by Serena Chase
Are your knights in position?
I sent part of my mind to seek Julien and then Kinley and Gerrias. Yes.
Good. I will come to collect Vayle and address the assemblage shortly. While their attention is diverted you will be able to exit the carriage.
Father. All of a sudden it was as if every weighty word we’d left unspoken desired purchase from my lips. Or at least my thoughts. But I couldn’t afford to let them loose, even silently, lest my composure leave with them.
My stomach flipped over. Tears began to burn behind my closed eyes as my father’s love and worry poured into my mind—and mine volleyed back to him. Neither of us could quell our concern for the other and the flow of colors was nearly dizzying.
I love you, Father.
Oh, I love you, child. Even in my head, his voice seemed strained, pressed upon by the ache of too many years spent apart. You will contact me when you can? To let me know you’re safe?
Of course. And after Harbyn contacts me from Dwons, I will let you know the outcome of that action as well. Even though he was nearly consumed with worry for me, I knew the recovery effort to bring Drinius and Gladiel safely home also weighed on his mind.
A subtle third presence joined our communion.
Mother.
I will petition Rynloeft on your behalf, she said.
As I will for you, I answered.
My eyes filled with tears as her whispered I love you faded into the night.
She was so weak! Yet it was her sacrifice that made me strong.
We have no regrets, Rynnaia. My father’s voice was confident, if pained at the evidence of her continual decline.
I sensed him nearing. I opened my eyes and looked at Vayle. “The King approaches, Princess Rynnaia,” I said.
Her hand lifted to her throat and she looked as if she might be ill.
“Fear not. He is a loving father and a gentle King.”
The carriage door opened and I moved out of sight of the door, though my father’s eyes found me.
Be safe, Rynnaia, he spoke silently and his colors wrapped around me like an embrace. Do not take any unnecessary risks.
I nodded. The same to you, Father.
He turned his gaze to Vayle then and gave her a warm smile. “Shall we?” He offered her his hand, which she took, her own shaking only a little, and exited the carriage. The maids extinguished the lamps and followed them out. I sat alone in the dark carriage, waiting for my ears to catch the silence that would mark the time of my exit.
As my father’s colors receded from my mind, I shivered at the loss. My pulse pounded in my throat so that I could barely swallow around it.
I had told Vayle not to be afraid. Could I still claim a bit of courage for myself?
I will be with you.
The silence ushered in the memory of the promise. It slowed my blood and set my body in motion.
If our mission is successful, I reminded myself, no Cobeld will ever threaten another person again. Families like Sir Risson’s will never regain those they’ve lost, but perhaps they will find comfort in knowing the Cobelds will steal no more members of their brood.
I moved the rug aside and felt for the latch.
And losses like those suffered in Glenhume and so many other villages will not be a constant, lurking threat.
Fortified by the need of my people, I pulled the latch and moved the panel aside. As I lowered myself onto the ground, the first muffled syllables of my father’s speech reached my ears.
Stealthily, I crawled out from under the carriage and slipped into the crowd surrounding the King. I pulled a thick charcoal gray over my thoughts, hoping it would also help to disguise my physical presence. Moving quickly, but not so fast as to draw attention to myself, I skirted the assembled knights and soldiers. Slowly, I edged toward the eastern side of the campsite where Julien waited.
Julien’s jaw was set, his expression grim. Without speaking, he turned and began walking. I followed. Julien’s rank and status moved us quickly through the watchmen and past the roving patrols to where Kinley and Gerrias waited with our horses, but it seemed to take forever.
For me, silence was most difficult to maintain. I wondered, was this how knights always worked? Without speaking? Clenching my jaw to avoid revealing myself with the questions burning to escape through my lips, I put my foot in a stirrup and lifted myself onto Stanza’s saddle. Not until we were well beyond the lights of the soldiers’ fires with only the moon as our guide did our formation change. And even then, it happened without speaking. Julien simply nodded at his brother and Gerrias took the lead, sending a copy of Julien’s nod my way.
