“What’s wrong?” Nothing moved now. Surely the danger had passed.
“We’re leaving.” He grabbed my upper arm and dragged me.
“What?” I bent to retrieve the forgotten hen. “Aren’t you going to—?”
He slapped it from my hand, then scrubbed my palms with his coat. “Touch nothing.”
I had the sense to realize it was a rare thing for this male to be jarred, and I did my best to keep up with him as he plowed through the briars and brush to reach the road. Once we neared Marron, he tossed me on her back and then led Brun and Noir toward Vaughn.
“Leave the fire. It’ll die on its own.” Rhys scanned the area. “Mount up, we cross the veil tonight.”
“We haven’t eaten more than dried berries today. We need meat in our guts.” He stabbed the air in Noir’s direction. “Our mounts need to eat before they decide their riders are palatable.”
“Stay then, if you like.” Rhys waved me closer. “We’re leaving.”
I spoke up. “We encountered a pecora in the brush.”
“What of it?” Vaughn folded his arms across his chest.
“It approached us, completely unafraid. No wild animal behaves that way unless it’s sick.” Out here, animals were food, not pets. “It had my mask hanging from its antlers.”
“Pecora aren’t predatory, and I hardly think you’re some snow princess for the northland creatures to court with gifts of your own clothing.” He frowned. “Where’s the hen? I’m starved.”
“It’s in the clearing, with the pecora.” Rhys held his sword at an angle so Vaughn and I saw it. “Along with whatever in the gods’ names bleeds yellow blood.”
Vaughn stalked to Rhys with his hand outstretched. “Let me see that—it reeks.” He examined the blade. “It must be some infection.” He winced. “Pus explains the color and stink.”
“What about the absence of blood?” Rhys reclaimed his sword, taking a moment to wipe the blade clean before he sheathed it. “What of that?”
“Perhaps it was the nature of the infection,” Vaughn argued, but he sounded less sure.
Rhys glanced at me. “I suppose asking you to cover your ears is out of the question.”
“Yes, it is.” Marron began shifting from foot to foot as if she were impatient to leave.
“I beheaded the beast,” Rhys said on a gust of breath. “From what I saw, it was rotted.”
“Rotted?” Vaughn echoed my thoughts.
“How could it have…? It responded to me when I shot it.” I had no doubt it had been aware. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know, and we aren’t waiting to discover the trick should another arrive.” Rhys swung himself onto Brun’s back and gave his brother a final chance. “I won’t risk her by remaining here. We’re riding for Beltania.”
“You’ll never find the runaway without my help.” He caught Noir’s bridle and paused a moment before mounting. “Besides, this will prove far more interesting than a night spent out in the open.” His mood improved sevenfold. “Family reunions are so enjoyable, don’t you think?”
I tried puzzling his meaning. Had he meant my reunion with Pascale? I didn’t think so. Judging by the tic working in Rhys’s jaw, this was yet another slight I’d failed to comprehend. Perhaps I’d find the root of their animosity in Beltania. Any answers I found would be welcome.
Grinning broader than made me comfortable, Vaughn urged Noir into a clipped gate.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your brother in such high spirits.” My remark met dead air.
“He enjoys Salticidae hospitality more than most.”
“Why is that?” I genuinely wondered what had put that gleeful light in his eyes.
Rhys gave the road ahead his full attention. “I’m sure he’ll see to it that you know soon enough.” He gestured before him. “Go on. I’ll bring up the rear. I’d rather keep you in my sight.”
I’d rather have kept him by my side, in plain view. After all, he had no better sense than to draw his sword against that pecora. Who was to say he wouldn’t do so again? Though my arrows aimed true, they required my keen eyesight to guide them, which meant I’d sneak peeks over my shoulder between here and Beltania. Whatever made his brow pucker with what I assumed was worry kept his full attention focused outside of guarding himself. So I would guard him instead.
Chapter 7
Gods, but my neck ached. For hours, I’d kept watch over my shoulder as Rhys retreated within himself. Every so often, a sound would lift his head. Or perhaps my focus dragged him from his thoughts. Either way, his attention invariably sank back into the core of what ailed him.
