The Nivaka Chronicles Boxed Set

by Leslie E Heath

  A moan escaped Amiran’s clenched jaw, and Faruz turned back to him.

  “What is it? What do you need?” He dabbed the cool cloth across his friend’s brow once more.

  Amiran’s voice came out in a croak, his parched lips and tongue unable to form the words clearly. “I’m so dizzy. Make the rocking stop, please. Why is it so hot?”

  “You have a fever, and we’re on the ferry. That’s why you feel dizzy and hot. The rocking will stop when we reach Kainga, but it shouldn’t be much longer.”

  Faruz tried to peek through the windows placed high on the ferry's wall, but weathered boards blocked out the weather and light. The only way to know how much further would be to venture out onto the top deck and the deckhands had warned them all to stay below. How long had this voyage taken before? It had seemed miserably long in the sticky summer heat, but it hadn't felt this long. They had been on the water for ages already. Wayra's lanky form trembled, distracting Faruz from the ferry's movement.

  “Hey, are you doing ok? Wayra?”

  Nothing.

  Wayra didn't acknowledge Faruz at all, not even with a blink or a groan. Faruz's breath caught. If they didn't make it to the inn soon, Wayra wouldn't have much of a chance. He had to survive. He just had to. Tears welled in Faruz's eyes, but he blinked them away, focusing instead on wetting the cloth once more.

  The enormous vessel knocked into something, jolting to a stop and sloshing the water onto the deck. Several travelers stumbled and fell at the unexpected stop, and Faruz braced himself against the wooden cot that held his friends.

  Scraping noises mingled with the shouts of workers outside. They had arrived. Faruz busied himself at Wayra’s side, making sure that everything was ready to debark from the ferry.

  A deckhand tapped Faruz on the shoulder and pointed to the hoist they would use to remove the makeshift cot from the boat.

  “We’ll get your friends, lad, but you’ll have to get off with the others.” He had a pleasant, lilting accent.

  Several deckhands helped carry Wayra and Amiran–cot and all–to the inn across the street from the ferry. Faruz stayed close beside them, watching Wayra’s erratic breathing.

  His stomach knotted with fear and guilt, he rushed ahead to hold open the door.

  “Oh, my!” The slender young girl behind the desk scurried toward them. “Come along. We have a room over here for you. Ira, can you settle their account, please?” She shouted before she disappeared down a hallway with the deckhands and the sick men in tow.

  Faruz froze, stunned by the wave of homesickness the familiar name triggered. Of course, Aibek’s aunt wasn’t the only Ira in Azalin. He shook his head and limped to the desk. She looked exactly like the woman who had led the others to a room.

  “Twins?” He seized the distraction to keep his emotions from overtaking him. His friends would be all right now; they had to be. The alternative raised a lump in his throat.

  "Hmm?" She pulled away from the ledger, and her soft brown eyes met his. "Oh, yes. Lisha's a few minutes older than me."

  She dropped her gaze back to the neat pages on the desk. “We only have two rooms available. They’re on the same hall, but not right next to each other. Will that do?”

  “Yes. It will do.” Faruz dug a handful of coins out of his pack and handed them to the clerk. “Will this cover it for a few days?”

  She counted the coins in her hand. “Yessir. That’s enough for a week.”

  “Perfect.” He closed his knapsack and swung it into place on his back. “Now, where can I find a healer? My comrades are quite ill. I believe they may have gotten into some poisoned brambles.”

  "Oh, I'll handle that for you. Here, let me show you your other room, then I'll get Androu. He's the best healer in town."

  Before he could say anything more, she grabbed the last key off a pegboard and hurried down the hall. His leg screamed in protest as he worked to keep up, and he was grateful when she stopped. She inserted the key and swung the door open, curtsied, and ran back the way they had come.

  The room was small yet cozy, with two beds and two chairs arranged facing a fireplace. A bare-wood table sat between the beds and another between the chairs. Cheerful yellow curtains hung at the window.