As if I could tell the difference between one knightly nod and another?
Then again, I was Andoven. Maybe he thought I spoke “knight,” as well. Or maybe he didn’t realize that I generally tried to ask for permission before looking into a friend’s thoughts. Since silence was clearly expected, I could not ask for permission. I would just have to assume his nod meant something close to, “Well, then? Let’s go.”
With a quick tap of my heels to Stanza’s sides, I followed Gerrias. Julien moved beside me and Kinley brought up the rear.
The night air chilled my face, but it helped to awaken my senses.
I sent my father a quick message. We are away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Regardless of the humiliation that put them in place, I was glad for the warmth of the bindings that made me look more like a boy. The breeze became colder as the night grew long.
I leaned into Stanza’s silky black neck. After being cooped up in the stables and paddocks of Holiday Palace for so many weeks, he seemed more than ready to run. Being next to Salvador gave my competitive Veetrish horse even further impetus to speed.
We had much ground to cover before dawn and rode thusly for several hours before stopping at a stream. Still, no one spoke, though I followed the knights’ examples and dismounted. After a few quick hand gestures and a wordless nod or two, Kinley and Julien walked in opposite directions, leaving me and Gerrias with the horses.
I held in the groan that wanted to escape as soon as my feet touched the ground. As if my legs were filled with silt where bone used to be, they wobbled and shimmied, promising the stiff soreness one can expect when returning to the saddle after too long away. I’d known it would take three or four days before my body accustomed itself to a hard ride again, but I hadn’t expected it would affect me so quickly.
“How does Vayle?”
I jumped when Gerrias spoke, even though his voice was soft and low. His were the first words since camp.
“Vayle? Like a princess.” I smiled. “She was an excellent choice.”
“Her aunt Bess is my uncle’s housekeeper,” he said. “Our families have known one another for many generations.”
“Bess is Vayle’s aunt? Bess who works for Ayden?”
“Yes,” he sounded surprised. “You know my uncle?”
I smiled, recalling Ayden’s home in the Great Wood and how it resembled a giant bird’s nest. “Oh, yes. Your father escorted me from Veetri to Mynissbyr. We spent the night at Ayden’s house.”
“I’m sure he was glad of the company,” Gerrias said. “Uncle Ayden doesn’t get many visitors. Mynissbyr is not a place for the faint of heart.”
“I should think not,” I said with a chuckle. “Where did Kinley and Julien go off to?”
“Patrolling. We can’t be too careful.”
“Or too quiet, apparently.”
Gerrias laughed. “That’s Erielle’s biggest struggle, too.” He shook his head. “You females appreciate chatter a bit more than we feel the need for it.”
I could hardly argue with that even though I wanted to, because just then Julien reappeared. A moment later, Kinley did as well.
“All clear?” Julien asked Kinley. He nodded and no more words were spoken, although I could feel Gerrias’s laughing eyes on me until the horses had finished drinking their fill and our ride recommen
ced.
What had been a softly rolling plain near the camp had metamorphosed into rocky hills and jutting precipices overhanging the trail. As dawn neared, the change in topography became more pronounced and everything that had been masked by the night lost its menace.
The rock walls along the trail were sculpted from a creamy stone, subtly marbled with dusky veins of ore. I wondered if the mine from which the marble at Holiday Palace had been gained was nearby.
I should have been exhausted from lack of sleep, but speed was the constant companion of my blood, keeping me alert and ever wary now that I could see and be seen. By the time the sun was high, however, I had begun to flag. We paused at the top of a ridge overlooking a small village nestled in the valley below.
“This is the village of Canyn,” Julien said, and with a nod to his brother, we were off again.
Gerrias turned his horse slightly south and the rest of us followed closely down the slope, keeping to the perimeter of the valley. We wouldn’t go through Canyn, but in order to stay on course we would skirt its edges.
A strange new awareness tickled my mind a little more forcefully with every step closer we came to the village. Suddenly it took on a name: Enemy.
