“We must go, Hettie,” a man implored.
“You speak like a crazy person, Navid,” Hettie dismissed, her voice filled with uncertain worry. “I cannot just pick up my life and leave the city!”
Leave? Naomi froze in the weeds beneath the window. No one left Ka’veshi, except those authorized by the Merchants guild, and such a thing was temporary. To not return to your guild would mean trouble for your family. And to simply leave without a permit was, well... crazy.
Perhaps he was a merchant and this Hettie was his new wife, Naomi thought. Perhaps he’d been sent on a trade route and hoped she’d agree to serve as company, a common thing. Naomi hoped for both their sakes that was the case. Fools may venture to Ka’veshi seeking opportunity and wealth, and fools were certainly born there, but not even a fool would ever dare contemplate leaving once marked by a guild.
“Shh!” Navid hushed. “You want all our neighbors to hear you?”
His frantic tone told Naomi that Navid was no trader for the Merchant’s guild. Thinking it better to keep moving than risk being involved, Naomi crouched lower and peered into the dark gap between buildings. A stray cat stared back for a moment, looking thin and mangy, before disappearing behind a stack of garbage. For a second, Namoi swore she had been looking into a mirror. That second of hesitation gave a clear line between Navid’s pleas and Naomi’s heart, even though his words were intended for someone else.
“Please, my love. A war is coming, and this time it will not stop with a few spats over marketplaces and transport routes. They mean to rip this city apart, at its very foundation, and it will crack wide open from servant boy to sultana. To stay is to die.”
“You are being overdramatic,” Hettie dismissed, but the fear lacing her words matched the way Naomi’s heart had crawled up into her throat as she crouched beneath the open window. “These scuffles will pass with the wind, like they always do, and the paradunes will settle once more.”
“Hettie, I beg of you to listen. When the paradunes settle this time, they will be drawing lines across a ruined city! So sayeth the Fire.”
Hettie gasped loudly.
Naomi startled, bumping her head on the windowsill above hard enough to make a soft thud. She bit her bottom lip to keep from gasping, too. The Fire? Who was this Navid that he could speak to the Fire and have it answer back without being burned? A lucky fool, Naomi surmised. Or, a very dangerous man.
She froze beneath the window as footsteps creaked closer over old wood flooring. A large shadow broke apart the lantern light as Navid leaned out of the window. Naomi cupped her hand over her mouth and flattened herself against the roughly plastered bricks. After a moment that stretched on into an eternity, the window shutters closed and Navid’s footsteps retreated.
“The Grand Emissary’s caravan is leaving for the Red City in four days,” Navid continued, his voice muffled by the shutters. “My brother will get us travel papers.”
“You mean he will forge them,” Hettie said. “If we are caught, we-”
“If we stay, we die,” Navid interrupted, and Hettie fell silent.
The Fire had spoken. The Earth and the Water were in agreement. Naomi stared off into the dark courtyard, seeing a ruined city within the weeds and broken stones. The paradunes would not settle, the Earth had already warned. War was coming, the Water had promised. And the city would fall, so now sayeth the Fire.
Soft sobs from Hettie joined cricket song as Naomi held fast to the cloth over her pounding heart. Naomi had never considered leaving Ka’veshi, free of a mark though she may be. For all its corruption and troubles, Ka’veshi was her home. She knew its streets like they were parts of her body, and she knew how to survive. Beyond the guarded gates and high walls lay an unknown wilderness. But, if the Fire had spoken, then the fates were set and the caravan may be her only chance to get out before all of Ka’veshi burned.
25
With Jenny and Dnara upon his back, Rupert reached the knoll just as dawn broke along the eastern horizon. Nestled at the southernmost ridges of the Axe Blade Mountains, the hill rose upwards in stark contrast to the flat, rolling farmlands and meadows to the south. As Athan had said, a densely packed grove of dead, ash colored trees topped the knoll, along with a watchtower whose stone outer walls had long ago fallen away to reveal rotten wood beams and a stairway that no longer went all the way to the top. That tower had a story, Dnara believed, just like the tower waiting for her in the Thorngrove.
Jenny stopped Rupert next to the tower remains, under a skeletal tree with thick branches that spread out like giant hands overhead. When Dnara’s feet touched the earth, her ride-weary legs wobbled. It felt like they were still moving, riding fast through the night and leaving her exhausted.
