She was so distracted by her own musing, she didn’t notice Irakyll until the dragon flew directly overhead and dropped something on top of her. Ky’ara scrambled for the little piece of paper before it fell into the underbrush. Joran whipped around, knife in hand, and then stopped short when he saw what had caused her surprise. The little creature hovered above Ky’ara’s left shoulder and eyed the boy with contempt, chittering rapidly in a way that made it sound like she was scolding him.
Joran sheathed his knife as the rest of the group stopped and turned to stare at them in surprise. Sukylar chuckled. Taren’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but otherwise his face betrayed no emotion. Irakyll dipped her head once, chirping impatiently, and then turned and flew up and over the trees, winking out of sight a moment later.
Ky’ara stared after the dragon for a moment, then looked down at what the creature had delivered. She swiftly unrolled the little scroll and then wordlessly handed it to Joran. It only took him a moment to skim its contents, and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he realized what it was. His sister must have anticipated the trouble they would have getting information about the rebels’ whereabouts. She had determined a place for them to get in contact, and it was close.
“I’m assuming Hallahna didn’t send her dragon all the way here just to give us a poem and a bunch of squiggles...what does it mean?” Ky’ara asked when he finally looked up.
“You’re right. It’s a code Calistra and I worked out a long time ago. She wants to talk to me. They’re not squiggles, it’s a map. We need to travel southwest.”
“There is no way the rebels are this far north already,” Taren said incredulously.
Joran looked confused for a moment, and then his face cleared. “No, no. She has a communications spell tied to me...as long as she knows exactly where I am, she can contact me for short intervals of time. Usually we’d set up a prearranged place and time. We didn’t bother trying to do that for this trip since I really had no idea when we’d be in any given place or even the general area we’d end up in.”
Taren’s face hardened. “And you never bothered to tell us? You hid an important asset that had we all known about, we may have been able to plan around.”
“Despite what you and Ky’ara seem to think, I am not obligated to tell you every little part of my life,” Joran said.
“This isn’t a game! You can’t keep secrets just for the sake of feeling superior—”
“I don’t think we need to fight about…” Ky’ara tried to intervene before their argument got out of hand.
“I didn’t keep it secret to feel superior,” Joran protested, ignoring her, “We don’t use it very often, since it risks exposing our locations. When we decided not to set a contact point for this trip I simply figured it wasn’t worth mentioning. Why’re you so riled up about this anyways?”
Taren ignored the question, his expression unreadable.
Ky’ara frowned at him, clearly concerned by his irritation over something so insignificant. When he failed to respond to her too, she turned to Joran and motioned for him to take the lead. “How far away is this meeting place and when do we need to be there?” she asked.
“I’m not certain how long it’ll take us to get there, since we’ll be coming from a different direction than last time, but it isn’t too far. We should easily be able to get there by the day she specified.”
“What do we want to do about the Elysian?” Sukylar interjected, “she could be a spy for the Destroyer. It may not be a good idea to lead her someplace where she can overhear important information.”
Ky’ara pursed her lips and looked towards Taren for his input. He shrugged. “We don’t have much of a choice. We could wander around in these trees for days looking for her, if she’s even still around. We’ll just have to keep better watch.”
“If Sukylar stays next to Ky’ara, I should be able to help with that, since any attempt on his life will endanger her as well if they’re close together,” Joran chimed in.
Taren nodded tersely and turned to take up the rear position, behind Lauryn. Ky’ara followed Joran, taking care to stay level with Sukylar when possible. The rest of the day passed without incident, as did the next. Taren finally allowed a small campfire for dinners, and they dined on squirrels and other small game that they shot along the path.
“We already know someone is following us, a fire isn’t going to make it any easier for them to find us, and if it attracts trolls, well, they might just flush out the attacker again so we can ask her some questions,” he explained, when Joran asked how it was any different now than it was a day ago.
For her part, Ky’ara was just grateful to eat something other than raw greens. Lauryn’s attitude was considerably improved as well, and despite the niggling concerns about the mysterious Elysian woman, the rest of their journey remained without incident.
* * * * *
Just past noon the day before the appointed time, the towering trees finally thinned and then gave way to a rocky shoreline not unlike the one around the lake where they'd discovered Eléirathös. This body of water was much smaller, just a pond really. Ky'ara looked back at Joran.
‘Is this the place?’
He nodded, surveying the clearing.
“So how does this work?” Taren asked, “We’re here, tomorrow is the day. Do you have to do something or do we just wait?”
“We just wait. Did the druids not have direct communication spells in your time?”
Taren shrugged. “If they did, they kept it a secret...which wouldn’t surprise me, now that I think about it.”
“Well, we don't have to do anything. It's already all set up on my end, Calistra just has to connect it...In the meantime, we may as well get some lunch.”
Joran rustled through the saddlebags till he emerged with the makeshift fishing net he’d created when they first entered the forest. Lauryn enthusiastically joined him by the water’s edge and soon the two of them were pulling in sleek silver fish and debating over whose job it was to clean them. The rest of the weary travelers set up camp and then foraged for greens and tubers to add to their meal.
