Her eyes popped open at the sound of rushing water. It grew in volume until they stopped.
“Now, no squirming unless you want to end up in the water,” Geric said.
Kyrin twisted around just enough to see that they stood along the Trayse River, which ran swiftly several feet below them. Stretching out across the river lay a huge fallen pine that looked as though passersby had used it as a bridge for some time. All of its branches were broken or cut away, leaving an unobstructed, yet perilous crossing. Kyrin sucked her breath as Geric stepped onto it, balancing her on his shoulder as he walked across.
Kyrin stared down at the churning dark river. Would she stand a better chance braving the rushing water than staying with these ryriks? All she had to do was throw her weight to one side and both she and Geric would go over. However, in a swift river like this, it would probably be suicide. She never had been a strong swimmer, and she had the disadvantage of having her hands tied.
When they reached the safety of the opposite bank, Kyrin prayed she hadn’t just wasted her only opportunity to escape. Once again, they plunged into the thick pines of the forest on the other side. Kyrin didn’t expect them to stop for a while, but a couple of miles from the river, she caught the scent of smoke on the breeze. After another half a mile or so, voices echoed in the trees, and they stepped into a clearing. Kyrin caught sight of a large fire burning and several ryriks sitting around it. Would they all keep away from her if Geric told them to?
Elôm.
At the fire’s edge, the man finally put her down. Her ankle protested, but she shifted her weight to her other foot. She peered around the fire, her throat closing as she met the other ryriks’ too-interested stares.
“You only caught one of ‘em?” an especially burly ryrik asked.
“We had the half-ryrik too but had to leave him to the wolves,” Geric answered, and Kyrin’s heart reacted painfully.
Another of the ryriks spoke up. “Well, if you had to bring just one of them, you made the right choice in bringing the girl.”
He traded cruel laughter with his companions, and Kyrin took a step back from the fire feeling as though she were surrounded by wolves herself. She glanced up at Geric, praying he would protect her despite being one of them.
“She goes to Daican as is.” Geric gave them a stern look.
The first ryrik scowled. “What does he care? He can still behead her. We just want to have a little fun first.”
“I won’t risk his wrath or the gold. She’s the most valuable thing we have. With her, we can draw in her brothers, if not more from their group. The king may not give himself up, but just imagine if we hand over four Altairs to the emperor. You can take your gold and go buy yourself a whole string of women if you want.”
The ryrik grumbled, but he didn’t argue.
Kyrin swallowed with dread. How did they even know her brothers were here in Dorland or that Balen was with them?
Movement on the other side of the fire drew her attention. A man stood there who clearly wasn’t a ryrik—he was a crete. Her eyes widened as his gaze met hers. Something sparked familiarity, and she searched her memories until one came to her. She’d seen him the night of the celebration in Arvael. He hadn’t spoken, but he’d been amongst Cray’s group. It all made sense now. He must have followed them when they left the city and alerted the ryriks when they’d arrived at the ford.
Kyrin glared at the traitor, but he just stared at her, his expression hard and unchanging.
Geric motioned to one of the nearest ryriks at the fire. “I’m putting her in our tent. You can stand watch. The rest of us need to eat.”
The ryrik looked her up and down with a half grin and a chilling gleam in his eye as he stood. Kyrin fought not to show any intimidation, but she feared she did a poor job of it. He looked all too pleased to be her guard.
Geric led her toward one of the canvas tents at the tree line. Kyrin limped along with him, her ankle smarting. It swelled against the inside of her boot. They ducked into the tent supported by a single thick pole propped up in the center. She glanced at the two bedrolls on either side and couldn’t suppress a shudder. Would she have to share the tent with these men?
Geric turned her to face him and tugged at the knots in the rope around her wrists. When her hands came free, she rubbed the bruised and chafed skin with a wince.
“Sit down.” Geric gestured to the ground at the base of the tent pole.
Kyrin hesitated, reluctant to give up her momentary freedom but didn’t wait for him to force her. Careful of her ankle, she sat down against the pole, and Geric tied her arms back around it. Without a word, he left her alone. His footsteps took him away from the tent, but her guard stood just outside, his bulky figure silhouetted against the canvas by the glow of firelight. She gulped, praying he wouldn’t sneak inside while no one was looking.
Kyrin scanned the tent again, though it was difficult to see in the darkness if anything could be used to her benefit. She tested her bindings, but they were too tight to work loose. She felt around the base of the pole. Maybe she could try to work the ropes under it. However, even if she managed to raise the poll up enough, the entire tent might collapse on her and give her away. She let out a long, shaky breath. Unless Elôm provided a miraculous way of escape, she was trapped.
The miles crawled by while the hours did the opposite. They flew past, leaving Kyrin in harm’s way for longer and longer. Though the ryriks’ trail had become easier to read, Jace still felt as though they would never catch up.
A couple of hours after nightfall, Saul called the group to a halt near a small stream. “We’ll stop here for a short time.” He glanced at Jace. “The horses need a rest, especially if we have to leave quickly once we have your girl.”
