“My keeper,” she said, her words making his head tilt. She supposed it wasn’t what one expected to hear after a kiss, but she had to say it now, out loud, while she had the courage to do so. “His name is...was, Ishkar.”
Athan’s eyes widened and he glanced from her to the masked statue. She could see the thoughts working their way through his shifting expression. Disbelief. Confusion. Acceptance. Anger? He cursed under his breath.
“I know it’s an impossible idea,” she began.
“No.” He turned his eyes back to her, and in them existed only clarity. “It’s not, and I think you’re right. We must return to the forest I found you in, and we should leave tonight, before-”
“Athan!?” Jenny’s alarmed call echoed through the temple’s empty corridors, reverberating off the stones and adding a thundering boom to her voice.
Worry crossed Athan’s expression as Dnara startled in his arms. As Jenny called again, Athan faced the open doorway and returned a call to the darkness. “In here!”
When no further response came, they moved to the doorway. The hallway appeared empty at first, then, from the shadow, Jenny stepped silently into the sliver of moonlight from the open courtyard. Lowering her hood, the blackrope presented an ominous figure, even while wearing a farmer’s attire.
“We must move, and quickly,” she said with a motion towards the hall leading back the way they’d come.
“What’s happened?” Athan asked but followed as Jenny began walking ahead of them.
“King’s Guard,” Jenny answered. “In the town. Showed up just as the elder priest began the blessing. Interrupted the festival, started questioning folks and brandishing swords to get answers.”
“Questioning about what?” Dnara asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.
“About you,” Jenny confirmed. “Said they’d gotten word a wild mage had been using her powers to hurt people. That she’d brought the blight with her.”
“Lies,” Athan hissed, his hand squeezing Dnara’s as they turned a sharp corner. “She’s done nothing but help people.”
“And broken a man’s arm before tossing him in a river,” Jenny reminded. “Sure as shit that bastard’s the one who done reported her. Then one of the town’s folk mentioned the fires going out, and the King’s Sword ordered his men to tear the town apart until she’s found.”
Athan cursed. “He’s with them? He’s supposed to be burning farms to the south!”
“They haven’t been able to light fires, same as us,” Jenny said. “So, now they’re probably looking for someone to blame and explain to the king why his orders ain’t being carried out.”
“Wonderful,” Athan muttered.
“What should we do?” Dnara asked as Jenny led them into the darker recesses of the temple, far from the moonlit courtyard.
“We get you as far from here as possible,” Jenny said, stopping and holding up her hand as they came to a door. She opened it slowly, stuck her head past the threshold and peered into the shadows beyond.
Dnara looked towards the town beyond the temple walls. “But, if I leave, they’ll tear the town apart.”
Athan brought their joined hands up to his chest. “If you stay, they’ll arrest you and take you to Carn. I won’t allow that.”
“Don’t know if the town will allow it either,” Jenny said as she brought her head back from the shadows. Her eyes mirrored Athan’s defiance as she spoke to Dnara. “The mayor demanded the soldiers leave town. Stood up for you, he did. Said you saved his daughter. It set a spark, his words, and I think there’s to be a conflict.”
“We have to stop it,” Dnara said, naïvely defiant in a moment of desperation. “People could get hurt.”
“True, that,” Jenny replied. “But this conflict ain’t your doing. It’s been brewin’ for generations, between the common folk who’ve watched their whole world blacken while the king’s men do not but burn whatever’s left.”
“But, if I turn myself in-”
“No.” Athan brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers in an oath. “I’ll not lose you.”
Jenny glanced between them, one sharp, silver eyebrow raising along with the corner of her mouth, until the seriousness of the situation came back to the forefront. She set a hand on Dnara’s shoulder, begging her to see reason. “They’ll put you in a rope,” she said. “First a black one, to bring you powerless and hollow before the king. Then, once the king is done using you as a temporary scapegoat for the troubles plaguing this land, he’ll put another rope around your neck and have you hung from the Red Keep’s dragon statue perched on the Cliffs of Silence.”
