Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1)

by Stacy Bennett

  No longer interested in the broken sledge, the giants turned to the forest, sweeping the brush for other refugees. But as the trailing giant turned for a last look at the clearing, he caught sight of Cara peering over Gar’s back. His eyes grew wide and he shouted to his cohort, pointing at her. Excited, both giants rushed toward her. Guilt twisted inside her as they finally said something she did understand. “White-haired woman!”

  She knew Gar would protect her to the end but after what she had just seen she wouldn’t risk his life against two of them. She grabbed a handful of fur and hauled herself up onto Gar’s broad back.

  “Run!” she commanded and, with a roar, he turned and ran to the nearest patch of forest. She heard the giants storming after her. Her fingers dug deep into his thick pelt as the bear plunged into the woods. Numb with horror, she could only duck her head and ride it out as Gar wove in and out of the trees. Branches scraped her arms and back, but she didn’t let go or look up. The giant’s words echoed in her ears. White-haired woman.

  After what seemed like forever, the sounds of pursuit faded. Gar crested a snowy hillock and slowed to stop, sides heaving.

  Cara slid off and crumpled to her knees in a shallow snowy drift, her body shaking. “No,” she wailed into the frozen ground. “No, no, no.” The image of Ealea and Ingrid’s crumpled bodies was burned into her mind. “Not them. Please no.” She wept into the snow.

  Hunched over, she noticed a strange bluish glow radiating from inside the cloak. She sat back and tucked her chin down hard. A pulsing blue light came from her amulet, just as it had that night she journeyed and killed the cat in the spirit world. She placed a hand over the stone and suspicion twisted around her spine.

  “What have I done?” The giant’s words rang in her memory again. She knew he could only have meant her. A cold weight settled in her stomach.

  I brought this on the Clan.

  “Father!” She screamed into the frozen sky as furious tears streamed down her face.

  Her hands searched the chain for a clasp but for the first time Cara noticed that there was none. She tried slipping the chain over her head but it was too short. She remembered the blazing red gem on Gar’s harness and the feel of fire licking at her skin. Panicked, she grabbed the stone, trying to pry it out of its setting. Neither the chain nor the setting gave way despite broken bleeding nails.

  As she cradled the stone in her palm wrapping her fingers around it, it warmed. When Cara tried to drop it, her hand refused to open. Terror gripped her as the heat increased, spreading to her hand and then her arm. There was no feeling of fire as there had been on the tundra but her breathing came in quick, fearful puffs. The world spun for a moment as she collapsed in a heap still clasping the gem.

  Cara descended into a dark void. A foul wind ruffled her hair and clothes and the faint mumbling of an incantation hissed in her ears. She looked around but saw nothing: No landmarks, no light, no point of reference. A robed figure, its face hooded, solidified out of the dark, gesturing toward her. She felt herself pulled closer until she stood face to face with the dark shape. Then it started to laugh. Flinging back his hood, Sidonius’s cruel face leaned close. Close enough for her to smell the dust that permeated his very being.

  “You thought you could escape me, Daughter?” He snarled the name with disdain, and she knew then he had never been her father. “This will teach you to run.”

  He raised a claw-like hand and gestured at her with a quick twisting movement. Pain ripped through her belly and she doubled over. The breath whooshed from her lungs. But even here, she could feel the bandages on the wounds she’d gotten in Bradan’s tent and her mind spun.

  Was this just a dream? Intuition told her that to some extent that was true. But when wounded in her dreams, she returned to waking life with real scars. What if she died?

  Desperate, Cara reached into herself for the forest. Her forest. She’d left Bradan behind in the spirit world; maybe she could do it now. Her jangling nerves distracted her; pain throbbed through her middle. Sidonius’s cackling echoed in her frayed mind. Then, her nose detected a whiff of something familiar, the scent of pine and dirt. She latched her attention to the smell and by force of will drew in the essence of nature.

  When she opened her eyes, she could see the familiar forest around her, feel earth beneath her feet. Unfortunately, Sidonius was still standing in front of her. His face twisted into an angry mask.