Every instinct and desire inside Jace fought against stopping, but Saul was right. The horses did need to rest if they were to be of any use later. He slid down and led the mare they’d let him ride to the stream to drink. Suddenly aware of how dry his throat had become again, he cupped his hands and scooped up some water for himself. When he finished, he turned to where Saul was digging through his pack.
“Now that we’ve stopped, we’ll tend your wound properly.”
He motioned to a mossy log, and Jace took a seat, pulling off his shirt. Though not saturated, some blood had seeped through the bandages—another reason to stitch the wound. He didn’t want to provide any more scent for the wolves to follow.
Saul drew a leather pouch from his pack and then unwrapped the bandages. After cleaning away the fresh blood, he pulled a vial from the pouch that looked like the one Leetra always carried with her. Jace drew a deep breath, knowing how it would sting. Saul said nothing but cast him a look as if asking if he was ready. Jace nodded, and the man poured the clear liquid carefully along the wound. It seeped in and set the nerves on fire. He sucked in his breath through his teeth and swallowed down a groan. As the pain subsided, Saul threaded a thin needle and went to work closing the wound.
“So, what’s her name?” he asked, distracting Jace from the unpleasant sensation of the needle.
Jace sat quietly for a moment. They’d talked some during the afternoon, but even though Saul and the others professed belief in Elôm, a part of him still hesitated at sharing such personal information with them. They were ryriks. He told himself it shouldn’t matter, but it did. Still, he’d seen the looks of evil men so many times, and Saul had been nothing but helpful and genuine.
“Kyrin.” Just saying her name stabbed his chest with the longing to reach her. “Kyrin Altair.” Though he watched for a reaction, Saul gave none. The name didn’t seem to mean anything to him. Maybe the infamy of it hadn’t reached out here in the wilderness. “We’re wanted by Emperor Daican. That’s why they took us. So they could hand us over to him.”
Saul frowned. “They’re working for the emperor?”
“Apparently. I think he’s offering them gold to attack the giants. I guess they figured they could get more by
delivering anyone he considers a traitor.”
Saul just grunted in agreement and finished stitching the wound. Once the bandages were back in place, Jace pulled on his shirt and accepted more berries and some jerky from Saul. Though not hungry, he felt the way his body craved energy. If rescuing Kyrin came down to a fight, he needed to be prepared.
“What were you doing out here when you found me?” he asked as they ate.
“Tracking the wolves,” Saul answered. “They’ve been hanging around our village and getting after our livestock. We thought we’d thin out the pack and bring back some pelts.”
Jace thanked Elôm for placing them nearby. His desire to reach Kyrin had eclipsed the miracle of it, but now it sank in. Not only had they saved his life but, without them, would he have even had a chance of saving Kyrin on his own?
“Thank you for rescuing me. I must confess I didn’t know if I should trust you and questioned your motives. I’ve never heard of any ryriks who believed in Elôm.” Jace hesitated. “And I wasn’t completely sure it was possible given what most people believe about ryriks’ souls.”
A moment of quiet followed his confession, but instead of looking offended, Saul nodded slowly. “Who could blame you, considering the reputation ryriks have? There haven’t been enough of us to change it.”
“How many of you do follow Elôm?”
“More than most would think, but we tend to keep hidden here on this side of the Trayse River and away from Arcacia. There are many villages south of here set up for ryriks who don’t wish to follow in the violence that is so prevalent among our race. At least half of us follow the King.”
“So you do have souls,” Jace said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yes,” Saul replied with certainty. “Not all of us rebelled against Elôm. There has always been a faithful remnant of us who have followed Him. What most people don’t know is that Elôm created ryriks, with all of our fire and passion, to fight for justice and righteousness. Such a thing has been long since forgotten by Ilyon, but we’re diligent in passing the knowledge down through our faithful generations.”
Amazement swelled inside Jace. He’d accepted his ryrik blood and its origins as a fact that didn’t define who he was, but Saul’s words changed everything. It meant his blood didn’t just belong to a race most of Ilyon viewed as monsters but a race created by Elôm for a noble purpose. Is it true, Lord? A quiet affirmation settled in his heart. He had let go of his former insecurities and doubts, but some of them must have remained because they released now.
He shook his head, his voice a little rough. “I never would have known that.”
Saul smiled in understanding. “Perhaps someday, Elôm willing, more people will know.”
They fell silent for a few minutes as Jace contemplated how such knowledge could change things. Yet, even if others never found out, he knew, and it had the potential to affect his entire life. He couldn’t wait to share it with Kyrin. She would be overjoyed. He smiled faintly as he imagined the way her eyes would light up and how pleased she would be.
Then his chest constricted, and he prayed hard. Hanging his head, he stared down at his hands, and his gaze rested on the thin scar below his right thumb. He rubbed it, and his throat clogged up. He’d gotten it the day he had finally admitted to himself how deeply he loved Kyrin. He cleared his throat and pressed his fingers against his eyes.
“When was the last time you slept?” Saul asked.
Jace shook his head, having to take a moment to think about it. Everything seemed like one long blur. “Two days.”
“We won’t be here long, but you should try to rest.”
Jace released a heavy sigh. “I can’t. Not when I know she’s still out there.”
