The dark forms of the procession of ezixs could be seen making their way toward the long stairway leading up to the portal to the palace. With a wave of his hand, Zeldek vanished from his place on the wall and appeared at the top of the stairs. He began to descend, and both parties reached the bottom at the same time.
The leader of the arriving company stepped forward, his red eye gleaming. He thumped his chest with his fist, the ezix way of showing respect, and then fell to one knee before the Master. His thick black hair was tied in a knot behind his head, and the long, dreaded tails fell down his back in a tousled heap.
“Durgarra! You have returned,” Zeldek said in his mother tongue, the only language the majority of these magical creatures could understand. “What news do you bring me from the south?”
Durgarra looked up. “My lord, things did not go as planned.”
Zeldek stiffened, but he would feel no anger.
Durgarra’s gaze fell and his shoulders slouched. “My master, we have failed you.”
“I can see that. What happened?”
“We made it through the thorns only hours after them, and we were making good time. But their tracks vanished without a trace. We searched the area, even miles around it, but found nothing.”
“Whereabouts did they disappear?” the Master asked.
“It was near the ruins of Buentoak, my lord.”
Zeldek scowled. It was no surprise to him that Ulmer would stick his nose in business not his own. But he had not counted on Bellator going anywhere near that place.
The Master turned away. “Thank you, Durgarra. You have done well.”
A weight lifted off of the ezix’s shoulders. “Thank you, sire. I only wish I could have done more,” Durgarra said, and rising, he ordered his company away.
The Master watched them retreat. The wind whipped his hair about, and his robe flew out around him. He furrowed his brow, searching for any memory that might help him understand what Bellator could be planning. Why had she sought the help of Ulmer? What could she seek that would benefit her so much as to risk such punishment? The questions circled in his head until he could not stand the dull glare of ignorance any longer.
He raised his hand, slowly clenching it into a fist to ease his anger. He must alert his faithful consuls of this new development. With their intelligence, he would have his answer soon enough.
He opened his hand, and dark mist spewed from it until it shrouded him in blackness.
Chapter Twenty
“T
he River Tireth,” Bellator shouts over the roar of the river sweeping through the ravine below us. “It flows from the Handia Mountain and divides the boarders of Zandelba and Valamette.”
“Does that mean that we’re in Valamette?” Annalyn asks hopefully.
After almost a week of traveling with Bellator, I’m hopeful too. She is certainly a hard taskmaster. Even when Buentoak was far behind us, she wouldn’t allow us to so much as whisper for fear of alerting the enemy. Though it was clear the ezixs were long gone, she threatened us with pain if we objected. I didn’t argue. Everyone knows that these lands are crawling with outlaws; more specifically, the infamous Crimson Shadow – an outlaw so deadly that no one’s ever seen him and lived to tell the tale. Bellator may be a good fighter, but I wonder if even she would risk running into such a character.
“Depending on who you ask,” Bellator replies, leading us away from the water’s edge. “On the map, it says that we’ve been in Valamette for about an hour now. But since no one comes here and the nearest population – a few mere towns – is miles away, I still consider this to be wilderness.”
“How far is the city of Kenwardton?” Uri asks, looking as if he’s drawing up a mental map of the area.
“Kenwardton is a two-day journey from here,” Bellator replies. “Why? Is that where we’re dropping you?”
“What do you mean, ‘dropping’ me?” Uri demands, indignant. “Where are you headed?”
“Along the Tireth with the half-breed.” She turns, walking backward as she speaks, and nods to Annalyn. “What about you?”
“Bynvantalyn,” Annalyn says dreamily.
She arches her eyebrows. “That’s the little town in the valley near the bridge, right?”
Annalyn nods.
“Oh, good!” Bellator smirks. “It sounds like you’ll be home before nightfall.”
Bellator turns on her heel to walk forward again, but as she does, Uri grabs her arm and jerks her back to face him.
