Quest of the Dreamwalker (The Corthan Legacy Book 1)

by Stacy Bennett

  Damn, I’m getting soft, he thought. What’s next? We hide at Seal Bay until we can figure out how to stop the bastard? Khoury slowed. It still bothered him that somehow, magical or otherwise, the girl had too tight a hold on his emotions. But enthralled or not, he couldn’t allow the sorcerer to have her.

  The Clan was the closest thing to family he’d had in a long time. The losses they suffered today angered him, fueling his hatred of the sorcerer. A few steps later, he realized he was about to put them in danger again.

  “Wait,” he said, stopping. “We can’t go this way.” Both Northerners turned to look at him.

  “This is the way. It’s safe,” Bradan said.

  “We can’t … I can’t take Cara to Seal Bay.”

  “What?” Archer was crestfallen.

  “Whatever she is, Sidonius desperately wants her back. And this setback won’t stop him.”

  “All the more reason to join up with the others,” Archer argued.

  “No. It’s all the more reason not to,” Khoury said. “Giants, Archer. Think about it. If he wants her this badly, anyone we involve will be threatened. I don’t know how far his power can reach, but he found her here, and I can’t risk leading him to Seal Bay next.”

  “You’re right.” The grizzled chieftain deflated a bit. Khoury heard the weariness in the older man’s voice. “She can’t go to the Bay.”

  “You two go ahead to meet them,” Khoury said. “I’ll send word when I find a safe place to hide her.”

  Archer stared at Khoury, shock blatant on his face. “You’re not facing this alone, Captain. I swore to protect you. I don’t return to the Clan until you do.”

  “You should see Maura and tell her you’re okay,” Khoury said.

  “She’ll understand,” Archer said. “And besides, I won’t risk her either.”

  Khoury noted Bradan’s frown deepen at the mention of Maura. Nevertheless, he was relieved Archer was staying with him. There was no one he trusted more.

  “Okay, what’s your plan?” Bradan asked.

  “We need a road that leads to allies, not family.” In his mind, Khoury shuffled through the faces of men he’d risked much for, someone who owed him, someone close enough to reach on foot.

  “What about Wallace at Iolair?” Archer said.

  “He does owe me a favor or two, doesn’t he?” Khoury grinned. Iolair might do nicely.

  “More than that,” Archer said. “Rumor is he has a Far Isles adviser.”

  “Does he? That sly fox.”

  “Maybe his sorcerer knows our friend in the Black Keep and can tell us why he wants Cara so badly.”

  “Excellent plan, Archer.”

  “Can you trust this Wallace?” Bradan asked.

  “Usually,” Khoury said making Archer chuckle. “Anyway, my gut tells me that the farther we get from the Keep the better.”

  “All right, boys,” Bradan said. “Let’s see what we can find out about this Sidonius fellow.”

  Archer put a hand on Bradan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to come, Bradan. The Clan needs you.”

  “The Clan will be fine without me at the Bay. Old Fynan can be a bastard, but he’ll look after them. I have another task to do.” The chieftain gestured to Cara. “The Old Ones want me to help her reclaim her power.”

  Khoury’s stomach soured. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked.

  Bradan looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Power is a double-edged sword,” Khoury said. She had a kind heart now but how often had he seen power turn kindness to cruelty?

  “This is her birthright,” Bradan said. “Would you keep that from her?”

  If it kept her safe.

  “Just because it was given to her,” Khoury said, “doesn’t mean it’s good for her.”

  The chieftain looked stunned. “You would keep her small? Keep her ignorant?”

  “Power comes at a price. Always. Are you sure she will want to pay it?”

  The shaman stared at him, like he’d proclaimed blasphemy. Khoury didn’t even want the power he had. Not that it hadn’t come in handy but each time he used it was a risk. Few men could resist the seductive taint of domination.

  But this wasn’t an argument he could win standing in the pines. “We should get moving,” he said.

  “South it is,” Archer said. He sidled past Khoury to lead them south. Shifting Cara to a more comfortable position, the captain let Bradan go ahead of him and trailed after the other men.

