Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series

by Marissa Farrar

  “You know,” Orergon said from beside her, “I can’t imagine living like that.”

  Dela looked to him with a frown. “Like what?”

  “Like you must have done back in the city. All holed up together, side by side, no space or nature around you.”

  She shrugged. “It’s just what we were used to.”

  “And didn’t you fear the Choosing every six months? Moerians volunteer to go to the Passover. I couldn’t imagine being picked, and having no skills to complete such a journey.”

  “Most of us were frightened, but some were excited to go.” Like my brother, she almost added. And me. A familiar wave of guilt washed over her. It had been a while since she’d thought about her mother and father back home. The longer she was away, the longer the spaces between them crossing her mind became. If she never made it home, would she ever think of them at all?

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Just thinking of home. I wish there was a way to get a message there and let my parents know I’m safe.” She looked up at him. “Do you have anyone waiting for you at home, Orergon?”

  He glanced away, a troubled shadow drifting across his features. “My tribe will be wondering what happened to me, but they’ll assume I died in the Southern Pass.”

  “So, no family in your tribe?” she pressed.

  “I had a wife and a son,” he admitted, not meeting her eye. “But they died a couple of years ago.”

  Her heart twisted for him. “Orergon, I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “She died in childbirth. My son died three days later. We did everything we could, went through all the correct rituals, gave sacrifices to the Gods to ensure a safe birth, but she was bleeding, and we couldn’t make it stop. Our son wasn’t breathing when he was born, and though we managed to get him started, he was never well. Perhaps if my wife had survived, he’d have grown strong again. I wasn’t able to give him what he needed.”

  She reached out and covered the back of his hand with hers. “I can’t even imagine what you went through. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. It was several years ago now, but the pain is still the same.”

  She nodded. “I feel the same way about losing my brother. The grief is always there.”

  It was a strange thing to be united in, but, in that moment, united they were. And there was no sign of the darkness that had troubled him during the night.

  She thought he was going to kiss her again, but then he said, “We should get the water back to Warsgra and Vehel. They’re going to need it.”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  She spotted thick, round leaves suspended on stalks above the pool. “I have an idea.” Using her strength, she snapped one off, and then folded the bottom and twisted the rest into a cone shape. She dunked the leaf cone into the water and drew it back up. Holding it up experimentally, none of the water dribbled out.

  Orergon grinned. “Good thinking.”

  She was a little bit proud of her own ingenuity, but tried not to show it. “Thanks.”

  They wouldn’t be easy to carry. It was a balance between carrying as much as they could, and not overdoing it and risking spilling the water everywhere. It would be no good if they got back to the beach only to discover the cones empty again. But she pictured how grateful Warsgra and Vehel would be at their return, and silently vowed to make it back without spilling anything.

  She was forced to empty the first cone she’d created in order to fold a few more, then she dipped the first one back into the water, filling it almost to the brim. She tucked that one into the crook of her other arm and repeated the process with the next one. With two full, she just about managed a third before the first two began to tip, so she stopped there. Orergon had managed the same, and with their arms full, they started back.

  She trusted Orergon to follow their trail back through the jungle, but joined him at his side this time, instead of following along behind. Now she was rehydrated again, and with her arms full of water, her confidence grew, and at times she found herself leading the way and walking ahead of Orergon.

  “Dela!”

  His shout made her jump, and she spun around just in time to see him lunge toward her. His expression was filled with something she couldn’t recognize, and she reared away in fright. The water she was carrying tipped down her chest, and she gasped at the sudden cold. Her heart raced, and all she could think was that this was the darkness he’d been talking about—the other thing he’d brought back with him out of death.

  His hand met her shoulders with a shove, and she let out a yelp and staggered away. Tears filled her eyes, and she stared at him in horror, a part of her already grieving for the man she’d grown to know and care about.

  But he regarded her with confusion and pointed at the ground where she’d been about to step.

  “You were going to stand on those!”

  She tore her gaze from Orergon’s face and looked to where he was pointing. The jungle floor was bedecked with strange flowers with red petals and sharp spikes sticking out of the middles as their stamen. As she leaned over to get a closer look, some of the flowers opened, the spikes pushing higher into the air, while others folded shut again. She was wearing her boots, but even so, there was a chance one of those spikes—each of which was as long as her finger, and as sharp as a dragon’s tooth—could have pushed through the sole and into her foot. They might even be poisonous, for all she knew. Orergon hadn’t been trying to hurt her in any way; he’d been trying to save her from standing on one of them.

  She realized her mistake and winced at her reaction. She didn’t want to look at Orergon but sensed his eyes on her. Though she was dying inside, she forced herself to meet his liquid black eyes.

  It was impossible not to see the hurt across his face. He’d seen the way she’d flinched when he’d shouted and raised his hand to her, even though it was only to keep her from stepping on the flowers.

  “You think I’d cause you harm?” Confusion laced his tone.