After an early supper and a short rest, Ky’ara found a convenient patch of grass and began to do some stretches, trying to loosen her stiff muscles so she could spend a little time reviewing some sword forms. While on the road she had neglected her usual consistent practices, and it wouldn’t do for her to get rusty. After all they’d encountered so far, it seemed likely she’d need every skill she possessed to come out of this alive.
Joran and Taren seemed to have a similar train of thought, and quickly delineated an arena and began some methodical sparring. Lauryn and Sukylar seemed content to watch, though after a few minutes the girl wandered down to the water’s edge and began foraging for something to use for tomorrow’s breakfast.
Not too long into their exercises, Joran’s blows started landing a little harder, and they picked up the pace. The sound of metal on metal rang through the clearing. Suddenly, after a complex series of sword strokes, Joran succeeded in shoving Taren’s blade sideways as he kicked straight out, catching the Keeper full in the chest and throwing him onto his back. The boy stared in surprise, breathing heavily. Taren stood, stretching his back and feeling his muscles groan in protest. He wasn’t old enough to feel this stiff.
Joran recovered quickly. “Either I’m getting faster, or you’re getting slower,” he taunted, holding his sword low and off to the side. Quick as a wink, Taren lunged for the boy’s unguarded abdomen, simultaneously drawing his long, thin, SiKhathan blade with his other hand. Joran side-stepped neatly away from the first weapon, only to be met by the foreign sword which Taren held at eye-level. He ducked at the last second, this time not quite so smoothly, and stumbled away.
“You were saying?” Taren arched an eyebrow, the blade already sheathed.
Joran narrowed his eyes, ignoring the taunt as he looked for another opening. Taren feinted left but, to his credit, the boy didn�
�t waver. Lunging to the right, Joran got inside his reach and nearly scored a hit on Taren’s ribs. The former Keeper twisted out of the way, pulling out his shorter blade simultaneously and using his momentum to bring it whistling down towards Joran’s unprotected head. The boy raised his blade and caught the blow before it could make contact, gritting his teeth against the effort. A moment later they both spun apart and Taren’s swords were all sheathed once again.
They continued sparring until the sun dipped behind the trees and long shadows stretched across the clearing. Taren nodded to Joran and sheathed both his long and short blades, which he'd just used to block and thrust away the boy's down-sweeping broadsword. Joran warily sheathed his own weapons and backed away to the edge of the campsite. When he was sure this wasn't some trick or test to see whether he was on his guard, he turned and went to the lake for some water.
Taren turned to see Sukylar watching him.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” the other man said, more curiosity than ridicule in his voice, “Why so many weapons? And sheathing them after every use...seems like a waste of energy and time. Did all Keepers fight that way?”
Taren shrugged. “We all had a different mix of weapons, but the basic concept stayed the same. You never know what you’ll be up against in this line of work. This way, I always have the right tool for the job.”
“Even during each step of one fight?”
“Il alun paicea…”
“...com shishi klar.” Sukylar finished the old saying, nodding thoughtfully.
“What does that mean?” Joran asked, coming up beside Taren and handing him his canteen.
“A still pond creates the clearest ripples,” Sukylar translated.
Joran raised an eyebrow. “Sounds...perceptive?”
“It means that a mind free of distraction can react more precisely to any situation,” Taren explained gruffly, “By sheathing my weapon, I ensure my mind is no longer cluttered by what has come before, and it is ready to respond to the next event. Time lost in movement is gained in mental acuity.”
“Why haven’t you trained me to do that then?” Joran asked.
“It’s an advanced technique. And you only have two weapons...you don’t need to sheath your knife to use your sword.”
Joran made a face at the word “advanced” and looked like he was about to say something, but Sukylar didn’t give him a chance. The man grasped Taren’s shoulder companionably. “An interesting application of that particular training adage, to be sure.”
* * * * *
Norika sat back on her heels, contemplating. She’d thought about shooting the traitor while the others were distracted by the training exercise, but had been easily drawn in by the style of fighting. The-man-with-too-many-weapons fought in ways reminiscent of the Elysian fighting styles she’d seen when visiting her mother’s people. But they were blended with more traditional Tiremian swordplay and some other form of fighting, from what she could tell. She’d seen plenty of styles in Brume, and even a fair amount of blending between them, since much of the city was of mixed race, like she was. But something about the seamless melding of the various forms just felt different somehow...more pure.
Which made no sense.
Nori shook her head. A combination of things was more pure? Really? Her thoughts must be seriously muddled if she was contradicting herself.
The longer she followed these people, the more questions she had. Two were trained in Elysian fighting styles, and the woman rode an Elysian-bred mount. Her mother's people were not usually so generous...how were these people connected to them? Her curiosity warred with the deep-seated anger she felt towards the man who had unwittingly destroyed her life. If she killed him, she’d likely never get answers to those questions. If she didn’t kill him, she’d have a nightmare of a time trying to bring him in to clear her name.
“Why are you following us?”