I rolled my head from side to side and watched the scenery tilt and roll. I braced a hand to my stomach, which managed a weak attempt at nausea each time the fetid stink of pecora wafted from my hair or from Vaughn, who rode upwind from me. My eyes watered as I inhaled.
Prayers born of the dawn filled me with a small measure of hope.
May our journey end in victory and may our travels be made in peace. May the Salticidae clutch us to their bosoms as welcomed friends, and may we never encounter other such creatures as those whose bodies littered the road to Beltania. And may the two gods bless and keep my sister.
Above this tired bend of road walked by weary ursus, white clouds billowed on a secret breeze. Sunlight bathed me, but winds snatched heat from my cheeks in greedy swipes of icy air.
Shrill whistles snapped my hands up to cover my ears. What have we run afoul of now?
Must be good news the way Vaughn was grinning as he forced Noir to spin a tight circle in the center of the road. An exhibition of showmanship, why? He released another whistle, the sound fading when his pursed lips stretched into a broad grin as fetching as it was sharp and cruel.
Faint pressure on my wrist forced my arm lower.
“We’re almost to the veil.” Smudges darkened the skin beneath Rhys’s eyes.
Exhaustion made the wheels of my mind spin slower, but I’d figured as much once my head stopped ringing like a chimed bell. “After we cross, how much farther is it to Beltania?”
He gave a halfhearted shrug as though his shoulders were too heavy to lift. “Not far.”
“Rhys?”
“It’s nothing.” He waved me forward, allowing himself to fall back and his face to set in troubled lines. His focus centered, and exclusion from his private turmoil chipped at my nerves.
Unease slithered along my skin, oily as the stink of the pecora’s yellow death.
I’d visited the Salticidae several times. Enough I knew their clan heads by sight if not by name. Theirs was an agricultural community who valued peace and space to commune with nature. I also enjoyed a sense of kinship with their maven, whose marriage had earned her clan protection.
Rubbing my face with cramped fingers, I hated my twisted view on that dependency. How the thought of a welcome smile for their clan heads would crumple my aching heart as I introduced myself as the Araneidae maven.
I’m not ready.
I had to be. There was no other choice.
In all truth, I hoped this rest did more than rejuvenate us. I prayed Pascale and Kellen had visited them as well. Any tidbits gleaned would soothe my soul. Let her be safe, whole and well.
Lost to myself, I forgot Rhys and failed to notice his appearance at my right until his concern blanketed me. His eyes shone, twin pits of despair, his stare unfathomable.
“Why the long face?” If I’d meant to amuse him, I’d failed. He withdrew into himself, traveled miles away without physically moving a muscle. I swallowed my concern and rode. The veil lay ahead, and no seasoned traveler passed through it without their wits about them. No one who had ridden through it disputed it was energy’s purest form, but was it a natural phenomenon? Some believed the veil was a mystical remnant from when the two gods forged this world. Some said the northland’s winter was too fierce a creature for mere seasons to contain, and afraid their creations may perish in their cold, th
e gods divided the Araneae Nation into perpetual winter and summer to strike a balance.
A traveler who found himself several hours south of Erania, bundled to his eyes and with his teeth chattering, might find once he had passed through the veil, a half mile of pulsating energy, he had to peel down to his pants and shirt from the sweltering heat. That sort of divide wasn’t natural.
Regardless of how it came to be or what it truly was, the fact remained that some passed through while others vanished. Veil lore stated the price of maintaining the gods’ magic in their absence was the blood of their creations. During plentiful times, local wildlife fed its needs, but during leaner times, it was Araneaean blood that spilled to sate its hunger. Although I admitted I was unsure where my faith lay, I erred on the side of caution where it was concerned and resolved to do whatever I must to snap Rhys from his melancholy state in case the veil was attracted to negative energy. I only needed a plan.
Tepid winds blew hair into my eyes. Power lent the air a burnt smell. We were close.
I tried again. “Rhys.”
He scrubbed his face as if he hadn’t heard, no doubt swiping the static itch from his skin. He gave me no answer and regarded the bald patch on the back of Brun’s head with undue focus.