  After an hour of hiking, a winded Bradan called for rest. They paused in a thick stand of pine trees, and Khoury noted the sun was past its peak. It had been over half a day and yet the comfort of Bear Clan already seemed years away.

  “You know, the Southern road is east of here,” Bradan gestured down the slight rise. The chieftain looked wan in the afternoon sun.

  “Archer knows what he’s doing,” the captain said. “Sidonius is sure to have spies along every main route south. We won’t be using the road.”

  Archer just smiled at his chieftain and shrugged; he knew the drill. Knew Khoury would want to go to ground.

  “How could he possibly cover them all?” the chieftain asked.

  “I don’t know,” Khoury said, “but it’s what I’d do. Cross country will be safer.”

  “Through the Tangle?” Archer asked the captain but only for confirmation.

  Khoury nodded. “I’ve done it before. With Ellis.”

  “But Foresthaven,” Bradan said in shock. “We can’t pass that way.”

  “Foresthaven is in the Tangle, but it’s not all of it. We can avoid them and still stay off the road. From the stories, the barrier to the forest is obvious.”

  Bradan harrumphed, apparently unconvinced though he didn’t argue further.

  The three men hiked the remainder of the day, making camp in a low hollow surrounded on three sides by boulders. They had covered a lot of ground with no sign of pursuit, but Cara hadn’t roused. Khoury felt confident they could risk a fire. Besides, he needed some warmth to combat the chill in his bones. He laid Cara near the small flames Archer coaxed to life.

  “Do you think she made it?” Archer asked out of Bradan’s earshot, staring up into the cold night.

  Khoury recognized the longing in that stance. “Maura’s a smart girl,” he said. “She’s probably about ready to skin you alive for not showing up.”

  Archer snorted in agreement, but the humor didn’t last long. He had always been steadfast in battle, but Khoury could see that the attack on the Clan had hit him hard.

  Bradan took the first watch and Archer left with his bow to find some food, leaving Khoury alone with Cara and the fire. He wrapped her in his cloak and hers but still she felt cool. He tucked a loose strand of her long white hair behind her ear just as a heavy footfall thumped behind him. It was Gar coming over to snuffle her face. The great beast was so unobtrusive Khoury had forgotten he was with them. Then the bear settled in gently near her, seeming to understand her need for warmth.

  And so, Khoury was alone with his thoughts. Iolair was a good suggestion. It was well-fortified, and Wallace would give them shelter for at least a little while. Wallace had been Khoury’s lieutenant before Archer. Steadfast and smart, he’d been a good second, at least until he decided to turn in his sword for a baron’s crest and a citadel that Khoury helped him win. Yes, Jacob Wallace would do his best for them.

  Khoury thought he’d never find a second as capable as Wallace, but fate had smiled and Archer appeared within the month.

  Suddenly, Cara bolted upright with a shout. She looked around with unseeing eyes in a panic. Khoury rushed to her, grabbing her shoulders gently.

  “Cara. It’s me.” He turned her to face him. When she recognized him, she collapsed into his arms and buried her face in his chest. “You’re all right now.” Her soft hair felt good against his cheek. He breathed in her scent, content just to hold her.

  Shifting against him, she turned her palm toward her face
, inspecting the burn across it.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” she croaked, swallowing hard. Her surprised hand flew to her throat, the pain sharp enough to bring tears. Khoury gently took her hand in his, careful to keep the shreds of glove between them. Shadows of the day’s brutality lingered in her ice-blue gaze.

  “Too bad Ingrid isn’t around to mix a poultice for that burn,” he said, hoping to cheer her. “And perhaps some tea.”

  She shook her head vigorously at his words, tears running down her cheeks.

  “What?”

  “She’s dead,” Cara’s voice was little more than a croak. She swallowed hard. “And Ingrid and Siobhan and…where’s Bradan?”

  “On lookout.”

  “I…I need to see him. He needs to know.”

  “No.” Khoury dreaded the confirmation.

  “Ealea is…” Cara shook her head.

  “Are you sure?” The news would devastate the old man.

  She nodded. “Thomas, too. And his mother. I watched them all die. It’s not fair.” The broken words tumbled out of her like water over a burst dam.