“You ain’t over us no more, but you act like you’re still in charge!” he cries, his knuckles turning white as he digs his fingers into her arm.
“That’s because I am in charge, imbecile!”
“No! No, you ain’t! Ain’t no one the boss of me but me!” He jabs his thumb into his own chest to assert his point.
Bellator clenches her teeth, and with a deadly calm, she tries to twist her forearm out of his grasp.
“No you ain’t!” he shouts in her face, giving her a violent shake, and then he slams her back against a tree. “You’re gonna answer my question, and you’re gonna do it fast! What’s with you trying to get rid of us all the sudden?”
I can see a light growing behind her eyes, and it scares me. It’s a look that goes beyond rage, beyond fear. A hunger, or thirst, perhaps. She’s going to hurt him, badly.
“Uri, leave her be!” I cry, starting toward them.
Bellator glances at me with a disdainful scowl. Uri gives her another shake, as if to remind her that he is still there, and the look intensifies. In a sudden blur of movement, she has turned the tables. Uri’s face is mashed into the tree, his nose bloody, while Bellator twists his arm behind his back, holding her knife to his throat.
“I’ve put up with you long enough, Uriah!” she growls in his ear.
My heart is in my throat. “B-Bellator, calm down. He didn’t mean it...”
“Stay out of this, half-wit!” Her voice has changed to a low, vicious snarl. “I don’t make meaningless threats!”
My heart pounds furiously in my ears, but I force my voice to be calm. “We made a deal, remember? You told me that you would help me return them safely to their homes. That’s my side of the bargain.”
“Oh, I’ll send him home,” she growls, her blade nicking his neck.
Uri whimpers as blood runs down his collarbone from beneath the shining blade.
“Bellator, please,” I plead, my voice strained. “Let him go.”
Her eyes are feral, untamed. “Why do you care anyways? He treats you like dirt!”
I swallow. She is right, really. He hasn’t said a civil word to me since leaving Buentoak, and has treated me like his personal slave. Two evenings ago, he even tried to make me eat the leftover scraps of meat off of his squirrel bones. Had not Annalyn put a stop to it, I’m sure that I would still have the taste of bone marrow and his rotten breath in my mouth right now.
With that memory fresh in my mind, I have to force my voice to remain gentle as I reply. “That doesn’t matter. I told them they would be free, and I mean to make that happen.”
Her hand trembles with rage. She’s losing what control she has over the devouring beast always present behind her eyes. “And you think that you can stop me?”
I lick my lower lip nervously. “No. No, of course not.”
Her smirk is just as savage as her voice. “Then stop trying, or I may have to hurt you too!”
I dare to try again. “We made a deal. Doesn’t your word mean anything to you?”
“You’re right we made a deal,” she spits. “A deal to get you and the rest of these idiots out of Gaiztoak. Since my word means so much to me, I’ll spare him. But let’s make another deal, shall we? A deal that will ensure his safety for the rest of the time that we are together.”
My voice is so feeble that I am barely able to get out the words. “What do you want?”
Still pressing the knife against Uri’s neck with one hand, she releases his wrist a
nd grabs the front of my shirt, pulling me so close that her face is only a few inches from mine. Her breath smells like the mint leaves she has been chewing all morning.
“From now on, you’re going to do everything that I say without question and without comment.” Her voice is quiet, yet her words are as clear as if she is shouting. “When I speak, you obey! Got it?”
My heart hammers in my chest. “I-I’ll try,” I stammer.
“You’d better do more than just try,” she snaps, and releases the front of my tunic with a shove.
I stumble backward, and she turns to Uri again.
“Next time, I won’t hesitate,” she says to him, and draws the knife away from his neck.
The monster within has been placated, for now.
Uri backs away, putting his hand to the cut on his throat. Bellator continues into the woods and he glowers after her.
She laughs harshly. “Your compassion makes you weak, half-breed!”
I cringe, but don’t let myself think on her words. She’s wrong. Compassion may be a weakness, but it’s a weakness the world needs more of.