  Her cheeks flushed with heat. “No, it’s not that. I’m sorry. You had me worried last night, when we were ... you know ... and you pushed me away and started talking about death and a darkness, and saying you’d brought something back with you. You can’t expect to say those things to me and for it not to play on my mind.”

  He bit his lower lip, glancing down at the ground. “Did you say anything to the others?”

  “No, not a word, but I can’t pretend like I haven’t been thinking about it. I’m worried about you.”

  “You’re worried I might hurt you.”

  “No—” She shook her head at herself, wanting to tell him the truth about why she’d reacted as she had. “I’m not sure ... I guess you frightened me last night. One moment we were kissing, and then you pushed me away and started talking about all this strange stuff. It’s not as though what you’re talking about isn’t possible either. Who knows what happens when magic brings you back from the dead. You saw Vehel after he took the death out of you. It completely drained him to the point of him passing out, too.” She paused, catching her breath and trying to piece her thoughts together. “I guess what I’m saying is that how you feel might not only be because of the trauma of what you went through. There might be something more to it.”

  He looked away, but nodded. “It comes and goes. Sometimes the feeling is stronger than at other times. It might be nothing, but yes, you’re right. It might be something, too.”

  “We should talk about it with the others—Vehel in particular.”

  “Can we wait until we reach the island? I’d feel better if we found somewhere safe before we had that conversation. Vehel and Warsgra will put your safety before all else. If they decide I’m a danger to you, they might think it best to leave me behind.”

  Worry threaded through her veins. “No, I wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “You might not have a choice.”

  She straightened, squaring her shoul
ders and lifting her chin. “I don’t care what they say. I won’t let them push you away.” The last thing she’d ever want was for them to abandon Orergon—especially if she was the one who’d made them have the conversation.

  “But what if their worries are founded, and I am a danger to you, or to them? What if I was a threat to one of them? Would you still want me around then?”

  Her emotions were in turmoil. She wouldn’t ever want Orergon to be excluded from the group, but what if how he was feeling got worse? What if something was terribly wrong with him and he was going to hurt her or Vehel or Warsgra? What then?

  “We’ll have that conversation if it happens.”

  “I’m okay for now,” he said gently. “I promise. Let’s get to the island, and we’ll take things from there.”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  She moved to step in beside him, clutching what remained of the water in the leaf cones to her chest, and checking where she put her feet so she wasn’t likely to stand on any of those flowers. When she’d lived in Anthoinia—what felt like a lifetime ago, but was only a matter of weeks—they’d been warned of all the dangers outside of the city walls. She’d been raised on tales of mystical creatures and magic places, and it had all felt like a fairytale to her. The grey walls of the city, with its narrow streets and filthy cobbles, had only ever given her a glimpse into this world through the marketplace. On occasions, an exotic fruit would be brought back and sold in a cart. On an even rarer occurrence, a traveler from one of the other races would pass through the city on business—though those times were rare indeed—and people would gather in groups and whisper from behind their hands, trying to catch a glimpse of this person with the different colored skin, or massive size, or pointed ears. During those times, it was as though two different worlds had collided—a fantasy world of excitement and color seeping into her mundane sepia existence.

  Dela had always believed being part of the Chosen and coming on the Passover would be the worst possible thing, especially after losing her brother, but now she couldn’t imagine ever going back to that life. Yes, this place was full of dangers, but it was also vital and alive.

  And for the first time, the thought crossed her mind that maybe Ridley hadn’t wanted to come home either. They’d never had any proof of his death, and had only been told that there had been a skirmish and Ridley had been lost, and wasn’t to be found again. Wasn’t it possible he’d simply decided this life would be better than going back to the grey walls of the city? Deserters were not treated with mercy in Anthoinia. If he decided he hadn’t wanted to come home, he wouldn’t have simply been able to walk away. He would have needed for people to think him dead to prevent the City Guards going after him, dragging him back, and punishing him in the city square by hanging. But he could be out there now, having joined the others who’d made it outside of the city walls and lived as the wild men. The thought pierced her heart. It was a fantasy, a dangerous idea. For not only did it dangle the possibility of her brother still being alive in front of her eyes, it also meant that Ridley had chosen himself over his family. Her big brother, who she’d worshipped, had allowed them to think he was dead.

  Chapter Nine

  Orergon

  AS THEY WALKED BACK through the jungle, Orergon glanced at Dela’s face. There was a tenseness around her mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before. He hated being the cause of her worry, but there was nothing he could do to alleviate her concerns. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut the previous night, but the words had burst from his lips, and there was nothing he could do to get them back again.

  Orergon used his tracking ability to make sure they stayed on the same path they’d walked in on. He was able to see where their footfalls had crushed the foliage, or where their movement had snapped twigs higher up on bushes. It didn’t take long before he was able to smell salt on the air again. There were parts of the Vast Plains that had once belonged to the ocean, and these salt flats smelled the same way. Back home, they used scrapings from the salt flats to flavor their food, and the horses liked to lick the ground. He experienced a sudden pang of longing for his homeland. He missed the wide open spaces and riding his chestnut stallion, Corazon, with his men at his side, his braids streaming back from his face. Would he ever see the place again?

