A glance at her niece reminded Tamara of what this meant for finding Bevan, and her own fears of never going home, never seeing the rest of her family. Of being stuck where she didn’t want to be.
Nothing really mattered next to losing Bevan. He was destined to be the salvation of Ryca one day. She’d only known him for the past five years, but her blood sang with the certainty of what he would achieve. Just as her mother must have known all those long years ago, that if her powerful husband perished, her family would have little to no chance to stand against the monster that had killed him.
Little by little, the decision the queen made to freeze herself, her precious son and daughter began to seem the best choice she could have made. Would she ever have the chance to face her mother and tell her she was sorry for all the recriminations she’d poured on the queen’s head since the day they were awoken?
Jarrod was suddenly next to her, his arm pulling her close, his chin brushing her forehead in sympathy.
“Skye needs me now,” she whispered to him and stepped away to put an arm around her niece.
Skye looked at her in surprise, which soon turned to gratitude as tears welled in the young girl’s eyes. At moments like this, Tamara was reminded of how young Skye really was. Still a child in need of her mother’s comfort and terribly missing her little brother.
She hugged her niece close as they trailed after Fane.
Jarrod and Thyel followed behind in silence.
Close to sunset, Tamara decided she couldn’t take one more step and stopped. “Let’s camp here. I see a lake through the trees to our left. We can get fresh water and maybe fish for dinner.”
“My uncle’s village isn’t much farther away,” Fane said. Map unrolled, he squinted at it in the semi darkness.
“Fane, you’ve been saying that for the last three hours.” Tamara sat on the ground. To be more precise, her legs gave out and the earth pulled her down. She noticed she was shivering. Probably from the continued tension she’d been under during the long walk, unable to shake her constant fear of the giant’s return and afraid of the odd things she kept hearing and seeing.
At this point, she didn’t care if a giant crashed through the trees, picked her up, and proclaimed a possessive, “Munno.” She would take it as a sign to nap while someone else carried her around.
Thyel circled the clearing. “Tamara’s right. This would make a good spot to camp. It’ll be dark soon. Continuing to walk through unfamiliar territory when we can’t see where to place our feet will not only get us lost, but turn deadly.”
Jarrod shut his book. “Good idea.” He put away his quill and shook his hand, flexing his fingers.
Hand cramping? Tamara thought sarcastically.
His quick look at her suggested he heard her quip. Could he hear her as easily as she felt his emotions? She was too exhausted to work it out. The weight of her body flopped her onto her back.
“We’ll be stopping here then,” Skye said and chuckled.
Eyes shut, Tamara listened to the rustle of their movements and quiet whispers.
The next time Tamara opened her eyes, it was dark. Skirts rustled beside her. Skye? “Where is everyone?”
“Fishing,” Skye said. “Don’t hold out hope for a tasty meal, though. I’ve heard a lot of shouts, but none were triumphant.”
A robust fire crackled and popped not two arm-lengths away.
Tamara forced herself to sit up and toss off her chainmaille, unstrap her sword and set it aside. She should have taken off the chainmaille before sleeping. Her skin probably looked like a fish. Smothering groans as her painfully stiffened limbs protested each movement, she finally took off her boots.
“Did you magic that fire?” she asked Skye.
Her niece gave her a cautious glance. “No. Jarrod did.”
Tamara nodded, wondering why Skye seemed so on guard. She was too weary to ask. She faced the flames, wrapping her arms around bent knees to keep them from flopping over.
Her niece continued to study her and then asked, “Would you have been upset if I said, Yes?”
“I would have said, Thank you.”
“Truly?” Skye asked sounding pleased. A small smile appeared on her face. “I’d wondered.”
“About what?”
“Jarrod said you didn’t resent my magic,” Skye murmured. “I guess he was right.”
They had talked about her? “What else did he say?” she asked, unsure if she found the information pleasing or irritating. Why had they been talking about her?
Skye gave her another under-the-lash, sideways look. “This and that.”
“Such as?”
