Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series

by Marissa Farrar

  Vehel shuddered. “The sea creatures of the south are bad enough. We Elvish have been losing more and more people to them over the last hundred years or so. I can’t imagine them being any bigger, or meaner.”

  “Hopefully, we won’t have to find out,” Dela said.

  With the meal finished, they cleared everything away and settled down to sleep. Dela slept in the middle, with Vehel on her right, and Orergon on her left. Warsgra had taken up position right at the entrance, lying across it to protect them from anything that may come sniffing around them while they slept. The soft snorts and whinnies of the ponies not far away gave Dela a strange comfort, too. Should anything try to approach them, she was sure Ghost and his friends would let them know.

  DELA DREAMED OF FLYING again. Her arms were spread wide, the wind blowing in her face. Her heart beat fast with excitement, and she held back the urge to whoop for joy. It was a freedom like nothing she’d ever experienced when her feet were firmly on the ground. She could cover a hundred miles in mere minutes, her speed incredible, causing the world below her to blur.

  But a heaviness lay at her heart that hadn’t been present before. Though exhilarated by the flight, a part of her knew it was a mistake. She’d left them behind, and it felt wrong. Terribly wrong. They would never do that to her, and yet she’d abandoned them for something else.

  Her euphoria turned to turmoil. She didn’t want to leave them behind. They’d become everything to her, and if continuing alone was what this required, she didn’t think she wanted it any longer. Already she ached with their loss and wanted to turn back. What had been a moment of excitement now became anguish.

  No, stop. Go back.

  But she didn’t have any control. She was merely an observer.

  She had no choice but to be taken farther and farther away, until she knew there was no chance of seeing Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel ever again ...

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Orergon

  THE DAYS PASSED BY in a routine of sorts. They rose when the sun did, and settled down again for the night when it fell. The ponies the Fae had given them were sturdy beasts, and while they weren’t going to break any land speed records, they plodded onward without tiring.

  Orergon did find himself missing his old horse, Corazon, who he’d ridden across the Vast Plains and into the Southern Pass. That horse had been his for the past couple of years, ever since he took his place as tribe leader, and he hoped Corazon had managed to get out of the Southern Pass unharmed. The horse would have known his way home, even without Orergon on his back. That might even be the first way his tribe realized things hadn’t gone to plan—if the horses turned up on the Vast Plains with no riders. What would they do when they realized their leaders weren’t coming home? Who would step up to try to take his place, or would neighboring tribes attempt to take over? He hoped his people had enough strength to stand united. The thought of returning to the Vast Plains, only to discover his tribe absorbed into another, would feel like the deepest blow.

  He released the pony’s reins with one hand, and took out the bands holding his twin braids in place, and raked his fingers down through the middle, separating the hair. He shook it out, letting the hair fall loose over his back and shoulders. It was tradition in his tribe for its leader to wear his hair as long as possible, and to keep it braided, but he supposed tradition didn’t matter so much now.

  As they’d moved farther north, the hotter the temperatures became. The vegetation began to change, too, the trees growing short and stubby, the grass drying to yellow, making it harder to graze the ponies.

  In the distance, tall peaks rose into the sky, but these weren’t topped with snow. No, instead of snow, plumes of white and grey smoke rose into the sky, creating a cloud above.

  “We’re running low on water,” Warsgra called back over his shoulder, from where he rode up front on the largest of the ponies, which the Norc had affectionately nicknamed Giant. “If we see anywhere we can refill the water pouches, we’re going to need to stop.”

  “We’re getting close now,” Dela said. “Those are the fire mountains of Drusga up ahead.”

  “And it’s only going to get hotter.” Sweat beaded on Orergon’s brow, and he was used to warmer climes. “We won’t make it unless we stop and get more water. We don’t want to get caught up there with nothing.”

  “Okay, let’s stop for a while as soon as we see somewhere.”

  Trouble was, they hadn’t come across any running water for some time. The hotter the temperature, the drier the land. What if they went too far, and ran out of water completely, and couldn’t make it back again? They would die of thirst out here, and it would be a horrible and painful death.

  Vehel’s lips pressed together in concern. “What if we can’t find any water? What do we do then?”

  “We’re too far into this now,” Orergon said, sitting straighter on the pony’s back. “We have to keep going. If death is our fate, then so be it.”

  Dela glanced over at him. “No one is dying.”

  “Can’t you conjure us up some water, Vehel?” Warsgra called over to the Elvish prince. “That would be handy right now.”

  “The day I have the ability to control the rain will be the day I become ruler of Xantearos.” He laughed, and the others joined in.

  Vehel, out of all of them, was struggling the most with the heat. He’d left his armor with the Fae, though they’d insisted they hadn’t needed to take it for payment. But there was no point in him wearing the heavy armor all this way in the heat, so now he only wore the lightweight tunic and pants beneath. At least it covered his pale skin, though his nose and the tips of his ears, where they protruded from his fair hair, were tinged pink.

  They continued on their way, keeping the volcanic peaks in front of them. At times, they dismounted the ponies and walked alongside them to give the animals a break.