  “It’s not,” he agreed, holding her close, not sure what to say.

  “And worse, it’s all because of me. Don’t you see? It’s my fault.” Abundant tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “Your fault?” he asked, though he knew what she was going to say next.

  “Sidonius.” The word slithered out in an ugly whisper. A pink flush crept up her neck into her cheeks. “I saw him in a vision. He sent the giants. I never should have left him.” She bawled then, hard and inconsolable, clutching his clothes in desperate hands. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling the sobs shudder through her frail frame.

  “The amulet’s gone now,” he said. “He won’t be able to track you so easily. We’re going somewhere for help.”

  Cara pulled back to look up at him. “We? You mean you’re going to help me?” she asked with a hiccup.

  “Someone has to keep you from falling in the river, right?” He cursed himself for a fool even as the hope in her eyes pleased him.

  “I thought you wanted to leave me there.”

  “I thought the Clan would be safe for you.” And he would be guiltless and free of her. Though now he wondered if that was really what he wanted after all.

  She sighed and leaned against him, her calm returning. “I should tell Bradan now,” she said. “Before I can’t.”

  Khoury nodded, his heart grim. They found Bradan sitting on a stump looking out into the darkened woods. He turned as Khoury walked up with Cara in tow. When Bradan caught her eyes, his face crumpled.

  “I hoped I was mistaken, but it is true.”

  “I-I’m sorry, Bradan. She was trying to….”

  “Stop!” he rasped, cutting her off with a raised hand. “I beg you not to haunt me with details my heart will never forget. Do not speak them.”

  The shaman’s sorrow cut Khoury to the quick. He knew all too well what the chieftain meant. He had his own ghosts.

  Cara moved to put a hand on Bradan’s arm but paused, unsure. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing, child. There is nothing to be done except honor her…memory.” Bradan stood slowly as if the air was too heavy to move through. “I’ll be back by sunrise, I promise.”

  Cara moved to follow as he disappeared into the dark woods.

  “Let him grieve his own way,” Khoury said, grabbing her hand to stop her. When their skin touched through the torn glove, the ghosts she’d previously resurrected reverberated in his mind with painful clarity. He almost couldn’t breathe. He released her hand, but it was too late. He couldn’t look at her without his memories pressing on him.

  “But he’ll be alone out there,” she said plaintively.

  “Sometimes a man needs to be alone,” Khoury said. “I’ll stand watch.” He nudged her back toward the warmth and the light of the fire.

  After she reluctantly returned to Gar, the captain stared blindly out into the forest. As much as he resisted, his mind replayed the memory he dreaded. He’d lost that first battle. Lost everything but the breath that kept him going. And he feared this attraction to Cara would end the same way. He didn’t know if he could survive that again.

  The snap of a stick roused him from his morbid imaginings as Archer stalked out of the forest, three large bush-rats slung over his shoulder. “Dinnertime,” he said. “Where’s Bradan?”

  “Cara woke up.” Khoury rose to accompany him back to the firelight. “The giants killed Ealea.”

  Archer stopped short, and Khoury could feel fear grip his friend. “And Maura?” The words were barely a whisper as if Archer was afraid to breathe.

  “Cara didn’t mention her. We have to assume she’s okay,” Khoury reassured the larger man. Archer only grunted.

  When they reached the fire Cara had fallen asleep in its yellow glow, curled up against Gar. The two men cleaned and cooked the small animals, eating in silence. They left some of the meat wrapped in broad leaves and buried in the coals to dry for the next day.

  “I can take first watch,” Archer said as he sat, putting a large branch on the fire.

  “I don’t think the bear would let anything get near her or us. You should sleep if you can,” Khoury said, and he settled up against a tree, exhausted and troubled.

  CARA WOKE TO Khoury and Archer packing up camp. Her throat burned. Her palm ached. And as for her heart, it was too broken to shed any more tears. Refusing to face the day, she pulled her knees up and snuggled closer to Gar’s shaggy bulk.