“He seems to think you miss your father.”
The answer shocked Tamara. Not only because he would say such an odd thing as the statement ringing with an uncomfortable clang of truth.
“Does he read your thoughts, too?” Tamara asked.
“Jarrod? He can read thoughts?”
Did Skye’s shocked question mean Tamara was the sole recipient of his special attention? “Why would I miss father?” She returned to their earlier, less troublesome, topic. “He could have saved himself if he wanted to. He chose to end his life.”
“Tamara, how can you say that?” Skye asked. “Grandfather was murdered while he slept.”
“He was more powerful than your brother, Skye. He should have seen what was going to happen and made plans to safeguard his family. He chose not to. Anyway, I don’t wish to discuss father. Or Jarrod.”
They fell into an awkward silence.
Tamara’s legs were pleasantly heated by the time the men returned.
“No fish,” Thyel said in a disgruntled tone.
“Got too dark too fast for us to be able to see any,” Fane explained. “And it’s too late now to hunt for rabbits or pheasants.”
They settled for what Jarrod could muster from his magical travel pack. He obligingly took out flatbread and broke it, the pieces growing with each break.
As grateful as Tamara was for the bread and his always-filled, always-cool, drinking water, she felt deprived of a proper fare. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a decent meal — one with roasted meat and salty gravy. More so than that core need, what she missed desperately was a bath.
The nearby lake lapping by the shore only added to her misery. “Is it too late to wash up?”
“I wouldn’t risk it,” Fane said. “The lake dips dangerously by the shoreline.”
“I know how to swim,” Tamara said.
“Are there monsters in the lake?” Skye asked.
Tamara’s heart thumped in alarm. Isa already had giants and dragons. Wasn’t that enough? As filthy as she felt, she wasn’t going to set a toe into waters that might have something gigantic lurking beneath the surface.
Still, she looked longingly in the direction of the water, and sighed. If dangerous creatures lurked in those depths, the lake might as well be on Ryca as ten steps away for all the use it would do her.
“No monsters,” Fane said
“Monsters or not, it’s too dark to swim.” Jarrod said.
“Don’t know how to swim, Counselor?” Tamara asked.
“I hail from a desert community.” He gave her an intense look and shivers that had nothing to do with exhaustion spun up her spine. Why did he have such an effect on her! “Since my people are especially cognizant of the importance of bodies of water, we’re all taught to swim at an early age.”
As he spoke, Tamara saw a group of young children, all dark skinned, laughing as they rushed into a spring in the center of an oasis, splashing each other with the clear water. Along with the image a sense of peace and well-being washed over her.
She sighed. As much as she hated Jarrod invading her mind, the emotions he sent her way always filled her with peace. She unconsciously savored each moment and groaned in disappointment as the emotion washed away like a receding wave.
She wanted to lie back. No, she wanted to float on her back on th
at cool lake behind them and feel as clean and fresh and beautiful. Not filthy and smelly, with greasy hair plastered to her forehead and fishy pock marks on her skin.
Most unfairly, Jarrod didn’t seem in the least rumpled. His black locks gleamed like silk in the firelight, as if freshly washed. She’d bet her last piece of bread he smelled nice, too.
When he glanced at her with a narrow-eyed suspicious look, she realized she was leaning toward him, nostrils flaring. Flushing, she lay back, disgruntled.
“We can wash in the lake before we set off in the morning,” Skye suggested sympathetically.
Tamara stared at the night sky. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.
Chapter 9
Unable to rest, Tamara stood and turned to Fane. “Are the lakes on Isa dangerous or not?”
“Not this near the mountains. Want me to keep watch while you wash up?” he asked, getting to his feet. Then he flushed, probably realizing she would likely be naked.
“Why don’t I join you?” Thyel’s eyes brightened as he, too, came to his feet. “Then we won’t have to worry about your safety.”
It was Tamara’s turn to flush at the suggestive look in his gaze. She’d welcomed his attentions recently. Tonight, she wasn’t so sure.
