Based on what she’d said about Kiradyn, she appeared to have ancestral memory, something rarely found amongst those who landed on these shores. Perhaps it would soften the Sovereign’s anger in regard to the abandonment of his post. But he knew it would probably require much more than that. He glanced at the girl, realizing she was staring up at him with pleading eyes, and he could not help but stare at her in return.
To the Black with it. We leave in the morning. He grabbed her hand. “Come,” he said.
The girl did not resist, but Orryn sensed sluggishness in her pace as he pulled her after him. She soon became dead weight, and he turned to see her spilling to the ground. Orryn leaned over the girl, noticing the bandage had slipped from her thigh. Her wound was oozing, clearly in need of more attention than he could offer here.
He scooped the girl up into his arms. She was light, probably more so without the heavy, sodden boots she was wearing, but as he held her he realized how badly she was trembling, no longer out of anger toward him, for she did not seem aware he was even there, but from a chill that vibrated through her skin. He pulled her more securely against his chest.
“God,” he groaned. “I hope I don’t have to bury you like the last one.”
CHAPTER 4
Tygg watched silently from the trees as the Pedant lifted the unconscious girl onto the horse. His mouth watered with anticipation. He had been bred to hate men like this one. To slaughter them on sight. Unfortunately, this was not a man he could hate.
Tygg navigated closer, slipping quietly from cedar to juniper to pine. He was well skilled in the art of stealth, all Taubastet warriors were, but while Tygg’s senses were made for the night, those of the Pedant now leading the horse toward him were not. Tygg stopped and watched as the man approached. Should he make his presence known, he thought with amusement, or wait until the man had reached shelter? Tygg chuckled to himself. The nearby outpost would offer the Sovereign’s man some sanctuary, but it was only by treaty, not by design. Sturdy timbers could not keep out a Taubastet that wanted in. Tygg was Taubastet. And he always wanted in.
The setting sun illuminated the Pedant’s fair hair, just one of the many features that set him apart from the Taubastets. For generations sentinels like this one had been favorite prey amongst the warriors of Tygg’s tribe, but after centuries of war a treaty had finally been signed. Tygg knew it was only a temporary respite. Taubastet warriors would still hunt men, just as Syddians would still hunt cat. Tygg had been known to hunt. He had even hunted the Syddian now walking toward him. But he no longer desired this man’s life, not in the usual sense at least.
He parted the shrubbery and stepped onto the path. As expected, the Pedant continued toward him. The man clearly did not see the tall, painted warrior standing but feet in front of him. But that did not surprise Tygg. Taubastets were gifted in the art of camouflage: their thick black manes were spiked like fronds, their catlike eyes blackened by kohl, and their olive skin muted by tawny-colored leathers that protected chests, legs, and loins. Tygg smiled, careful not to reveal a flash of teeth. If the fool walking toward him had been a deer, Tygg could have cut out its heart in an instant. As it was, he would only bloody the man’s pride when he saw him appear from seemingly nowhere.
“Aye-ee, Or’n,” Tygg said with a laugh.
Orryn jumped, annoyance hissing through his teeth. “Curse it, Tygg. How many times have I told you to give warning at least?”
“I prefer an element of surprise,” Tygg said. “More enjoyment that way.” He stroked the horse’s nose and tilted his head toward the limp form in the saddle. “What have you there?”
Orryn scowled. “You know full well what I have—an Imela. Found her in the usual place, with the usual injuries.”
Tygg eyed the jagged wound that gaped beyond the bandage. “I think her injury is not so usual.”
“Try not to think too hard,” Orryn said. “You might strain something.”
“My, but you are of a sort, Or’n,” Tygg said. He narrowed his eyes. “You are not well?”
“I’m fine,” Orryn growled.
“I think not. Your hands tremble. Your brow glistens. It is not like you.” Tygg grinned. “Afraid on account of me perhaps?”
Orryn yanked the reins and shoved past him. “Save your humor, Tygg. I have neither the time nor the interest.”
Tygg stepped around Orryn, halting him in his tracks. His amusement faded. “You cannot help her, Or’n. She is in need of a healer.”