Jenny unpacked a bedroll from the saddle and spread it out under the tree. “You should get some sleep.”
The idea sounded wonderful, but the sleeping blanket only had space enough for one. “What about you?”
“I’m fine,” Jenny said with clarity in her eyes as she surveyed the area. “A blackrope can go days without sleep. Part of the magic, ...and the madness. I’m going to walk the perimeter. I don’t think we were spotted, but it won’t hurt to set a few warning traps.”
“All right.” Dnara settled down on the bed, her legs sore and muscles twitching. Setting the dark everbright lamp near her head, she silently wished for Athan to return quickly to her side. Being left alone frightened her more than being discovered by the King’s Guard. She glanced up at the blackrope’s back. “Not... not too far?”
Jenny’s diligent expression softened into a smile and she knelt down, lifting the bedding’s top blanket for Dnara to slide into then tucking it tightly around her body. “Not too far,” Jenny promised, as a mother might her daughter. “Besides, Rupert here will let me know if I need to come back. Now, get some rest.”
Jenny hesitated a moment more, her hand touching Dnara’s hair with eyes clouded in memory, then she stood away and faced the dead grove. After patting Rupert’s nuzzle and giving the horse a quiet few words, she walked into the woods and disappeared like magic between the trees.
As the morning sun lifted, a fog rose with it, adding a misty blanket to the wool one surrounding Dnara. An ashbird sang from one of the dead trees, then took wing. As her eyelids grew heavy, she swore a shadow landed in the branches overhead, but sleep came in fast and left the shadow forgotten.
When Dnara awoke, the cloud covered sun had moved to the other side of the knoll. It would be setting soon, marking the equinox by lining up with the temple spire in Lee’s Mill. She tried to picture what it would look like, but she saw only fire and fallen stone, ghastly images haunting her from the night before. Her hand clenched the blanket and found it wet. The day’s thick ground fog had given way to a light mist, leaving everything damp. With great effort, she forced herself out of the warm blanket and sat up. The everbright lamp remained dark, and overhead an inky black shadow made a low muttering complaint.
“Shoo,” Jenny hissed at the large raven, while reaching up and giving a lower branch a hard shake. The raven complained with a louder caw but took wing, leaving the forest and the unwelcoming blackrope behind. “Damn ravens.”
“You don’t like them?” Dnara asked past a yawn.
Jenny turned, looking sheepish at her witnessed argument with a bird. “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. I can’t believe I slept the whole day. Perhaps Athan was right and I am a wolfchild.” Dnara searched the barren trees but found no sign of the forester’s return. “He’s not back yet?”
“Not yet,” Jenny said, pulling a wrapped package from Rupert’s saddlebag. “Should be soon, though. Here, eat something.”
“Thank you.” She accepted the wrapped rations of dried fish and a hard biscuit, only realizing how hungry she was after taking her first bite.
“You’re welcome. And no,” Jenny said, sitting back on her haunches and picking at a leafless twig. “I don’t much care for ravens. They
keep them as pets and messengers at the Black Spire, where I was trained to use this... this gods’ forsaken magic.” A blue spark sizzled across her palm then dissipated as she closed her fist. Her steely gaze lifted to the empty tree branches. “Can still hear those ravens muttering in my sleep some nights, saying words meant to drive a person to madness.”
Dnara chewed a bite of fish in silence, trying to imagine what it was like to live in a mage tower like the Black Spire. Beothen’s sister lived in one at the Red Keep, and had all her life, like Dnara had lived within Keeper Ishkar’s tower. Beothen had also not seen his sister in decades, her life now belonging to the conclave. The Red Keep’s tower and its conclave of mages sounded like another prison, and the Black Spire sounded like a much more awful place. If that was the cost of having magic, Dnara would gladly give it back in return for freedom.
It sounded selfish, to give back a gift that seemed to drive out the blight, but Dnara had lived an entire life in the service of someone else’s wishes. Yes, she would give it back. She hadn’t asked for this...curse. Yes, that’s what it was, not a gift but a-
No, she rethought with focused effort, but the misgivings continued to swirl within her mind, making her dizzy and leading to ...madness.
