"Our farmhouse was attacked. My grandpa gave me a few instructions and shoved me toward the exit." He sounded sad and a little bitter as he said it.
"With a bunch of old papers and a box full of Scales?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's..." He seemed to think better of saying the rest of the sentence and shrugged again instead.
Ariana wanted to push him further but just then, they breached the tree line, and she heard Hunter gasp.
Stretched below them was a massive expanse of white stone: the city tucked inside a wall that circled wide and swallowed up the entire low-lying valley. Beyond the jumble of towers and buildings, the far walls faded into the distance, meeting with the darkened sky hovering over the Ladrian Sea.
Even from where they stood, Ariana could hear the water lapping against the western walls. The fading light, peeking out from beneath the storm clouds, dripped over the buildings and their copper roofs like river water across a bed of stones.
She itched to get inside the walls, her mind crowded with thoughts of her friends at Eden House, and the fear of being locked out—having to return home. But seeing Hunter gawk, she couldn't help cracking a smile, and it grew wider when she caught Tehya's eye.
"Welcome to Eastridge," Tehya said, her voice warm with their shared mirth.
"It's everything I imagined," he murmured.
Ariana eyed the gate crew preparing to lower the heavy stone that filled the archway, sealing the wall at night. "Did you imagine sleeping out here, too?" she asked.
"Wha?" He tore his gaze from the view.
She searched over his shoulder in the darkness between the trees, her mind conjuring the glint of a metal horn. She shivered. "Let's hurry."
They started down the hill at a jog.
An overly-bundled member of the crew met them at the gate. He pulled down his fur-lined hood, revealing a bald head and a sour expression on a bristly face.
"Cutting it close, underlings," he said, his heavy Naveanic accent apparent from the switching of sounds in his vowels.
A southerner. The Fyrennian force must be strengthening there, if he'd dared to brave the coming winter anywhere north of Quall.
"Got held up in the Pass," Tehya said, by way of apology, as the closing bells chimed through the city.
"Git on, then."
They did, dragging Hunter behind them as they hurried along Main Street, the widest of the white cobblestone roads melding seamlessly into the white stone buildings. It led straight uphill to the city center, where the seven thin bell towers twirled around each other, shooting high above the copper rooftops, each needle-sharp point rising a step higher than the one before.
As usual, once the bells had been rung, Eastridge emptied. The shops closed. The lights extinguished. The citizens tucked themselves safely into their houses before the night's shadow touched their doorsteps. It was likely the three of them and the gate crew were the only ones still out of doors.
And yet, Hunter's eyes were alight with awe.
Did they not have cities in Kansas?
Sure, in the absence of people, Eastridge retained a certain sense of life. Bright, jewel-colored garments hung from drying lines that stretched from window to high window in the alleyways. But it was a life of false brightness, the color a shoddy mask over the face of their oppression. Bold red, gold, and black glared from the propaganda plastered on the walls of every building, bearing the image of King Fyrenn or his family crest—a pronged and flame-licked "F"—a constant reminder of who was in charge.
"Is that—?"
"We'll talk inside," Ariana cut in, uncomfortable lingering in the streets this close to dark.
Yes, the gates were closed. But not only to keep people out. Eastridge was Fyrennian territory, regardless. Maybe the Fyrennians weren't officially within the walls, but people still seemed to go missing most often in the darkness. No one could be trusted. Citizens turned to the Huntsmen for many reasons; some for the simple means to survive, others with much darker intent.
Ariana led them through a side alley and they emerged on Olde Market Road. Most of the propaganda within reach here had been vandalized with an encircled Elder Script "S"—the emblem of the Shadowed Society.
Below each symbol was the familiar squiggle of Perry Madison's artful signature.
The symbol reminded her that she had yet to discover Hunter's alliance. Was he a Shadow? Or a Fyrennian? And why was he here? What did he want? Surely he was not just escaping. Escaping into Ionia from seven of the eight current worlds of etâme connected to it was almost as idiotic as escaping into the world of Helede from any of the others. No one would be so null. Not without a motive or a plan or something.