Jarrod stood abruptly. “If you’re set on this, I’ll check the shoreline to ensure it’s safe. Once you go in, we’ll all keep an eye out for trouble.”
His hidden command for Thyel to stay away from Tamara rang loud and clear. Jarrod headed for the shoreline, and a scowling Thyel followed him. Fane grinned, seeming to enjoy the silently sparring men as he went after them.
Tamara turned to Skye. “Will you come into the water, too? We’ll be safe with those three on watch.”
“Not to swim, but I might wash by the shore. I don’t know how to swim. Never learned while in Nadym, and never had the opportunity to in Tibor.” With a smile, Skye added, “I’ll make sure you have privacy.”
“Thank you.” Tamara made a mental note to be sure to teach Skye how to swim once they returned home. She was done with avoiding her family.
The water appeared still and black as the night sky. No ripples disturbed its silent beauty. No breeze stirred the still air. With so many to keep watch, Tamara felt perfectly safe.
Behind nearby bushes, she shed all but her shift, which she had worn tucked beneath her tunic and trousers. Then she ran toward the water and waded in. As Fane had warned, within five steps, she was chin deep and shivering.
Skye prudently stayed kneeling by the shoreline, only splashing her face and arms and legs. The men lazed by a rocky outcrop beneath the shelter of a large willow.
Tamara dipped until she was completely submerged and then came up, gasping for air, relishing the cool clean water washing over her. The lake had doused the heat from her hot skin and soon enough, her body became accustomed to the change in heat level.
Feeling contented, Tamara swam to the center of the lake. Though she had hesitated at the idea of Thyel joining her, if Jarrod had offered to come in, she would have been thrilled. A little smile tugged at her mouth at the idea of the studious historian stripping down, exposing the hidden muscles she’d felt under his robes and plunging naked into the cold water.
She turned over to float on her back and gazed at the vast open sky where the three moons held celestial reign.
She shut her eyes and imagined Jarrod beside her, one arm extended beneath the water to slide boldly along her back. The idea of urging him to come to her rescue began to appeal.
Suppressing a mischievous grin, she opened her mouth to call out to him when a breeze wafted by, tingling her skin with its warm breath. Something obscured the moonlight shining on her face. She flashed opened her eyes.
High overhead, a dragon coasted. Its wingspan obscured one of the three sisters and stirred the peaceful lake with a hot draft.
Her slightest movement or sound might alert the giant beast to her presence, and to those on shore. Her blood pounded like a cresting wave and the shout in her throat died. She stilled her movements, sank as much as she could beneath the surface and held her breath.
As if sensing her below, the dragon began a lazy descent, circling the lake. As it descended, all around her, water rippled like her nerves.
In the moonlight, she caught a gleam of glinting scales.
“Tamara!” Skye shouted, a desperate warning.
It wasn’t needed. Even in the dark, she knew the bronze dragon had seen her by the way it changed its flight pattern. Then it flew directly toward her.
Tamara sank completely beneath the surface.
The dragon swooped low until its talons skimmed the surface of the lake above her head but not deep enough to touch her. Then, with a bellow loud enough to wake the dead, it soared back up. The beat of its wings churned the lake into waves before it disappeared over the horizon.
Tamara surfaced, gasping for breath, her heart hammering a mad tempo. She had stared death in the face and it had gazed back.
Confused and shaken, her legs and arms felt too weak to take her to shore. She didn’t even realize Jarrod was beside her, his arms tugging her to the safety of land.
She lay on the shoreline, shaking, still stunned by that incredible encounter.
“Are you hurt?” Jarrod asked, fear written clearly on his face. His searching hands skimming over her intimately brought her back to reality.
Thyel’s gaze swung down from searching the sky and he grinned appreciatively, studying what parts of her the moonlight clearly revealed.
She covered herself with her arms and bent knees. In the wet shift, she might as well be naked.
Skye ran toward where Tamara had left her clothes and then returned with her aunt’s tunic and trousers.