Crackling hisses spluttered ahead as Vaughn was enveloped in a bright and swirling mist.
We’re next. “Rhys.” His name was a plaintive whisper. His head lifted. Soft eyes met mine as the veil loomed horribly closer. Our ursus bumped shoulders, pressing us together from toe to thigh. Their noses brushed once, for luck? Their ritual inspired me. We’re here.
Suffocating heat weighted me in a crush of sizzling light as the veil descended.
Blind and strangled, I groped Rhys with sweaty palms from his thigh, up his side, to his shoulder, then his throat. I dug fingers in his collar, jerking him down as I stood in my stirrups.
Our mouths crashed with clumsy aim, born of my inexperience and desperation. Teeth clacked, lips split to season our first kiss with blood, but his attention was no longer in question. His hands traveled my arms, found my shoulders, tickled my sides, and then lifted me free of my saddle. Straddling Brun, I faced Rhys, our kiss unbroken, our chests heaving, my heart pounding.
When we broke apart, his taste sat fresh on my tongue, instantly familiar.
He rubbed his face in my hair. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Such an odd politeness after what we’d shared.
Long seconds passed as I waited for him to speak or set me back in my own saddle on my own mount, but he remained quiet, and his arms, already banded around me, tightened. I took his possessive silence to mean he intended to hold me a while longer. He’d gone quiet again, but he toyed with the windblown ends of my braided hair, the strain in his expression ebbing a bit.
His iron grip meant a crick in my neck if I continued staring up at him, waiting for a sign as to what caused his black mood. Wearied, I dared rest my cheek against his chest, the better to hear his muffled heartbeat climb. As he played with my hair, I toyed with the hem of his coat, working my fingers between the outer layer and his shirt. Tension ratcheted his spine straight.
“My fingers are cold,” I mumbled as heat from this side of the veil stifled me.
He kissed my temple. My words were far from the truth, but he didn’t call me on my lie.
Golden buttons winked in the sunlight cascading over my shoulder. My view of Rhys’s coat wore my interest thin hours ago. Leaning to my right, I stretched for Marron’s reins, but his fingers dug into my hips, a soundless request I stay. I sighed, bracing my forehead on his chest.
If many more miles passed this way, I would leap from Brun, heedless of where I landed. Saddles weren’t meant for two riders to sit face to face, and the hard knob of the horn rubbed my tailbone. Feeling had long since left my legs. Now my thighs hooked over his, my knees bent at his sides and my ankles crossed at the small of his back. When I shifted, his gaze stirred hotly.
“Did the Salticidae, by any chance, move Beltania to the other side of the Second World?”
Unexpected laughter vibrated through Rhys’s chest. His hand lifted, stroking down my hair to tangle at the end. He held on as if I was his lifeline and that braid his means of survival.
Shrill whistles drew an unladylike swear from me as I covered my ears. Did Vaughn know no other means of communication? His piercing alarm doubled, then tripled, rebounding.
I braced against Rhys and sat up taller. “Does this mean—are we there?”
His mouth pinched in a line so tight his lips whitened. I supposed that meant yes.
“Well, brother.” Vaughn’s voice carried from some distance. “You’re home.”
“What does he mean?” This was no more the Mimetidae clan home than Siciia was mine. “Rhys?” I cupped his cheeks and angled his face toward me. “I don’t understand.”
“Here.” He lifted me and turned me so my back pressed against his chest and the whole of Beltania spread before me. “Look there.” He pointed toward the serpentine curve of the river.
I think I whimpered. I was hard-pressed not to strip and plunge into the cool waters before securing the blessing of our hosts. I drew in a breath smelling of lush spices and flowers, clean water and warm sunshine. The Salticidae houses rose from the land, being made of packed mud bricks, as though the stacked homes were a natural extension of the earth. Wooden ladders leaned on walls and spanned the height of each floor. Hide doors flapped in the slow, hot breeze.
Ripples broke the river’s surface. Cotton-mouthed, I wanted to drink it dry. No, I’d rather wash than drink. Better to die clean than quenched. Straining my memory, I recalled the powdery scent of dayflower soap made here. How it left my skin silky while the delicate blue tint soothed.