“This way,” Tehya said, taking Hunter's hand in hers.
"Wait." Ariana stopped. "Are you sure you want to bring him to the house, Tey? You can't change your mind once he's seen it."
Tehya stuck out her chin. "Yes. I am." She gave Hunter a warm smile. He returned it with an eager smile of his own.
Ariana groaned inwardly. Boys. "Fine," she said. Hope we don't regret this.
The road forked a hundred strides ahead of them, giving the building at the split a flattened, triangular look Ariana had always found charming. The left side of the road curved away from the bell towers and around the hill, quickly engulfed in the trappings of the Old Market. In the daylight, the bright colors and patterns of the awnings grew plentiful there, drawing the eye like a patch of wildflowers breaking through freshly fallen snow.
They took the road that drifted uphill. Market Overlook. A residential street. The houses were tall and thin here, though a few of the upper levels extended over the shorter buildings beside them, giving them a puzzle-pieced quality.
Stairs clung to the walls of the houses, winding around windows to reach the third, fourth, and fifth story doors. Most of these upper-story additions were small one- or two-room homes. But a few, like that of her instructor, Master Bardoc Edan, were still connected to the main house below, and served as extra rooms or studios.
She peered down the darkening street. A pool of warm light escaped from the open front door of Edan House. It should have felt welcoming. Standing in the doorway was the one person who could make it anything but.
Her mother.
Ariana pulled up short. Tehya and Hunter halted beside her.
“Oh, no,” Tehya said, her voice low.
“What? What's wrong?” Hunter whispered.
Madame Emory rarely, if ever, came into the city. She usually stayed in the country, in their carefully disguised house, venturing out only equally undercover. She was still too recognizable to some of the older citizens—the ones who knew her past and Ariana's father. Not that Ariana was privy to much of that information. Her mother kept a lot of secrets. Not just her father's, either, Ariana was certain. She had to. It was her job. So what on Ionia could bring her to Eastridge now, without disguise? Unless her father suddenly pieced his ashes back together and returned from his unmarked grave, she had no other family, so her mother wasn't there to tell her someone had been taken or died. Was this some showy new tactic to throw Ariana off balance? To somehow garner her sympathy by making her worry?
Well. If that was the case, she wouldn't give her mother the satisfaction. She met her stare, the anger she'd managed to leave behind in the Pass slithering up her spine. The air cooled around her in response. She really needed to get that under control before her first day at Ruekridge.
Tehya nudged her in the back. “Better go on in."
Ariana deflated. Tehya was right. What was she going to do? Run away back to the house? Whatever had possessed her mother to risk coming into town as herself, it was best just to get it over with. At least with the other kids in the house, the scolding wouldn't be quite so bad. Maybe.
She sighed heavily, then straightened her back and marched forward. But when she reached the doorstep, she suddenly found herself unable to meet her mother's eyes, tucking her chin as she slipped past into the h
ouse.
The room was too quiet. At the far end of the long space, past the jumble of earthy-colored chairs and sofas, five boys faced her from their seats at the kitchen table. Too scared to move, their eyes, wide as Scales, followed the woman now hot on Ariana's heels as she threaded her way through the furniture. They looked absurd. Like they were sitting for the most awkward painting ever made. In any other circumstance, she would have laughed. Instead, she gave them each a quick nod hello—William, all fiery brown hair and bright green eyes, perched on the chair arm at the head of the table; lanky, haughty-looking Finn with his sharp chin and silver eyes; small, dark-haired Dilyn, tucked in the chair between the golden boys: fit, muscular Perry and his leaner, but equally muscular older brother Grant—then she started up the squared-off spiral staircase that divided the entry room and the kitchen.
On the first floor landing, she whirled and faced her mother. She could hear the collective exhale from the boys below, followed by hushed voices.
For a moment, Madame Emory said nothing. Her expression was a familiar mix of protectiveness and anger. But there was something else in her eyes tonight. Something that made rocks form in Ariana's stomach.