  Faruz dropped his bag by the door and collapsed onto the nearest bed. His leg had held up, even under the strain of using it as a crutch for Wayra, but now the pain made every step unbearable. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe through the sharp stabs as his knotted muscles relaxed. When the pain had abated enough that he thought he could walk, he'd check on his friends. In the meantime, he blanked his mind and focused on massaging the knots out of his leg.

  With a deep breath, he pushed against the soft mattress until he sat upright, swung his feet to the floor, gritted his teeth, and braced for the pain he knew was coming. The pain blinded him for a moment, but he breathed through it. His vision cleared and he worked his way to the hall, each step a little more comfortable than the last. Peering down the hall, he saw an open door and a group of people, including Dalan, standing in conversation.

  A skinny, middle-aged man addressed the others, and Faruz listened carefully as he approached the group. "His condition is serious, but he'll be all right as long as this fever breaks soon. You're lucky the rain washed most of the poison away."

  Dalan nodded. “What do we need to do for him now?”

  “Keep him as cool as you can. Cool compresses on his face and body will help the most. Leave his arms alone, though. Be careful not to wash off the salve. Are you all right, son? Do I need to treat you, too?” He stared at Faruz, worry painted across his pointed features.

  “No, this is an old battle wound. It still gives me trouble sometimes, and carrying Wayra to the ferry didn’t help it any.”

  The healer laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “No, I wouldn’t think so. Well, the ladies here know how to reach me if anything changes. Otherwise, I’ll be back tomorrow to see how he’s doing. In the meantime, be sure to get some rest yourselves. You all look exhausted.”

  "Wait," Faruz protested as the healer turned to leave. He waited until the man faced him again. "You keep saying ‘he,' but there are two injured men. Is one worse than the other? Should we do the same for both?"

  Androu hung his head, and Dalan swiped at his face. "I'm sorry, I think you missed the first part of our conversation." He tugged his cloak over his hunched shoulders. "The skinny lad got much more poison, so I've covered him in rags dampened with tincture to help pull some of the poison out. If he lasts the night, I'll apply ointment to his wounds in the morning."

  The world spun, and Faruz grabbed the wall to keep from falling.

  The healer laid a hand on Faruz's shoulder. "You did well getting him here so quickly. Get some rest, and I'll see you tomorrow."

  “Thank you, sir.” Faruz shook his hand and wandered into the sickroom.

  Amiran lay stretched out on the closest bed. Thick ointment covered most of his arms. On the exposed skin, the angry redness had already started to lessen. He was still pale, with cloths draped across his forehead and naked chest.

  Across the room, the sheet had been pulled up to Wayra’s neck, covering his wounds and leaving only his pale face exposed. Faruz crossed to him and dropped to his knees beside the bed.

  “Please be all right,” he whispered. “You can’t die because of me.”

  Lowering his head to the cool sheet beside his friend, Faruz swallowed bitter tears. Memories played through his mind: of Wayra and Zyanna picnicking beside the lake the previous summer, of the joy on Wayra’s face the day he’d married his childhood sweetheart, and the horror of the attack at his wedding celebration. Wayra had been a voice of calm and reason on the council, even when the other members shouted or got upset. He’d spent countless hours coaching Faruz through difficult exercises and adapting the wedding dances so he could do them without a noticeable limp.

  “You have to get better,” Faruz whispered. “Zyanna needs you. The whole
village needs you.”

  When Wayra didn’t move, Faruz groaned. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” Dalan whispered. He dragged a hand over his face and turned to Amiran’s bed.

  “Thank you, but it is my fault. If I hadn’t stopped, they wouldn’t have found those berries, and they wouldn’t be so sick.”

  “No, you can’t think like that.” Dalan wet a cloth in the basin and wiped Amiran’s sweaty face. “You’re still recovering from your injury. You had to stop. You shouldn’t have to tell them not to wander off and get into poisoned briars.”

  “If I hadn’t let my pride goad me into coming on this trip, it wouldn’t have been an issue. You would have continued straight to Kainga without needing a break.”