  Warsgra took a mouthful from one of the water pouches and handed it over to Dela. “That’s the last of the water.”

  She took a small swig, and then handed it on to Orergon. Only a small amount sloshed at the bottom of the pouch. The thought of being out of water concerned him more than anything right now. When they were on the Vast Plains, they often went miles between water sources, but they always knew where the next one was located. They were nearing the fire mountains now, and had no idea what lay ahead.

  He drank from the pouch, the water now warm and doing little to quench his thirst, and then passed it on to Vehel.

  “Finish it,” he told Vehel.

  Dela put her hand over her nose. “What’s that smell? It’s like eggs gone bad.”

  Orergon lifted his nose to the air and inhaled. She was right. There was a strange aroma on the air, and it was getting stronger.

  “It’s not eggs,” Warsgra grunted. “It’s sulfur.”

  Vehel’s eyebrows raised. “Sulfur? From the fire mountains?”

  “Aye. And the ground around them. I’ve smelled it before in some parts of the Great Dividing Range. It doesn’t happen often, but if the ground moves and opens up a fissure, the smell is the same.”

  Alarm jarred through Orergon. “Is the ground likely to move now?”

  Warsgra shrugged his massive shoulders. “No way of knowing.”

  With their approach to Drusga on the horizon, Orergon had the strange feeling the land itself was going to work to keep them away. If they were unable to find water, and then the ground itself began to shake, it wouldn’t matter how much they cared for Dela or tried to protect her. There were some things they couldn’t protect against.

  They continued, the temperatures soaring. The sun beat down on their heads and shoulders, and even the ponies had slowed, their hooves dragging against the dirt. How much longer could they go on like this? They would be forced to kill one of the animals and use their blood to rehydrate. It would be salty and would do little to quench their thirst, but it would be better than dying. Still, he’d grown fond of the sturdy little ponies, and
didn’t want them to meet such an end. If it was the choice between their lives or Dela’s, however, he wouldn’t have much of a choice.

  No matter how many steps they took, the fire mountains never appeared to get any closer.

  “Is this what Nimbus was talking about?” Vehel said suddenly. His nose had burned, as had his shoulders. He’d wrapped a piece of material around the top of his head to keep off the worst of the sun, but the rest of his clothing was damp with sweat.

  Orergon frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not totally sure, but the Fae said something about how long it took to get to Drusga being very much dependent on ourselves. Something about it niggled at me at the time, and now it’s got me thinking.”

  “We don’t seem to be getting any closer,” Warsgra growled.

  Dela spoke up. “Could it just be a mirage? A trick of the light?”

  Vehel’s lips twisted. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s something about this place ...”

  Warsgra suddenly straightened and pointed ahead. “What’s over there? I can see trees.”

  Orergon looked in the direction he was gesturing. After what had felt like miles of dried out grassland and black dirt, there was a hint of green on the horizon.

  “There might be water!” Dela exclaimed.

  They exchanged wide smiles of hope and climbed back on the ponies, kicking them into a gallop. The greenery quickly took shape in the form of an oasis of trees and bushes, and through the tree trunks, Orergon glimpsed blue. “Looks like a pool of some sort.”

  “Not just one,” Vehel said as they broke through the tree line.

  No, there were a number of pools dotted around the main one in the center of the oasis. The trees offered welcome shade, and Orergon closed his eyes briefly with bliss. He was used to the sun, but the intense relentlessness of the last few days had been draining. He heard the others moan in pleasure at the cool shade as well, but the priority was water, and, by the looks of the lush pool in front of them, it seemed that need was being taken care of, too. Where only a few hours ago, it had felt as though Xantearos itself was working against them, now they had been blessed.

  “The Gods are smiling down on us today,” he said.

  Dela turned to him with a smile that lit her eyes. “You think this is a good sign?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I’d say so.”

  This would be the last comfort they’d see before they started the hike up the volcanic region. The fire mountains and valley of Drusga were ahead, and beyond that lay the rough waters of The Lonely Strait.

  The smell of the sulfur was still strong, but Orergon didn’t care. As long as the water was drinkable, he could handle the stench.

  Dela appeared to be thinking the same. “Is the water fresh?”

  “Seems to be. Must be coming from an underground source.”

  He jumped off his ride and gave his pony a gentle smack on the rear. The pony snorted and trotted over to the first pool. The animal lowered his head and drank.

  Warsgra shrugged. “The pony seems to think it’s good to drink. If it’s good enough for them ...”

  Dela’s lips twisted. “Plus, I don’t think we can exactly be fussy right now.”

  Vehel lifted his eyebrows. “She’s got a point.”

  Orergon moved around the edge of the pool, putting some space between himself and the drinking ponies. He got to his knee, and scooped his hand into the water, but instead of a refreshing cool liquid against his skin, he discovered the water was warm. “What, by the Gods ...?”

  “What is it?” Dela called over.

  “The water’s warm. I’ve never known anything like it.”

  Vehel came to join him. “If the water’s coming from an underground source, it must be passing volcanic rock, which is what is heating it.”

  Warsgra let out a whoop and started to pull off his shoulder protectors. “It’s gonna be like taking a warm bath.”