"If you want me to apologize for coming to Eastridge, I won't," Ariana said.
Her mother blinked, her face unchanging. "I didn't expect you to."
"I needed to remove myself from the situation," she explained. "I couldn't think straight."
Her mother nodded. "Yes, I could feel that."
She was so calm. A chill raked Ariana's spine. "You can't fight me on this forever, Mother. You can follow me here, and stop me from doing anything you disapprove of, but you can't follow me to Ruekridge. You won't have any say over my classes, or be able to trail me in the hallways to make sure I don't sneak off somewhere and read. And you can't change my mind on this."
"I'm afraid you're right." Her mother looked tired and sad. She was agreeing. She was finally giving in. Wasn't she? Why, then, would she need to see Ariana tonight to tell her this?
"Why did you come here?" she asked. "You never come here. Not without protection."
“I was disguised.”
“Not in the doorway just now.”
Her mother waved her off. "You fail to see reason, Ariana, and so I am driven to do unreasonable things."
Ariana frowned. This sounded vaguely foreboding.
“You are too valuable to me—to the Shadows—to throw your life away on those books, Ariana. I know you think they are the key to revolution, but they won't save us. You, on the other hand, with the right training, could. I need you to understand that. You think you are invincible. But the moment the Fyrennians get their hands on you, you'll learn how fragile you really are. You are too valuable to put yourself in unnecessary danger. And it is clear to me now that you will do just that when you reach the school.”
“I don't understand,” Ariana said. “And I don't understand what you mean to do about it.” But deep, deep down, she thought she might. It terrified her.
Madame Emory's cold grey eyes held steady in the pause. Time grew syrupy. Ariana's held breath warmed and expanded, clawing her lungs. And then her mother spoke. “I've withdrawn you from Ruekridge.”
Ariana's exhale solidified on her tongue. The buzz of shock sang through her blood. “What?” she choked, her eyes burning—salty and wet.
“I've spoken to Bardoc, just before you arrived. I don't know how I missed you on the Pass. Please tell me you didn't take the main road.”
Ariana stared, unable to respond.
When it was clear Ariana wasn't going to answer, she continued. “Once your training with Bardoc ends, you will reach your Mastery at home with me. Bardoc will assist with supplemental materials and—”
A chill washed over her, but she finally found her voice. “No—” she whispered—pleaded.
“It's already done.”
“You ca—you can't." The temperature in the landing plummeted. "How could you do this to me?”
The pity in her mother's eyes did nothing to calm her bewildered rage. “I warned you, Ariana. You left me no choice.”
A bitter laugh escaped Ariana's trembling lips. But her response was smothered beneath her mother's simple words. There was nothing she could say—nothing she could do to stop this from happening.
“I know you're upset—”
“Upset?!” Ariana half-shrieked, half-choked.
Ruekridge. The Orders. Her friends downstairs. All of it was lost forever, blown away on the wind. The entire world of her future, built over years of dreaming, burned up like portal books in one small conversation. Upset? She was devastated.
“Someday,” her mother was saying, “you will come to see that your worth is more than those books, Ariana. You will be valuable to the Shadows, as we both know you are, but you won't be singled out as the Fyrennians' number one target.”
Ariana shook her head, the tears spilling from her eyes. “Don't,” she sobbed, feeling her legs start to buckle beneath her. She grabbed the banister to keep herself standing. “Don't try and justify this.”
Her mother reached for her, but Ariana shoved her away. “I wish it had been you the Fyrenninas caught when I was a baby. I wish it was father here with me now,” she spat, not knowing if she meant it, but knowing it was the only thing she could say to inflict some kind of pain back at her mother. Then she turned, relishing the look of hurt on Madame Emory's face as she climbed the next flight of stairs with as much dignity as she could muster. She reached Tehya's room, slammed the door shut behind her, and collapsed onto the floor in a rush of tears.