Jenny’s words shook Dnara’s resolve. “You’ve seen it all happen before, haven’t you?”
“Seen it?” Jenny’s eyes lowered in shame and sadness. “Sweet girl, I’ve done it. When my past deeds come to collect, they’ll take me to the Cliffs of Silence to hang with all the souls I’ve sent there.” Jenny’s eyes rose back up, determination etched as deeply within them as carved stone. “But, before that happens, I aim to set things right, so I can meet those souls with more than empty hands and a withered heart. And that starts with keeping you safe, understand?”
The look in Jenny’s eyes gave Dnara no remaining argument. “Yes.”
“Athan!” Garrett called out as he ran to them, silver chains chiming and silken brocade cloak billowing boldly behind. “I’ve been looking all over Faedra’s creation for you!”
Jenny pulled out her short sword and stepped in front, pushing Dnara into the doorway. “Stay your approach, boy.”
“Boy?” Garrett scoffed.
“It’s okay,” Athan assured Jenny. “He’s... a friend.”
“Ah, so you admit it,” Garrett quipped, not slowing his stride until stopping before them with gallant flair. He glanced to Jenny’s blade for a moment then to Dnara as she stood half-masked in shadow. “Good, you’re all right.” He let out a soft breath then focused on Athan. “You need to get her out of town.”
Athan rolled his eyes. “What in Retgar’s lousy rusted axe do you think we’re doing?”
“Oh, well...” Garrett momentarily deflated in his moment of stolen heroism but recovered quickly. “How can I help?”
“You can get Treven for me,” Athan said.
“The mule?” Now it was Garrett’s turn to roll his eyes. “I swear... The entire King’s Guard is looking for you, and your first thoughts are of that damn stubborn beast?”
“We’ll need transportation,” Jenny said. “Figured we’d steal a few horses if we came upon them, but that’d cause trouble of its own. Can you get my horse, too? The black one hitched next to Treven.”
Garrett opened his mouth to argue but shrugged instead. “Sure, why not? Anything else? A cow, perhaps? Or, maybe the armored stallion the King’s Sword is sitting on? I’m sure he’s a reasonable fellow, if I-”
“Just the mule and the horse,” Athan interrupted. “And calm down. It’ll be fine.”
“I am calm!” Garrett’s voice hitched, revealing his nerves. After another deep breath, a hand swiping through his hair and a squaring of his shoulders, he regained his noble composure. “Where am I to take them?”
“To the north gate,” Jenny said. “Beothen should be there by now. He’ll guide you on where to meet us.”
“Okay,” Garrett agreed. “What about you?”
“We’ll be there,” Jenny promised. “But we can’t go the same way.” Without explaining further, she stepped past Dnara and into the dark room beyond the doorway. “Come, we must hurry.”
“Good luck, friend,” Athan said to Garrett then passed through the door with a light tug on Dnara’s hand to follow.
“Luck?” Garrett scoffed at the concept. “A Whitehall makes his own luck.”
“Thank you,” Dnara said. “And be careful.”
Garrett gave a dramatic bow. “Always, my lady.”
The bow and his confident smile was the last thing she saw before the f
eint light of the doorway narrowed from her vision and Athan’s grasp pulled her into the waiting darkness.
23
Jenny led them through the abandoned passage revealed to her by the elder priest once the King’s Guard had made known their purpose. Dusty and lined with spider webs, the narrow stone corridor passed beneath the newer portion of town. Built long before as a route from the granaries to the temple for allotment distribution, it had been left forgotten for a generation as the crops failed and the granaries were left unfilled.
The torches mounted along the wall all refused to take the offered spark from Jenny’s flint. She cursed at them, the blight, and the pitch black passageway ahead. Just as the darkness drew in tight around them, a flicker of soft blue light stirred and grew. The shadows retreated to their corners and crannies. Athan lifted his cloak to find a small moon attached to his belt.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jenny said. “It works.”