He grimaced. All day, his one goal had been to reach her before nightfall—before she found herself completely vulnerable to the ryriks. But he’d failed.
He spoke quietly, hardly able to form the words. “My mother was attacked by a ryrik. That’s where I came from. I just can’t bear the thought of Kyrin having to face such horror.”
It was hard to say, but in a way, sharing his fears—letting them out instead of holding them inside—helped.
Saul gave a sympathetic nod. “I understand. I would feel the same if it were my wife, Jayna, or my daughter, Liese. But Elôm is with her and even more capable of protecting her than you are.”
Though every part of him wanted to be with Kyrin and protect her himself, he had to agree. “You’re right.”
Even if he were with her, he’d be just as helpless to keep her safe as he was right now. That rested entirely in Elôm’s hands.
For another twenty minutes, they let the horses rest and graze while Jace explained what had brought his group to Dorland. However, he didn’t mention that Balen was head of that group. Though he believed now that he could trust Saul and the others, it wasn’t his place to make Balen known to them. He discovered that Saul knew Jorvik and his brothers well and that they often traded crops and livestock. No wonder none of the giant brothers had ever questioned or even seemed to notice the hints of his mixed race.
At last, Saul gathered up his pack and everyone rose. More than ready to get moving again, Jace retrieved the mare, and they set off. For one of the first times in his life, Jace thanked Elôm for his ryrik blood, which enabled him to see in the dark. Though Saul and the others could follow the trail, it helped Jace to see the signs for himself. They were getting fresher.
A few miles from where they’d rested, the ryriks’ trail led them right to the edge of the Trayse River and a large log that spanned across it.
“Looks like they crossed here.” Saul turned in the saddle to look at the others. “We’ll have to leave the horses. Ross, why don’t you stay with them?”
The man nodded, and they all dismounted. Jace looked across to the other side and prayed they were close. He turned at a tap on the shoulder, and Ross offered him his sword.
“Take this. You might need it more than I will.”
“Thank you.” Jace buckled the sword belt on and joined Saul at the log where they crossed over single file. On the opposite bank, they paused where the ground was soft and clearly distinguished several sets of footprints. Jace bent down to study them, looking for one set in particular. A knot twisted in his stomach.
“I don’t see her tracks.” He looked again in case he missed them, but all he could find were boot tracks made by men.
“These here are deeper.” Saul pointed out one set. “Are any of them a lot larger than the others?”
Jace shook his head.
“Then he must be carrying something . . . or someone.”
Jace clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. If they were carrying Kyrin, what did it mean? Was she hurt? He squeezed his eyes shut and stopped himself from going too far down that road. He couldn’t know the answer and speculating would only torture him. With the prayers that never ceased to flow from his heart, he straightened and pushed on. He just had to find her.
Saul and the others let him lead the way now. His heart rate accelerated at how fresh the signs were. They couldn’t be more than an hour old. Then, a couple of miles from the river, Jace stopped. Firelight flickered in the trees ahead. He pointed it out to Saul.
“We’d better be careful from here,” the man whispered. “They might have watches at the perimeter.”
They crept ahead, keeping to cover as much as possible. With every step, his anxiousness grew, but he had to move with extreme caution. If they alerted the ryriks to their presence, there would be nothing to stop them from using Kyrin against him, just like last time. The only way to rescue her safely was to get to her before they realized what was happening. As he crept along, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, he prayed for Elôm to provide them just the opportunity they needed to get Kyrin away from her captors without any harm coming to her.
When they finally drew near enough to observe the camp, Jace took stock of the situation. Close to
twenty ryriks sat around the fire. He scanned the faces and immediately picked out Geric and Ruis. But where was Kyrin? His gaze darted around the camp and landed on a ryrik standing a few yards from the fire in front of a tent. He nodded to it and barely whispered, “She must be in there.”
Saul nodded. “If we can work our way around, maybe you can get to the back of the tent without being seen. We can cover your escape from the trees.”
Jace gave the camp a final look to be sure there weren’t any factors they were missing. Just before he was about to move, a shorter figure approached the fire from the opposite side of camp. A crete. Jace glanced at Saul, who spotted the man too, but then Jace ducked behind some bushes and crept around the edge of camp. Kyrin was his priority right now. Whatever the ryriks and the crete were up to could wait until after she was safe.
Though Jace was desperate to get to her, he forced himself to move slowly and place every step deliberately. One snap of a twig or rustle of leaves would blow their secrecy. After a few minutes, a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face from the intensity of his concentration. He’d never had to be so careful in the woods before. The couple of hundred feet to reach the area behind the tent felt more like a mile.
When they stopped in the cover of a thick grouping of pines, Jace drew long deep breaths to steady himself and peeked around the trees toward the fire. So far, not one of the ryriks appeared to know that anyone crept around in the forest. He turned to Saul and the others, who silently strung their bows.
Saul pulled a knife from his belt and handed it to Jace. “You might need it to free her.”
Jace stuck it in his own belt and tested the sword Ross had loaned him, making sure it drew smoothly and easily.
“Give us a minute to spread out and get into position before you move on the tent. If you’re spotted, we’ll do what we can to slow them down. You just grab her and get to the river.”
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 25