Chapter 5
Hunter stood there, feeling awkward as introductions were suspended while everyone eavesdropped. He started fiddling with his bag to combat the urge to listen along, and pulled out the remaining pages of Elder Script. They looked more fragile and ragged and wrinkled than he was comfortable with. He wished they hadn't gotten wet. Actually, if he was wishing for things... a memory flared up. Huntsmen breaking down the door and his grandpa turning away from him to fight them off as he disappeared through the book. No. He wouldn't think of that. He would focus on the pages. They were the smallest bit damp still. He needed to protect them from further damage and maybe, just maybe, flatten them out a bit. So he carefully removed each one and folded it neatly down the middle, then tucked them between the pages of the now useless book, which Tehya had kindly returned to him in the Pass.
The sound of muffled footsteps preceded the angry slam of a door. Hunter looked up, prepared to see Ariana or her mother descend the steps, but after a tense couple minutes waiting, the tall, tousle-haired intellectual type stood to greet him. “William,” he said, extending a hand.
Hunter went to shake it, only to falter at the sight of William's fingers, curled as if around the handle of an invisible mug.
“I'm Tehya's older brother,” he added, not seeming to notice Hunter's hesitation effortlessly gripping and curling Hunter's fingers into the curve of his own.
A cupped handshake. Easy enough. “I figured as much,” Hunter replied, nodding toward the dark red hair William shared with his sister.
William gave a little laugh in response
The muscular boy at the other end of the table, with his wavy golden mop of hair, flashed Hunter a lopsided, mischievous grin. “You're new.”
Hunter shrugged and nodded, but wondered, New to what?
“Hunter, this is Perry,” Tehya said in a rush, her eyes darting to the stairs.
Perry's grin widened to a smile, and he prodded a finger at the leaner, slightly older version of himself two chairs to the right. “That's my brother. Though you'll only hear me admit it once.”
His brother snatched at Perry's finger and shot a wink at Hunter. “I'm Grant.”
The mousey-looking, raven-haired boy ducking beneath the arms of the brothers pushed himself out of his chair and stood as tall as his—couldn't be more than five foot four—stature would allow. “I'm Dilyn," he said, peeking aro
und the one boy who had yet to acknowledge Hunter's presence with even a glance.
But then that boy, too, lifted a pale hand, and ran it through his even paler hair as he said, “Finn,” in a voice that seemed bored by itself.
“How long was she here before we arrived?” Tehya addressed her brother, clearly impatient with the introductions.
William shook his head. “Not sure. She must have gone straight to Father's studio door. So many people have been doing that these days, I don't even hear the bell anymore. She didn't come down until you were on our street.”
“Surprised the Helede out of us,” Grant added.
“I'm going to check on Ariana,” Tehya said. “Make yourself comfortable, Hunter. I'm sure the boys can make room for you in their game. Can't you?” she asked the group.
There was a smattering of ascension and Hunter's eyes drew toward the tabletop for the first time. Little blocks and cylinders the width of a finger or thumb, depending on the game piece, were scattered over a familiar playing area.
He brightened and exclaimed, “Kings!” recognizing the blocks and cylinders as kubbs and batons.
Finn turned to him, more interest in his ghostly grey eyes. “You play?”
“All the time,” he answered.
Just then, a bubble seeped from the middle of the birch-white wood. It knocked over a game piece before freeing itself from the table. Another quickly followed. Hunter stared.
“Aaaand the post wins!” Perry declared, eyeing the fallen King.
The bubbles drifted lazily in Hunter's direction. And then, to his surprise, they diverged and glided purposefully toward Grant and William. The boys, unfazed by this, each reached out and popped the bubble in front of them. The moment their fingers touched them, the shimmering orbs disintegrated in oily strands and two fat envelopes plopped onto the table.
Hunter gawked. The post! So this was how Ionians communicated. Grandpa had never mentioned it. He'd never really focused on the everyday magic when he'd told Hunter stories of this place. A swirling knot of excitement and curiosity rose in his throat. There was so much to learn. As scared and lost as he was, he was also incredibly excited.
The Onyx Vial (Shadows of The Nine Book 1) Page 4