  “Do you think you can play this game with me?” He sneered at her. This time he stretched his arms to the sky. Cara’s heart thudded with fear as thunder rumbled above. She closed her eyes tightly but it didn’t save her from the rippling energy that tore through her body accompanied by the smell of lightning.

  She had to get away. The weight of the amulet, still clasped in her hand, drew her attention. She reached her mind deep within the gem, looking for the answer. It glowed in her mind’s eye, and she welcomed the energy. Drawing strength from the stone, she focused her mind on one thought—freedom.

  “That trinket is mine,” Sidonius said with disdain. “It can’t help you.” The stone’s glow dimmed and it began to feel cooler but still she tried to soak up what energy she could. The coolness turned to cold as if it were stealing heat.

  “Now I have you.” The sorcerer smiled as the flow of energy reversed. The stone was pulling at her. The sharpness of ice lanced her hand, circled her wrist, and crawled up her arm as spirit winds swirled around her.

  Frightened, she tried again to drop the stone but the skin of her palm and fingers stuck to it. She tried to use her other hand to pull it from the stone, anticipating the pain of skin tearing but it was no use. Another crack of thunder and a shock of pain spun through her head and down to her legs.

  She struggled with the amulet, pulling it away from her with both hands, her mind focused on nothing but getting free. Pressure, like a giant hand, clamped down on the back of her neck, bending her forward but she resisted. And still she pulled, tears gathering. Her arms went numb. Then air refused to enter her lungs. Her throat convulsed with hunger as the pressure clamped down the sides of her neck.

  Another crack of lightning sizzled through her body. She would have screamed except her throat was closed. Sidonius was choking her.

  Finally, she felt a slight give. Her hand was in icy agony, but by now her whole world was pain. She kept telling herself it was just a dream. She told herself to wait it out. But her chest ached for air and the pressure on her neck changed again, tearing at her throat like a hungry animal. She thrashed against the chain, fighting like a trapped animal. She grew light-headed, fearing the end. Then…

  Cara awoke in the real world, her face in snow, gulping air like a drowning woman. She was dazed and coughing blood. A warm, wet nose nuzzled her shoulder. She could smell Gar’s musky scent as he lay beside her giving warmth and support. Cara opened her eyes, blinking back tears from the blinding whiteness of the hillside. A patch of snow beneath her chin was red with blood. Her hands rested in the snow, her left palm throbbing with gut-wrenching pain. Her throat felt like it had been crushed, her breathing was ragged.

  It was then she noticed the silver chain lying slightly buried in the snow beneath her burned hand. She lifted her head and weakly picked up the chain. Its circle was unbroken, smeared with blood. The brilliant blue gem that once dangled at the end of the necklace was now a dull black rock. She dropped to the snow in a dead faint.

  HOW MANY HOURS had it been since he’d awakened from violent dreams to find a reality more brutal than any nightmare? An hour, a day? Bradan couldn’t have said except that it had been far too long since he’d set eyes on his wife. Ealea had kissed him before she’d gone to shepherd the sick and weak to the pens. Now, the memory of her lips was like a drop of water to a thirsty man, only intensifying his need.

  He felt itchy in his skin, restless and anxious, and he chided himself for his lack of calm. He was Chieftain. His people needed him to be steady. But a rising dread dogged his steps, s
ucking the very strength of his heart. Even the spirits of the pines were unnaturally quiet, their murmurings and sighs drowned beneath the cacophony of the battle.

  He glanced back quickly to make sure he hadn’t lost anyone and was rewarded with the haunted faces of his Clansmen and the grim coldness of the two mercenaries. He barely recognized Archer as the dreamy-eyed boy he’d once known. He turned back to the forest ahead of him and tried not to wonder if there would be anything left to entice Reid home after this.

  A small breeze roused him from his thoughts, playing across his neck like fingers. His hair stood on end and a ghostly chill climbed his back, but he kept running. Giants were scattered even this far out from the village, forcing Bradan to lead the men on a meandering path. He stopped in a tight stand of trees to catch his breath. The men crouched in what nearby cover they could find.