Athan lifted the Elvan everbright lantern off its belt hook and held it out to where they headed. It pulsed brighter, as if fighting back the darkness, then lulled to a gentle glow that illuminated the hallway without blinding them. “Not bad,” Athan commented with a halfcocked grin. “Guess Phineaus can be useful from time to time.”
“It’s beautiful,” Dnara said as they resumed walking. “It’s like having a personal star plucked down from the night sky.”
“Is it hot?” Jenny asked, taking the lead in their rushed pace.
“Not at all.” Athan palmed the glass. The engraved runes lit up in several patterns until he removed his hand in surprise. “It’s actually cold!”
“Elvan magic is strange stuff,” Jenny muttered. “Strong, but strange.” She slowed her steps as the light illuminated a tumble of stones and dirt ahead. “Careful here. Looks like part of the wall’s caved in.”
They had to press their backs to the opposite wall to make it past the debris. Dnara took in a deep breath of the damp, earthen air. The passage felt more narrow the longer they were in it, like a buried box from which there may be no escape. Dnara quickened her steps to squeeze by the rubble and remain close to Athan’s light.
“Are you all right?” he asked over his shoulder as Jenny hurried on into the shadows ahead.
“I’ll be better once we’re back above ground,” she replied, taking his hand as he offered it.
With a reassuring smile, he grasped her hand and together they caught up to Jenny’s longer strides. For an older woman, Jenny moved with grace and stability, looking more a seasoned fighter than the stooped, weak figure she’d presented when her memories had been stolen. Dnara held no doubt that Jenny could use the short sword she held, and use it well.
“Hold here,” Jenny ordered as they came to another smaller cave-in and a sharp corner, beyond which the lamp’s light met a solid darkness in the form of a heavy wood door. Jenny had to set down her sword to wedge open the door, the bottom scraping against stone and mud until it gave way on creaking hinges. “Let me go first. Wait for my call. And put out that light.”
“No idea how to do that,” Athan replied as Jenny disappeared, melding silently into shadow.
“Let me see it?” Dnara asked.
Athan pressed himself against the wall with Dnara, out of sight of the doorway. Cloak raised up to shield the light, he set the lantern between them, creating a world all their own. She no longer felt trapped by the walls and could breathe more easily, the mint and herbs he kept in the various forester pouches a much more pleasant aroma than the mildewed stonework. The lamplight reflected in his eyes, turning the common hazel into swirls of amber, sapphire and emerald. Stubble had grown along his jaw since his shave at the brook behind Tobin’s cottage that morning, and she felt the temptation to run her fingers along it, just to see what it felt like.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered as the silence carried on with no word from Jenny. “We’ll get you out of the city.”
“I know.” And she believed they would. “I would have liked to have seen the festival, though.”
“We’ll go next year,” he promised, and she believed that, too.
“I’d like that,” she replied, her voice quieter than before, afraid to disturb the solace they’d found under his cloak.
As her cheeks warmed under his unbroken stare, she grasped the lamp within her fingers and focused on the runes. The lantern glass felt cool to the touch, and some of the runes illuminated as she drew a finger along the glass. Thinking back to the page in the book she’d read, a page beautifully illustrated by a practiced hand, her memories traced along the page as if she were physically touching it. She could smell the paper’s musty age and feel its rough parchment along her fingertips. There had been Elvan words written in small text, along with a translated description.
“Darken,” she said, thinking aloud, then tried to sound out the language she did not know. “Len-li-oen. Len’lioen.” The lantern dimmed until no light remained.
“Amazing,” Athan praised. “So, now you speak Elvan?”
“Hardly.” She lowered the lamp, proud of her accomplishment but shy of the praise. “I just remember the words I read.”
“Well, I think it’s impressive.” His fingers brushed her cheek and lifted her chin. “You are so unexpected,” he whispered.
Unexpected, as if he had expected something else? He had said that before, at the cottage... Before she could fully analyze where those thoughts led, the warmth of his lips pressed to hers stole them away. But, as soon as it had begun, Athan pulled away, his apology a breath of mint.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t... Not now.”