“I suppose it would be rude if I bypassed the clan home and headed for the river?”
“If you’d like, I can speak with Sikyakookyang and Chinedu on your behalf. I could ask a clanswoman of theirs to accompany you.” Rhys rested his chin atop my head. “It’s your choice.”
Wistful desire to drop my duties in his lap and let him bear their weight tempted me.
“It’s my duty to secure the goodwill of our hosts.” We passed a worn trail snaking toward the river bend, and I sighed with longing. “It is my duty.” Though shucking it sorely tempted me.
His lips caressed my ear. “You’ve already said that.”
“I know,” I groused, leaning into him. His casual use of the maven and her paladin’s names, which I hadn’t remembered, occurred to me. “How familiar are you with these people?”
Vaughn had hinted at their closeness. Perhaps their clans had intermarried at some point.
Pain behind my breastbone pulled me upright in the saddle. Had Rhys spent much time here? Was this a homecoming as Vaughn claimed? Another thought, equally painful, presented itself. Had Rhys kept a lover here? If so, did she know about us? Oh, gods, what if I’d mistook his quiet for sadness? What if he were bringing home his future bride to meet his former lover?
What if he loved her still? Our binding was arranged. Our time spent together short. I had no hold on his heart, no claim to his affection. Was our relationship exclusive? I hadn’t asked. I foolishly assumed he came to me with no strings attached and never considered how he’d been scooped fresh from a battle and told he must bind himself to me within a matter of hours. He’d said himself he had no choice. I already knew his determination to wed me stemmed from duty.
The prospect of a lifetime spent in competition with the ghost of a lover he might have and a life he might love yet surrendered for me, for his clan, sickened me. I’d done this to him. I kept my questions trapped behind my teeth and crunched until I could swallow the bitter words.
“Lourdes?” This must be his turn to sound uncertain.
“Yes?”
“I hope whatever time we spend here won’t alter your opinion of me.” He added, “Of us.”
The grassy fields spiked with mud
-brown houses wavered in my vision. It must be the heat. “You have my regard.” Dagger-sharp pain sank claws in my chest. “That won’t change.”
His cheek slid against mine, and the time for confessions passed. The city closed around us. People in the streets waved to Rhys and me. Even Vaughn earned a few bowed heads. One bold child rushed forward and ran a hand through Marron’s fur. She snorted in his direction, and he scurried away, grinning and holding his hand high as he chattered to his group of friends.
Ursus were a rare sight so far south. At least, the ursus arctos my family favored were, with their thick fur and, if you asked their handlers, boundless appetites. Not a good match for clans living in extreme heat and with little native prey large enough to fill ursine bellies.
Vaughn had made his gruesome point earlier. An ursus could either be a faithful mount or a foolish rider’s death sentence. They were carnivores at heart. They might nibble nuts and tubers, but they required protein when forced to carry a rider and made to travel from their home ranges.
Fortunate for us all, these ursus were well-mannered and patient, trusting us to feed them.
Still, the crowd parted around us as we traveled the main street. I turned toward Rhys, about to ask if the Salticidae had means to feed three ursus, when a silver shine caught my eye. A wrinkled male, hunched over a carved walking stick, made his way from the bottom doorway of a mud-brick home. I wondered if his age or his jewelry caused his spine to bend double.
Without warning, Rhys slid from Brun and jogged toward the elder, grabbing the male’s elbow and calling out in a language I placed as being the local dialect. My mouth turned dry as dust twists swirling in the streets. Who had taught that rugged mouth to form those fluid words?
Spiky petals of a green flower unfurled in my chest. I named it jealousy.
The flower’s roots dug into my heart when a slender female with caramel-colored skin and a straight fall of blue-black hair rushed from the same doorway the elder had exited. Her smile was a bright flash of white that Rhys returned. They exchanged more flowing words, and her eyes widened as they panned my face. Sunlight caught the glint of perfect tears formed on her elegant cheeks. Was this her? All of Vaughn’s hints had been laid to carry me to this point.
Araneae Nation: The Complete Collection Page 15
