swiveled those eyes to me. “What happened? I remember him coming upon me in my room.” She shivered. “He clasped my left wrist and dug his fingernails in....” She brought up her left arm and turned the hand over.
Sure enough, there were four half-moon cuts impressed into her pale flesh.
I dropped a hand from her shoulder, grasped her wrist, and ran a thumb over the cuts.
She shivered, either from the cold or something else.
I ignored her as I focused on her wound.
I could sense the magic within. It left a sharp phosphorous taste alighting over my tongue as though I had inhaled the fumes from a self-igniting match.
She shivered again. “What is it?”
“Cursed ether. The man who came upon you had ether under his fingernails. When he grabbed you and dug them in, he drove the ether into your veins. Then, with the use of a few enchantments, he sent you to sleep.”
“I do feel heavy with fatigue,” she admitted as she slipped a hand between us and pressed two cold white fingers into her brow.
I was still standing close to her, so much so that she had to tilt her shoulder back to let her hand drop back to her side.
“… Be sure to stay awake,” I said after a considerable delay, finally turning my mind from our proximity and onto what she’d said instead. “I shan’t be carrying your off this roof into your room.”
She ground her teeth together and that familiar peevish look returned to her gaze. “I wouldn’t have dreamed you would. A man like you does not know how to treat a woman properly.”
I snorted as I continued to inspect her wrist. Though, truth be told, there was no further reason to be gazing at it so closely – I’d already ascertained what had rendered her unconscious.
Still, it took me a good ten seconds to finally let her hand go and to step back.
I tugged down on my linen shirt, smoothing my hand over it to chase away her warmth.
“Actually, I know exactly how to treat a woman properly,” I retorted finally.
“Is there something wrong with you tonight, Captain? You seem somewhat distracted.” She took a haughty step backwards, but promptly wobbled, either from the sloped roof or the remnants of the sleeping spell.
I took a quick step towards her, though I did not throw a hand out to catch her yet. With that particular look flashing in her eyes, she would push me away and likely tip right off the roof.
“Do watch yourself, Miss Mason – I shan’t be spending the whole night catching you when you fall.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but there was a sound behind her. The shadow maker was stirring already.
She yelped and jerked backwards. Not towards me, mind you, but towards the edge of the roof. Clearly throwing herself off a roof was more palatable in her mind than throwing herself at me.
“Do not worry,” I counseled as I kept a keen eye on the shadow maker. “I have bound him with moon ropes. He will not be able to break them.”
“That’s very comforting, but shouldn’t we get off this roof and call for help?”
“My thoughts exactly. Now you are sufficiently irritated enough to stand on your own two feet and heckle me, you can go and call for the men down stairs.”
“Excuse me? Irritated enough to stand? Do all cavalry captains bait women like this, or did you lose your manners with one too many horse kicks to the head?”
I gave a brief dismissive laugh. “Do go downstairs and call for help, Miss Mason. As I have said multiple times before, I do not intend to spend the whole night rescuing you. I have a fine bottle of whiskey and a hot tub waiting in my room.”
I watched her mouth draw into a sneer, her plump pink lips lifting high over her teeth.
She picked up her skirts and walked towards the edge of the roof. She peered over it, frowned, then walked to the other side of the roof and did the same.
I watched her quite intently, the light of the moon a pleasing silver glow over her bare arms and cheeks.
“How long will it take you to ask for help, I wonder?” I thought out loud.
Skirts still in hand, she snapped her head towards me, her loose hair now a tousled mess over her bodice and back. “Excuse me?”
“You, Miss Mason, never ask for assistance. You are one of those infuriating people who are under the mistaken belief they can do everything on their own. So, as I said before, I wonder how long it will take you to ask for help? You are, after all, wondering how you got up onto this roof, and how exactly you will get down again.”
She narrowed those pleasant hazel eyes at me.
Then she lifted her skirts higher, leaned down, huffed, and jumped off the roof.
“What the devil!” I cried as I jerked forwards.
I heard two thumps and a smothered, “Ouch.”
I reached the edge of the roof and stared down.
She’d jumped onto the balcony, and she was currently rubbing one of her legs because that had been a very ambitious leap.
When she caught me staring at her, she dropped her skirts, flicked her hair, and marched away. Albeit with a limp.
I watched her until she was out of sight, the cold night air whistling through my hair.
What a curious woman.
…
Isabel Mason
Oh lord did my ankle hurt. Whatever had possessed me to jump from such a height – had to be the Devil himself.
Or worse – Mister Carmichael.
What an oaf. If you pared back the strapping physique, the fine blue uniform, and the baritone voice, you got an oaf through and through.
I limped into my room, gratified the door to the balcony was still open. For a few seconds, I clutched a hand on the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes.
I was so very tired.
“I can’t hear your footfall on the stairs, Miss Mason,” Carmichael called.
I grumbled at him, cursed him to the Devil, and limped across the room.
It didn’t take long to trundle down the stairs and gather the men still drinking below. With alcohol in their blood, they were quick to rouse at the prospect of a fight, and soon enough were clambering haphazardly onto the roof.
I stood back, glum that my room was being used as a thoroughfare.
I needed to wash the caked blood from my wrist and curl up in my bed.
