Journey of Wisdom

by Shawna Thomas

  “The One?” Ilythra’s gaze flew back to the queen’s.

  “As I said, Isolden holds to the old ways. We are the only kingdom left who does so. I know whom you seek.”

  Shock stilled her tongue for a moment. “Then you know—”

  The queen placed her fingers on Ilythra’s lips. “The guards change just before sunrise. Although I wish things were different, there is no time to talk of such things. You must hurry. My personal guard patrols the lands. When you can no longer see the castle walls, you are outside my protection.”

  Ilythra bowed. “My gratitude is not enough, but you have it.” She turned and sprinted toward the arched entrance.

  Guards stood on the wall above and at one side of the barred door. They ignored her presence. With effort, she lifted the heavy latch and swung the door open. A nicker filtered through the night. Melior.

  Ilythra shut the door, trusting the guards would bar it again, and ran toward the horse. She jumped on his back. “Looks like we’re on the run again, my friend. Let’s get out of here fast.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The sun’s rays slanted through the trees, highlighting the fern and bracken on the forest floor. She’d stayed off the road, and although if she strained she could still see the castle walls, she’d have felt better if she had a weapon in hand. A moment of sorrow pricked her heart. She’d loved her sword. It fit her hand perfectly. She could vividly remember the blacksmith, Yann, who’d made it for her while she’d stayed above his shop. It had been fashioned after a sword her grandfather had created. She’d lost that first sword to the ocean with everything else she’d loved.

  Ilythra pulled Melior to a stop and slid off his back. If she was only under the queen’s protection while within sight of the castle walls, she would be on her own soon. She’d kept the bundle on her lap and now slowly unwrapped it. A silver scabbard shone in the faint light. With reverence, she gripped the sword’s pommel and with a faint click, pulled the sword free. Words had been engraved into down the length of the blade in a language she didn’t recognize. Ilythra traced the swirling shapes. “What do you say?” The writing was perhaps the sword’s name, or its history. She’d heard of such things, and the queen had mentioned the sword had been in her family for many years. Ilythra laid the sword across her hand: perfect balance. She gripped the sword and swung a few practice moves. The sibilance of steel through air brought a smile to her mouth. The sword fit her hand as though made for her.

  Reluctantly, she slid it back into its scabbard. The satchel the queen had given her was heavy. Ilythra placed it on the ground. Inside, she found dried meat and fruit, as well as fresh bread, wafers and some kind of flat dry cake made with berries and oats. Enough food to last her weeks, if she was careful. If she ever saw Queen Marya again, she’d kiss her.

  She unwrapped a cloth to discover most of a chicken, cut into manageable sections. Her stomach rumbled. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten a decent meal. She selected a large piece of meat and started eating. When she finished, she tore off a chunk of bread and ended up eating half the loaf.

  Ilythra chuckled. She wasn’t being very careful, and at this rate she’d be so full, she’d be sleeping when the Rugians found her. Melior lifted his head, stared at her and went back to his search for the perfect patch of grass.

  Through the trees, Ilythra could make out a field. On the other side of the field, a line of green indicated another forest, and somewhere beyond the forest were the Siobani. There were Rugians between her and her destination. How many she didn’t know, but she’d rather not find out. She still wasn’t in top form. She could travel at night in an attempt to slip past any guard. But it was unfamiliar territory, and while it was true it would be harder for the Rugians to find her, it would also be harder to spot them.

  “Let’s face it, this is about the safest we’re going to be for a while.” Weariness weighed down her limbs.

  Melior stopped chewing and stared at her.

  She wrapped her cloak around her. Her body ached. Her mind felt dull. She hadn’t slept much since before leaving Mohan. Where was the Benai now? Did he find his troupe yet? “I’m going to sleep for a few hours. You’re on duty.”

  The horse bit at the new grass.

