Keepers of the Crown

by Lydia Redwine

  “They would have suspected something of me.”

  Leviathan leaned forward, his elongated hands gripping theedgeofhis throne. “Soyouputthemin danger. Youcostthem their lives and for what? To maintain their good graces?” He laughed bitterly.

  “I also saved them.”

  “Ah, yes. The fire. And that wind too. It was quite impressive if I do say so myself. But they will question where that saving came from. And what will they say when the person who has saved them has also turned against them?”

  Owen turned on his heel and walked swiftly from the castle, eager to return to his company. Lia and the young man outside were waiting expectantly when he returned. He shook his head. “They are not here.”

  “Then off to the Air territory at dawn,” Lia announced.

  Owen nodded, his thoughts turning to Lia. He swallowed the bile guilt clawing up his throat. How would Cam react when she discovered all the secrets he was keeping? He could barely stand the thought of her chagrined expression. She would either cry hysterically or melt into emptiness before him. His strong little warrior would be devastated.

  Thirty-Four

  Cam was on the third watch with Joel and an older woman of

  their company. The world around them had dipped into the night. The woman sat facing north. Joel faced south, and Cam watched the chasm, hoping that at any moment, Owen, Lia, or the other man would return with news that they had located the hostages. Her knee bounced, revealing her anxiety. Her hands fidgeted in her lap.

  One face was in her mind. Adria. The only one left to find. To save. Cam clutched the iron object in her hand, that which held Mista’s ashes.

  “You’ll like Adria,” she heard herself say in a quiet voice. Joel glanced towards her and nodded. Her thoughts turned silent once more. “Why did you ever come here, Joel? You should have stayed behind. There was no reason to involve you in something that had nothing to do with your people or your home.”

  “I suppose you’ve had the adventure you wanted now,” she said aloud.

  “I suppose,” Joel replied. He was quiet. Darkness had come over him. Like a shadow had crept into his heart and wrapped itself around it, shutting all others outside. He released a long sigh.

  Cam stood up and came to sit beside him. She rested a hand on his shoulder and peered at him, concern etched into her expression. “I have a secret,” Joel whispered, his gaze finally slipping to meet hers.

  Cam’s laugh was hoarse, but something inside her prickled. “We all have secrets.”

  Joel found no amusement. His countenance was dark and his shoulders taut. “Do you remember all of that talk when we were at my home about the Watchers having abilities? Such as having glimpses into the future.”

  Cam nodded.

  “Well...I’ve been having them…”

  Cam’s eyes widened. “Since when?”

  His voice was soft and distant. “Since I was young. I can’t remember exactly when it all started,” Joel said with a shrug.

  “And you never told me…”

  “I didn’t know how you would react. I mean, my father wouldn’t have taken it well.”

  “So...no one knows?” Cam asked quietly.

  Joel shrugged once more. “I figure some have guessed, but I cannotsaywho exactly.” Camsanktosit more comfortably, her mouth open in awe.

  “I would have never guessed,” she finally said. Silence passed in which Cam was still but Joel shifted. Waiting. “How does it happen?” she queried at last.

  Joel shrugged. “It just...does. It happened in flashes. Small ones that last mere seconds. It is nothing impressive. Old manuscripts of the Watchers I’ve found read that it will become stronger with time if the one gifted remains faithful. Most times it’s a flash in my brain, an image in my mind’s eye. I see something seconds before it occurs. I have had once before a vision in my sleep of my sister nearly falling from a window. Her life was saved the following day because of it.”

  “And you call that ‘nothing impressive.’ I haven't read of it in books,” Cam replied, smiling. Joel remained unsmiling. “What will it be like once your gift is stronger?”

  Joel shrugged. “Some Watchers were able to interpret dreams and visions, for one.” Silence passed between them once more, and Cam could only hear and feel the breath of night riding the wind from the gust that blew from the south. They were quiet for so long, that Cam’s eyelids began to droop.

  When Joel spoke again, his tone was set in a whisper. “It is rare what I have.” Cam opened her eyes to peer at him, for concern was etched in both his expression and in his voice. “As far as we know, only the Watchers have had these abilities. And they too were few.”