The question startled Nori out of her thoughts and she jumped up and whirled around, reaching for her crossbow. It wasn’t there. Or rather, it was now in the hands of a teenage girl with long blonde hair and a stern expression. The girl wasn’t threatening her with it, in fact she had removed the bolt and was holding the weapon at her side. For a moment Nori entertained the idea of tackling her and retrieving the weapon, but common sense rejected this notion. The girl’s companions would likely hear a scuffle, and besides, she was not the enemy here. Nori opted for telling the truth.
“I don’t care about the rest of you, I just need to take the skinny one in to answer some questions. He may be responsible for the death of someone very important in my town.”
The girl raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that, but if he did kill someone, they probably deserved it.”
Norika snorted “Of course Vivek deserved it. That doesn’t make it any less important that I bring the killer in.”
The teenager looked confused, and Nori took advantage of the opportunity to lunge forward, but the girl stepped sideways and tossed the crossbow into the water.
“Really?” Nori asked, thinking of all the work it would take to retrieve the weapon and clean it properly. Rust would clog the trigger mechanism and weaken the prod if the crossbow wasn’t meticulously dried. Who did this girl think she was? The momentary annoyance turned to anger, and she took another step towards the girl.
“Stop! There’s something wrong with you.”
“Something wrong with me? Clearly there’s something wrong with you! Throwing another person’s weapon in the lake is bad manners where I come from!” Though, admittedly, that doesn’t really stop anyone from doing those sorts of things in Brume. Bad manners are more likely to be the reason for doing something. Nori brushed the thought aside and focused on the problem at hand. How was she going to subdue this girl and still make good on her other plans?
“I can sense something dark in you...an outside power feeding your anger,” the girl was saying calmly, “You may not realize it, but there’s definitely something wrong.”
Nori hesitated, her thoughts had been uncharacteristically prone to negativity...then again, she’d just had her life upended over something that wasn’t her fault. She was entitled to feel angry, wasn’t she? “How do you know that?” she asked warily, folding her arms and looking skeptically at the girl.
“I...can sense things. Sometimes. It’s not quite magic, but I’ve learned to trust it.”
Norika snorted. “And I’m just supposed to trust you?”
The blonde shrugged. “That’s entirely up to you, but the way I see it, you have two options: You can believe me and come get some help from my friends, or you can ignore me and stop following us.”
“Aren’t you forgetting one?” Nori said. She edged sideways, her eyes still on the girl. There was a fallen tree branch just to her left that would make an adequate club...
“I wouldn’t try it, if I were you.”
Something in the girl’s voice made her hesitate. Was she missing something? Norika met the girl’s stoic expression, searching for some indication of what gave her enough confidence to speak in such a way. A cursory glance at the girl's stance and muscle tone told her that, though the girl was fit, she wasn't a fighter. She'd already admitted to not having magic, and last she'd checked, all the other travelers were near their camp. Norika tensed her muscles, ready to spring forward when she got the chance. She'd have to knock the girl out on the first try, or risk a scream bringing the others. Hitting too hard could do more permanent damage though. She shrugged away the irritating guilt this line of thinking brought with it and prepared to strike. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but I can’t let you get in the way of bringing that man to justice. If I don’t take him in, my life will be ruined.”
The girl crinkled her eyebrows. “Really? That seems a little overdramatic. Because if you do interfere with us, pretty much everyone’s lives could be ruined.”
Nori darted forward to grab the tree branch just as the words sunk in. It was only a moment’s hesitation,
but apparently it was enough: the girl jumped backwards before Norika could swing the branch, and suddenly a sharp pain erupted in the back of her skull.
“Drop the branch and slowly put your hands behind you.”
Norika did as she was told, still dazed from the blow to her head. It was that boy again. Here she was, constantly irritated by people misjudging her because of her size, only to be captured by two children she’d assumed were the least dangerous of the group.
As they wrapped something around her wrists (a belt, likely?) Norika felt a moment of irrational panic. She had to escape! The man who’d ruined her life was—
“Hey! Don’t make me hit you over the head again! I was trying to be careful last time, but I’ll knock you out if I have to!”
Norika closed her eyes and forced herself to be calm. She needed to wait for an opportunity. If nothing else, this was one step closer. Maybe she could learn something about the killer’s motives while she was a prisoner. The boy nudged her forward with the tip of his sword. “Walk.”
She obliged, mentally adjusting to the change in balance that came with having her hands tied behind her. A few steps later she planted her feet. Her crossbow was still in the lake, and her pack was lying next to the bush. She wasn’t one for sentimentality, but if she lost her equipment she’d have a hard time getting home again.
“Do you want me to accidentally run you through?” The boy said incredulously, “keep walking!”
“I’m not going another step without my crossbow and my pack.”
“You really think I’m going to give you your weapon back? I may be young but I’m not stupid.”
Norika rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to give them to me, just please don’t leave them out here. If you intended to kill me you would’ve done it already, so I assume that means at some point you’re going to either interrogate me or tie me up so I can no longer follow you.”
The Druids' Legacy Page 4