“You alright?” I ask Uri.
He shoves me backward so hard that I trip over a root and smash my head into the tree that’s behind me.
“Next time, stay out of it!” he bellows, spit spraying everywhere. He kicks leaves at me, adding with menace, “Stupid half-breed!”
He snatches Nimro’s bridle and stalks after Bellator.
I stare after him, not sure whether to feel hurt or angry. “He would still be in that hell hole if it wasn’t for me,” I mutter to myself as I struggle to my feet.
“I know,” says Annalyn, and I jump. She’d been so quiet during the entire ordeal that I’d forgotten she was still here. “And I am grateful to you for that,” she continues. “It’s just that some people can’t appreciate help when it hits them between the eyes.”
“Sure,” I say bitterly, “but even you see me as just a means to get you home.”
“No,” she protests.
“Really? You see me as an equal to yourself now?”
She hesitates. “You know I have always seen us as equals.”
But, judging by her averted gaze, I know that she isn’t entirely telling the truth.
“Hurry up!” Bellator calls. “I’d like to deliver Ann home before sundown.”
I take Majax’s reins from Annalyn, and we start after them. The forest thins as we cover more distance, the sounds of the river growing fainter with each step. A heavy silence hangs over Annalyn’s shoulders, and I know she’s preparing to say something. It’s only a matter of time before she speaks.
“So,” she begins, a bit timidly, “you made a deal with her so that she would take us with you?”
I shrug. I don’t want to talk about it.
“What was it?” she persists.
“It doesn’t matter,” I mumble. “But it’s worth your freedom to me.”
She doesn’t say any more, and soon goes up to walk with the others. When the fire in my chest dies down, I feel bad for being so harsh to her.
She wasn’t the one that hurt me.
Dusk is falling when we are at last standing on the hill overlooking the little town of Bynvantalyn. The town is nestled in a bowl-shaped valley beside the sparkling waters of a little lake. Hues of orange, purple, and pink darken the clear sky above. The air is fresh and cool, and I breathe it in deeply, allowing it to drive away the unpleasant feelings that have been nagging in my head all afternoon.
“This place ain’t that bad,” Uri says grudgingly.
Bellator casts him a sideways glare.
“Papa’s tavern is right on the edge of the lake,” Annalyn says, an excited sparkle in her eyes.
“Let’s go then,” Bellator says irritably. “Perhaps you could get your papa to give us some ale for our troubles. That is, if he’s still around.”
But Annalyn’s mood is not so easily shattered. She nods, her face glowing. “Of course! He’ll be happy to.”
Bellator leads us along the ridge until we come to the main road, and we follow it down the steep hill and into town. There are hardly any people on the streets, and those who are duck out of sight as we pass.
“I thought the people here were known for their friendliness,” Bellator remarks, emerging from her brooding as her curiosity is sparked.
“They are,” Annalyn says, glancing around with a confused frown. “That is, they were before I was taken. Things could have changed.”
“It could be because we’re all wearing black,” I suggest. “They might think that we’re some kind of outlaw group.”
“No,” Bellator says with surprising firmness. “My outlaws never attacked this village. If we ever stooped so low as to pillage, we would go for the bigger, more rewarding towns.”
“Yeah, but your outlaws ain’t the only ones in Theara,” Uri mutters, and it’s clear he’s still angry with her.
“Yes, they are,” she counters sharply. “Those that aren’t are made to join us or die. Your father does the same with the pirates too, if you recall.”
“Yeah,” he acknowledges. “But I didn’t think you’d be that smart—”
“The question is,” I cut in, hoping to avoid any more quarrelling, “what’s got them all so scared?”
Bellator shrugs, glancing around with a frown. “I don’t know, and I don’t like it either. Be on your guard.”
We continue in silence down the main street. A feeling of danger lurks in the air, and a shudder of uneasiness rises in my gut.
“There’s papa’s tavern,” Annalyn whispers, stopping at the entrance to a street that turns toward the lake.
