It was rapidly becoming obvious that she wasn't there. Desmond knew that the chance of finding her on the first farm out of so many was unlikely. Even though he knew Nathaniel was aware of the fact, he expected him to search harder.
He did not expect him to grab the alien by the coveralls and practically scream in his face.
“Are you sure no one is here? Are you certain?”
“Nathaniel!” Desmond cried, reaching out and pulling him back. Nathaniel didn't struggle, but he was clearly seething. “What has gotten into you?”
“How do we know she's not here?” Nathaniel asked. “How do we know she isn't just well hidden? Magic can hide those things, Desmond. Magic can–”
“She isn't here,” Desmond told him, and Nathaniel held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, he dropped his shoulders. Like a good witch, he turned back to the alien.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “Sienna, apologize to him for me.”
“He…understands,” she said at last, judging by the look on the alien's face. “Just speak slowly.”
“I'm sorry,” Nathaniel said again. “Long day.”
The alien nodded his head and indicated that they should probably leave if they were ready. Nathaniel slouched out, his hands in his pocket.
His head was whirling as he calculated his next move. “We can probably do nine more farms today before we lose the light,” Nathaniel said as they walked back to the ship. “I feel like we aren't doing all that we can.”
“Nathaniel, I am open to doing more,” Desmond replied, “but you have to come up with what that is. I am out of ideas. This is how our search and rescue quests go. We go off our best theories and hope that we either find them or come up with a better theory.”
“Call Mariah,” Nathaniel said at last. “See if there is news.”
“She would call me if there was news,” Desmond assured him. “Give the next coordinates to Sienna, and we will be on our way.”
Nathaniel heaved a giant sigh, but he obeyed. He handed her the map, pointing to the spot he had marked off. This was going to be a very long day, and they weren't even in the middle of it.
The next farm proved to be a failure, and the one after that as well. At each one, they found the same thing. Friendly fruit pickers, an old man farmer, and an empty farm house.
By the time the sun set, Nathaniel was ready to crack in the door.
“She's not at any of these,” he cried to Desmond as they made their way back to the ship. “I think we're on the wrong trail. Every moment that slips by, Desmond, we are losing our chance.”
“I think we need to take the night, regroup, and clear our heads,” Desmond said as they climbed in. “You know as well as I do that a clouded head does no good.”
“Argh!” Nathaniel practically slammed the steering wheel. Sienna jumped, leaning away from him. Desmond waited patiently for his rage to end.
“There is an inn not too far from here,” he said when Nathaniel's breathing had slowed. “We can get a good night's rest, contact the palace, and see what the situation is.”
“I don't think that…” Nathaniel started, then shook his head and put the ship in gear. “Forget it.”
‘Why would they take her?’ Sienna pushed her thoughts to Desmond, who shrugged. He spoke in Basic, but he made sure to keep contact with her, just in case.
“There are many reasons why someone would take a queen,” he answered. “They could be angry at her and want her dead. But it is unlikely that Eliza is dead, seeing as they kidnapped her and did not assassinate her. More likely, they want something out of holding her. Money, freedom, any number of reasons.”
“This has occurred?” she asked, and Desmond paused.
“It's already…oh! Before?” he asked her, and she nodded. “No, I don't–”
“Wait,” Nathaniel said, listening to the conversation. “This has happened before.”
“What?” Desmond asked him. “You just thought to bring that to light?”
“I didn't think of it before,” Nathaniel answered. “We weren't here; it was years ago. She only told me about it. Eliza had just taken the throne maybe a few weeks before, and she was taken from her very gardens. It's why the gardens got redesigned – to provide better vantage points.”
“Who took her then?” Desmond asked.
“It was a cousin who objected to her inheriting the throne,” Nathaniel replied. “But that cousin and that line is dead. Eliza made sure of it.”
“Did she?” Desmond questioned. Nathaniel set his jaw.
“We have to contact the palace,” he replied. “As soon as we get to the inn and can have a private room, I can reach out to them and see what they can trace. I know she had them killed, though.”
“Her own family?” Desmond asked him. Nathaniel shrugged.
“Eliza will do anything to protect her throne and her rule,” he said. “She's very…determined.” He said it with a smile, as it was one of the facts that he loved about her. She would do anything to protect what she loved. Despite the fact that her very attitude on such matters had kept them apart, he admired it. She was dedicated and committed to her cause, as he was to his.
The only slip up came in their love for each other, and it was a mutual feeling.
He found the inn nestled in the countryside easily enough. It was clearly meant for weary travelers who just wanted a good drink and a bed to sleep in. The quality wasn't the best, but the witches weren't supposed to be interested in quality. Their minimalist lifestyle meant that they could sleep outside and be comfortable if they needed to be.
Inside, the bottom floor was a tavern, and it was busy. The innkeeper looked run off his feet and seemed a bit annoyed with new visitors. Desmond went to inquire about rooms, while Nathaniel snagged a table with Sienna. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, having clearly never been to such a place.
There was noise everywhere – people laughing and talking, boisterous and also more than a little drunk. She watched the bottles of alcohol go by on trays, and the steaming hot food following. Desmond eventually settled beside them.