  “Were?” Cam asked, sitting up.

  “Fourteen were killed by Andel himself. In this very valley,” Joel swallowed hard, his eyes roving the barren landscape before them. “They hid their prophecies before their hangings. Rumors from the south tell us that the fifteenth Watcher found them. And there was a sixteenth too, but no one ever found him.”

  Cam tilted her head, a new thought brimming. “Do you believe you are a Watcher then?”

  Joel shrugged. “Why else would Elyon give me the abilities I have?”

  Cam had no reply to this, only a single question surfacing. “And if Elyon did indeed give you such an ability, did He do it for Himself or to help you?”

  She heard it then. Or, rather, felt it. A voice drifting on the wind so clear yet so far away.

  “Both.”

  The voice did not fade but rather clung to the air as if it were the very essence of the wind itself. But a realization was peeking inside of Cam. She turned her widened eyes to Joel whose eyes had dipped shut. “So that's why you knew what Silva was saying. About the riddle. Before Ilea…”

  Joel’s eyes opened, his gaze cutting in her direction. He did not need to confirm it. Cam knew the answer. He did speak, however, in a voice so low she could barely distinguish the words. “I knew it would happen. Or had guessed it, anyway.” His voice was hoarse, his seagreen eyes wavering. “And I did nothing to stop it.”

  Cam could feel the ache in her chest, the one she knew was also expanding inside of him. She reached for him, her thumb going to brush away the single tear trailing down his cheek. “I thought you just knew the language.”

  Joelshookhis head. “No. Elyon hadsentmeavision. And I discarded it as if it was nothing.”

  I was crying when he found me after everything that had

  happened. The sky was burning, raging in all its fury. It was as if Elyon, too, was just as furious. And perhaps He was. Tyron pulled me into his arms. He smelled like smoke. My tears burned my cheeks. “Remember,” he whispered.

  “Remember what?” I wanted to ask. But he wasn’t speaking of anything specific. He meant for me to remember something filled with light and warmth. So I remembered the time he made Mia and I matching bracelets of wooden beads and feathers of a Lumenbird. Mine is still bound to my wrist, now tight and making marks.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered back.

  He pulled away, almost roughly and searched my eyes. He spoke in the tongue of his people that had come from the desert lands. Firm, short sounds. I could not tell you the words, but I knew what he was saying nonetheless.

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  And it wasn’t.

  “Why?” he was asking, his voice anxious and broken. “Why would you love a god who would let that happen to you?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. “It is the brokenness of the world that has done this to me. It is my own darkness. Elyon is...calling for me. He wants me to melt into His arms. To cry to him…”

  “Is that why you go into the forest for days at a time?” Tyron demanded.

  I nodded because it was the truth. The forest beneath the boiling sky was where I would speak to Him. Or simply listen. Eyes closed, the breath of my creator brushing my skin, sifting into my bones.

  “I have found that we are souls wearing sa
cks of dust and ash,” I said. I smiled.

  “But why do you love him?” Tyron kept asking. Asking, asking, asking...until the question broke the answer from my lips.

  “Because He has protected and loved me even when no one else would. Even when I couldn’t bring myself to.”

  Thediary ofCassia Caddell fell limply intoCam’s lap. She didn’t know what to think. Except…

  “Even when I couldn’t bring myself to.”

  Cam drifted off to sleep during the fourth watch which Fiera

  and two others had taken over. She was recalled to consciousness upon hearing a male voice call. Her eyelids flew open, and before she knew it, she had scrambled to her feet. Blood rushed to her head, and her vision went black, but nevertheless, she stumbled forward into Owen.

  “Whoa, good morning to you, Cam,” he said, laughing a little.

  “Adria? Our people?” she asked breathlessly.

  She squinted, for the dawn had nearly broken, and the sun was glaring through the gray clouds. Owen shook his head while sliding his hands comfortingly over Cam’s shoulders. “Pack up. We’reheading further south.” His hands dropped, and Cam was left cold once more even though the morning was already blistering with heat.