  With his head tilted back against the rough bark, he rubbed at the twinge of pain in his neck and shoulder. What waited for them at the meeting place? How many would be left?

  The wind swirled around him again, insistent, teasing him with tendrils of air along his neck and face, tugging at his beard braids. He looked up at the leaves and realized there was no earthly wind to stir them.

  A calling, he thought. So the spirits were still with him.

  The restless captain crept out from his hiding place, low among the budding brambles. The chieftain watched him survey the nearby pines but as the man raised no alarm, Bradan allowed himself a moment’s rest.

  The wind’s strange insistence spurred him to seek out the spirit who so obviously wanted his attention. Calming his breath, he stared sightlessly ahead as his power shifted him half into the Otherworld.

  There was a voice waiting for him in that wind, its dulcet tone so familiar that his heart shriveled in his chest. Only the tree behind him kept him upright. Steeling himself, he closed his eyes against the prick of tears and listened well. When his sight shifted back and the wind had faded away, he knew what he had to do. Cara needed them.

  Khoury returned to the group and whispered, “It’s like they’re looking for something.”

  “They are,” Bradan said. “They’re looking for the girl.”

  “Cara?” Apprehension skittered across Khoury’s usual stony scowl.

  Bradan nodded. The captain was still drawn to the girl, he thought. Good. He shoved away from the tree with more strength than he felt. “Thowald,” Bradan said, “take the others to the meeting place. If we don’t show up by midafternoon, make sure the Clan heads to Seal Bay.”

  “But Chieftain—” Thowald began even as Bradan raised a hand to stop him.

  “I follow a different road. Archer and his captain will assist me, but there is a spirit matter I must attend to.”

  Thowald’s jaw clenched with rebellion.

  “At the Standing Stones,” Bradan added. The invocation of the sacred hill silenced any further comment. They would not argue with a shaman’s duty. When no giants were in sight, the Clansmen headed off northwest as a group, and Bradan sent his desperate prayers for safety with them.

  Once they had left, Bradan’s heart felt even heavier. The captain was watching him with eager tension, but Bradan had little to say by way of explanation other than, “Cara’s in trouble. Follow me.”

  Without a word, the two warriors followed him south into the snowy woods.

  Bradan felt the change in the air well before they crossed the line of sarsens that jutted from the frosty ground. Twenty-one enormous slabs of stone stood at attention in a ring around the top third of the hillock. Their rough surface was pale gray with captured snow though toward the ground they darkened to a deep mossy green as if drawing color from the earth they rested upon.

  They were old friends, he and these stones, these silent protectors of his father’s lore. The familiar peace of the sacred place seeped into his joints, like spring sunshine on a cool morn. The spirit whisperings had returned though the number of voices had multiplied, apparently drawn to Cara’s distress like moths to the moon.

  Bradan slowed to a walk as he crossed that invisible border and climbed the gentle slope of the meadowed hillock beyond. No giant would find them here.

  “What is this place?” the captain asked, and Bradan sensed a hint of awe and suspicion in his voice.

  “The Standing Stones,” Archer answered, his face softening slightly. It was the first he’d spoken since he’d seen the giants in the village.

  “Standing stones, huh.” Khoury’s gaze raked the pastoral scene as if expecting an ambush, but he was obviously affected by the energy of the place.

  “This place is sacred,” the chieftain said aloud, taking comfort in the voices only he could hear, “and safe. It belongs to the Old Ones. Here, their energy is strongest, their influence the greatest.”

  He led the men up to the crest of the hill and there in a bare coating of snow, they found a large hump of white fur, which wasn’t quite what Bradan had expected. It rumbled and shifted at their approach. Enigmatic black eyes regarded them with uncanny knowing, and Bradan recognized the beast by its tattered ear.

  “That’s Cara’s bear,” Archer said with surprise.

  As they neared, Bradan noticed the blue hem of Cara’s dress fanned out over the pale ground the same time as the captain did. She was sprawled facedown near the great paws on snow splotched with disturbing patches of red.

  “Cara.” The captain said her name on a hoarse breath as he rushed forward. A strange noise from Gar stopped him in his tracks: Part whine, part growl. It sounded like the beast was worried for her and the spirits echoed its concern.