“Of course I can help her,” Orryn said. “I’ve been trained to tend the wounded. You know that.”
“The infection has reached her blood. I can smell it.”
Orryn glanced at the girl’s leg.
“I will take her if you wish it,” Tygg said. “She will not stay in the saddle for long if you do not join her there.” He held out his arms, but Orryn made no move to place the girl within them.
Orryn clutched the reins tighter.
“You are not well, Or’n,” Tygg said gently. “And she is even less so. Let me take you to our healer. You will be safe with me.”
Orryn laughed, but it held no humor.
“You have my word, Or’n. No one will touch you, except perhaps the healer.” He smiled. “And in her I can offer no assurances. She might seek to touch you for a very different reason.”
Orryn’s eyes darted to the sky, then to the trees, as if beseeching them for aid. “God,” he said, dread ringing in his tone.
Tygg place a hand on his arm. “How long Or’n? How long since you have been home?”
“It’s of no consequence.” Orryn looked at the girl. “I have to tend her, at least enough to travel. I’m obligated to take her to the Syddian Council.”
“Think what you are saying,” Tygg said. “You are withdrawing from lavation. How long will you be able to care for her?”
Orryn’s jaw tightened.
“You risk your oath with this,” Tygg insisted. “You know that.”
Orryn squared his shoulders, trying to keep some semblance of control, but he suddenly doubled over, spewing the contents of his stomach into the dirt.
Tygg swept the girl from the horse’s back. She lay limp in his arms, but as much as she deserved Tygg’s sympathy, Orryn surely deserved more.
Orryn wiped his hand across his mouth, then leaned the other on the horse. “How do you bear it?”
“For me it is pleasure, most of the time,” Tygg said. “As for you—”
“I will not go to Adjo with you.”
“Why? Our people are at peace, are they not?”
“You know as well as I it’s a brittle peace,” Orryn said. He turned his eyes to Tygg. “Would you go as willingly to Syddia?”
“I am extending an invitation of friendship and aid,” Tygg said. “Nothing more. But if you do not recognize that, Or’n, then take yourself home. I will be taking the Imela to our healer regardless.”
“No,” Orryn said. “I’m ordered to deliver all Imelas into Syddia that are gifted to our boundaries.” He reached out to take her from Tygg’s arms, but Tygg snatched her from his reach.
The girl groaned and her eyelids fluttered open. Tygg’s breath caught as he looked at her eyes, but she did not seem to see him. Her eyes drifted closed as she retreated back into unconsciousness.
“Where did you find her, Or’n?” Tygg demanded. “I saw you near the rocks.”
“On the Syddian side of the rocks,” Orryn said.
Tygg ran his gaze over the girl, realizing more familiarities in her features. “You know as well as I she is Taubastet!”
“Regardless, my orders are that I take her to Syddia.”
“Do you hate us so much that you would take one gifted to us by the elementals?” Tygg demanded.
“No,” Orryn said angrily. “But this one, she knows things. She spoke with ancestral memory.”
“And if her memory proves false?”
Orryn hesitated, but Tygg needed no response. He already knew wha
t happened to Imelas that did not pass the test, just as he knew what happened to Taubastets who were captured and Pedants who failed in their worth.
“Tell me,” Tygg said firmly. “What knowledge did she reveal?”
Orryn’s lips compressed, and Tygg wondered if he would again refuse him. But then he realized the Pedant was breaking down, fear was in his eyes, and Tygg knew that Orryn was probably feeling the force of it for the first time in years.
Tygg stepped toward him. “Tell me, Or’n. For if you do not, I swear I will leave you for my brothers to deal with.”
Orryn scowled, but Tygg stood his ground.
“Very well,” Orryn said, forcing the words past his teeth. “But the Imela is in my charge.”
“As you say. Now, what did she reveal?”
“She mentioned the ancient city of Kiradyn, and when she realized I knew of it she attempted to run.”