  The company was up and moving quite quickly. To say the least, the journey was anything but cheery. “Caleb would have us laughing,” Cam mused. Fiera walked with a gait of dejection. Owen seemed strangely distant even after his hearty greeting to her, and Joel was still battling with something inside of him. Even Peter hadn’t recovered from her revelation.

  At least he was up to walking and joined Cam in the middle of the pack. She slipped her hand into his as if to steady him. No words were spoken. The sounds of treading feet and cawing crows echoed off the pointed rocks. The sun, which they barely saw due to the clouds, still scorched the sand beneath their feet. Cam was drenched in sweat. The heat was nearly unbearable. Even the water they found and were able to drink was scalding and not at all refreshing. Her throat became parched even with the water at hand. Peter’s hand was nearly stuck to hers due to the sweat between their palms. The next moment, without deciding to do so, Cam had pushed herself against Peter with one hand around his waist and the other cupping the back of his neck. She buried her face between his jaw and shoulder. Peter grunted at the impact before his hesitating hands came to rest on her back, his arms around her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  Cam clutched at him tighter. “I am terrified, Peter. That when we get there, we will find our people are nowhere to be found. Or dead...and…”

  “Cam, listen to me,” he whispered against the shell ofher ear. “We will find them. Silva wouldn't have killed them. She had too much on the line for that.”

  Cam released a shaky sigh. “I know. But still…”

  Peter’s handbrushedagainst herspine. “Iknow. Butthen we get to leave. Saffira will be pissed she missed all this.” He chuckled a little at the thought.

  Cam pulled away, brushing the fresh tears from her cheeks. Peter slipped his fingers through hers again. And suddenly holding his hand felt different.

  She found she wasn’t holding his hand for assurance. It was for comfort and because tingles spread up her arm when his thumb would absently brush the back of her palm. She had never thought such little touches could make her feel this much. Owen had held her hand many times, laid steadying hands on her shoulders. But with Peter, it somehow felt all familiar and new at once.

  Cam halted which caused Peter to slow his steps and glance back at her. The queer feeling dancing in her stomach and chest translated to her face in an expression of glazed gazing.

  "What is it?" Peter asked.

  Cam's eyes roved his features. "He's so...handsome..." And he was. She'd often thought about what it would feel like to have butterflies fluttering in her stomach, but it was different now than it had been in her imaginings.

  The next thing Cam knew she had pushed herself into Peter's arms again. With the sun blazing on their backs and the sweat seeping from their shirts, hugging him was nearly unbearable. "I think..." Cam murmured at last. "That you are my best friend." She lifted her eyes to meet his. Peter's thumb brushed her cheek. "Besides Fiera of course."

  A smile slowly lifted Peter's lips. "Good to know," he said, laughter in his tone.

  They walked on, hand in hand until they made a dead stop, and Cam’s eyes fell on the kingdom before her.

  “I’ve been here before,” Cam gasped. She shook her head. “No I haven’t, but it looks much like Gnosi…”

  Peter seemed to read her thoughts. “The architecture of the castle is the same. Apollyon must have known about it here and thus he built his castle much the same.”

  Cam nodded, soaking in the sights before her. The castle’s crown was of towers reaching to the expanse above, almost vanishing into the clouds. The structure was narrow in frame with layers of pillars, windows, overlooks, and doorways. The only difference between this and the castle of the Gnosi Realm was that this was made of black rock rather than glass.

  Cam’s eyes moved from the highest tower, down all the multiple levels, to the entrance where she had expected guards. “Where are the Shadow Bearers?” she said aloud, frowning.

  Peter, too, seemed perplexed. “This place appears to be completely desolated, except it can’t be. It isn’t.”

  “This way!” Owen called from ahead.