“There will be rooms available upstairs in half an hour,” he said. “They won't be top quality, but they will do for privacy. You should order some food.” He turned to Nathaniel, guessing at his growling stomach. “You haven't eaten in an hour; that's not like you.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes as he grabbed at the menu. Sienna leaned forward on the bench, looking at a menu without understanding. Desmond scanned it quickly and then shook his head.
“I don't think you should eat anything here, little one,” he said, after a moment. “The rations will have to do. Hmm?” he indicated her rucksack, and she nodded. To keep herself entertained, she pulled out a notebook from school, turning it to the page she was supposed to be working on.
“Steak,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “I don't care what kind it is. Liquor, strong, double. Can you order for me? I'm going to call into the palace.”
Desmond was surprised at Nathaniel's order of alcohol, but he said nothing to the effect, leaning back so his former Tiro could get by. Alcohol was a grey area for witches. It wasn't expressly forbidden, but it obviously could distract. Aside from a glass of wine at dinner, Desmond usually didn't indulge. But Nathaniel was twenty-five, and his energy had yet to cease. Desmond decided if he wanted a drink after a stressful day, there was no harm in it. Besides, with the sun set and the night pitch black, there was nothing more they could do tonight. For now, they could only hope that whoever had Eliza was treating her well.
Chapter 14
The food was surprisingly good for a little tavern in the middle of nowhere. It was hot, and full of flavor, which was more than Desmond had hoped for. He was watching his com-link half the time, as Mariah forwarded him messages from the palace. They hadn't thought of the dead family line, but Nathaniel's call had set them in motion. As soon as they tracked anyone possibly related down, they would let them know.
Desmond had been worried
about Mariah for no other reason than he was always protective of her. But to his delight, she actually seemed to be having a wonderful time being an interim queen. Her messages didn't show any stress, aside from the fact that she was worried about Sybil, who still hadn't checked in. That news set a darker cloud over Nathaniel, who had fallen into silence at the corner of the table.
Determined to not lose the situation, Desmond turned to Sienna who had been filling out worksheets for school.
“We need to contact the Jurors and do a quest report of our first day,” he said. “Do you want to do that?”
She paused, taking his com-link from him. The screen for a quest report was already up, but it was in Basic. Her eyes scanned over it, and she bit her lip, deep in thought. She then looked to Desmond, confused.
“Why now?” she asked. “Not…convenient? Distracting?”
“Yes,” Desmond agreed. “The distractions make it hard. But if we do not keep them up-to-date on us, they will have no idea what happened if something went wrong. These reports must be sent in daily, no matter what the circumstances are. That's how they knew that Sybil was missing right away.”
Sienna snuck a glance at Nathaniel who had ordered a second drink and was leaning against the wall behind his bench. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“That is true,” he managed, at last.
“But we will not…go away,” she said, and Desmond smiled.
“We can hope that. But we don't know for sure.”
“No, we know,” she said. “We will come back and be martyrs.”
Nathaniel choked on his drink at the point. “Sorry?” he asked. Desmond seemed equally confused.
“We don't want to be martyrs, little one.”
“Why not?” she asked quickly. “In school, they say, ‘You are martyrs.’”
“We are…” Desmond searched his brain, but it was Nathaniel who figured it out.
“Heroes. You are looking for the word ‘heroes,’ not martyrs.”
This confused her. “What's the difference?”
“Martyrs die for their cause,” Desmond said.
“Heroes also die,” she said softly, and he sighed.
“Yes, but not always,” he said. “And not today. Now, quest report.”
She went to switch it to Jeffroian, but he shook his head.
“In Basic, Sienna.”
“Too long,” she said, but Desmond shook his head.
“It will take as long as it takes.”
“Or,” Nathaniel said, “you could just let her do it in Manorial and be done in five minutes, rather than dragging us through this.”
“No,” Desmond replied, “she will not learn otherwise.”
Nathaniel clearly had more to say on the matter, but he simply sighed, looking in the other direction. It did take about as long as he predicted. He was annoyed by her stumbling speech; by her lack of communication; by her constant questions. Pushing the thoughts to her through the bond didn't make it any easier, for the bond had no language and didn't help her with translation.
By the end of the hour, he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him, he was so impatient. His own com-link had been silent, and his body was drooping.
He had been sending out continuous magical pings for Eliza's life force since they left the palace, and it was taking its toll. Even sitting here in the tavern, he continued, hoping against hope that he would reach her.
But it was always silence at the other end.
Nathaniel had imagined many scenarios for his life with Eliza. Some of them were unrealistic, with them getting married and being a normal family. Some of them mirrored their real lives; she was a queen, and he was a warrior. Some of them involved him staying with the witches; others involved him joining her guard.
He noted that none of the scenarios ever involved Eliza not being in his life. Since he met her as a teenager, his life had always involved her beautiful eyes, her smile, even the tone of her voice. He couldn't imagine a galaxy where Eliza wasn't in it.
When Sienna finally finished, Desmond looked at his timepiece.
“It's time we head to bed,” he said. “There will be much to do, and it's important we are ready for whatever the sunrise brings.”