Instead I was standing there with my back against the wall, my sweaty white hand pressed against the wood as I watched the show.
The men grumbled amongst themselves, and after much heaving and cursing, managed to get the shadow maker off the room.
I heard him screaming.
I sucked in a breath, fingernails curling against the wooden wall, grating over the grain and leaving fine chips digging into my skin.
The screaming grew closer, and the shadow maker appeared, hauled between three burly bearded men.
My eyes opened, my breath drawing to a standstill in my chest.
The shadow maker was still bound – I could see the glistening moon ropes as they caught a few rays of the moonlight shining through the open door.
Mindless of his ropes, however, he was still struggling, and it took all three men to haul him into the room.
Suddenly the shadow maker stopped, the tip of his yellowed tongue hanging between his teeth as he slowly curled his lips into a satisfied sneer.
He looked right at me.
My blood chilled in my veins, my fingernails now digging so hard into the wood it was a surprise I hadn’t pried the board from the wall.
“I’ll be back for you,” he promised in a hissing whisper that sounded like water thrown onto coals.
“Don’t listen to him, miss,” one of the burly men growled, his biceps bulging as he tried to control the shadow maker, “He’s going straight to the
sheriff’s.”
I managed a mere nod.
The shadow maker stared at me, craning his neck like he was an inquisitive stalk as the men dragged him forward. He even shoved his head right up against one man’s shoulder in his attempt to keep staring at me. “You keep hold of that blood of yours; I’ll be back for it.”
Before I could break down and gasp, someone stepped in front of me.
Carmichael.
With a solid fist laced with a blue crackle of magic, he punched the shadow maker.
An ordinary punch would not have felled a dark creature like that – but Carmichael was a captain in the White Cavalry, and the blow was laced with more than enough magic to fell a tree, let alone a man.
The shadow maker dropped, now as limp as a sack of flour. His blood-shot eyes, however, did not close, and instead remained fixed on me as a trickle of black-laced blood escaped from the fresh cut to his lip.
Carmichael stepped in front of me, back rigid, muscles discernible even under the heavy wool of his still unbuttoned jacket.
He did not move – blocking my view entirely – until the men had dragged the shadow maker from the room.
I heard their heavy footfall thump against the hollow stairs as they dragged him downstairs.
Carmichael turned to me before I could chase the tremble from my shoulders.
For a few seconds he said nothing, and instead surveyed me with quick eager eyes. After he appeared satisfied, he nodded. “You are fine, Miss Mason.”
Was I?
I had been drugged and dragged onto the roof by a shadow maker!
I was terrified. A fact I would not, however, admit to the Captain.
“I—” I began, but my voice was as high as a sparrow’s and indistinct.
“I will have one of the women come and attend to you.”
“… I can attend to myself,” I managed, more out of habit than choice. I was so used to telling this man I could do everything myself, it was now second nature to rebuff any offer of help.
He looked at me sharply, then shrugged his shoulders. “As you wish.” He turned and walked over to the balcony door, shutting it and locking it. Then he flattened a palm over the wood whilst diving his free hand into his pocket. He withdrew a small bottle of concentrated ether he’d obviously obtained from one of the men, flicked the metal-hinged lid off, and ran his thumb over the bottle lip.
Mumbling a low, guttural enchantment under his breath, a few sparks of ether jumped over his thumb, along the thick dark blue of his cavalry jacket, and down into the door.
With a growl, he finished the spell, secured the lid of the ether bottle, and turned to me.
Without another word, he inclined his head and walked out.
I was so shocked that he was going to leave, I threw out a hand and made a strange choking noise.
He ignored me.
“Thank you,” I stuttered.
That made him stop. His heavy black jackboots thumped against the dusty floorboards as he turned to me. “What did you just say?”
I let my outstretched hand drop and I blinked confusedly. “I said...” I dropped my gaze, “Thank you.”
“A little louder, Miss Mason – I can’t hear you.”
I huffed. “You are such a brute, Carmichael.”
“That’s Captain Carmichael to you.”
I let out another rattling harrumph that shook my shoulders.
“And you are welcome.” He turned to the door again. Hand on the wood, he paused, turning over his shoulder to look at me. “Be sure to scream again if you need rescuing,” he replied.
I wasn’t in the mood to rise to his attack. Instead I dropped my searching gaze to my wrist.
“It will be a long journey tomorrow, Miss Mason. I suggest you try to get some rest.”
I mumbled a curt reply, turned, and faced the slat wall in front of me.
He was still in the room – paused with one hand on the door. But I wouldn’t turn to him again.
Instead I widened my terror-filled eyes and tried to stem the tears.
That shadow maker had threatened to bleed me dry....
“I will be just next door, Miss Mason,” I heard him say from the door. “Now, good night.” With that, he closed the door gently.
I turned to hear him pause just outside my door, the wooden floor groaning as he shifted his weight.
After a good long while, he moved and walked down the stairs.
I stood there staring at the closed door and listening to every one of his heavy steps until I could bare it no longer. I wrapped a hand tightly around my mouth and let the tears flow.
I did not believe I was an emotional girl. Many long winters in the wilderness had taught me resilience.
Still, there is a time and a place for tears.