  The company approached the stronghold. Owen seemed confident. “Overly confident,” Cam thought. Apprehension pulled at her, moved her hand to the pouch of rocks and the slingshot at her side. Fiera drew an arrow into her bow. Others followed, pulling their weapons. Two walls of red and brown sprayed rock rose around them, creating a tunnel without a roof leading to the entrance of the stronghold. The doors were closed. Figures stood before it. They were not Shadow Bearers. Cam willed her eyes to be as clear as possible. The figures were standing, their hands bound behind their backs. All were ragged, filthy, and unkempt. A nest of hair and shimmering eyes met Cam’s gaze.

  “Adria,” she gasped. She lurched forward.

  Peter grasped her arm, yanking her back. “It could be an illusion! A trick,” he hissed. Cam stilled, but her heart still pounded incessantly. Her blood fluttered in her veins.

  “My sister is alive,” she breathed.

  Cam watched as Owen approached the prisoners, a spear gripped in his right hand. If this was to be a trick, he could defend himself. He halted before Adria, and she threw herself at him. He embraced her. His hands circled around her back and fumbled with the binding upon her wrists. When she had been freed and ran.

  Ran to Cam, to Fiera.

  Everything inside of Cam lifted and soared. “Thank you, Elyon,” Cam prayed, even while she wasn't sure anyone was listening or would care. She pulled Adria into her embrace.

  Caleb's heart was still beating. Cam could see that he was

  breathing by the rise and fall of his chest. Caleb’s remaining hand held Fiera's as he lay upon another pile of cloaks. Many caverns lay within the fortress of rock, and in its lowest level were weaving a series of caves and tunnels where Adria and the other hostages had spent their imprisonment within.

  What would his nightmares be like once he awoke? Adria was dashing to and fro with various supplies in her steady hands. Her hair was wild and untamed, confirming that she had not been taken care of in a long time. “Too long,” Cam thought. She could barely recognize her sister. And when Adria had not seen Mista…the world had closed in around them. She hadwatchedAdria’s breathleave her lungs andhadseen her face grow white as ash. Her knees had weakened, leaving her to collapse to the ground. Later that night, Cam had found Adria asleep beneath a wall upon which black dust had been spread in the form of a picture. Tears traced through the dust. A coffin. Open and overflowing with flowers.

  And now it was a day later.

  Plants, herbs, and hot water were pressed to welts and bite marks alongCaleb's flesh. Cam marveled at her sister’s calm and collected ma
nner, wondering why her stomach didn't churn as hers did at the sight of their friend. "He would want us to think of the good times," Adria remarked quietly.

  Cam's thoughts turned. “Mista would too.” She saw his smile, and her ears rang with his familiar laugh. She saw a focused expression and drawn bow under a canopy of trees in the late fall. She saw fixed determination in his eyes as he roamed the maze leading to Joel's home. She saw wild determination as he pulled her from murky swamp water. She saw his absent, lingering gaze upon Fiera. She saw him beside the Shadow Prisons prepared to leap over the edge. And she came to realize how vital he had been to her all this time. “Even when he was but only our guide across our own homeland.”

  "He'll survive, with time and constant aid," Adria said.

  "How can you know?" Fiera's tone wasn't bitter as Cam had expected but soft, nearly inaudible.

  "He has much more to accomplish," Adria said thoughtfully. She tilted her head and observed Caleb's sleeping form. "Elyon wouldn't allow him to die without a smile on his lips." She lifted her eyes, beholding each of the company within the cavern in turn. The others were hurrying about, helping those who were injured. Water was brought as well as the food they had taken from Silva’s stronghold.

  Cam’s brows drew together as Fiera’s lifted. They shared a glance. “So Adria spent much time with the Spirit Followers in Mirabelle while we were gone then.” And she had. Adria had told them that she had stayed in the company of Heiron for weeks. That he had spoken often of the Spirit Followers in relation to the gods those of Imber Fel at times believed in themselves.

  “An order was sent from the keeper of the prison at midnight last night,” Adria explained. “They set us free, and the Shadow Bearers just…vanished, into thin air. Poof. Gone just like that.”

  “Perhaps, word reached them that we had defeated Silva, andthey scurriedin fear,” Peter said thoughtfully. Hewas sitting against the wall.

  Adria tilted her head. “Who can know?”