The kiss’s brevity did not diminish its pull on her heart. Finding bravery within the shelter he’d created, she palmed his cheek to draw him back to her. Athan cursed quietly under his breath just before he kissed her again, soft brevity giving way to desire. Dnara breathed in deep, Athan held her tightly, and all the blight driven madness in the world could not hope to separate them. That singular moment plucked out of time existed only for them, and she promised herself to never let it be lost amongst the shadowed places of her memory.
With slow hesitation, Athan pulled back again, his forehead pressed to hers and thumb caressing her cheek. “Dnara,” and the hesitation existed within his words, too, along with a pain she couldn’t decipher.
“What is it?” she asked, her heart trembling in fear at what could possibly keep pulling him away from her.
“There are things,” he began, only to stop again. “Things I feel for you... And things I must tell you... I don’t... You see, my brother... he... Dammit, I don’t know where to begin.”
His struggle seemed a heavy burden, and the discomfort that entered his voice at the mentioning of his brother dug into her chest. Whatever it was that held him within such conflict, she didn’t want him carrying it alone. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heart. He hugged her back, setting his cheek to her crown and relaxing within her embrace.
After a few heartbeats, she spoke. “Keeper Ishkar once told me that the best place one can start a story is at the beginning.” Lifting her head, she tried to see his eyes in the darkness. “Perhaps you should begin there?”
“Perhaps I should,” he agreed, and she could make out the line of his smile as he looked down over her. “But that will make for a much longer story.”
She smiled in return. “I would like to hear it.”
After a deep breath, he regained his confidence. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear it, once you are safely out of Lee’s Mill.”
“That begins by both of you leaving,” Garrett’s voice broke into the darkness. “Unless you’d like to stay in this tunnel, with the rats and the damp and-”
“All right,” Athan huffed through a harassed chuckle. “Did you get Treven?”
“Yes, I got your mule.” Garrett lifted his own everbright lamp from beneath his brocaded cloak. Taking in the illuminated situation, hi
s gaze moved from Athan to Dnara. “On second thought, perhaps you would like to stay here?”
Dnara flushed and stepped away as Athan let his cloaked arm drop. Meeting Garrett’s bright blue eyes, she saw the expression in them did not match the playful tone of his voice. It was an expression she couldn’t name, one of sadness mingled with affection, which only deepened when he looked back at Athan.
“Don’t you have a city to run?” Athan said back, his own face flushed.
“Oh,” Garrett nearly gasped, his expression falling back under the well-crafted mask he’d worn before. “Now I am running the city? Here, I thought I was only the mayor’s son.”
“For Faedra’s sake,” Athan muttered with an amused snort then gave Garrett a light shove. “Go on then, Lord Whitehall. Lead us to safety, if it pleases you.”
“It would please me greatly,” Garrett said, leading them through the doorway and into a small overgrown courtyard dotted with piles of stones from a poorly maintained grain tower that had seen better, more plentiful days.
“Quiet,” Beothen hissed from the courtyard’s center, two sets of reins in one hand, large broadsword in the other.
“Good to see you, too,” Athan whispered back but took on a serious tone as he crossed the courtyard past dry grass and barren rosebushes. “How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Beothen said as he handed over Treven’s reins. “Jenny’s backtracking the alley a bit to make sure Lord Whitehall here wasn’t followed.”
“I wasn’t,” Garrett scoffed, offended by the thought, but he too wore a serious expression. “It is getting bad, Athan. My father is refusing to let the King’s Guard search the town. Elder Rellius has granted Dnara sanctuary, stirring the faithful into closing ranks around the temple. The King’s Guard doesn’t care and is searching it anyway, along with everywhere else, tossing furniture and people out of their houses and ruining a festival I have worked very hard to make happen, because gods forbid we have a bit of enjoyment while the world goes to blight in a handbasket!”
When the Wind Speaks (Starstone Prophecies Book 1) Page 20