  Her ragged glove snagged a bit of dried skin, sending a burning ache deep into her hand and up her arm. She bit her lip to stifle a whimper as she carefully peeled the tattered leather glove from raw flesh. The blister had broken and dead skin sloughed away leaving an open wound through the valley of her palm, a grim reminder of the father who hunted her. She studied the pattern of Sidonius’s amulet forever melted into her palm while she absently traced the edge of healthy skin around the wound like a prisoner pacing the edges of her domain.

  A trail of warmth tingled on her skin beneath her circling fingertip. Each circuit increased the heat until it felt like a sunbeam was shining on her aching hand, chasing away the pain. She lulled herself with the hypnotic circling of the soothing warmth, her eyes half-closed as she watched Archer dig leaf-wrapped meat out of cooling embers.

  A haggard Bradan stumbled into view. The tear-streaked grime on his face saddened her. There was dirt on his clothes and grief written in every move. Cara thought he looked far older than she remembered, as old as Ingrid had been.

  Noting Khoury’s stare, Bradan forestalled any questions with a raised hand. “I know. Past time to be on our way.”

  Cara knew she couldn’t hide behind Gar any longer. She slid the stiffened leather glove over her hand again and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed against Gar’s bulk, weak and dizzy. A concerned nose snuffled her arm and in her mind echoed a promise to carry her when she had need. She threw an arm over his shaggy neck in gratitude.

  The four of them headed south, breaking their fast on the cold scorched meat as they walked. Her appetite had deserted her. It all tasted like dust—and dust reminded her of the Keep—so Cara slipped the meat in pieces to Gar as they walked. He enjoyed it so much he took to nudging her hand with his nose as they walked. His eager nudges grew more persistent and soon her arm was flapping comically, making her smile.

  About mid-morning, Archer dropped back and pulled Cara aside. His face was anxious. “Maura?” was all he could manage to say.

  She slipped a gloved hand in his and squeezed reassuringly. “She was already on a sled when the bears bolted for the woods. I’m sure she’s on her way to Seal Bay right now.”

  Archer brushed at his eyes. “Thank you.” His voice was raw with emotion, and he slid his large arms around her shoulders and hugged her tight. When he let her go, much of the tension had left him though his eyes were still haunted. When he noticed
her scrutiny, he flashed a smile and threw an impulsive arm around her, dropping a brotherly kiss on the top of her head. His eyes drifted toward her ruined glove. Tenderly, he took that hand in his and turned it palm up.

  “It’s healing fast.” Shock was evident on his face.

  Cara looked down at the angry red pattern of welts. The flesh was no longer the raw meat it had been when she woke. It had matured and toughened. Skin had begun closing over the wet pinkness. “Strange,” she murmured, looking curiously at it, her other hand absently stroking the sides of the wound. With her glove on, there was no sensation of sunshine.

  With an odd look, he chucked her gently under the chin, scratched Gar behind an ear, and fell back to check on Bradan.

  As the day wore on, Cara tired quickly. In the end, she rode Gar like the day before. Her limbs weak with exhaustion, she had no strength or desire to keep up with the others. She rubbed thoughtlessly at the tatters of skin along her neck with her bare fingers. The same heat developed, and she basked in the warmth, the rhythmic swaying of the bear’s back lulling her into mindlessness.

  A sad gloom hovered over the four companions as they headed south and west throughout that day. And the next. By the end of the third day, they had reached the southern snowline, which seemed to please Khoury immensely. He said the climate would be more agreeable, but Archer explained that Gar had to stay behind.

  “Bears are bred for the cold. Heat makes them sick.”

  “I can’t just let him go,” she argued, “who would take care of him?” Panic settled in her chest.

  Archer laid a warm hand on her shoulder, which did nothing to ease the knot of tears in her throat. “He’s a grown bear; he’ll be fine.”

  “He’ll be lonely,” she whined, frantic for a valid excuse as a tear escaped her lashes. “He won’t understand. I can’t do that to him.” There was no stopping the tears that coursed down her face. Tears that hadn’t come for days despite the sorrow in her heart now tumbled freely at the thought of being parted from Gar. Just imagining his absence cut through the numbness that kept her bruised heart from breaking further. She couldn’t let go, she needed him.