A chill ran up Dnara’s spine and her hand lowered, setting the fish back down on the waxed paper wrapping. “The air is too still here,” she said, the hair raising on her scar-laced arms. She could feel no wind, but something else whispered to her from the darkness.
“You all right?” Jenny asked, standing up and approaching with a cautious gate. “You’ve got a strange look about you...”
Low, muttering shadows gathered. “I can hear them,” Dnara said, hands raising to cover her ears. “The ravens. I can hear them, and there is no wind here.”
Jenny unsheathed her short sword and stepped in a slow circle around the clearing, her eyes cast up to the trees and the shadows that clung there. “You’re right about the wind,” she said. “It don’t feel right.”
The sun anchored itself on the horizon, taking the remaining daylight with it. Behind them, the derelict watchtower loomed and a thick fog rolled along the ground. Rupert gave an uneasy neigh and tugged at his tree branch-secured reins as Jenny continued her survey of the shadows. A twig snapped, its echo skittering off the trunks. Jenny’s sword raised and she drew in closer to where Dnara sat motionless on the blanket.
Dnara’s heart thudded, its sound nearly drowning out the ravens. Dry leaves crackled under an unknown foot. Jenny cursed under her breath, knees bent and sword ready. Dnara clutched the blanket as the sunlight died, leaving a night sky empty of stars. As the blanket moved, so too did an object which landed against Dnara’s leg. She startled then reached for it, taking the everbright lamp in hand and whispering an unfamiliar but remembered word with a quivering voice.
“Lumna.”
The lamp ignited, bathing the clearing in a blinding white flash, as if a star had fallen from the black sky and landed within Dnara’s hands. Jenny and Dnara shielded their eyes, and from the tree line came a masculine curse. The lamp’s light slowly dimmed before settling on a softer hue more like the moon. The shadows retreated and the ravens went silent, and from the edge of the clearing came a voice that freed Dnara’s heart from its fear.
“Not the greeting I’d hoped for,” Athan said, blinking at the dimming lamplight and eyeing Jenny’s raised sword.
“Athan!” Dnara leapt to her feet and rushed to him, the lamplight bobbing with each step until coming to a stop as she wrapped her arms around him. She breathed deeply of his familiar, herbal scent.
Except, the scent wasn’t there. She took in another breath, her face buried in his shirt. Instead of the expected mint and lemongrass, he smelled of dark loamy earth and something pungently bitter.
“That’s more like it,” Athan said, hugging her back with one arm.
“Dammit, forester,” Jenny huffed. “You about had a sword through your gut.”
“And I thank you kindly for not stabbing me,” Athan replied.
Dnara took a step back, catching his eyes in the lamplight. They were hazel, as expected, but also not? The lamplight flickered a touch brighter and Athan shied away from it. The shadows of his face shifted, and in her grew the feeling of something being not quite as it should be.
“What’s happened?” she asked, convinced he was hiding something. Her mind swam with possibilities, from Lee’s Mill being consumed by flames to himself being injured as he fled the King’s Guard. In a rush of renewed fear, her gaze roamed over him in search of hidden wounds.
“Whatever do you mean?” Athan asked in return with a tilt of the head, confusion knitting his brow. “Are you all right?”
“I... I don’t know,” Dnara replied uncertainly. She cast her lamp out to the shadowed trees behind him and saw nothing but dead white trees. The ravens, too, had gone quiet. Exhausted despite having deeply slept, she lowered the lamp. “I think my mind is playing tricks on me.”
“We’ve had a bit of a fright, is all,” Jenny replied. “Damn ravens haven’t left us alone since we made camp.”
“Oh,” Athan said, glancing up at the trees. “Well, they were here first, I imagine. Probably unhappy you’ve rudely invaded their lands.”
Dnara took another step back from him. The voice was his, but those words... She couldn’t shake the unease crawling along her skin, and as she looked back to the forest, she realized an important piece was missing. “Where is Treven?”
“Hmm?” Athan’s gaze moved from the trees back down to her. “Oh, the mule?” He smiled and opened his arm to her invitingly. “He’s waiting for us at the edge of the knoll. Why don’t we go see him?”
“I don’t-” Dnara hesitated.
“Why’d you leave him there?” Jenny had yet to fully lower her sword.
“He’s stubborn.” Athan glanced to the blackrope and sighed. “Come now, Lilith. Put away your sword and let’s all go see Treven.”