At the end of the street, next to a small dock that stretches out over the lake, stands an old, rustic tavern. As we draw nearer, I see a battered sign hanging over the door. In painted, faded letters it reads, ‘P’ter’s Tavern and Hostelry for the Weary and Footsore Traveller’.
Uri sniggers. “Looks like an old shack—”
Bellator shuts him up with a sharp elbow to the ribs. But Annalyn doesn’t seem to notice. She’s walking toward the door with slow, apprehensive footsteps. A few feet from the collapsing porch, she falters.
“What is it?” I ask.
She shakes her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. “It’s just... I’m scared. It looks so different! What if they aren’t here? What if—”
“It will be alright,” I interrupted gently. “They’ll be here. We won’t leave you until we’ve found them; I promise.”
She nods, wiping away her tears. “Will you come with me, please?”
I nod, but I don’t want to. I’m afraid of what we’ll find.
“Wait a moment,” Bellator calls, approaching us.
We both turn to her, glancing at each other. Annalyn attempts a small smile, and for a moment, I feel a connection. Almost like she might be someone I could call my friend. But the moment is brief, and the walls go up again. She betrayed me once. She might again.
“Listen,” Bellator says in a low voice, “I don’t care how you feel or who you think you can trust. Don’t tell anyone about Zeldek, or Gaiztoak, or anything out of the ordinary that you’ve seen otherwise. I don’t care what you have to tell them, but do not mention him. Do you hear me?”
“Why not?” Annalyn asks. “Shouldn’t people know what is out there? That all of what they think are myths are actually true?”
“No, they shouldn’t! People don’t believe anything unless it’s right in front of them, and sometimes not even then. You tell them, and things won’t go well for you. Do I make myself clear?”
Annalyn lowers her gaze. “Yes.”
“I hope so, for your sake.” She takes Majax’s reins from me and turns back toward Uri, calling over her shoulder as she does, “Oh, and make sure that we get that ale, half-wit.”
Annalyn takes another deep breath and starts up the steps to the door. The wood creaks, sagging beneath her feet. I follow with careful footing. When we re
ach the door, she stops and runs her fingers down a patch of splintered gouges in the wood.
“Looks like someone took an axe to it,” I remark, noticing that the latch has also been broken.
Her face whitens, and I realize it wasn’t a very good thing to say, all things considered.
Annalyn puts on a brave face and pushes the door open. It creaks on its hinges and bumps into the wall behind it. We pass through the small entranceway leading into the dining room. An old coat hangs from the only remaining peg on the wall, and the wooden doorframe has been hacked apart – another sign of a forced entry.
“No,” Annalyn whispers, her voice breaking apart.
She pushes through the pieces of furniture that appear to have been piled in front of the door to create a mean barricade. Reaching the centre of the room, she turns in a circle, her breath coming shorter and faster. Her stunned gaze comes to rest on a spot of floor by her feet, and I move closer to see what she is looking at. But when I do, I put a hand to my mouth.
The floor is stained with blood.
Annalyn’s face crumples. “Mama!” she cries at the top of her lungs, running to the counter. “Papa! I’m here! I’ve come home!”
Silence is the only reply that she receives.
“Please! I’ve come back!”
“Annalyn,” I begin, reaching a hand toward her, “I don’t think—”
But before I can finish, the door behind the counter opens a crack. A face peers out at us, muffled breathing coming through the opening. I get Annalyn’s attention, gesturing towards it.
She takes a step toward the door. “Mama?”
“Annalyn, be careful,” I warn in a whisper. “You don’t know who is behind that door.”
She heeds my warning and stops. “Hello?” she calls hesitantly. “Is anyone there?”
The door is pushed open, revealing a short, portly fellow with wire spectacles propped on his nose and a head of thinning salty-brown hair. His face is a splotchy mess of white and red, and his body trembles as he stumbles out into the open.
Broken Arrow (Darkened Destiny Saga Book 1) Page 15