  “I can hear the ocean,” Dela said from beside him, and he glanced down at her, his heart warming. She would be his homeland now. Yes, he missed the Vast Plains, but he could live without it if she was here with him. He could more stomach that idea than having to return home without her, and he knew she had greater things ahead of her than roaming his homeland on horseback. Perhaps, if they all survived, she’d allow him to take her there, and he could show her where he lived. He’d like that.

  He tore himself from his thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

  She smiled up at him, as though trying to make up for what had happened earlier, though he didn’t blame her for her reaction. “Do you think Vehel and Warsgra have managed to build the raft?”

  He returned the smile. “Maybe Vehel managed to magic one up.”

  She laughed. “If he could do that, it would be even better if he could just magic us over to the island.”

  He joined her laughter, enjoying how it felt. It seemed to battle the darkness inside him, if only for a minute. “Now, that would be useful.”

  They broke through the line of trees, stepping onto the shingle sand beyond. Orergon had known they would come out in the exact same position they’d entered the jungle, and down near the water’s edge, they spotted Vehel and Warsgra bent over some long poles, knotting them together with some kind of vine. Both men had been exposed to the hot sun, and would be grateful of the water they carried, despite the cones only being half full.

  “Hey,” Dela called out to them, and Orergon heard the pleasure in her voice at seeing them again. “Look what we’ve got!”

  Both men straightened at her shout, hands shading eyes to see them in the bright sunlight. A grin split across Warsgra’s face, and he pushed his hair back and strode up the beach toward them. Vehel followed, a little more hesitantly.

  “Here,” Orergon said, handing the water cone to Warsgra first. They’d spilled some of it during the trek back, but there was still a significant amount in the cones. “You look like you’ll need this.”

  “Aye, thanks.”

  The big Norc took the cone and gulped water down, a little spilling from the sides of his face and into the fairly thick beard that had grown since they’d been stranded in the north. Like the Elvish, the Moerians didn’t grow a huge amount of hair on their faces, but Warsgra was looking like a true mountain man now, even though he happened to be standing on a beach.

  Vehel smiled at Dela and took one of the cones from her, drinking from it with a little more grace than Warsgra had.

  Between Orergon and Dela they had more water left, but they figured they might need it for later. Finding a V of a tree trunk where it had split in half—probably struck by lightning at some point in the past—they were able to prop up the remaining leaf cones.

  “We’ll be fishing bugs out the water before we can drink it.” Vehel wrinkled his nose.

  “That’s still better than either dying of thirst or traipsing through the jungle every time we need a drink,” Warsgra pointed out.

  Vehel looked to Orergon. “Did you see much out there?”

  Orergon shook his head. “Some strange plants and a bit of wildlife, but that’s all. Why?”

  “Something large almost stamped on me when I was gathering vines. Just something to watch out for.”

  Orergon twisted his lips. “Seems there are a lot of things to watch out for.”

  Dela was making her way down the beach, toward the raft the others had built while they’d been gone. She looked over her shoulder at them. “I thought you’d be done by now,” she said, but he noted the teasing in her voice.

  “Hey,” Vehel jogged back down the beach to join her. “We’re
almost there.”

  “I know. You’ve done well.”

  “So did you, bringing the water back. We wouldn’t have been able to carry on much longer without it.”

  “Teamwork.” She smiled back.

  Warsgra stood with his hands on his hips, looking out to the island. “We’re going to need even more teamwork if we’re going to make it over there in one piece.”

  Orergon shared Warsgra’s opinion. The ocean wasn’t somewhere he’d spent any time either. The waves might look pretty and gentle lapping onto shore, but farther out there were dark patches that looked as though they held things far more menacing.

  With all of them rehydrated, they got back to finishing the raft.

  He caught Dela’s eye as they worked, binding more vines around the points where the poles crossed, and she gave him a small smile. He was grateful to her for not saying anything to the others about what he’d told her. He knew the time would come, and he’d have to face what was happening to him—whatever that might be—but for the moment he was content to be a part of the group without feeling as though he was ostracized.

  Before long, the raft was completed. It was a good size—easily big enough to carry all four of them—and the vine had worked well to secure the poles together.

  Warsgra straightened and dusted sand from his hands. “Now we just have to hope it floats.”

  “It’ll float,” Vehel reassured them.

  Dela looked between them all. “Are we doing this now?”

  Vehel nodded. “We might as well. There’s still a good few hours of daylight left.”

  She chewed on her lower lip. “You think we’ll make it over in that time?”

  “Yes, we should do. I think it’s safer to go now, while the weather is good, and the waves aren’t too big. Who knows what conditions the morning might bring?”

  Orergon looked toward the horizon. He couldn’t see any sign of clouds, and couldn’t smell rain in the air, but Vehel was right. Tropical weather could turn at any moment, and if a bad weather front were to come in, they might be stuck here for days.