  “My life in the hands of a horse.” She grimaced. “And you don’t have hands.” Ilythra smiled. She was getting silly. It was definitely time for some sleep or she could make a dangerous, possibly fatal, mistake.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mohan stood frozen. He couldn’t assimilate what his eyes told him. Ilythra had warned him but he hadn’t quite believed her. He’d headed toward the nearest troupe of Benai. The Benai didn’t mingle much and they certainly didn’t trespass, but he was somewhat familiar with the troupe. He’d dealt with the leader, Ferka, a few times. They were on friendly enough terms that he knew he’d be welcome. So he’d diverted from his course to caution Ferka to be on guard. It was too late. He was too late.

  Charred and still-smoking wagons stood in the loose circle the Benai favored. A pot swung gently over the central fire that had now burned to coals. Bodies, blackened and almost unrecognizable, lay scattered across the clearing. His stomach heaved, threatening to relieve him of his breakfast. He made his feet move forward but he couldn’t feel his legs. He had to check for survivors, but his heart lay heavy in his chest. He already knew there wouldn’t be any. A few of the burned bodies held swords, but not enough. They hadn’t been warned. It was a surprise attack, just as Ilythra had warned him. Tears filled his eyes. He stared around in shocked disbelief, trying to make the scene rearrange into something that made sense.

  A single child’s shoe lay between two wagons. A shock wave hit his body. Mohan’s legs buckled and he dropped to the ground. Sobs shook his shoulders. Pain radiated through his body, beat with his heart. He couldn’t contain it as it spilled out in tears and sorrow too deep for words. He picked up the small shoe and cradled it in his hands while he rocked back and forth on his knees and moaned low in his throat. It couldn’t be.

  An entire troupe gone. All its history, culture and future dissolved with the single act of a madman. Anger dried his tears. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands and stood. He would gather the bodies and send them to the One as they deserved.

  * * *

  A wet nose pushed into her neck. Ilythra swatted it away then came completely awake. “What is it?” she whispered.

  Melior backed up a few steps and shook his mane. Rolling into a crouch, Ilythra drew her sword and examined the clearing. She didn’t hear anyone in the surrounding forest and everything looked as she’d left it in the clearing. Except the sun’s rays. The sun stood at its zenith, shining into the forest and sparkling on the small stream. She’d overslept.

  Standing, she stretched. Her muscles were sore but not overly so. The extra sleep had been needed. She fished out another piece of chicken, carefully repacked everything and filled her water skin. Making sure Zeynel’s staff was in easy reach, she removed the knife from her boot and placed it in the empty sheath at her waist, fastened her new sword to her back and tried drawing it several times. It felt natural.

  She hopped on Melior’s back. “Are you ready to kill some Rugians?” The horse pawed at the ground. “Me too. Then let’s go.”

  * * *

  Bredych leaned back on the throne, staring at the lone Rugian warrior. He clenched his jaw and anger coursed through his veins. After several deep breaths, he waved to a guard. “Send the peasants away.”

  There weren’t very many today. Word had gotten out that he, and not Erhard, sat on the throne due to the king’s recent illness. He wasn’t quite as accommodating as the king had been.

  Bredych waited for the doors to shut and then leaned forward to focus on the Rugian. His hair had been shaved several fingers above his ears and sweat glistened in the
dark stubble. A single leaf had wedged between two of the many braids tied back from the man’s face. Was he nervous? “One more time. Tell me why you do not return with the woman.”

  The Rugian’s throat moved. “She was not there. She escaped from King Alastar’s dungeons.”

  Bredych’s anger flared as it had when he’d first heard the news. His gaze unfocused and the man before him blurred. Bredych gripped the arm of the chair and brought his full attention back to the lone warrior. “Are his dungeons so very easy to remove oneself from?”

  “No.” The Rugian shook his head. The leaf floated slowly to the tiled stone floor. “I examined the cells myself. They are as good as ours.”

  Bredych stared at the small green leaf against the pale tile. She had someone helping her. But who? His palms itched for a blade. Blood pounded in his temples. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths. It did nothing to quell his anger but it afforded him some control. It wouldn’t do to kill the Rugian before he’d told his tale.

  He clenched his jaw until he knew he could modulate his tone. “What was the king’s manner?”