Jenny’s eyebrow raised, along with her sword. “What did you call me?”
“Hmm?” Athan replied, his eyes once again distracted and raised to the tree branches. “To see Treven,” he said, as if not hearing her actual question. “I’d like to take the girl to see Treven.”
“Athan?” Dnara asked, his behavior no longer dismissible as simply being hurt or tired from the road.
“Dnara,” Jenny beckoned. “Come here for a moment, please.”
“Yes,” Dnara said, taking a step back but keeping her eyes on the man in front of her.
“Why, whatever is the matter, girl?” Athan asked, his hand reaching out to her. “Don’t you want to see the mule?”
“No, thank you,” Dnara said.
“Tell her it’s all right,” Athan nearly demanded of Jenny, his face contorting to anger for the briefest second before his smile grew a touch beyond what should be natural.
“I’d rather lick Demroth’s boots,” Jenny spat back, taking Dnara by the wrist and pulling her in close. Stepping in front, Jenny held her sword in both hands. A blue spark began at the hilt and ran along the swords length. “But I dare you...whatever you are, to try and take her.”
“She can’t,” a voice spoke from the trees, and out stepped Athan, his bow cocked with an arrow and pointed straight at the face which mirrored his own so well. “That’s the trick to it all. You can’t simply take her, can you?”
The other Athan’s smile became crooked. “Ah, figured that one out, have you?”
“Took me longer than it should have,” the bow-wielding Athan answered. “But, I figured you would’ve taken her, if you could, as soon as she left the grove’s protection. It was protecting her, wasn’t it?”
“Clever boy,” the first Athan smirked.
“What in name of Faedra is going on?” Jenny hissed as both Athans moved to opposite edges of the clearing.
“She’s not me,” the new Athan answered, the arrow readied with a steady hand.
“An arrow?” t
he first Athan scoffed. “Really? Perhaps you’re not so clever.”
“Athan?” Dnara questioned from behind Jenny’s shoulder.
“Yes, dear?” the one with the crooked smile answered.
“Stop the act,” Athan said to his doppelganger.
“Fine,” the first Athan huffed with an overly dramatic roll of the eyes. “I swear, you used to be much more fun, boy. Do you have any idea the effort that goes into a transformation? Oh, wait. I suppose you do!”
As he fell into laughter at some unknown joke, the new Athan’s glare darkened further. Dnara didn’t like the way the expression made him look, dangerous and capable of hurting this person without hesitation. As much as she hated to see the expression on Athan’s face, Dnara understood it. This... fake Athan, whoever it was, had hurt her Athan, and deeply. He hated this person for it in a way that takes time to fester.
As Athan stood in silence, arrow raised and pointed squarely at the intruder’s face, the first Athan sighed heavily as the laughter died. “No? Not a single note of amusement? You truly have lost all sense of humor, Athan.” With a shake of the head, he eyed Dnara. “Well, here’s hoping you’ll be more entertaining. I am rather curious, girl. What gave me away?”
Dnara looked between the two Athans, knowing without a doubt which one was real. “You don’t smell right,” she said, slightly embarrassed to state the fact out loud. Athan, the real Athan took his eyes off the other, his anger fading to give her a tender smile. It broke through her nerves, dissipating the remaining fear, and she faced the fake Athan with a confident stare. “And your eyes,” she said. “They’re filled with shadows.”
The false Athan shrugged. “Some things can’t be helped. After all, we are what we are. Isn’t that right, Athan?”
“Take off my face,” Athan commanded, pulling the bowstring taught. “Before I shoot an arrow through it. Probably won’t kill you, but I like to think it would at least sting a little.”
The first Athan’s crooked smile melted into a glare. All at once, the ravens renewed their cacophony and the tree-shaped shadows cast by the lamplight moved across the ground like living things, pulling themselves up around the glaring Athan like a cloak. From the night came the ravens, flocking around the cloaked figure, circling madly with deafening screams and black feathers tumbling. They melded into the shadow, forming a slender dress that looked like spilled ink, broad shoulders resembling wings, and a crown of black feathers which rose highest at the back of head. When the birds and shadows stilled, in their place stood a woman with hair black as the starless night, pitch black eyes to match, and a cold, unfriendly smile.
When the Wind Speaks (Starstone Prophecies Book 1) Page 22