“Kiradyn?” Now Tygg understood. If the girl truly possessed ancestral memory, it was crucial that she be questioned. Never before had an Imela spoken of the legendary city. Tygg narrowed his eyes. “All the more reason she must not die, am I right?”
“I will not shirk my duties, Tygg,” Orryn said. “Oaths must be obeyed. What you suggest is—”
“So you will let her die on the way to Syddia rather than allow her to go with me?”
Orryn’s face darkened. “I found her where the elementals placed her. I am duty sworn to take her.”
Tygg smirked. “And duty sworn to have no feelings. Am I correct? How unfortunate your vows do not allow you to at least feel trust.”
Orryn threw his arms up with frustration. “By the Maker, Tygg. Is not the fact that we are even standing here together enough?”
Tygg felt the sting of Orryn’s words and recalled the first time they had met. They had been boys, sworn enemies, wanting nothing more than to do their duty in battle. But it had not taken long for them to learn what duty truly meant. And for Orryn it had meant giving up every human emotion in order to patrol the borders.
Tygg stepped closer. “You said you have not been home in a while. How long would that be?”
“Past my rotation. That’s all you need to know. I depart for Syddia tomorrow.”
“Who has been sent to replace you?”
Orryn remained silent, and it was then that Tygg realized there was no replacement. Something must have happened in Syddia, otherwise Orryn would have already been home and undergone the ritual of lavation. Tygg looked at Orryn with increasing alarm. Now the Pedant was no better than the rest of them, a prisoner to his desires and a martyr to the vows he had made.
“Please, Or’n. Let me take you to our healer,” Tygg said.
“No!” Orryn said. “I’ve seen what your kind do.”
“And I have seen what your kind do,” Tygg snapped back.
Orryn nodded stiffly. “Aye. I know. I know. I’m—sorry.”
“Come,” Tygg said. “The healer’s potion will offer you some relief, though only temporary. But I swear to you, no harm.” He turned and headed up the path, the unconscious girl still draped in his arms.
Tygg glanced over his shoulder and realized Orryn was still standing by the horse. He stopped. “Well?” he called.
Orryn turned his eyes to the darkening forest, then aimed them squarely at Tygg. “No one questions her but me,” he replied. “Understood?”
“Of course.”
Orryn hesitated, no doubt realizing whatever decision he made now would alter his future plans, and not necessarily for the better.
A breeze clattered the trees, sending a whisper of cold air through the branches. Orryn yanked the reins. “By the Maker, the tests I’m given,” he growled, and tromped up the path toward Tygg.
CHAPTER 5
Steam belched from crevasses in the ground. Tree limbs snapped as flames leapt from branch to branch. Chandra’s eyes gravitated toward the mountains. A glowing river of lava could be seen, sweeping rapidly toward her. Run, fool, run! she told herself. But her feet refused to budge. She looked down, wondering why her boots were stuck to the ground. They were thick-soled, made of black leather, with long laces and silver buckles, but they couldn’t protect her from the approaching magma, nor did they seem inclined to move her from its path. Chandra struggled to move her feet, but then she realized she could not move at all. If only she could reach down and untie these cursed boots! She closed her eyes, willing her limbs to obey.
Suddenly her feet grew light. She blinked toward them. They were bare and submerged in a crystal clear pool. The water felt cool and smelled of eucalyptus, but then she detected another smell—that of burning wood. Her eyes darted toward the forest around her, but there was no more sign of fire. It had all been replaced by snow. Chandra closed her eyes and drifted into a snowy dream.
“Chandria,” a distant voice echoed.
Leave alone, she mumbled to herself.
“Chandria,” the voice repeated. “Can you open your eyes?”
The voice was that of a woman. Chandra attempted to open her eyes, to see who the stranger was, but it was as if they had been glued shut.
“I must get you out of these wet clothes,” the woman said. “I have removed your boots. Removing the rest could be painful, though.”
“She does not hear you, Sachmei. Just strip them off.” A new voice—male this time.
“Do not be so impatient, Tygg,” the woman scolded. “Her kind are always shy with their bodies.”