I turned in my saddle and inhaled sharply. At the edge of the village, outside a building that looked like a stable, a figure stood alone but for the five horses for which he held leads. Dressed in the same sandy-brown garb I had noted when were pursued nearly two months ago on the Stoenian plains, the man had a strong build and a bow on his back. I recognized him as a Dwonsil warrior.
His gaze was trained, not on us as I had feared, but west. I breathed a sigh of relief that we had not yet been spotted and centered my concentration on his thoughts. My father’s name flitted about his mind. The colors seeping from the man were warlike, but lacked the passion I had expected to find. Though ordered in a precise, methodical way, they carried within them a surprising tinge of sadness and an overwhelming sense of regret and guilt that caught my attention and helped me to see a more deeply hidden despair for the devastated lands and suffering people of his home province.
He wants to blame my father for the problems in Dwons. But he blames himself even more.
Compassion stirred within me. Was he one of the desert clansmen? For some reason I thought not. Who are you? I peered at him with more concentration, as if that would help me to discover more, but I came up empty. If only he would turn around, so I could see his face! Then I would know—
“Rozen!” Julian hissed. “Move! We must not be seen!”
Without realizing it, I’d become so caught up in the mind of the Dwonsil warrior that I had reined Stanza in and was now facing the village. By now we should have been well out of sight of Canyn, but here we were at a standstill.
“I’m sorry!” I whispered. As I urged Stanza back into formation I took one last look over my shoulder.
The warrior turned toward four men who had just emerged behind him and noticed . . . us.
My thoughts were still connected to his. Colors exploded in my mind, prickling down my arms. A memory surfaced of a man who offered information to the warriors and then accepted a bag of gold in return.
I gasped. I knew the face in his thoughts. The hand accepting Dwonsil gold had partnered mine for a dance.
Tarlo.
Whatever his allegiance, this particular man of Dwons disliked Tarlo almost as much as I did. But as I peered deeper into that memory, it was the description Tarlo had given of my disguise—and of Julien—that made him suspect the purpose of the four riders paused above the village.
In that moment, our fear of my disguise’s discovery was confirmed and made a real threat. That day by the paddock at Holiday Palace, it was Tarlo de Veir who had overheard us and discovered my disguise. And he had used that knowledge to betray us.
My mind moved to the next warrior, but once I’d connected to his thoughts, his memories of another recent transaction with Tarlo de Veir nearly caused me to fall from my horse. For this man had provided Tarlo with the powdered root of a plant native to Dwons—ebonswarth—and had directed him on how to use that substance, which, if found in one’s possession, was a capital offense.
I should have known.
Tarlo!
My mind did not have to travel far to locate the traitor, but the only response to my silent shout was a grunt, acknowledging that he had heard his name from within a deep, drunken sleep in a room above Canyn’s tavern.
Murderer! I spewed the accusation and the memory of Sir Kile’s blank stare into his mind. It was he, not Erielle, who was ultimately responsible for Sir Kile’s death. Justice will find you, Tarlo de Veir! My words dripped with red anger and black grief, but they only elicited another disinterested grunt as the drunkard rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head.
Rage sizzled in my blood. Would that my words poison your dreams every night and your memories every waking hour until my father’s knights arrest you! Just as you poisoned Sir Kile’s wine!
“Rynnaia!” Julien hissed my real name, shocking my eyes open. I gasped when he grabbed Stanza’s reins from my hands and forced my horse to turn back in the desired direction. Once we were in place, he tossed the reins back to me and swatted Stanza’s behind. “Ride!”
I glanced back over my shoulder and found find all five warriors’ eyes on us. What have I done?
I spurred Stanza forward. As much as I wanted to go down into Canyn and see the traitor—the murderer!—brought to justice, there was a bigger cause at stake. The Remedy.
Sir Kile’s death was a great loss, and eventually he would be avenged. But Tarlo’s treason, and even Kile’s death, as tragically heroic as it was, were small matters in light of what finding the Remedy could do for the people of E’veria.