  Shaking, Dalan stood. “Look, it’s not your fault. Taking the blame won’t fix anything, it’ll just wear you down. For now, let’s focus on what we can do, and we'll take the rest as it comes."

  Numb from guilt and exhaustion, Faruz wrestled off Amiran’s boots, and re-wet the cloths.

  “I’ll see what they have for supper,” Dalan offered. “We all need some food.”

  Hekma jumped up from a chair, startling Faruz, who hadn’t seen him.

  “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll come with you.”

  They left together, and Faruz settled in beside Wayra, propping his sore leg up and ready to tend to his friends' every need.

  10

  Followed

  Aibek watched until Faruz’s group was out of sight, took a deep breath, and walked through the crowd. He reviewed the plan in his mind: follow the path to the lake and turn east on a network of game trails. He had spent the past week discussing the plan with the hunters and Valasa, and they had agreed this would be the best plan. He would have to leave the trails behind and use the shadows to keep them moving to the east. The elf could end up being a bonus, after all, since he would be an expert in navigating through the forest.

  Rain pattered against the canopy overhead and dripped onto the travelers. Aibek pulled his hood up and huddled within his cloak. Serik and Dalan did likewise, but Aylen didn’t bother. He strolled along the path as if the weather was perfect, even whistling a soft tune while he walked.

  They reached the lake in less than an hour and found the game trail. Single file, they turned east on the narrow track. Aibek kept his back hunched against the ceaseless drizzle, but made sure his friends weren’t falling behind.

  The drip of rain slowed time as the morning turned to afternoon. Trudging through the growing mud, Aibek worked to keep his sinking spirits afloat. He should have been warm and dry in his ancestral home, preparing for the coming winter with his friends. The icy wind cut through his cloak and he shivered, hunkering down even further. He listened to the forest, trying to find something to take his mind of the dismal weather, but could hear nothing but the splash of boots, the chatter or raindrops on dried leaves, and Aylen’s constant whistling.

  The cheerful tune grated against Aibek’s nerves, but he ground his teeth and kept walking.

  “Would you cut that out already?” Kai barked, startling Aibek and halting the procession.

  “Why? A little music helps pass the time.” Aylen broke the tune for the brief response, then picked back up as if nothing had happened.

  “What are you doing, signaling your friends? I know they’re following us; I can hear them in the brush beside me. You’re telling them when to attack, aren’t you?”

  Aylen walked on, keeping his eyes on the trail and whistling quieter than before.

  Aibek turned as Kai stepped forward and shoved the elf into Serik.

  “Hey!” Aylen reached for his axe, but Kai shoved him to the ground and held him in the mud with a booted foot on his chest.

  “That’s enough. Kai, let him up.” Aibek took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He needed to establish himself as a strong leader or these two would kill each other before the sun set. Positioning himself between Kai and Aylen, he put a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

  “Why don’t you take the front for a while? Just keep on the game trails and make sure we’re headed east.” He turned to Aylen. “Let’s all try to work together, all right? I know you didn’t ask to be here, but we have to make an effort if this is going to work.”

  Aylen nodded, and Aibek took his place behind Serik, putting the elf at the rear of their procession.

  Aibek focused on the sounds of the forest.

  Is Kai right? Are we being followed?

  He’d been too distracted by his own misery to consider the possibility. Narrowing his eyes, he listened past the crunch of leaves and splashing of mud under boots, past the pitter-pat of raindrops on dirt and leaves, even past the scurrying sounds of squirrels, monkeys, and other small animals in the underbrush. He worked to find imperceptible sounds of elves and dwarves moving through the woods. Kai was right. There were at least a dozen ground folk following them. His skin erupted in gooseflesh, and the little hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. However, this felt different from other times he had been followed through the forest.

  He glanced behind him. “Are they just keeping an eye on us for your sake?”

  The whistling stopped and Aylen shrugged. “Who? I don’t see anyone but our group.”