  Archer stepped around his captain, crooning in a low voice, imitating the sounds Cara made to the beast. “Easy. Easy,” he said gently as he slid forward a step or two. “Remember me?” He moved forward inch by inch until he could touch the shaggy head. Laying his hand on the large expanse between the dark eyes, he pressed his fingers into the deep fur. “It’s okay, old boy. We’re here to help.”

  The bear sniffed him and then relaxed. Archer stooped near the large head and touched Cara’s neck.

  “She’s alive,” he said and gently scooped the small woman up into his arms. The bear rumbled anxiously but remained passive. As her hand dangled limply, Bradan noted something silver drop and land in the snow.

  “What’s this?” He bent down and retrieved what looked like a silver chain from the frost.

  Khoury peered over his shoulder. “That’s Cara’s amulet. But what happened to the stone?”

  The gem was no longer blue, but black—charred like it had been burned. Bradan reached for her hand and turned it over. Underneath her tattered glove, an angry scarlet burn streaked across her palm. Its contours matched the pattern of the stone’s setting. Then he swept back her unbound white hair. An ugly wound completely encircled her neck, its edges littered with ragged bits of torn skin.

  “What happened?” Archer asked, shifting her in his arms so he could see better.

  Khoury took the chain from Bradan and examined it more closely. “It’s unbroken.”

  The three men stared at each other in shocked silence over the head of the small white-haired woman. She was more a mystery now than she had been that first day in the dining hall when she had read the questions from his mind.

  “Is she a sorcerer then? His true daughter?” Khoury asked, his face hard once more.

  Bradan rubbed weary eyes with thick fingers as the voices rushed to answer the captain’s question though the man couldn’t hear them. “No. She isn’t a Far Islander. Her talents are…of a different sort.”

  Cara whimpered softly in Archer’s arms.

  “Give her to me,” the captain said, his voice thick. “I’ll carry her.” Archer eyed his captain with consternation but obeyed and handed her to Khoury. Once she was cradled against his chest, Bradan could sense the subtle easing of tension in the man and the spirits murmured their encouragement.

  “Okay, let’s get going,” Archer urged. �
�If we hurry we can catch up to the others.”

  Weakened by numbing weariness and grief, Bradan allowed himself to follow down the hill and back the way they had come. He was too tired to figure out right then what he needed to do to help the girl, and he craved the familiar faces of his Clan to ease his sorrow. Khoury followed close behind Archer, and Bradan followed them side by side with the bear that huffed softly and trailed after the girl of its own accord.

  KHOURY BLINDLY FOLLOWED Archer, his mind spinning. Though giants had a history of attacking Bear Clan, those forays were rare. Was it simply bad luck or had they come for Cara as Bradan claimed? And how would the shaman know? Many of Archer’s childhood tales had included Bradan’s uncanny ability to pull information out of thin air, but Khoury hadn’t believed it. Until now.

  If they had come for her, the only reason Khoury could think of was that the sorcerer had sent them. It was far-fetched but the timing was right. Did Sidonius really possess enough power to have giants do his bidding? Khoury suppressed a shudder at the thought. And if he had ordered the attack, how had he found them? Khoury turned the puzzle over in his mind, trying to make sense of it: Cara’s powers, the sudden giant attack, and now the mystery of her removing the amulet.

  The amulet! Khoury cursed himself for not seeing it before. The blue stone, like the bears’ harness stones, had forged a connection between the wearer and the sorcerer. Apparently, one he could track.

  Khoury paused, letting Bradan pass him so he could prop Cara higher on his shoulder. Holding her with one arm, he reached into his pocket and drew out the amulet. Gar came up quietly and watched as he tossed the circlet one-handed into the woods, far away from their tracks. Khoury resettled her against his chest and started walking. Gar fell in behind him.

  The captain’s grim pleasure at Sidonius’s displeasure when the giants returned empty-handed faded with the realization that he should have anticipated this. They should have been prepared for another attempt. Not that he knew the sorcerer had giants in his arsenal but even so.