And, should the warriors decide to follow us, my selfish curiousity might have just killed E’veria’s future.
Finally we descended a small hill that blocked the village from our sight. We galloped up the far slope of the valley and kept our pace through the rocky outcroppings, unsheltered by the covering of trees. I closed my eyes and trusted Stanza to follow Gerrias—and my own skill to keep me in the saddle—while I concentrated on finding the warrior’s thoughts and ascertaining whether or not they had chosen to follow us.
They had. And they were gaining.
They were not far behind us. They knew the men they pursued were knights, but as I quickly scanned each of their thoughts, only the one was troubled by the thought that the Ryn might be among those they chased.
Who was he? My father hadn’t mentioned having any spies among the Dwonsil warriors. But then again, we’d been much more concerned with the quest to come than the strategies already in place.
The men from Dwons were capable riders. Each horse was a near match in size and speed to Salvador and each one was as fierce. Every second brought them closer.
The path widened and the knights moved into a more protective position around me. Julien and Kinley galloped side by side at the rear and Gerrias was beside me.
Turning in my saddle, I met Julien’s eyes. His face was set and ready for battle. I turned to look at Kinley. He mirrored Julien’s expression. Before I could turn back to face forward, the Dwonsil warriors rounded a bend and came into sight, closing the gap between us with unbelievable speed.
There were five of them. We were outnumbered and they had arrows at the ready, possibly wrapped with hairs from a Cobeld’s beard. We had dressed for speed, not battle. My knights wore no chain mail or armor.
The warriors nocked their arrows.
“No!” I breathed.
As if of one accord, each archer fumbled and his arrow fell to the ground. None noticed the others’ clumsiness. Instead, each deftly reached to string another arrow.
Did I do that? I wondered, even as the truth of it washed over me.
My great-grandfather’s words coursed through my memory. “Each time you use one of your gifts,” he had said, “it is only by the permis
sion of the Giver.”
I closed my eyes and let Stanza’s reins slacken in my hands as my arms dropped and my palms rose. My face tilted toward the sky.
Please, Giver of Gifts. Protector and Sustainer, I pleaded silently, tell me what to do. Show me how to best use what you’ve entrusted to me!
Sudden heat warmed the pendant hanging hidden beneath my tunic. My hand flew to where the carved Emblem of the First rested against my skin as a memory from a childhood dare danced across my mind.
My eyes flew open. Could it work?
It was worth a try.
I tied Stanza’s reins to the pommel of the saddle, hoping the knights hadn’t noticed the grin that had sprung across my lips at the memory of an escapade involving Rowlen and Lewys, and the dare I had accepted—and achieved—at the age of twelve. The question was: could I do it again?
I bent my left leg under me and shifted my body in the saddle. This is so much easier when you don’t have to bother with skirts! Bending my other leg, I gripped the saddle and rotated my backside. I straightened my legs and secured my feet in the stirrups, though backward, facing Julien and Kinley.
Stanza forged ahead, unbothered by the unorthodox position of his rider. It was gratifying to know that my horse trusted my instincts, but when I finally looked at Julien and Kinley—I couldn’t say the same for the knights.
“What are you doing?” Kinley roared. “Turn around!”
I shook my head, hoping we would live long enough for him to forgive me, and concentrated on the ever-decreasing gap between the warriors and us. Just as they let another batch of arrows fly, I closed my eyes and spoke to the shafts of wood.
“Fall.”
Without opening my eyes I saw each arrow abruptly nosedive into the ground. The arrows shook with the vibration of the impact. I allowed myself a small smile at the disbelief that crossed the minds of the warriors, but did not have time to dwell on it. They had quickly reached for fresh arrows.
We galloped through a shallow canyon. My thighs ached from gripping Stanza’s sides and my knuckles whitened on the back edge of the saddle as I knocked the new arrows from their bowstrings.