  “He seemed angry and a bit frustrated.” The Rugian placed his hands behind his back, stretching the furs covering the man’s torso and releasing the stench of sweat and dirt.

  “What was his explanation?”

  The Rugian hesitated. “He said the guards were found poisoned and the woman gone. He had none.”

  Bredych tapped his fingers against the throne’s armrest. “Did they die?”

  “No.” The man blinked. “And he wouldn’t let me kill them.”

  Poison that didn’t kill. Was it someone from the kitchens? Perhaps a servant Ilythra had healed. Had she healed anyone from Elston?

  “He was offended that I even asked,” the Rugian continued. His nostrils flared.

  Bredych sneered. “He was offended that you were even there.”

  Elston wasn’t his only hope. She’d have to get through more traps than she imagined to reach her destination. He wasn’t too worried about the stone. She didn’t really even understand how to use it. She’d been lucky so far.

  Bredych leaned back and smiled. “So, our neighbor to the north has decided to deny our right to a fugitive on his land. I’d say that negates all the treaties, wouldn’t you?” He stood without waiting for the Rugian to reply. “Further, he aided a traitor to the kingdom of Greton. I’d say that’s enough reason for war.”

  * * *

  The Rugians approached sooner than she’d expected. The sun had begun to set, softening the light, when a poorly disguised Rugian horseman rode onto the path ahead of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted another in the forest. Her instincts said there would be at least two more. She swallowed. One against four. It was the spears she worried about most. Because they could be thrown at a distance, she had no way to defend against the projectile unless she saw it coming and wasn’t otherwise engaged.

  Melior shook his head, sending his mane flying. The man reined in his horse in the middle of the road. She’d either have to go around or go through him. What did he expect? And then she knew. He thought she’d take to the forest, where his partners waited. She glanced toward the trees to encourage that line of thought. She slowed Melior, took a deep breath and tapped him with her heel. Melior went from a walk to a slow run faster than any horse she’d ever seen. The Rugian’s eyes widened as Ilythra raced by him, before her sword sliced through his shoulder and neck.

  Race or fight? Could she outrun three or more horsemen? Probably, but she didn’t want them at her back. Not if more waited in front of her. She wheeled Melior around. On impulse, she shouted, “Thira!”

  Fear of the goddess had put one Rugian on his knees. Maybe it would do so for these men. Something moved in the forest ahead and to her right. A horse and rider emerged from the trees onto the road. Ilythra sliced through the Rugian before he had a chance to orient himself. He fell with a thump. Maybe these Rugians didn’t respect Thira. She smiled. They would if they lived through the day.

  A low whistle sounded. She raised her sword in time to deflect the spear but it skimmed her shoulder. Fire sliced her skin. Another arced through the air toward her. She dove off her horse. The wind from the projectile kissed her body. She tucked but landed hard on the dirt road. The impact stole the breath from her body.

  A horse with an angry Rugian charged toward her. Ilythra rolled to a side. Small rocks cut her cheeks and dust from the road billowed around her face, filling her lungs. Her side ached. Melior screamed. She looked up in time to see the stallion rear on his hind legs and crash into the other horse. The smaller horse’s legs gave way and it went down—the rider with it. Her gaze fell on the spear that had just missed her. She retrieved it, ran to the fallen Rugian and brought the spear down in the middle of his chest, then pulled it free with a soft pop. The Rugian’s eyes grew wide and froze, staring into the twilight.

  She spun, waiting for the fourth Rugian to attack. The road was eerily silent, save for the struggle of the fallen Rugian horse. If someone was there, he didn’t make an appearance. Warm breath tickled her cheek. She reached for Melior’s head, stroking his soft coat. Her lungs burned from the effort of trying to take in enough air.

  “Thanks for the backup, boy.” She leaned against the horse, catching her breath.