“Everyone turn around,” Tamara demanded. Once they did, she pulled off her wet shift and dressed in just the tunic and trousers. “You can turn around now.”
“Fane, come back to shore,” Skye called out.
Only then did Tamara notice the young would-be dragon rider was standing up to his knees in the lake, staring up at the moonlit horizon.
“That was a dragon,” Fane finally said as he sloshed back to shore.
“I know.” Skye spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, though a wide grin seemed permanently pasted on her face.
“We’d been walking all day in dragon territory and not seen a single one,” Fane said. “I’d begun to wonder if the giants had destroyed all of Isa’s dragons. I was too worried to voice my fear.”
“Unfounded fear,” Skye said.
“Obviously I was wrong,” he said.
“Obviously.”
Tamara couldn’t help herself. She hugged Skye. “We’re going to find Bevan.”
“Yes, we are.” Skye said with absolute certainty.
“I felt him in my head,” Fane said. “In my head! He was searching for something. Someone.”
“You, perhaps?” Thyel asked, with a mocking laugh.
“No,” Fane replied, sounding perfectly serious. “Not me. Someone else. Another dragon.”
* * *
At first light, hands shaking, heart thumping like a giant’s foot stomps, Jarrod pulled Falcon’s Tome toward him. The first page was blank. He’d known that from looking at it the day before. Yesterday, a good twenty pages had gone blank. Jarrod had hoped after spending a day away from whatever dark magic affected Ryca, the tome might have recovered. His fingers frantically flicked page after page – a good half of the tome was now bare, as if they’d never been written upon.
He shut the book. Why had leaving Ryca not stopped this endless plundering of his people’s work? His magic, which had faltered on Ryca, worked well on Isa. So, why did his people’s words continue to vanish? The question bounced around in his mind without rest as his group stirred.
Though Tamara remained curled into a ball, apparently not yet willing to greet a new day, on her other side, Skye sat up and stretched. Across from them, Fane rose and glanced at Jarrod with
a face still creased by sleep. Thyel, too, was awake, but chose to watch them all without comment. He had the look of a predator. Jarrod frowned, wishing for the hundredth time that this man had never come along with them.
“Is anything wrong?” Skye asked him.
Jarrod stood. “I need morning privacy,” he mumbled and with Falcon’s Tome hugged to his side, he went in the direction of the lake.
He must have sat, book clutched to his chest, unable to move for too long, for Skye suddenly sat beside him, her hand his arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
Despite not wanting to add to her worry about Bevan, his words tumbled out. “The Erovians were disappearing before I left. Now our work vanishes from Falcon’s Tome. Skye, what if my world as I know it is not there when we return to Ryca?”
“Show me what’s happening to the book,” she said.
He handed the book over.
After the fifth empty page, she sat staring at the blank sheet for a moment. Then she raised her hand, palm up and a tiny Light ball formed.
“What are you doing?” Jarrod asked, more from curiosity than any real sense of hope.
“The strength of my magic is to find things. Let’s see if I can discover the whereabouts of your words.”
“Do you think you can?” Excitement spiked his tone.
In answer, she dropped the Light ball onto the page. It rolled in a zigzag fashion from one side of the book to the other, like a hound seeking out a scent. The pages began to flutter, turning until one with words appeared. There, the search Light’s movement slowed. With infinite patience, the Light rose, fell and circled each stroke of each letter and then stopped and lay unmoving in the middle of the page.
Jarrod’s hopes deflated. He opened his mouth to say, “Thanks for trying,” when the little Light leaped off the page and hovered before their faces. Then it burst into a blinding spray and fell backwards, pulling Jarrod along with it.
He found himself in a land of darkness, of nothing. Complete and absolute emptiness. He couldn’t see where he stood, or if he stood on anything. Or how to get back to where he’d been. He swung around, heart pounding in fear when from out of nowhere, a cacophony of voices bellowed, “OUT!”
Hushed, Tales of Ryca, Book 2 Page 11
