Page 237 of Sword & Shadow
“Retrieving something, I expect,” Deckard said, sharing a smile with Evylin.
Isla frowned. “The orders were to take everything from you upon your arrival.”
“Renaul should get better servants,” he noted.
“Wait a minute—” Thom stepped forward, staring at the Wind Mage. He pointed at her as if struck by sudden clarity. “Renaul called you Isla.”
She blinked, then cocked her head, confused. “That’s my name, yes.”
Thom’s mouth dropped open. “You’re married to Ilain’s brother, Vayden?”
A small smile came to her lips. “So they did tell you about me,” Isla said.
While the rest of them processed the revelation of her identity, Rafferty returned. “Here you go,” he said, the Wind Relic dangling from his fist. “Safe and sound, just as I said.”
“That isn’t exactly what you said,” Deckard replied, then stepped back, motioning for him to hand it to the hunter among them. “Ethenn.”
Isla, Emmaas, and Jarrad watched in shock as the necklace shifted to a bow in Ethenn’s grasp.
“You have a Relic?” Isla gasped.
“It turns into a weapon?” Emmaas asked, a certain measure of awe in his voice.
Evylin passed her knives to Rafferty, and Deckard slipped the Night Relic from around his neck to hand it to her. “We have two, actually,” she said as it beamed and morphed into a sword.
“What now?” Thom asked, one of the guards’ swords in his hand.
“We’re getting the Calders and the Relics, right?” Ethenn said.
Emmaas held up a hand, beckoning them to follow him down the hall. “First,” he said, “we need to get moving. We’re on a tight schedule, and we’ve only got another...” He paused, glancing down at a small metal trinket in his hand. “Twenty-three minutes.”
“That doesn’t give us much time, baldy,” Jarrad quipped as Isla opened a hidden door at the end of the hall.
Emmaas held the door open as Isla slipped inside. “Through the servant’s passage,” he instructed, then turned to Evylin and Ethenn. “As impressive as those are, you can put them away. We’re going for stealth and speed. If we get into any skirmishes, we won’t be making it out.”
Evylin and Ethenn did as he suggested, slipping the Relics around their necks, the weapons easily transformed back into pendant form with a mere thought and flick of their wrists. Then, one by one, they slipped into the dimly lit staircase, following Isla’s bright skirts and confident strides. “As Emmaas said, we’re on a tight timeline,” she said in a low voice, “and we cannot recover the Relics. However, we can save Ilain and Auden. We’ve planned your escape down to the minute—”
“And we’re running four minutes behind,” Jarrad added helpfully.
Isla ignored his interruption. “Once we retrieve them, we’ll head straight for the exit. We’ll make a break for the stables, where Emmaas has your horses prepared. Then we’ll escort you to the Alliance.”
“To the Alliance?” Evylin repeated at Deckard’s side. “Here in Wauld?”
“For the time being,” she confirmed. “After this defeat, you’ll need to regroup.”
Deckard wanted to ask what she meant by “regroup” but figured that was a conversation for after their escape. They wound through the narrow back staircases and halls of the servants’ passage, only intermittent oil lamps lighting their way.
Eventually, Isla led them back into the main house. With such a large group, Deckard knew it would be difficult to move through it unseen. However, it appeared that Isla was right; they had everything planned out. She knew the precise timing of every patrol and the location of every guard. They slipped through the house like wraiths, invisible and silent.
The ivy that had once shriveled around his heart regrew. Hope watered it, trusting that they would escape. Moreover, the knowledge that, at last, he had Evylin’s love nurtured its growth. What had seemed impossible at the start of the night now gavehim life. They would make it to freedom, and she would stay with him forever.
They passed through a door and out into a small courtyard. Finely tended hedges and flowering trellises filled the square garden. In the center, a statue of a hooded and cloaked figure stood sentry, its hands held out, with purple flames burning in lamps above its palms. Deckard had never seen colored flame like that before, and he studied the figure as they entered the space.
At the back of the garden, Isla stopped in front of a large wooden door with half a dozen locks encased in the stone wall. As she began the task of unlocking it, Deckard eyed the sculpture, wondering what or who it was meant to be.
“Obscura,” Jarrad said, coming to stand beside him.
Deckard furrowed his brow. “Pardon?”