“You can do that,” Nathaniel said. “I'm going to sit up a bit longer.”
“You should get some rest,” Desmond said, glancing at his drink. “It will be better for you.”
“Luckily, I'm not your Tiro anymore,” Nathaniel replied. “So, I don't actually have to listen.”
“That is abundantly clear,” Desmond said as he signaled for Sienna to rise. She gathered her stuff quickly, and then turned to Nathaniel, confused. It was past six p.m., and she was used to the routine where he was the one who made sure all was well at night. But Nathaniel didn't so much as lift a finger, staring into his mug. “Come on, Sienna.”
“Good night,” she said to Nathaniel, politely. He nodded, but he still didn't move. Desmond sighed, putting a hand on her back to steer her upstairs. It had been so long since he had a Tiro this young, who needed to be supervised in every activity. With Sienna, of course, it was much more complicated. There was medication and treatments, and there was the fact that everything took twice as long for her to understand.
His com-link was almost dead, but when he finally got her to sleep he decided to risk one call before he recharged it for the night.
“You should be asleep,” Mariah said to him when she answered.
“Are you asleep?” he asked, and he could hear the smile in her voice.
“No, not yet,” she admitted. “They keep seeming to have issues that they come to me with.”
“And I'm sure you are solving them wonderfully,” Desmond said. “Perhaps being a queen suits you.”
“It may suit you, but I can't wait to go home,” she said, and then paused. “Do you have a moment?”
“I do,” he said. “Sienna is asleep, and Nathaniel has remained downstairs. What is it?”
“The Jurors notified me today about Sybil's quest. She's been out of communication too long now, so I have a right to be notified in case I have any clues.”
“And?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.
“She was on the path of a hitman,” Mariah said. “They wouldn't tell me anymore, but they told me enough to suggest some places she might have gone to hold out and their strategy.”
“And her Tiro? Any news?”
“None,” Mariah replied. “I suppose it’s a good thing that neither of them have turned up. They are together, and they are fine. Just deep into the quest.”
“Mm,” Desmond said, and Mariah sensed his mood.
“How is Sienna doing?”
“As well as she can,” Desmond answered. “Sienna does not worry me, for I know that she will always do whatever she is capable of. But Nathaniel's response to her has not been when I hoped for.”
“They are very different,” Mariah said. “And while that may be good for him, it will take a while for him to adjust.”
“Maybe,” Desmond answered with a shrug. “Or maybe I've done wrong in pairing the two of us together for her. Sienna will always require an enormous amount of care, and despite the fact that I trained Nathaniel, our views are very different. Perhaps it would have been better if the two of us were more similar in our views.”
“If you and I had taken her on, perhaps?” Mariah questioned, and Desmond sighed.
“Maybe. The Jurors never would have allowed that, though. They already suspect our relationship is out of hand.”
“The Jurors can shove it,” Mariah answered. “Do you think Nathaniel will fall away from her as a Tiro?”
“No,” Desmond answered. “But I am worried he will be angry about it until the end of his days.”
“Or hers,” Mariah said dryly. “It's a reality that you have to face.”
“I know,” Desmond answered. “But death is natural; death is inevitable. After going through Reynolds' abandonment, I feel I
can handle the death of a Tiro from a cause I expected.”
“There are some who say what you are doing is very brave,” Mariah said to him, speaking softly. He could tell that she was lying in bed just as he was. They were so far apart, but it felt as they were right beside each other.
“And the others?” he asked. “Not that it matters.”
“There are others who say you are walking a grey line, and that you are a witch who chooses another path than the one the Jurors deem fit at all times,” she laughed. “So, the same as always, really.”
“Yes,” Desmond agreed with a smile. “I don't mind that they say that.”
“I know that you don't,” she said. “I'm just your ears for when you are away.”
“Unless you mind that they say that when you are at my side,” he said, and she chuckled.
“Let them say it. You are a hero, I know it, and the Jurors know it.”
He laughed at that. “Do you know what Sienna called us today?” he asked. “She meant to say hero, but she was convinced the word was martyr.”
“Uh,” Mariah replied, “that's a big difference.”
“I know that,” Desmond answered. “But it took a moment to convince her otherwise.”
“Kids these days,” Mariah said, and he laughed. A yawn over took him then, and he tried to move the com-link.
“Oh, I should go to bed,” he said.
“Old man,” she teased him. “We used to stay up talking half the night.”
“When we were Nathaniel's age,” Desmond said. “And even then, I cursed the dawn. I never understood those who run on little sleep by choice. It's not worth it.”
“But the words we spoke in those nightly calls…”
“Mariah,” he scolded her, and she laughed. “Go to bed, too. Try to get some rest, for we never know what we will need our strength for in the morning.”
“That is true,” she said. “I will call you if there are any updates.”
“Please do,” he said. There was an awkward pause on the other end of the phone, and he wanted to tell her that he loved her. But that was not proper by any stretch of the imagination. So instead, he took the easier route. “Good night.”
A Wolf's Journey (Wolf Mountain Peak Book 7) Page 21
