Marika stopped retreating. “It’s one of Calypsos’s scouts.”
The creature’s head lowered and revealed a man seated on its back, strapped into a saddle. With a skill born of experience, the scout ripped away the bindings and scooped up a passenger from behind. He then slid out of the saddle and landed on the tower roof.
The scout took two wobbling steps toward them, but exhaustion drove him to his knees. He sprawled his passenger out across the stone floor.
“Get help…” the scout eked out hoarsely.
Marika turned to the stairwell door. Shouts echoed up to them. Someone had spotted the arrival and help was already on its way. Marika turned to Jake. “Stay here.”
She took off like a frightened rabbit and headed down the stairs.
Jake stayed, in case he could help.
The winged creature remained perched on the wall, its beak agape and panting, clearly as worn as its rider. The massive bird looked powerful enough to nab a cow out of a field.
The scout moved closer to the figure sprawled across the stones. Jake did the same and saw the passenger was a woman. She was dressed like the Viking elder who took Kady, with green leggings and a tunic, and boots that rose to her knees. From her blond hair, she had to be one of Astrid Ulfsdottir’s people. Jake remembered the talk of the missing huntresses.
It seemed one had been found.
“Come here, boy,” the scout ordered, his voice iron and uncompromising. “Stay with her.”
Jake hurried forward and dropped down, kneeling on the edge of the woman’s cloak. The scout stood and stepped over to his mount. He reached a hand to settle it, then crossed to where a bucket rested under a hand pump. His head was crowned by feathers, the same color as his mount. From the hard planes of his tan face, he appeared to be Native American.
The man offered the bucket of water to his giant bird, then reached out an arm to soothe it.
Jake returned his attention to the woman. Her eyes were open, but Jake suspected she saw nothing. Her chest rose and fell, but she gave no other movement. No blinking, no twitch of muscles. Even when Jake reached a hand to hers and squeezed, thinking to let her know someone was there with her, she gave no response.
A feathered shaft protruded from her shoulder. The tunic around it had darkened with her blood. He reached toward the shaft, and—
“Do not touch that!” A shout burst out and froze Jake in place.
It had come from the stairwell. Jake turned as Magister Zahur swept toward him like a black raven, cape billowing out behind him. In the starlight, his red tattoos blazed on his forehead.
Zahur dropped to the stone floor and waved Jake away as if he were a bothersome gnat. Just then Marika returned with her father. Magister Balam joined his colleague on the woman’s other side. Zahur had already begun an examination. He touched the woman’s throat and lips, then leaned to stare deeply into her eyes.
The scout joined them. “I found her with two of her sisters just beyond the Bony Pinnacle. They had been carrying her on a litter. The two were barely on their feet themselves. My scoutmaster took the two to Bornholm but ordered me to bring the huntress here. To see if there is any hope.”
“It’s Huntress Livia,” Magister Balam said in dour tones.
Marika joined Jake. Worry etched her face. “That’s Elder Ulfsdottir’s bloodsister. She and my mother were once very close. She used to read me stories.”
“We have to get her to my rooms down below,” Zahur said, his words rising like steam from a fury deep inside him. “All my healing salves are down there. But first the head of the arrow remains buried in her flesh. We must get it out. Now.”
Balam turned to Jake and Marika. “Help us.”
The Magisters rolled the woman on her side. Jake cradled her head, while Mari straddled her hips to help hold her steady.
Zahur gripped the feathered shaft. “I must push the head of the arrow the rest of the way through her shoulder—then we can snap off the arrowhead.” Zahur stared at Jake. “No one touch it!”
Balam braced the woman’s other side as Zahur clenched his fingers. “Now!” he gasped out, and shoved against the shaft.
From the woman’s back, the point of the arrow burst out. For just a moment, Jake thought it looked like the fanged head of a serpent, ready to strike, but then he blinked and saw it was only an arrowhead, like a glassy shard of obsidian as black as the darkest shadow.
“Hurry now!” Zahur warned.
Balam slipped a short stick from his pocket. It looked like its tip was on fire, but Jake saw its point was actually a fine shard of crystal.
Reaching out, Balam touched his crystal to the arrowhead. A scream pierced the night and sailed toward the sky. The woman’s body wracked in their grip, but the scream had not come from her throat. Jake was sure of it because he was still cradling the huntress’s head. The cry had come from the arrowhead.
As Balam leaned back, Jake saw the point was no longer black but a pure translucent crystal. Balam quickly reached forward with a fistful of leather and broke the head from the shaft.
Zahur allowed the woman to be rolled back. She had gone limp again. Her eyes were closed, but her breathing was more steady.
“Will she live?” the scout asked.
“It’s too soon to say,” Balam answered. “The bloodstone has poisoned her. And there may be tiny shards still inside, pieces that splintered off the arrowhead.”
They were interrupted by the huffing arrival of the English Magister. He dragged his heavy frame through the door. “I heard…what can I do?”
“Calm yourself, Oswin.” Balam crossed and showed the rotund Magister the arrowhead wrapped in leather. “We have it out.”
Oswin’s face blanched, but he still reached for the arrowhead. “We must examine it before whatever alchemy completely fades.”
Zahur closed in on them like a storm. “Are you mad? It must be destroyed.”
“But it could answer questions about what the bloodstone…”
Further words dropped to an urgent whisper among the Magisters. Jake could not make out what they were saying. Instead, as he held the woman, he noted her lips were moving. Very slightly. He leaned closer, bringing his ear to her lips. With each fading breath, Jake heard two words repeated over and over.
“He comes…he comes…he comes…”
Suddenly her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze locked onto Jake’s. A hand clutched his wrist. “Help me….”
Before Jake could respond, she collapsed back into herself, eyes closing, lips going silent, lost again to the world.