  “Wait one minute,” Dela said, raising a finger. “We need fresh water. Not water everyone has been swimming in.”

  Warsgra waved a hand dismissively. “There are other pools. Try them.”

  Orergon shook his head. “We know this water is good from the ponies drinking from it. How about you try one of the other pools?”

  “Fine,” Warsgra grumbled, wandering off to test out the next one. He dipped down and put his hand in. When he lifted his head, his wide grin had returned. “Aye, this one is warm, too.”

  “There’s nothing we can do about the drinking water being warm,” Dela said. “We have water now, and the ponies can drink their fill, which is the important thing. Let’s fill up the water pouches,” she smiled, “and then, I say we swim.”

  Orergon returned her smile. “Yes, let’s do that.”

  They’d been traveling for so long, they all had sweat-covered bodies and filthy clothes.

  First they kneeled at the waterside, drinking their fill using their hands. Then the group set to work, filling up each of the water pouches, and placing the stoppers back in them. When that was done, they looked back to the second pool.

  “I’m going in.” Warsgra had already thrown aside his shoulder guards, and now bent to pull off his boots. He didn’t wear much normally, and the long ride in the sun had tanned his skin to a deep brown. He removed the loincloth from around his waist, exposing a rear end numerous shades whiter than his back. With a hoot, he ran a few steps and then jumped, landing with an almighty splash in the middle of the water. He burst from the surface, using both hands to push his long, soaking wet hair out of his face.

  Beside Orergon, Dela laughed at Warsgra’s antics. It felt like it had been some time since he’d heard her laugh.

  “If you can’t beat them,” she said, already walking over.

  Orergon watched as she pulled her tunic over her head and dropped it to the ground, and then toed off her boots. Her hands went to the front of her pants, and she undid the belt holding them together, leaving both of them, together with her rope belt and her dagger, in a pile. She wore only her underwear now, and she hesitated for a moment before pulling her vest over her head, and, using her arm to cover her breasts, ran into the water to join Warsgra.

  Orergon glanced over at Vehel, who’d also been watching, mesmerized. It wasn’t only that she was a human woman, practically naked, it was that it was Dela. She was special, and he knew the others felt that pull of her, the same as he did. They’d been brought together for a reason, and he felt sure the future of Xantearos lay in the hands of the beautiful young woman who was now dipping her shoulders beneath the warm waters of the volcanic pool.

  She turned and looked over her shoulder, catching his eye and jerking her head to tell him to join them.

  He stepped forward, removing his own traditional clothing and leaving it on the ground. The sun hit his bare skin, but he didn’t burn. This was the first time he’d exposed the tattoos of his tribe, the black lines and swirls across his chest that told other tribes which one he belonged to and what his position was within the tribe. He caught Dela looking but made no move to cover himself.

  Instead, he walked forward to the pool’s edge and dived in.

  The warm water engulfed his arms and head, followed by the rest of his body. He plunged beneath the surface, swam a couple of strokes, and then emerged close to the opposite side.

  Both Dela and Warsgra laughed and clapped, and a bubble of something he couldn’t quite place swelled inside his chest. It had been a long time since he’d felt this way, not since he’d lost his family. It was a sense of belonging, of being bigger than just himself. He’d always felt that way with his tribe, but it was different being so close to others. How strange to feel this way with folk who were so utterly different from him and knew nothing of his ways and customs. And yet he did feel that way—as though they were family.

  Vehel was the last to get into the water, peeling off the shirt and pants he’d been wearing beneath the armor he’d left wi
th the Fae. His pale skin, hair, and eyes were a strange sight in the heat and sunlight, and he entered the water with more caution than the others.

  Orergon glanced over at Dela and saw a mischievous glint in her eye. As Vehel made his way in, she plunged both hands beneath the surface of the pool and then pushed them forward, sending a rush of water over the top of Vehel, soaking him from the top of his head.

  Vehel’s mouth dropped as he stood, thigh deep in the water, but soaking wet. The same wicked glint lit his blue eyes. “I believe you’re asking for trouble.”

  A grin split Dela’s face, and she let out a shriek before turning and plunging through the water to get away.

  “I’ve got her, Vehel,” Warsgra called and lunged forward, catching her around the waist. He was fearsomely strong and lifted her with both hands above his head.

  She let out another shriek of laughter and struggled, kicking her legs in the air.

  “What’s her punishment?” Warsgra said, humor of his own dancing behind his voice.

  “Throw her in!” Vehel called back.

  “Very well.” And he did, throwing her into the pool so she landed with a huge splash. She submerged momentarily before bursting back to the surface, gasping and holding back laughter.

  “Right, this means war,” she threatened and took after Warsgra.

  Orergon joined in. “Not if I get you first.”

  He copied the movement she had used, splashing a wave of water into her face. She screamed and turned her attention on him and splashed him back, until they created a torrent of water between them.

  “Okay, okay,” she managed between gulped breaths. “You win.”

  Orergon quit his splashing, but Vehel was creeping up behind her. He was right behind her before she even noticed, and he leaned in and said, “But you lose,” right before plunging beneath the surface and pulling her under with him.