The male called Tygg laughed. “I think it does not matter. In her state, she will not remember what we do to her anyway.”
Chandra’s heart pounded. She struggled to move her limbs, anything.
“Ah, you see? She moves a little,” the woman said.
“Maybe she hears also,” the male said. “Careful of your words, Sachmei. She might be a spy.”
Chandra felt her annoyance flare. Who were these people? Didn’t they realize she was paralyzed? Her forehead creased. At least those muscles worked.
The male laughed again. “Perhaps she plays with us, this one.”
“I’m paralyzed, you moron,” Chandra muttered.
This time it was the woman who laughed. “I think not, girl,” she said.
Arms took hold and lifted Chandra upright, forcing her to sit. “I am going to undress you now,” the woman said.
Thoughts of the man called Tygg filled Chandra with alarm. “Not with him here,” she said, though she had no idea who “him” was.
“Very well,” the woman replied. “Off with you Tygg. Give the girl some privacy. And take the Pedant with you.”
“I will stay.” Another male this time. “She’s in my charge.”
That voice she knew—Orryn. Orryn the hallucination. Chandra’s eyes flew open in time to see him fast approaching. She jerked from the woman’s hold and scrabbled across the cot, pressing her back against the wall.
“Be still, girl,” the woman said.
“Where am I?” Chandra asked, her eyes darting around the room.
“You are in Adjo,” the woman said.
“Adjo?”
“Yes. Adjo.” Orryn stopped by the bed and leaned toward her. “Do you know of it, Chandria?”
“My name is Chandra, not Chan-dree-uh.”
“Now is not the time for inquisition, Or’n,” Tygg said, stepping to his side.
Chandra’s attention shifted to the stranger called Tygg. What creature was this?
“Don’t tell me my business, Tygg,” Orryn snapped at him. “As finder, it’s my duty to question her.”
“Let her mend first,” Tygg insisted.
Orryn’s hands clenched at his side. “It’s not your decision to make!”
Tygg bristled and repositioned his stance, but Sachmei pressed her way between them. “Out with you now. The both of you,” she ordered with a wave of her hand.
“Ach, Sachmei—”
“You heard me, Tygg,” she said. “Do not test me or you will find yourself sleeping outs
ide tonight.”
The room grew silent, followed by a shuffle of feet departing the room.
“Hmmph!” Sachmei said. She turned to Chandra who was still cowering against the wall. “Come, girl. The morons, as you call them, are gone.”
~~~
Chandra lay on the cot, her cold wet clothes now replaced by a soft, warm blanket. Only her head, shoulders, and injured leg rested outside of it, but even that made her feel vulnerable. As she lay there waiting for Sachmei to return, she quickly assessed her surroundings. She was in a dwelling that appeared to be a cave, decorated in an array of woven tapestries and hand carved ornaments. There were multi-colored blankets draped across furnishings made of dark mottled wood, and the floor, firmly packed earth, was spotted with animal rugs in various patterns and shapes. A collection of art, from stone figurines to parchment paintings and elaborate potteries, also graced the perimeter. The walls were stone, and chiseled into one of them was a fireplace. The fire within it danced, drawing Chandra’s eyes to her boots which had been placed near the hearth to dry along with the rest of her clothing.
Chandra sat up slowly and eased her legs over the side of the cot, keeping the blanket secure. The cot was narrow, but covered in thick coverlets of wool and fur, and its carved wallboard was lined with feathery pillows. She glanced toward the table stand at its side. The top was hidden by an assortment of parchments, and next to them towered a beeswax candle, its wax dripping and puddling at its base.
Chandra’s injured leg, no longer resting on the cot, began to throb. She winced as she lifted it to inspect the wound. The laceration looked red and puffy and the canyon furrowing her skin was oozing with puss. Her stomach went queasy. She’d never been sick a day in her life, other than the occasional sniffles, but this—
“Why are you up?” Sachmei scolded from across the room. Chandra glanced up to see the woman facing her, her fists planted on her hips. “You will do yourself no good moving around like that.”
Shrouded Sky (The Veils of Lore Book 1) Page 3