  A pain-filled grunt broke the silence. She moved to the fallen horse. Her legs felt like rubber and her arms didn’t quite belong to her. She took a deep breath and kneeled next to the struggling animal. Running a hand down his neck, she tried to soothe him. His leg was broken. Tears blurred her vision. It was too much like reliving what happened to Tashi, the horse Tobar had given her. Quickly, she sliced the horse’s throat to end his suffering. Throwing the spear on the ground next to a dead Rugian, she cleaned her sword on his thick furs. Did they wear them year-round? Maybe it was necessary in Rugia, but in Anatar, they had to be uncomfortable. She studied the surrounding lands. She knew there’d been another Rugian. Was he a coward or had he fled to warn the next group of Rugians?

  She glanced at her shoulder. Blood stained her sleeve and each movement sent a hot flame into the muscle. Gently she pried back the material. It wasn’t as deep as she feared, but she’d need to clean it soon. She probed her side. Relief surged through her body. No broken ribs. She was just bruised.

  Ilythra whistled, and Melior trotted over. She examined the horse for any damage. His coat was unblemished. “You got through this one better that me.” Reaching for Melior’s mane, she swung up on the horse’s back. “Come on, boy, we need to find a place to rest for a bit.”

  They stopped near a stream not far from the road. The sun sank into the horizon, casting shadows in the forest. Ilythra removed her tunic, wincing as pain tore down her arm. With her teeth clenched together, she dripped water over her shoulder. It ran in pink rivulets down her arm, taking the grime with it. The cut was clean and smooth. As long as the spear wasn’t coated with anything, it would leave her with only a scar. She reached for a cloth to wrap the wound and grimaced. Every movement sent a new spear of fire through the muscle. As much as it hurt now, it would be worse tomorrow. She’d be covered in bruises from the bad fall off the horse.

  After replacing her tunic, she reached for Melior’s reins. They needed to find a place to spend the night.

  * * *

  The moon rose above the trees and shone into the small grotto, softening the light of the small fire. It had taken her longer than she’d liked to find a place to shelter. She could sleep in a hollowed trunk or cover herself with bracken. Melior, however, was a little more difficult to hide.

  A natural hollow, this place had once been a pond of some kind, now dry but not yet taken over by the bramble that covered the forest floor. Unless the Rugians walked by them, they would remain hidden until dawn.

  Melior let out a stream of
urine. Ilythra wrinkled her nose at the pungent scent. “Could you do that downwind, please?”

  The horse stared at her then moved a few steps away to pull grass from the edges of the grotto.

  The stream was a distance away, but they’d both had their fill of water. She hesitated at the idea of building a fire, but she’d wanted warm water to better clean her wound, and the heat would help ease the stiffness that was sure to come in the morning.

  She fingered the tear in the tunic and shirt. Without the thick leather, it would have been a more serious wound. Yann’s wife had sewn the garment for her long ago from pieces of leather discarded after making Yann’s heavy leather aprons. She’d stated if it could keep fire from her husband, maybe it would protect her too. She’d been right. Once again, Ilythra silently thanked Yann and his wife for their kindnesses as she mourned the loss of the sword and knife.

  The now-pink water swirled in the small wooden bowl. She dumped it at the side of the grotto and filled it again with water from her skin. She couldn’t bathe in her own blood. Mohan’s face came to mind. Even with Rugians patrolling the forest, he’d be in the creek, scrubbing his body clean. The image brought a smile to her face. “Be safe, Mohan,” she whispered. She pictured the caravan of entertainers, the men, women and children of Mohan’s troupe. “All of you be safe.”

  As clean as she could get, she dug through the saddlebag to retrieve her second shirt. She braced herself for the pain and slipped it over her head, then fastened the leather tunic in place. What she wouldn’t give for some willow bark. But although it would dull the pain, it would also make her sleepy, and she was tired enough.

  Ilythra pulled on her leggings and tied her boots. She wanted to be ready in case they had to leave in a hurry. Were they safe for the night? It all depended on whether that last Rugian had run off to tell another patrol about her presence or run back home. If there was a fourth Rugian.

  Her stomach growled. She finished the chicken, knowing the protein would help her muscles repair, and offered pieces of dried apple to Melior. The horse’s soft lips brushed against her palm as he took the apples. “We both have to keep our strength up or we’re not going to last long.”