  The path widened, so Aibek slowed his steps until he stood aside his elfin escort and dropped his voice so the others wouldn’t overhear.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, but you know as well as I do that there’s a large group of your people following us. I can understand them keeping an eye on their friend for a while, but you need to be honest. Are they going to attack when we make camp?”

  “Why would I tell you if that’s what they were planning?” He kicked at a stone on the path and peered into the brush beside them. “No, they won’t attack. The king and queen gave you their word that you would be able to travel without interference from our people, and they don’t go back on their word. To do so would bring shame on all our people.”

  “How far will they follow us?”

  “I don’t know. I thought they would have turned back by now. It will be dark soon. Maybe they want to see where we camp.”

  Aibek watched the elf through narrowed eyes, but his escort gave up nothing. He quickened his step to catch up with the others.

  They continued into the deepening forest, though Aibek worked to keep track of their followers. Were they being set up for an attack? Maybe he should move Aylen up behind Kai, so he couldn’t drop back without alerting everyone else. Aibek longed to ask Serik for advice, but couldn’t do so without offending Aylen. What a mess they were in already. This was just the first day!

  * * *

  “They’re getting closer.” Aibek returned to the elf in the growing darkness. “Are you sure they’re not–”

  “Hey! What are you doing?” Kai’s shout rang through the stillness like a bell, putting an end to Aibek’s questions.

  With a final glare at Aylen, Aibek rushed to the front. A group of dwarves had stepped onto the trail, with more standing in the trees to either side, blocking any hope for progress or escape. The dozen or so dwarves each held their weapons at the ready, and advanced toward Aibek’s group.

  “What is going on here?” Aibek worked to keep his voice calm, betraying none of his panic. They didn’t stand a chance against these attackers.

  The heavily muscled dwarf swung a battle axe in the air, testing it. “You’re out past sunset, tree-dweller.” He let out a malicious laugh. and swung the axe again. “That means you’re fair game.”

  Squaring his shoulders, Aibek rested a hand on his sword. “Your queen gave us her word that we could travel unmolested on this journey.”

  His stomach sank as he realized this band of dwarves wasn’t from Kasanto. Their clothes were made differently, of finer fabrics and more modern styles. They wore tunics over tight breeches, like the men in the city, rather than the draping shirts and trousers common to dwarves in Kasa
nto.

  “Queen? I know no queen. And why should we listen to her decrees if we did?” He sneered at Aibek, but stopped moving.

  Aylen stepped in front of Aibek, brandishing his own axe.

  “Queen Idril rules over all the dwarves in the Tsari, along with my king, Turan. You will stop this immediately or face severe consequences.”

  The dwarves laughed and stepped closer.

  “Why should I fear you? How would this so-called queen ever find out what happened to you? Or who was responsible?”

  “She uses the ancient magic of the forest and is watching our expedition. She sees you now, and will come for you if you do not leave us in peace.”

  They continued their advance. “Ancient magic? Really? That’s all you’ve got? And what exactly are you? You’re certainly not one of us. Are you one of the elvin fools that lives under the tree-dwellers’ thumbs?”

  Aylen’s pointed ears turned red, the only evidence that the dwarf’s barb had found its mark.

  His voice turned cold steel. “You need to leave us in peace. We are on a mission to the Heart of the Forest, and the Bokinna is expecting us. If you interfere, you risk killing every tree over your head.”

  Air whistled through Aibek’s teeth as he drew a startled breath. The queen had warned them to keep their mission a secret from anyone they encountered. What was Aylen doing? A muscle in his jaw twitched with the effort of keeping quiet. The exchange with the elf had stopped the dwarves’ forward movement, so Aibek waited.

  “No one has seen the Bokinna in over a hundred years. She doesn’t admit visitors. Everyone who’s tried has vanished or died at the hands of her protectors. What makes you think you’re any different?”

  “I cannot tell you the details of our mission. That is for her alone. What I can tell you is that the survival of the forest depends on our visit. Stand aside, or face the consequences.”